“I don’t see how this doesn’t violate every basic rights law there is,” Jaeia said, leaning against one of the many desks facing an inactive holographic display. Yellow starlight filtered in through the observation windows, accentuating the frustration etched across her forehead.
After blowing out a ring of smoke from his cigar, Razar decided to hit her hard. “Speaking of violations—you knew this whole time about the device, Jaeia, and yet you chose to act on behalf of this dog-soldier and his crew, forsaking your oath as an officer in the Fleet, even forsaking the Exiles that helped you survive that cursed planet.”
Jaeia’s eyes stayed locked with his. “I didn’t know Senka was your niece—Reht must have found out and kept it from me. But the captain and his crew did save my life, and I knew that the Narki technology might be the only thing to save his. I certainly wouldn’t forsake my friends from Tralora; Senka thought they would be safe in the wave network. I had it worked out.”
Razar saw right through her. Jaeia had always been a terrible liar. “You had nothing worked out. If I had to guess, I would say that you somehow lost the device to that dog-soldier scumbag and were trying to get it back. But guilt kept you from taking it by force; you think you owe him a debt.”
“I do,” she said quietly.
“Either way, it doesn’t excuse your actions, Jaeia. The Narki technology will give us unparallel advantages in war. And we will need it against that godforsaken ship heading our way.”
Jaeia stood her ground. “Reht is my friend. Don’t make me choose between my loyalties to him and my loyalties to the Alliance.”
“You should choose your friends more carefully, Commander. You know little of Reht and his history,” Tidas Razar said, removing a datafile from his uniform jacket.
Jaeia took it from him, her eyes moving rapidly as she panned down the lists of infractions and criminal reports compiled against the dog-soldier captain.
“He is responsible for the murder of his parents,” Tidas summarized.
Jaeia spoke in measured tones. “That is not how I read it.”
“Just ask him then. Or rather, look at his scars,” Razar said. “And if that’s not criminal enough for you, then read section 19b, subtext 2871. He orchestrated the genocide of the natives of Elia. He’s a thief, a criminal, and he’s proven time and time again that he can’t be trusted.”
“Then what about his part in our rescue off of Tralora?”
“It was for profit,” Razar said. “He blackmailed some of our senior staff. When he’s said he’s served the Alliance, he means that he’s served himself.”
Jaeia lowered the datafile. A mixture of disappointment and astonishment crossed her face, but she tried to hide her emotion beneath her conviction. “I didn’t know about these... violations.”
She’s telling the truth. It surprised him on some level. For some reason he had assumed she would have cracked into Reht’s skull and leeched out all his knowledge and experience a long time ago. I certainly would have in her place.
Razar circled her slowly. “Obtaining the key is the Alliance’s top priority. If I have to bruise a few dog-soldiers, then so be it. I will do anything to protect the citizens of the Starways.”
Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and Tidas felt a strange pressure in the back of his mind. “Be careful, Jaeia—that is insubordination, assault of a superior officer.”
The pressure stopped. Jaeia blinked and folded her arms across her chest. “Sorry. Natural reaction,” she said coolly. She looked at him straight in the eye. “I had no idea Reht had done so many terrible things.”
Tidas stopped and squared himself to her. “He says you know how to work the thing. Is that true?”
“I absorbed some of Senka’s theories,” Jaeia responded softly, lowering her head. “And I have the key.”
Tidas crushed the cigar in his hand. “Why didn’t you come straight to me?”
“He may be a criminal, but Reht’s been right about a few things. Don’t you think I know how much you’re holding out on us? You think I’m blind to the fact that you’ve been running genetic tests, analyzing the tattoos on our arms? Do you really believe that every soldier practices Rai Shar as well as you do?
Blood rushed to his face. Even as a master of Rai Shar, the shock of her words made it difficult to keep neutral thoughts at the forefront of his mind.
“We’ve kept the genetic information about you and your sister highly classified because of what the findings could imply. And I was the one who decided to keep our findings from you.”
