“Naturally,” Ezo said. “So… you two are friends?”
“Well,” Phineas said, stifling laughter. “If you call losing your favorite skiff in a bad hand of Antaran backdraw friendship—”
“Which I do,” Sootriman said.
“Then, yeah. And I’m gonna win that skiff back, queen. Don’t go making any mods to it.”
“Too late,” Sootriman said. “It’s pink now.”
“Pink?” Phineas looked confused. “But, you hate pink.”
“I do, yes. But my cats don’t.”
“Son of a bitch. You know I’m allergic!”
Sootriman shrugged. “Whoops.” She called down the hall to the Reptalon. “Saasarr, tell Tee-Oh we have enough applicants for today. We’ll be in touch with the others if we need them.”
“Yes, your highness.”
Ezo dipped his head to catch Sootriman’s eye, then leaned in toward her ear. “These are the particular people you were trying to get the attention of?”
“You’re very perceptive,” she whispered.
“So what was with all the fanfare and speech giving?”
Sootriman smiled. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“You went through all that just to get them here?”
“Hardly. I sent them a message before we entered subspace. As Tee-Oh suggested, all that will help my magistrates when it comes time to solicit the common folk for their help, should they need it.”
“Would it have hurt to let Ezo—let me in on it?”
Sootriman pulled away and looked Ezo in the eyes. “There’s something to be said for being a woman of mystery, don’t you think?”
* * *
Sootriman led everyone up a private staircase to a portico that overlooked Gangil’s southern sector. The covered deck was far enough away from the den’s main rooms that it escaped Moldark’s savagery. A canopy made of billowing fabric played in the evening breeze while hanging lanterns bathed the low-slung chairs and communal tables in soft light.
Ezo, Sootriman, and the twelve magistrates reclined in friendly conversation, drinks in hand, while Saasarr and TO-96 stood watch. Not that anyone dared ambush the gathering. After all, Sootriman had just defied the harbinger of death and returned victoriously—at least as far as the citizens of Gangil were concerned. Furthermore, Ezo suspected the magistrates had not ventured from their respective haunts unaccompanied. He guessed their position was safeguarded by several snipers whose keen eyes searched the shadows for would-be assassins.
“If I could have your attention,” Sootriman said. “Your attention, please.”
The various side conversations died down, and everyone turned to Sootriman.
“I want to thank you for coming tonight. I know many of you had far more important affairs to deal with than attending to my request for a meeting.”
“Boris still needs a bath,” someone offered, which brought on a round of laughter made easier by the drinks.
“When doesn’t he?” Sootriman added. Then she raised her glass that held two fingers of an aged bottle of bratch she’d kept in a private liquor cabinet. “A toast. To warm baths and bread.”
“Warm baths and bread,” the gathering echoed, clinking glasses then downing the strong drink.
When the chuckling died down, Sootriman sat back and put her glass on the table. “The fact is, I need your help. We need your help.” She looked at Ezo, then Saasarr and TO-96. “It seems trouble has come to the galaxy. And while we all pride ourselves in staying out of the affairs of others, it seems I have been pulled into a fight much more significant than my own cares and concerns.
“Granted, you may not find yourself in the same place once you hear everything I have to say. You may wish to resign yourself to your current affairs just as they are, and bid me farewell. I will not condemn you. But know that it may very well be the last time we speak together.”
“Is it so bad, this trouble you speak of?” asked the oldest looking man in the group. He sported a long grey beard and a gold ring in one eyebrow. His question and Sootriman’s words seemed to lower everyone’s mood.
“It is, Dieddelwolf. And then some.” Sootriman threw the rest of her drink back and then struck the table with her empty glass. “Tee-Oh?”
“Yes?” said the bot.
“Another round of drinks.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
* * *
Nearly an hour had passed when Sootriman finished her story. She recounted the events she’d lived through since Moldark ransacked her den and slaughtered the members of her court. To their credit, the magistrates listened without so much as a burp. They were, to put it mildly, transfixed by her account. Whether or not they’d risk their lives for the sake of a little girl, some misguided Luma, and the Galactic Republic most of them despised, that was another story.
