Angle of Truth

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Would you be open to an artistic suggestion?” Jelena gestured toward the mural.

  “From you?” Masika’s dark eyes closed to slits as she looked over her shoulder.

  “Yes, from me. Why? You don’t think my ideas have artistic merit?”

  “I’ve seen your cabin.”

  “It’s cheerful, isn’t it? I got my sparkly lamps, my unicorn comforter, and some more of my horse posters from my cabin on the Nomad when we were down on Arkadius. Now it’s really decorated in my style. Oh, and my cabinets have a decent amount of clothing in them now. And shoes.”

  “Your shoes are garish. They’re worse than the posters.” Masika turned back to painting.

  “They are not garish. Some of them are a little young, I admit. I’ve had the sequined blue ones since I was thirteen—I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. But my allowance was never sufficient for huge shopping sprees.”

  “Allowance.” Masika snorted.

  She hadn’t shared specifics on her family yet, but she’d mentioned she wouldn’t have been able to attend that university without a scholarship. Jelena supposed what she had considered a strict but fair allowance would seem extravagant for some. Still, she couldn’t help but bristle a bit and say, “I worked for it. It’s not like you can grow up on a freighter without having to do some of the ship’s duties.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you were like the child miners on Storm Asteroid 23, laboring fourteen hours a day around machinery that could dismember or kill you.”

  “Erick did run engineering before he left for the university.”

  Masika looked back again, her expression a little more wry than dismissive or wary this time. “That probably was dangerous.”

  “Indeed it was. I got my Starseer robe caught under his floor-cleaning robot’s treads once.”

  “You’re a weird girl, Marchenko.”

  “You say things like that, but I’d still let you borrow some of my shoes if you wanted to go out on a stellar date with someone.”

  “Not the ones with the rainbow glitter glued on them,” Masika said. “Please tell me that was an after-factory addition.”

  “Those are my workout shoes. You need something perky when your cyborg stepfather is pounding you into the deck.”

  Thor walked into the mess hall with his netdisc in his hand, his eyebrows raised at however much of the conversation he’d heard.

  “Thor agrees,” Jelena said.

  “About needing perky shoes?” Masika asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  She looked at his shoes. They were black, almost slipper-like, to match the rest of his outfit.

  Jelena imagined sneaking into his cabin one night and gluing rainbow glitter on them. Why hadn’t she thought to bring any of the twins’ craft supplies along?

  Thor skewered her with a dark look.

  “Those who poke into the back doors of people’s minds get what they deserve,” she murmured to him, feeling completely unapologetic.

  “Your mind is a lot different from most people’s.”

  “Naturally.” She grinned at him.

  He seemed taken aback, but then lifted his netdisc, waving a finger to bring up the holodisplay. Jelena glimpsed an auction site with ships on it before he switched to another window. She looked at his face. Was he already plotting ways to get a new ship so he could leave? So he could get back to assassinating people? She’d thought she’d talked him into taking a break from that so the Alliance would forget about him and stop sending people after him. It’d been less than two weeks, and they’d only completed one job since she’d hired him to help out. Granted, he had never promised to stay for a long time—or any set time at all—but she couldn’t help but feel sad that he wanted to leave so soon. She told herself that it had nothing to do with her or her ship, and that it was about the destiny he was so certain he had to pursue, but it was hard not to take it personally.

  “I’ve learned of three possible jobs that are available that an outfit as small as ours could potentially take on,” Thor said without commenting on her thoughts.

  “Excellent.” Jelena rubbed her hands together and forced enthusiasm into her tone. “What are they?”

  “A gangster named Black Bearface wants some medical supplies stolen from an Alliance ship carrying them to Hierarchy Moon 3. He plans to sell them at an exorbitant price on the black market, so he’s willing to pay reasonably well for their acquisition.”

  Jelena peered at Thor, certain he was pulling her leg. “That sounds like a job for someone who wants to irk the Alliance.”

  “Yes.” The most serene expression crossed his face.

  “Uh huh, we’re not stealing from anyone unless the lives of animals or people are at stake. What’s next?”

  “Someone called The Southern Scar wants a rival killed, a wily war veteran who has eluded him thus far. He’s offering ten thousand tindarks.”

  “Killed? That’s worse than stealing. Thor, are these real jobs, or are you teasing me?”

  “They’re real jobs.” He held the display toward her, as if that would verify their legitimacy. The text hanging in the air in the background didn’t tell her much. It looked like some kind of private community site.

  “Are those real names? They sound like something a vid maker would make up for dramatic flair.”

  “They are alliterative,” Thor murmured, and prodded a different header. “All right, how’s this? The two primary governments on Fourseas have been squabbling for a long time, and just under a year ago, it escalated to war. Recently, some of Opuntia’s leaders and top minds were kidnapped by the Chollans. Their own attempts at rescuing the POWs have failed, and the Opuntian government is willing to pay well if someone can get their people out alive.”

  “A rescue?” Jelena gripped his arm. “Thor. Why didn’t you lead with that one?”

  “I was hoping you’d want to steal Alliance medical supplies. And that the Alliance would be blamed for negligence and ineptitude after the loss.”

