by Rachel Ford
He shifted in his seat. “Funny you should ask.”
“Oh?”
“That’s part of why I’m here, Nik. He wants to talk to us. Specifically, he wants to talk to you.”
“To me?” She felt an eyebrow creep up her forehead. “Why me?”
He shrugged. “Because – like I said earlier – without you, there would be no revolution.”
She frowned. This was a measure of responsibility, of credit, she felt she hadn’t earned. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“Not exactly. But I think it’s to find out what we want. I think those starship captains are getting worried.”
“About what?”
“That our new world might not have a place for them. That we might not need fighters when we’re not fighting our own people.”
Her forehead creased in thought. “They’re as much a part of this as we are,” she said. “Without their tacit approval, we’d all be dead.”
“You mean, because they didn’t murder us?” Giya laughed. “You give them a little more credit than they’re due, Nik. Not that I’m not grateful, of course. Still…a man hardly deserves accolades for not being a murderer, does he?”
“It’s not that simple, Giya.”
“Isn’t it?”
“It’s never that simple.” These were men and women with long careers, for whom the chain of command was everything. They’d risked it all, defied every soldier’s instinct, to do the right thing. The marchers had had little left to lose. The military had everything left to lose. And they’d still stuck their necks out.
“Well, I’m not here to argue politics. I just want to know if you can talk to him.”
“Absolutely not,” Dr. Kel piped up.
She’d almost forgotten that he was there, he’d been so quiet and unobtrusive. Now, though, she glanced up. “If they want to talk to me, Doctor, I have to.”
“No, you don’t, Nik. There’s no way you’re well enough for politics.”
“You can be there, doc,” Giya put in. “To make sure things are going smoothly.”
Kel shook his head adamantly. “No.” He turned to her. “This is your life, Nik. And the baby’s.”
“It’s our empire, Doctor,” she returned. “There’s a lot more lives than mine at stake. If the military thinks-”
“Let Giya talk to them, then,” he interrupted. “Let any of the others talk to him. You don’t need to keep putting yourself in harm’s way.”
“They want Nik,” Giya said quietly. “Believe me, doc, if I could, I’d spare her. But that Elgin was insistent.”
“I won’t be in harm’s way,” Nikia added. “It’ll just be a conversation. Nothing more.”
Kel drew a hand across his brow. “Good gods, Nik. You’re going to be the death of me.”
That meant, she knew, he’d given up trying to argue her out of it. “Come on, Kel. It’s not a big deal. Just one conversation. And, like Giya says, you’ll be there the whole time. Nothing bad’ll happen.”
He just sighed, though, and shook his head.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Despite his excitement, Brek had spent the remainder of the night in the caves. It was too dark to find a safe path, much less to ascertain where he was headed. Not only that, but it was cold – bitterly cold.
He’d spent the night resting by the sulfur spring, as close to the water as he could manage without getting wet. Sleep came and went with a mind of its own, and he was glad when the daystar started to light on the horizon.
He saw, now, that he was in a half open cave. The sulfur springs by which he’d slept were small in comparison to the great body of water in the caves beyond. The visible portion, at least – for he could see a great, open section of the spring leading into the caves. He wondered vaguely if that had been the source of the bluish glow on the interior lake, some trick of the light, some strange refraction between the pools.
As the daystar rose in the sky, though, he got to his feet and pushed to the edge of the cave. He’d seen no more of the wolf in his time here, but now he spotted tracks in the snow that had blown into the semi-enclosure.
He shivered, wondering how many others might be in the vicinity. The wolf had come for his fish; of that, he had no doubt. Which meant it was close by – it, and whatever its pack consisted of.
He hoped they would not cross paths again. It was a magnificent animal, but a predator nonetheless, with a mouth full of sharp, deadly teeth. To such a creature, he would be a wounded bag of meat.
Brek tried to push those thoughts away. They were hardly productive in the circumstance. So he gazed out, into the early Thetan morning.
He was in the mountains – somewhere. Great ranges stretched out before him, snowy and gray against the sky.
He tried to fix a relative position in his mind, based on where he’d been trapped and where the mountains were in relation to camp. He’d been turned around one too many times, though, to form any clear picture.
The cave might be west of camp. It might be east. Hell, it might be north or south for that matter. There were mountain ranges all over Theta. It all depended on how many days he’d spent down there, and how many kilometers he’d covered in that time.
He hoped it was not many. He might have been out of the caves, but he was still in the mountains. And he still had a twisted ankle and no supplies with him.
Tal woke to someone nudging him. “Tal,” Tig’s voice came, low and urgent. “Tal, wake up.”
He stirred slowly, a throbbing pain in his head. “What?”
“Wake up, dammit.”
That did the trick, and he forced his eyes open. Light flooded his senses, and he recoiled cringing for a moment. As the sensation passed, though, he blinked into a well-lit office of moderate size.
He blinked up at a woman, watching the pair of them from behind a great wooden desk. She was sitting still with her fingers steepled in front of her. Now, she spoke, “Welcome to Trapper’s Colony, gentlemen.”
Tal glanced around for his gun, but saw that it was gone. He was not, though, secured in any fashion. That was both a surprise and a relief. They were alone in this room. This woman, whoever she was, had no entourage of guards. Even if she was armed, he could move fast. If it came to it, he could be lethal with his bare hands.
“Welcome?” Tig repeated. “Do you usually shoot your guests, then?”
“You did draw first,” she reminded them. “I do apologize about having to shoot you. But I didn’t want anyone to die, and that seemed like the most effective way.”