Just as Ezo suspected, one of the first people to speak was a woman who went by the name Chloe. Her short red hair flipped out from under a black Repub officer’s cap, and she had a Sypeurlion admiral’s jacket buttoned up with a tie around her waist. How the woman got either officer’s garments piqued Ezo’s interest.
“That’s a fine story, your highness, and I’m certainly sorry for the hardships you’ve endured, but am I the only one here who thinks you’re about ready to ask us to help get involved in a war that doesn’t concern us?” Chloe looked around at everyone as if to gauge their response. At least two others nodded in agreement and turned to Sootriman. It seemed Ezo’s wife had a bit of convincing to do before the night was out.
“A fair question,” Sootriman replied. “Whether or not this fight is of your concern is entirely up to you. And your decision will not affect my view of your allegiance. I would never ask you to risk your life for something you don’t believe in.”
“So you are going to ask us then,” Chloe said.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. The rest of the Gladio Umbra are gathering forces and preparing to try and stop Moldark and So-Elku as we speak. And I must leave by morning to rejoin them.”
“So what’s the pitch, Sootriman?”
Sootriman stared at Chloe. Ezo guessed she would be the hardest sell. Something about the Repub and Sypeurlion items she wore told Ezo that the woman had taken out their former owners herself, and most likely at a high cost. She wasn’t going to fight unless it was personal.
“The pitch is you all lend whatever fighters you can. We supply training, armament, food, transport, and plenty of targets, you supply the bodies. When it’s all over, you retain your warriors and whatever new tech they’re carrying.”
“When it’s all over, meaning if we survive,” Chloe said. She leaned back in her chair and gave Sootriman a smug look. “I dunno, my queen. Feels like this war is going to be more hassle than it’s worth.”
If Chloe’s stalwart demeanor phased Sootriman, she didn’t show it. “It might. And you might die. Mystics, I’ve already stared death down twice. But if it’s not your trouble now, something tells me it might be soon enough.”
Dieddelwolf leaned in. “You think this Moldark is coming to our system?”
“I think he’s coming to every system,” Sootriman said. “It might not be today or tomorrow. But we’re dealing with someone, with something the likes of which I’ve never seen. It’s only a matter of time before he’s done with the Republic. He has command of all three fleets.”
“That’s enough firepower to clear the sector,” Borris said.
Dieddelwolf shook his head. “No, that’s enough firepower to clear the quadrant. If the Jujari, Sypeurlion, and Dim-Telok are eliminated, there’s nothing to stop him.”
“Exactly,” Sootriman said, her eyes searching their faces. A whole minute passed without a word spoken. A lonely dog howled in the distance, and a cantina fight spilled into a street, punctuated by the sound of breaking glass.
“Fifteen years, no taxes,” Chloe said at last.
Ezo watched Sootriman’s face brighten ever so slightly. “You know w
e can’t operate without subsidies. The cities will fall out of the sky. Five years, tax-free.”
“Ten.” Chloe leaned across the table and spat in her hand. “And not a year less.”
Sootriman seemed to consider the offer, but Ezo guessed the savvy businesswoman had already made up her mind. The truth was, she probably would have taken no taxes for life. But why give away more than was needed to make the deal? The galaxy may be a mess but credits were still credits. Sootriman spit in her hand, reached across the table, and grasped Chloe’s hand. “Done.”
* * *
Having concluded their official business, Sootriman dismissed her magistrates but welcomed them to stay the night if they wished. The den had more than enough accommodations in its sub-platform chambers—more space that Moldark had failed to defile.
When they were alone again, Ezo joined Sootriman at the portico’s far end where she reclined on an amply cushioned tech chair. “I think that went rather well,” Ezo said, mindful of using his real name. He sat down beside her and handed her a fresh drink.