“Why?” Jaeia asked, taking a few steps toward him.
“Because if any of it is true, then you and your sister become more valuable than our top battle commanders. You become something else entirely, and I wanted to make sure we had all the facts before we presented them to you.”
What he said was not entirely true, but she seemed to buy it. Jaeia cocked her head to the side, looking puzzled. “I met with a man called Victor on Jue Hexron who claimed to have negotiated peace between the Creos and the human colonies. And he knew me. Or knew something about me. He said I was human—but a human from Earth. He was implying I am over 1,100 years old. What do your findings claim?”
Tidas played things carefully. He wanted to give her something valuable, to make it appear as if he was on her side.
“Your DNA markers suggest that you’re one of the original humans from Earth.”
Gaze dropping to the floor, Jaeia hugged her arms to her chest as all the color disappeared from her face. “That’s impossible.”
“No, it’s not. Travel at sub-light speed, wormholes—there are enough possibilities out there to make it plausible. The most important thing is your tattoo. We believe it’s from Earth, a symbol that might lead us to know more about you, where you come from.”
Jaeia’s brows pinched. “Why is that so important? What if I am an original human from Earth? Aren’t you wondering where we got our powers?”
It wasn’t the primary concern, but Tidas nodded, affording her that belief.
Jaeia sighed. “I will give you the key and my knowledge of how it works only because you’re going to let Reht Jagger and his crew go—together, unharmed, and without tracers. And you’ll do it for Senka. She was one of the few people who have ever been honest and kind to me, and she wouldn’t have wanted others to suffer.”
Tidas’s jaw stiffened “You’re forgetting your rank, Commander.”
“I’m not forgetting anything. You and I are at an impasse. You still need me in uniform, and I need the Alliance so I can continue to fight for what I believe in. But I need to make sure you really let my friends go.”
“Is that a threat, Commander?”
“Think of it as renegotiating my military contract.”
The Minister thought it over carefully, realizing that he could still maintain the upper hand. “Fine. I will make arrangements for Captain Jagger and his crew.”
As he rose and walked to the door, she called after him. “Oh, and another thing.”
Tidas turned to her, clearing his throat when he saw the look on her face.
“I would like full access to all your information and history on Reht Jagger.”
Tidas ground his teeth together. She’s seen enough. I don’t want her gaining sympathy for that bastard.
Voice unusually calm, words evenly spoken, Jaeia tried him again. “We’re all in this together, and we both want what’s best for the Alliance. And we’re going to need each other if we’re going to make it.”
You’re too easy, Jaeia Kyron, he thought to himself. If Jetta had confronted him, things would have gone very differently. You have no idea what fate you’ve assigned your friends.
Straightening out his uniform, the Military Minister held the door back to the security corridor open for her. “Bring the key to the Defense/Research labs—I want that thing unlocked as soon as possible. Then I’ll get you access to Reht.”
Even though she kept her gaze
trained forward, Tidas felt her eyes following his every move as they walked down the corridor together to the lift. There was no accusation in her voice, but the pressure, like a heavy mist settling over his gray matter, returned. “Remember your promise.”
“Jaeia—you have my word.”
JETTA WOKE UP SLOWLY. At first she became aware of the pain shooting up her broken arm and injured legs. Moving was a bad idea. She bit down hard on her lip, drawing blood. A bolt of white-hot pain exploded through her body. Hold your breath. Don’t cry out.
Gritting her teeth, Jetta counted the seconds until the pain subsided to a dull throb. Much better to lie still.
She opened swollen eyes to find herself in an unfamiliar place. Pain sobered her to the reality of her situation. Gunfire. A flash of light. Crash-landing on Old Earth. Memory fragments knitted themselves together as she dug deeper. Scabbers—most likely the infamous hirable Jocks that roamed the wastelands looking for lost terrestrial treasures—coming to her rescue.
(My captors?)
Centuries of grafted military training kept her calm. Assess the situation. Keep quiet. A stray thought from a stolen life entered her consciousness in the gruff, straight-talking tones of a veteran: If you aren’t dead, then don’t panic. Under different circumstances, she might have found it humorous.