  “You knew that wouldn’t happen.”

  “Yes, but I had fantasies.”

  “Marchenko isn’t the only one here with a different mind,” Masika muttered. She had her back to them and hadn’t stopped painting, but she must have been listening.

  Jelena would have smiled at her if she’d been looking. Instead, she released Thor’s arm, but only so she could swat it. “Give me more details of the rescue, please.”

  “There are three Alliance officials among those who were kidnapped. One looks to be a diplomatic envoy to the planet, there to help mediate and find a solution to the war.”

  “Meaning we might be able to get into the Alliance’s good graces if we rescued those people? That’s almost as good as being paid. This is wonderful. Tell them we’ll take the job.”

  Thor’s lips thinned, but he did not state his opinion of seeking the Alliance’s “good graces.” “What shall I tell the Opuntians in regard to our credentials?”

  “I don’t suppose we can just use your credentials.”

  “I’d prefer not to announce my name to a government friendly to the Alliance.”

  “I thought not. All right. What if we told them that we stole highly desirable contraband out from under the noses of an influential and wealthy corporation?”

  “Is that me?” Masika dabbed more paint on the wall. “Or are you talking about the dogs?”

  “The monkeys, actually. They were helpful. I should have kept some of them.” Jelena pointed to Thor’s holodisplay. “If that doesn’t impress them, maybe you can send pictures of the space base we damaged. Say those are the lengths we’re willing to go to in order to complete a mission.”

  Thor shook his head slowly. “We’re not going to be able to let you do the talking if I’m able to secure a meeting, not if we want to get the job.”

  “Are you sure? I could dress up and wear my rainbow glitter shoes.”

  Thor only continued to shake his head. “I’ll try to arrange something
. Set course for Fourseas. Even if this doesn’t pan out, we should be able to find some work in a war zone. If nothing else, there will be embargoes and blockades. We could make some extra money if we were willing to smuggle goods and get shot at.”

  Masika dropped her brush into the paint can, turned toward them, and propped her elbow on the counter. “In case I wasn’t clear before, you people both have different minds. Very different minds. Smuggle goods and get shot at? That’s not a sane person’s way to make money.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want to come?” Jelena asked. “I thought you wanted to do something heroic with your super strength,” she added, referencing a comment from the conversation they’d had when Masika shared some of her story.

  “I said I wanted to help people. Heroics weren’t mentioned.”

  “But they’d be a nice bonus, right? Heroically helping people. That’s better than anonymously slipping someone a tip or something of that nature. Right, Thor?” She eyed his bland face. “What are you thinking?”

  “That I had better lock my cabinets so you don’t try to glitter my shoes tonight.” He prodded his holodisplay to minimize the list of job options. “I’ll let you know if I get a meeting.”

  As the list closed, Jelena saw the auction site again. Before she could dwell on its meaning, he minimized it too. She glimpsed a picture of people that had been open behind everything. It looked like a family portrait with two young boys. His family?

  “Who’re they?” She started to point, but Thor snapped the netdisc down, closing the display.

  “Nobody,” he said and walked out.

  “I think,” Masika said, “that if you try to glitter his shoes, he’ll run you through with his glowy sword.”

  “What if I string festive little lights all over your mural to make it look like they’re part of the snowy landscape?” That had been the artistic suggestion she’d wanted to make earlier. The painting didn’t need accents, but she imagined it would be nice to wander into the mess hall late at night for a snack and not have to turn on the overhead lighting. One could sit and admire the snowy mural by the glow of the little lights.

  “You’re going to find trouble on Fourseas and drag us all into it, aren’t you?” Masika asked, sighing.

  “Heroically, if I can manage it.”

  Chapter 4

  From space, Fourseas was a mix of greenish-blue seas and two dusty-brown continents among equally brown island chains. If not for the water, the planet might have reminded Jelena of Dustor, the sandy dustball where Mom and Leonidas had first met.

  “That’s where our potential employer is.” From the co-pilot’s seat, Thor pointed to the larger continent, an amorphous rectangular blob with a mountain range bisecting it from east to west. A few green smudges in the shadows of the range broke up the prevailing brown.

  “Is that where their enemy lives?” Jelena pointed to the other major continent, one lacking mountains or any hint of green. Even from a distance, it looked like an unappealing place to live.

  “That’s the Chollan homeland, yes.”

  “What do we know about it?” She waved to the netdisc in his pocket—he didn’t seem to have an earstar. Maybe none of the models were suitably black and broody enough for him. “Shall I fly over it on the way to the other one? A little pre-mission reconnaissance?”

  They didn’t have the job yet—she’d let Thor handle everything thus far and hadn’t even spoken to the Opuntians—but maybe it would impress their potential employer if they knew a fact or two going into the meeting.

  “Flying over a continent that’s at war with another continent might not be wise. This far away from the core worlds, their resources will be limited, but I’m sure they have ground-to-air weapons capabilities.”

  “We’re an unmarked civilian freighter. Why would they fire on us? We could be on a charity mission bringing bandages and food for the beleaguered masses. Maybe we’re here to airdrop treasures on their doorsteps.”