“Thanks,” she replied, taking a sip from the offered glass. “They’re good people.”
“Wasn’t sure about that Chloe, though.”
“She’s been through a lot and doesn’t like to waste her time with other people’s wars.”
“Understandable. But I suppose there’s more to the story with her.” Ezo waited to see if Sootriman would share. But when his wife didn’t offer anything, Ezo said, “Like how she got those officer’s clothes.”
“As with most of the people on this planet, she wears what she kills.”
“So she killed a Repub officer and a Sypeurlion admiral? I’ve gotta hear about this.”
“Not my story to tell, love.” Sootriman took another sip. “Maybe you can ask her one day. But fair warning.”
“Oh?”
“Be ready for her to throw something. Most likely at you.”
“Noted. Thanks.” Ezo took another sip of the bratch and tried to enjoy the stillness of the night. “You think they’re getting some more people to join?”
“I suspect they’ll get us some fresh faces, yes,” Sootriman replied. “Tee-Oh’s little spectacle will help see to that. Of what quality and talents, well, that remains to be seen. At best, Magnus will have some new fighters to train. At worst…”
“Azelon will have some deckhands and galley rats.”
“Precisely.” Sootriman winked at Ezo.
“So, you think it was worth the trip out here?”
“I do. But there’s one more thing I need to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Would you mind summoning Saasarr for me?”
“Saasarr?” Ezo looked back toward the doorway expecting to see the Reptalon but realized he was securing the den’s main gate. “Sure. We going somewhere?”
“No, love. He’s the one I need to speak with.”
Ezo hesitated. “As in, the one last thing you need to do?”
Sootriman nodded.
“And I suppose you’re not going to tell me what it’s about.”
“Not yet, anyway.”
“And why not?”
She shrugged and took another sip of her drink. “Because if it doesn’t work out, I don’t want you included among those who’ll have their throats cut.”
“And I’m absolutely okay with that.”
11
Piper sat up and flicked on her bedside light. Her hands were clammy, and her nightgown was soaked. She’d had the dream again—the one where Magnus rescued her.
She looked around the bedroom as her brain tried to make sense of where she was. The old lamp’s warm glow illuminated wooden furniture, a thick rug, and heavy curtains drawn over a window. The room smelled like old people and dust.
That’s when the reality of her present circumstances came rushing back. She was in Plumeria, on Worru, and Shydoh So-Elku’s newest doma.
Piper slid off the tall bed and landed on the rug, then she shuffled to the curtains. She pulled the left side back to reveal a clear sky filled with stars. The sight of tiny orbs sent a chill down her spine. It was as if they called to her, inviting her to leave. This place, she imagined them saying, is not your home.
The word “home” made Piper’s heart flutter. She hadn’t thought about being home for a long time. Well, that was, until the nightmare she’d just relived. Being back in her family’s apartment on Capriana had felt wonderful. She could imagine her father’s voice as he made morning holo calls from the dining room table. She could hear her mother singing in the shower. And Talisman was clutched tightly in her arm as she played a game on her holo pad.
And then the pain came. The city was destroyed, and Piper was left to wander the streets—lost and alone. But that was when Magnus came, appearing from the wreckage to rescue her.
“No,” Piper said aloud, stepping away from the window. The curtain caressed her face as she moved toward a chair in the room’s corner. “He’s not a rescuer. He’s a murderer.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she thought about her mother. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t forget her mother’s dead body with her helmet split in two. Piper wept, wishing she had Talisman to hold.
Just then, another memory filled her mind, that of her father’s burial. She sat with her mother as the hot sands of Oorajee stung her face. That day was so painful, rivaled only by the night her mother died. She remembered sneaking a few glimpses as Magnus buried her daddy beside his emergency pod, digging a grave in the sand with a Repub helmet.
Another shiver went down Piper’s back, this time making her arms prickle. She was cold—cold and alone. And she was homesick.