Jetta took in as much information as she could from her limited vantage point. Lying on her left side atop a flattened cardboard box, she faced a wall of aluminum siding. The odd smells of antiseptic and mold hung in the air. A blanket, sewn together from the remnants of other blankets, covered her from shoulder to knees. Voices behind her carried on an intense discussion in low whispers. Since they hadn’t detected her yet, she listened closely—extending her mind to them, pushing past their words and into their thoughts.
She identified two of the three voices: Agracia and Bossy. The third party, a female, sounded tired and middle-aged.
“She isn’t worth the risk.”
Jetta heard that repeated a few times, each time with a little more fervency.
“I heard she has the power of the Dissemblers—she’s too hot. Send her back.”
Agracia laughed. Her overconfidence made Jetta’s stomach knot. “There be ways to deal with that!”
Grumbling and profanities followed, along with talk in another language, one that sounded similar to Starways Common.
Of course, Jetta thought. English.
Though an antiquated dialect, English was an important root language that had formed Starways Common back when the first human refugees arrived in the Homeworlds. Since humans couldn’t speak some of the more difficult Sentient languages that required vocalization on multiple amplitudes, Starways Common developed out of the need for a universal language that could be understood and spoken by all Sentients. Within a few years of its conception, the new language unified business transactions and eased travel and communication across regulated space.
“Do you have any money, Agracia?” the middle-aged woman asked.
“Yeah, I’m loaded, like always. Don’t be stupid.”
“Watch that tongue!”
“Hey—quiet you two, she’s awake!”
Jetta grimaced and rolled over, the effort resulting in a sharp reminder of how much damage her body had taken.
Sitting on storage boxes around a circle of half-melted candles, the three Scabbers stared at her with various levels of disdain. Bossy drew Jetta’s shocked attention with tightly fitted, low-cut clothing at drastic odds with her apparent age and the ten or so cans of explosives strapped to her waist. Her blonde and brown striped hair had been arranged into two buns on the sides of her head, with a low cap hiding her brow. Oversized jewelry augmented her suggestive outfit, mostly arm cuffs and bracelets, as well as the bedazzled boots with straps all the way up to her knees.
Agracia rolled her eyes and turned to the woman Jetta didn’t know. “Is Jimmy around? He deals and patches up sometimes on the side.”
Jetta inferred that Jimmy dealt medical supplies, specifically antibiotics. When she pulled off the covers, she saw why Agracia asked.
My legs—
White film glazed the open wounds on her puffy red legs. Reflexively she reached out, only to receive another painful reminder of her other injuries.
“Skucheka,” Jetta winced, retracting her arm. She propped herself up on her good elbow and scooted back against the wall. “My arm is broken—it needs to be re-set.”
“Does this look like a chakking clinic?” Bossy said.
“Enough!” the other woman snapped. With a grunt and a huff, the woman shuffled toward Jetta, bending down and inspecting her with a frown on her face.
Jetta regarded her similarly, taking in her rather plain-looking features with curiosity and calculation. In the grand anatomic scope of the Sentients, this woman seemed just as uninteresting as any other Scabber. Lines of stress creased the corners of her eyes and her mouth, making her appear much older than she probably was, and her skin, unusually thin, like paper, looked like it would tear at slightest touch. She carried her large build half-hunched over and hidden under layers of mismatched clothes.
“What name you go by?” the woman asked.
I guess it’s too late to lie. “Jetta.”
“Fine. I’m Jade, and I’m a caretaker, not a doctor. I did the best I could to treat your injuries.”
“Caretaker?” Jetta asked, taking in more of her surroundings. They looked to be in some kind of processing facility, given the giant holding tanks and the pipes crisscrossing the walls and ceiling. Jetta spied a dusty control box, its indicators broken and bent, fixed to the right side of the room.
