WinterStar

by Blaze Ward

  “Bon,” he said simply, holding out a hand for her to shake, in the ancient manner. “Let us go see what mischief the Commander has in mind next.”

  29

  After so many years of being in charge of her own destiny, Kathra knew that the unease in the pit of her stomach would take some time to get used to. If they went deep into the Free Worlds and found the right person, she could sell much of Urid-Varg’s trophies off and perhaps have enough cash to build several more ClanStars, or replace WinterStar with something larger and more dangerous.

  The important question at that point would be Daniel. Would he stay with them, if he accidentally turned into a god? At a minimum, the turtle could probably annihilate any patrol forces that came looking for them, especially as Kathra would shift most of the tribal squadron deeper into uncolonized space and away from Sept bases, just so nobody discovered her new weapon.

  Nobody could know who would win the first battle between Daniel and a Septagon, but Kathra did not really desire to kill three hundred thousand people in order to find out, at least not without a really good reason. Even the Mbaysey’s history with the Sept Empire did not rise to that level.

  Or shouldn’t.

  They had not all been slaves, when her mother managed to challenge their status in the courts and somehow win. An oppressed minority, perhaps, relegated to a small reservation on Tazo, where poverty forced many of them to make horrible choices to survive.

  From there, Yagazie Omezi had led them into space. Had reshaped the tribe into a tribal squadron before her assassination by the Sept. Most of the men of the tribe had left long ago, recruited into military service, colonization efforts, or something worse, leaving the women behind. Which had probably been the Sept’s stupidest mistake.

  The women had adapted.

  As they continued to do today.

  Kathra sat comfortably against an enormous tree and looked around the orchard as Daniel and Ndidi cataloged plants into weird groups. Edible, medicinal, industrial, neutral, toxic. Growing season and storage, drawing on his deep memories, or nightmares, depending. Closest approximation for taste. Eligibility for fermentation.

  That latter suggested that he was planning to remain with them for a while. Not many men were welcome.

  Yagazie had taken her newly-won freedom and traded nearly everything the tribe had for a space ship. A small one. Poor. Old. Too useless to even have gravity inducers, relying on spin instead.

  But enough to trade. The women of the tribe had always been experts at the bargain. That one ship grew into a second. A third. A ClanStar. Another. Eventually, a whole squadron, allowing them to one day simply fly away from the Sept and live truly free.

  At least until the assassins found Yagazie Omezi and Kathra became leader in her mother’s place.

  “Daniel,” she called and drew the two closer.

  Erin and Areen appeared from wherever they had been napping and joined the conversation, such as it were.

  Daniel and Ndidi were roughly of a size, which was always strange to look at. Her glasses kept her from flying a Spectre, but her brains were good enough. Idly, Kathra wondered if they should have considered doing something for the woman earlier, as they had gone into the Free Worlds to fit Erin with that replacement leg that let her remain a pilot.

  Water under the bridge, if she understood the saying correctly, but Kathra reconsidered her second chef.

  “Should we begin planting some of the better-suited fruits and vegetables on the other ships?” Kathra asked. “Much of what we grow is not particularly suited to space, but will work in the various hydroponics rooms. Can we improve things?”

  “I was just explaining that to Ndidi,” Daniel replied diffidently. “Most of the fruits are just complex sugars and useful trace minerals. I am not sure about soil needs, so I don’t know how they might interact with our plants.”

  “My proposal was to begin a garden here, Commander,” Ndidi spoke up. “Kitchen spices. Annual and perennial vegetables. Begin planting larger things like blueberry and pear trees to see what will be safe. We will need your permission to make such changes.”

  Kathra considered Ndidi’s words. Technically, they only needed her nod if Daniel still considered himself part of the Mbaysey. This would be his ship. Everyone else would be his guests and nothing more, because she didn’t think anybody could do so much as open the big bay doors to escape without Daniel.

  Unless she brought in some other male and took the power away from her chef.

  They were not anywhere near that at present. Kathra Omezi didn’t know a male in her squadron with the requisite toughness to take on that role. Certainly not one she would trust afterwards.

  Worse come to absolute worst, the tribal squadron could hopefully flee from Daniel instead, if he developed a megalomania that threatened them. There was a whole galaxy out there to hide in. She was already doing that to the Sept.

  “If you are bringing plantings here to grow, you have my permission,” Kathra said. “From there, we should probably build a whole new hydroponic facility on WinterStar, Erin. Isolated completely from the water and probably airlocked in with positive pressure until we know it’s safe.”

  Her Second in Command nodded, always watching with hawk’s eyes over that barcode inherited from Grandma Ezinne.

  Kathra rose from where she had been resting and looked down at the group. Possibly her innermost circle right now, depending on how you wished to classify those things, and Ndidi was handling herself well enough to be admitted on a trial basis. She considered her words carefully.

  “Should we consider basing half The Haunt here and half on WinterStar?” she asked, looking at the various faces for reactions.

  Ndidi and Daniel had made a compelling argument to move everyone here, but that put all of her power in his hands. His control. Any male, when Urid-Varg might yet find a way to sneak back from whatever hell Kathra had condemned him to.