  “I imagine charities comm ahead before showing up on people’s doorsteps.”

  Jelena considered the advice, then plotted a course that would take them over the smaller continent.

  “We have shields,” she said to Thor’s disapproving look. “I just want to take a peek. We’ll take some scans of the major cities and get a feel for what we’re up against.” She programmed instructions into the sensor panel, so the ship’s instruments would do just that.

  Thor pointedly reached over and tapped the button to raise the shields. Jelena thought about pointing out that a charity-sent freighter with peaceful intent wouldn’t fly down with their shields up, but she couldn’t fault his caution. She’d never been to Fourseas and didn’t know what to expect.

  “They’ve traditionally been isolationists.” Thor set his netdisc on the console and brought up the encyclopedia entry for the planet and its two key nations. “The Opuntians were considered an imperial province during the Sarellian reign. They had senatorial representation and an appointed leader to run the province, but they were largely left to their own devices. Compared to the core worlds, the populations here are fairly small. The Chollans, those on the continent you’re determined to fly over, were under imperial law, too, and paid taxes, but they didn’t have representation in the government, nor did they seem to care what went on in the empire or system as a whole. Fourseas wasn’t one of the original colony planets, but it was eventually terraformed enough to have a breathable atmosphere and potable water, assuming one didn’t mind running a desalination plant to extract it. Two groups settled within the same year, the stronger and richer claiming the big continent. Those who claimed the small continent were a conglomeration of people who weren’t fans of the Divine Suns Trinity and wanted to follow the old ways.”

  “The old ways?” Jelena glanced at his holodisplay, but they were dropping out of orbit now, and she needed to focus on flying.

  “The Old Earth religions. Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, Shintoism, Judaism, etcetera.”

  “I didn’t think anyone believed in that stuff anymore.”

  “The scientist leaders of the original colony ships certainly tried to ensure that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “History wasn’t studied on the Star Nomad? I’m disappointed in Leonidas’s parenting skills.”

  “Are you? I’ll let you tell him that to his face when we see him next.” Jelena shot him a dirty look. However powerful and athletic Thor thought he was, Jelena would put her money on Leonidas if they ever fought, once he was fully recovered from his heart transplant, anyway. “I took all the normal Arkadian curriculum classes while I was growing up on the Nomad, including history, yes, but all I remember the texts saying was that the old religions had fallen out of favor, and that by the time the colonists regained space flight, fought off the Kirians, and the empire had been established, they were looking for something new. The empire promoted the Divine Suns Trinity and made it clear it was unhealthy to follow any other religion.”

  “The Divine Suns Trinity was around from the beginning. It was conceived before our ancestors arrived in the system. Even though the original colony ships came from different countries and cultures on Earth, the scientist leaders of the various expeditions had bonds that transcended nationality, and they worked together to plan everything. They’d seen religious and cultural differences play major roles in starting wars on Earth throughout the centuries, and after the third World War, they were terrified that humanity would simply take its differences to their new system and start warring anew as soon as they could. So through various methods—it’s speculated that they did some brain programming while people were settling into suspended animation for the long journey—they convinced the colonists that it was time for a new religion, one that would be representative of their new system, and one that they would all share. If you compare the Trinity to the old religions, you’ll realize it’s basically thinly veiled agnosticism with a faint, wry nod to the idea of gods with our suns
as deities. There are a few religious holidays and ceremonies, and there are the tenets laid down in the Xerikesh, but you basically have what a bunch of atheistic scientists imagined a religion should be.”

  “What history books did you find this information in?” Jelena had never heard anything like this story.

  “The ones without cartoons or pictures.”

  “Keep insulting me—and my parents—and I’ll airdrop you right along with the imaginary charity goods we’re bringing.”

  “I’ll send you some articles,” was all he said, then pointed at the sensor display. “Stay above twenty thousand feet. I do see weapons facilities down there.”

  They were flying in over the ocean and toward the longest coast on the triangular-shaped continent. Jelena was surprised by the lack of cities. There were long-abandoned ruins all along the coast, but the sensors only spotted two major population centers, one at the northern tip of the triangle and another along a harbor in the south. A handful of the coastal towns looked to have suffered bombings and been abandoned more recently. She didn’t see anything inland. Was the land so dry and inhospitable that people couldn’t settle there?

  “They’ve created a tunnel system and have a lot of underground habitations with locations known only to the natives, at least according to the entry.” Thor waved at the encyclopedia articles and maps.

  “So these Chollans follow one of the old religions?” Jelena asked warily, hoping he wouldn’t insult her education further.

  “Forgive me,” Thor murmured and gave her a sad smile and an odd two-fingered salute. Was that in regard to her thoughts? Or what she had asked? “The Chollans follow many of the old religions. As I said, it’s believed there was some brainwashing of the early colony ships, or maybe it’s possible people were simply pressured into converting to the new religion when they woke in their new system, but there were holdouts. On all the original colony planets, people here and there remembered the old ways and passed on the traditions to their children. The empire had zero tolerance when it came to those other religions.”