Somebody made a pitiful attempt at redecoration, she thought. Strings of colored lights stretched across the pipes, though most of the bulbs were broken. A strange and badly burned carving of a human figure on two crossed planks hung above the broken window over the control box. Other artifacts of Earth—doll heads, dead electronic equipment, plastic containers—were neatly arranged on shelves around the room.
“I keep what little is left of Earth’s history on Earth,” Jade said. “There was a news building and a library above this Pit before the War, so my family tried to salvage some of the documents before they set the nukes off. What wasn’t stolen or sold we hid here in the shallows of the Pits.”
“Shallows?”
“Secret areas,” Jade said.
Bossy started to say something, but Jade interjected. “Like she’s any threat right now—look at her!”
Holding her breath, Jetta bit down hard on her lip as the throbbing in her legs and broken arm threatened to make her pass out. Don’t you dare blackout. Stop being such a wuss.
“You’ve got to get her down to Dac’s clinic, Agracia,” Jade said, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t want her dying in here.”
Agracia stuffed her hands in her pockets, tapping her foot to the awful industrial metal song playing in her headphones, not seeming to take in her friend’s advice.
How can she hear anything over that noise? Jetta wondered. Let alone listen to that same crappy song over and over again.
“Me and Bossy are gonna take off, set things straight. You keep her the night and I promise we’ll be back. Here,” Agracia said, handing Jade something. “Your security deposit.”
“Hey!” Jetta said, feeling her pants pocket with her good arm. They took the compass orb Jaeia gave me!
“What is it?” Jade said, shaking it. The question mark never appeared.
It must be coded to my touch, Jetta surmised. To Jade it must have looked like nothing more than a dark, translucent rock.
“It was hers, and it’s something sweet or she wouldn’t be pitching a fit like that,” Agracia snorted.
“Cut the sycha and just get me some radiation meds,” Jade grumbled.
Agracia shrugged her shoulders as she headed out the door with Bossy.
“Here,” Jade said, lumbering over to Jetta with the orb. “I have no
use for your crap.”
Jetta snatched it out of her hand and stuffed it back into her pocket. “It isn’t worth anything. Just sentimental.”
“Let’s get something straight, kid. I know you’re Commander Jetta Kyron, but you’re not going to find anybody saluting you in these parts. You’re just another warlord to them,” Jade said, dragging herself over to a chest of clothes.
“Where exactly are we?” Jetta asked, trying to get something useful out of her.
Jade pulled out a scarf that she wound around her head and neck as she sat back down on her storage box.
She must be crazy—it’s sweltering in here! Jetta thought. Then her eyes drifted towards her legs. No, you idiot. You have a fever.
“You’re near Ground Zero, where the end started,” Jade said.
With a stifled groan, Jetta gingerly lowered herself back down onto the ground. “Look, I really need a doctor, a medic—anyone trained in medicine. I don’t want to lose my legs or my arm.”
“I’m sorry,” Jade said unapologetically, “but there really isn’t much left here. Earth is just a bad memory for most. The only people that dare to visit are environmental scientists and Tourists that prey on easy human targets. Everyone else is on their own. And not everyone is lucky enough to have access to the anti-radiation medications that your great Alliance sends.”
The woman pulled her blouse open to reveal a chest studded with disfiguring lumps.
That’s why she kept her garments so loose. Jetta felt cheap issuing any kind of apology, and pity would only elicit anger from the Scabber woman. Instead, her words came out flat and ignorant: “I had no idea.”
Jade’s face soured. “Earth is too far away from the Homeworlds for anyone to care. Besides, I don’t think any Deadskin living in the Homeworlds would call this place home anyway.”
Not wanting to fight, Jetta closed her eyes. She needed to contact Jaeia at any cost, especially after her telepathic attempts had failed. “Where are your communication relays? Is there any way for me to get a signal back to the Alliance?”
Jade readjusted her clothes and relit a candle in the center of her arrangement. “The only remaining communication tower is all the way in Pit 822-2. Everything here is broken.”
Triorion Omnibus Page 56