  Splitting the force, even in rotation, caused the group to become two, unless someone moved each direction every day, rotating in and out on an eleven-day cycle. Certainly a change in doing things, but not a wise one.

  Dare they risk it?

  Erin’s face had turned sour, ever so slightly, but she had the same opinion. The same arguments. The comitatus was Kathra’s, but putting the Spectres and their pilots here separated them also from the mechanics and crew on WinterStar. Broke that subtle, personal connection that kept everyone flying as a team.

  On the other side, Daniel would be alone. She could see that cold reality gnawing at him. The fear in his eyes, of facing all those ghosts contained in these halls. And perhaps the conqueror himself, hiding around a corner with a pipe.

  Alone.

  Areen surprised her by speaking up now. Normally, the woman spoke last, having allowed the others their say, but perhaps the silence meant that all words had already been spoken.

  “No,” Areen said simply. “The risks and rewards are not balanced. Better to keep a shuttle intact to run crew over here when needed, and keep everyone on WinterStar. Including Daniel. He can board the turtle quickly if he needs to, but should stay with people in a safer environment.”

  Kathra suspected that Areen had ulterior motives, all things considered, but her logic was sound. And about where Kathra had landed, after weighing all the options. If they were careful, nobody could sneak up on the tribal squadron or follow them home from a TradeStation.

  The greatest risk would be approaching the Free Worlds to trade many or most of the antique shuttles off for cash.

  Daniel might have been reading her mind. Or had learned how she thought. Or something equally interesting.

  “Commander, when we do visit civilization, there is one unresolved mystery ongoing,” he said quietly, glancing carefully around the group. “Urid-Varg had power. Mental abilities that the gem multiplied. Multiplies. I have not even attempted to see if I could read anyone’s inner thoughts, but I can see each of you as a palette of colors, for l
ack of a better term, without much effort. All of you are loyal to the Commander or I would not speak, and capable of keeping secrets or I would not reveal myself now.”

  He paused and took a pair of heavy breaths as he studied his audience. Kathra nodded for him to continue.

  “When I first joined you, there was some concern that I was a spy that had brought the Sept Empire down upon the tribal squadron,” he said in a dark voice. “They knew who we were and where to find us. But the Commander pointed out that no Septagon could have caught up with us by following Erin. It is entirely possible that pure luck played a role, but there is still the risk that there is a spy in the tribal squadron somewhere. Someone who could get a message to the Sept about where to find us.”

  His eyes found Kathra’s now, and locked on like Ram Cannons.

  “We have something valuable enough now to perhaps bring the hyenas to the campfire,” he said ominously. “How do we keep this secret?”

  Kathra nodded. That same question kept her awake at night. The Star Turtle was not a simple treasure chest that could be looted and abandoned. It was not a derelict that would provide them some spare parts, or perhaps a new ship that could be repaired and added to the tribal squadron.

  It was a game-changing thing.

  How did she want to alter the rules of play?

  30

  Ndidi had never expected to be allowed to sit at a table with the Commander as an equal, so she tried hard to keep calmness as her signature and competence as her watch word. Nervous sweat occasionally caused her glasses to slide down her nose a little, but she was used to automatically fixing them. The same thing happened in the kitchen regularly enough.

  Daniel had cooked dinner. As she knew he would given any opportunity, but she was not offended. He was still capable of teaching her many things she did not know, and the Commander would soon keep him perhaps too busy to contribute.

  He had taught her the subtle difference between Sous Chef, Chef de Cuisine, and Executive Chef. The one who ran the kitchen, the one who ran the restaurant, and in a large enough corporation, the one that ran multiple restaurants and rarely ever cooked, respectively. That latter was where he was eventually headed, at least until he reached another milestone in his recovery and decided he wanted to go and open his third restaurant one of these days.

  She had gotten most of the other information about the man from Areen in tidbits and repeated stories, plus things Erin tossed off occasionally.

  Tonight she found herself seated across from the Commander, between Erin and Iruoma. Daniel, Areen, and Kamharida were across the long table around Kathra.

  “What do we know?” the Commander asked.

  Ndidi knew perhaps the least, so she was content to sit and listen. It was already an honor for someone not in the comitatus to be here, someone other than Daniel, that is, so she needed to prove that she could keep secrets well enough that Kathra Omezi would come to rely on her someday.

  “Nothing at all,” Erin said, glancing at the hatch to make sure it was closed, as well as the door into the kitchen.

  The group was too big to meet in the Commander’s office, so they were here, in the hall where the comitatus ate and reveled.

  “In fact,” Erin continued, “we are not even sure that we do have a spy, per se. Merely poor timing and paranoia, perhaps.”

  “Perhaps,” Commander Omezi nodded. “When we were poor and irrelevant, it was enough to simply flee deeper into the darkness. Septagon Vorgash was looking specifically for us. And a ship that slow knew where to find the tribal squadron when it went hunting.”

  “They had to know they couldn’t catch us, though,” Areen spoke up. “No Septagon can challenge even a ClanStar for speed. Our valence drives give us too much flexibility. We see him, we run. Simple as that.”

  Ndidi nodded at Areen’s wisdom. It made perfect sense.