So-Elku insisted that she was where she belonged. “You’re home now,” he’d said. They walked back to her quarters after the day’s exercise in the lily pond, her arm through his. Her new shydoh assured her that she was in the right place. But, somehow, she didn’t agree. She didn’t feel like she was in the right place, and this wasn’t home.
Then again, where was home?
Her father and mother were dead, and the only people she felt comfortable with were long gone—although comfortable wasn’t the right word anymore. Not after what Magnus had done.
Which made her wonder a new thought: How could Awen be friends with someone like Magnus? Deep in her heart, Piper didn’t believe Awen was bad. If anything, Magnus had blinded her just like he’d blinded Piper. But is Awen really so impercip—percep—imperceptive?
Suddenly, a feeling of guilt overshadowed the overwhelming feeling of being homesick. Piper pulled her legs up to her chest as another shiver went through her body. She felt ashamed for thinking that Awen wasn’t smart enough to see through Magnus’s deceit. She was, after all, a famed Luma and co-leader of the Gladio Umbra. She would have sensed Magnus’s evil motives just like she had sensed—
Piper shook.
Just like Awen had sensed So-Elku’s.
But she was wrong about the Luma Master. He wasn’t bad. Maybe just misunderstood. Like she was. None of Piper’s friends back in school got her. They’d made fun of her gifts. They called her a demon and said she didn’t fit in. She’d wanted a second chance with them. She’d wanted to show them that she wasn’t a freak and that her powers were beautiful. But they’d made up their minds—just like Awen had made up her mind against So-Elku.
After all, he’d asked Piper for a second chance. Wouldn’t she be a hippalotaderm if she didn’t give him one? No, not a hippalotaderm. A hippa—hippacrat. Something like that.
But working with So-Elku gave Piper an icky feeling. Taking off her power suit didn’t feel right, especially after Awen had gone to such great lengths to make it for her. And her mother had been so enamored with it too. Piper remembered seeing it for the first time on the stone altar in the temple on Neith Tearness. The memory made her warm inside and pushed back the cold.
Then, an even more puzzling thought struck Piper. If So-Elku truly needed a second chance, why ha
dn’t Awen given him one? And, more importantly, why hadn’t her grandmother? After all, both women had known him for a long time—Awen almost as long as Piper had been alive if her math was right, and her grandmother for… well, for however old she and So-Elku were, she guessed.
This begged even more questions that Piper didn’t feel up to answering. Had her grandmother already given So-Elku some second chances? Had Awen? Her former shydoh wasn’t exactly the mean type. Sure, Piper had seen Awen be cross, but that was only when Piper did something really dangerous. Or stupid. Or both.
In fact, Piper couldn’t think of a time where Awen was not at least willing to see something through someone else’s eyes—even Magnus’s. And those two were about as opposite as people could be. Awen wanted peace, and Magnus wanted to blow things up. Well, he wanted to stop bad people from doing bad things. But still, the ways Awen and Magnus wanted to get things done seemed really different—at least until they formed the Gladio Umbra and started working together. That was when they traded what was best for themselves with what was best for everyone. At least, that’s how Piper imagined it.
Suddenly, Piper had a memory of So-Elku’s face as she stood in the lily pond after the day’s exercise. But the image was fuzzy, and she knew she needed to see it more clearly—to feel it more deeply. That’s when she remembered the new ability she’d discovered while flowing through the atoms of the lily pond: she’d been able to look back in time. Or something like that.
Born from a desire to see So-Elku’s face in the garden, maybe even to hear his thoughts, Piper slipped into her second sight and summoned the Nexus’s power. The forces that connected all things in the Unity flowed through her—or, rather, she flowed through them. Piper felt herself leap across steps in time like she was jumping from one stone to another in a beautiful river. She glanced into the shimmering waves of light and spotted the events of her day as easily as if she were watching a holo movie of her life. The moments rippled beneath the surface, inviting her to view each one and savor the past.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 143