  So why had they even tried, if all they could do was cause the infamous Kathra Omezi to laugh in their faces and flee? And why hadn’t the Sept managed to chase the squadron across the seven systems they had crossed after that?

  She must have made a sound, because suddenly everyone had fallen silent and was staring at her.

  At least the Mbaysey couldn’t blush as obviously as the lighter-skinned folk like Daniel.

  “A thought, Ndidi?” the Commander asked.

  “It was the first time the Sept has ever come against us with that much force, Commander, right?” Ndidi asked.

  The Commander nodded with a calm, closed face.

  “And we haven’t been near a TradeStation since,” Ndidi continued. “Or even a colonized system. So if there is a spy, they’ve had no opportunity to get a message out. Was that perhaps the first time the Sept had taken a prospective spy up on information given? Tested it to see if it had truth?”

  Eyes around her got wide and then narrowed harshly as they all considered her words. Ndidi didn’t have anywhere to go from there, so she closed her mouth. Until recently, she had been an assistant under Ugonna, learning the craft, not a warrior like the others.

  Daniel was a warrior, in his own way. She could emulate that.

  “And our next visit to a TradeStation is not for two months, if we keep to our regular schedule,” the Commander said dryly. “Would there be one or perhaps even two Septagons waiting for us there, along with enough patrol forces to attack all the tribal squadron at once?”

  “Why do they hate you that much, Commander?” Daniel asked, confusion etched deeply into the furrows around his eyes. “What have I missed?”

  “I do not know, Daniel,” Omezi replied. “We have been space-bound for nearly two decades now. In that time, patrol forces have chased us from time to time, but nobody has interfered with us trading at a Sept TradeStation.”

  “Should we go visit one early?” he asked. “Just to see what information might leak? You could always circle around and start spending more time around the Free Worlds, instead of the Empire.”

  Ndidi watched Kathra turn to Iruoma and Kamharida with the stern face Ndidi had learned meant danger.

  “I must tell you two a secret,” she said simply. “Something new and deadly to know, but you are the Inner Ring of the comitatus. If I cannot trust you, my troubles are so much deeper than any of us imagine, and we are probably doomed. Am I understood?”

  Wow.

  Both women nodded warily. Both were among the oldest who could still fly the Spectre in combat effectively, women who had served under Yagazie when they were young. This was a young woman’s job, and both would end up probably grounded in another few years, as their reflexes were not as good as someone Ndidi’s age. Old age and treachery can only work so long to overcome youth and skill.

  “Daniel? Are we safe right now?” Kathra turned to the other chef.

  He looked around once and scanned each of their faces. Ndidi couldn’t feel anything, but she hadn’t when the monster had taken them all the first time, either.

  “You are, Commander,” he whispered, blinking rapidly and scrunching his face up, like he was just feeling a migraine come on. His breath came short.

  “Excellent,” the Commander said, turning to the two women. “Daniel has the ability to detect lies, when he works at it. To know falsehood. Perhaps, if we are lucky, to find out if we really have a spy among us. Or if the dice just came up lucky for that naupati at some point.”

  She paused, and Ndidi realized that she had stopped breathing. So had the others. Such was the power of Kathra Omezi. The charisma to draw everyone into her orbit like gravity and hold them there.

  “Ndidi will fix us breakfast in the morning,” the Commander continued. “Daniel will assist, and then he will use his power on the entire comitatus, just to confirm my own belief that all of you are loyal. Starting at lunch, we will return to the old pattern of bringing in people from the crew, a few at each meal, so that Daniel can watch them as well, until I know if WinterStar is safe. Questions?”

  “Can you do this thing at range, Da
niel?” Areen asked patiently, watching the chef perhaps a shade closer than the rest.

  After all, she had been intimate with the man, and none of the rest had, thank the gods.

  “No,” he muttered. “It is hard to do, hurts my head, and I must see someone to read them. Short of touring each ClanStar and holding a mass meeting, I’m not sure if I could be of much use.”

  “Anything else?” the Commander asked. “If not, then I will see you all in the morning. Daniel, Ndidi, could you remain behind for a moment? I have some kitchen questions for you two.”

  Ndidi planted her butt right back down on the bench and waited as the warriors departed, leaving the Commander alone with her chefs. The other kind of warrior, maybe.

  The outer hatch closed.

  Kathra Omezi smiled conspiratorially at Daniel.

  “You don’t really have to work that hard, and it does not pain you, does it?” she asked.

  Ndidi hoped she kept her gasp quiet enough that the woman missed it. Hopefully.

  “No,” Daniel said. “But I hoped that if they thought it took great effort, they would not be so nervous around me in the future. And it gives you an extra tool, if we do have a spy feeding the Sept information.”

  “I agree,” the Commander nodded, turning now in this direction. “Ndidi, you will be working extremely closely with Daniel for the near future, so there need to be secrets that you are privy to, that not even the comitatus knows. At least not yet.”

  Ndidi gave up trying to breathe and hoped she didn’t pass out as she nodded at her Commander.

  “Ask your questions only of me, or him, until I tell you otherwise,” Kathra Omezi instructed her. “Your other job will be to keep the man sane.”