Tal frowned at her. Her people had been using stun setting, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said. “Who are you, and why did you kidnap us?”
“Kidnap?” She smiled. “That’s rather dramatic, Mister Imari.”
Tal gulped, and from the corner of his eye he could see Tig stiffen.
“Oh yes, I know exactly who you are, Tal Amari and Tig Orsen.”
“Then you have us at a disadvantage, as I don’t know who the hell you are.”
“True. Forgive me: I’m Governor Nees.”
“Ah. The one picking a fight with Central.”
She watched him with curious eyes, her smile reappearing at his bluster. “That’s right. Not helping my case, I suppose, by talking to two escaped felons.”
“That’s easy enough to solve,” he shot back. “Let us be on our way.”
She shrugged. “Of course. If you want to go, you’re free to do so.”
He exchanged glances with Tig, and of one accord they started to stand.
“But my men tell me you won’t get far out of this star system on the fuel you have left,” she said, arresting their motion. “Which, I believe, is why you stopped here in the first place.”
“Let’s cut to the chase, Governor. What do you want? Are you going to hand us over to Central?”
She frowned at him. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”
He shrugged. “How
the hell would I know? All I know is, we landed on this planet and have had guns on us ever since. And nobody’s told us why.”
“You are escaped felons,” she reminded him mildly. “You have to expect some precautions. At least in your case, Mister Amari.” She glanced at Tig. “In yours, Mister Orsen, I suppose we’d be safe as long as we kept our checkbooks locked away.”
She smiled and Tig flushed. Despite the situation, Tal’s curiosity was piqued. He’d never asked his friend the precise circumstances of his imprisonment. He’d heard he was a thief, and left it at that. “We’re not looking for trouble,” he said, forcing his mind on task. “We just need fuel.”
Nees nodded. “Alright. If that’s the case, we’ll fuel you up.”
“You will?” He was surprised by this sudden reversal.
“Yes. I was, I admit, a little suspicious when – right after we declare independence – an imperial ship showed up in our airspace. With a former protector on it, no less. But your story checks out. So, if fuel is all you want, you can have it.”
“I don’t suppose…well, maybe we could get some food too?”
Nees laughed. “Yes, we can manage that.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” She crossed her arms. “Although, I do have a counter offer, if you’ll hear me out.”
It had been too easy. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. Here we go. “Oh?”
“You needn’t be so suspicious, Imari. I don’t know what your plans are…but I’m offering you safe harbor, if you want it.”
Tal stared at her, then glanced at Tig. His friend was as confused as he was. “You are?”
She nodded. “You’re a protector, Imari. You were, anyway. And a damned good one. I pulled your record. I’d like to offer you a job as head of security. If you’re interested, of course.”
He frowned. “You would?”
“Yes. I need someone with experience. And – since the empire and Trapper’s Colony are hardly simpatico right now – we’re not exactly flooded with immigrants applying for the job.”
Again, the two men exchanged glances. “What about Tig?”
“He’s welcome to stay, too, of course. Just…” She fixed him with a piercing gaze. “No fraud.”
He flushed. “Of course not.”
Tal made a mental note to get the story from his friend at the earliest possible moment. His curiosity was thoroughly stoked now. Aloud, he said, “And you’re not going to turn us over when the empire comes calling?”
“No,” she said. “I’m not. But, in fairness, I do have to warn you: we’re going to do everything we can to keep this colony independent. But if the empire sorts its own house out, and then comes calling…there’s not much our colony can do to stop them. Not if they’re willing to risk the oil reserves.”
Tal considered. Hiding out on an independent colony seemed a much better strategy than trying to blend in on an imperial planet.
And Trapper’s Colony was rich enough in oil that they might just be safe. Oil had been the original source of conflict between the colonial government and Central’s: the empire had demanded higher oil production than the little colony was equipped to safely meet. The Supreme Leader wouldn’t do anything that would risk that much oil.
Then again, if the colony’s independence was recognized, it was no longer the empire’s oil anyway. Maybe he would risk it. Would it be better, from the empire’s perspective, to risk losing the oil altogether than to risk paying for it?
“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course. Take your time. In the meantime, if you want lunch, I’ll have the kitchens prepare you something.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Captain Elgin stared at the projection that filled his ready room. She was a young woman, with fierce but tired eyes and an air of nervousness that her attempts at calm could not conceal. The twitching of her fingers, the sideways glances at whoever was just outside of the projection, gave her away.
She was no politician. That gave him a measure of hope that she might be reasoned with. “Nikia Idan?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “You are Captain Elgin?”
“I am. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”
“Of course. Thank you for asking to speak with us.”
Us. The word use didn’t escape him. Was Idan speaking on behalf of the collective, or was this just confirmation of his observation about someone being outside of the frame? If there was another, as he suspected, he guessed that it would be the man he’d spoken with earlier, Giya Enden. He didn’t know much about the makeup of their group, but he had a sense when talking to Enden that he was more deeply invested in the venture than his façade of humbleness acknowledged.
Aloud, though, he said, “Of course. Since Supreme Leader Velk blocked planetary communications to the fleet, we have heard little of what is going on planet-side.”
She nodded. “Our engineers mentioned that. We are working on restoring them. The problem is, Velk’s codes were encrypted. We’re trying to figure them out, but it will take some time. I don’t have an estimate at this point. I’m sorry.”
“It’s completely understandable,” he said. “My people are working on it too, with not much success.”
“We should collaborate,” she declared. “Your people have the training, ours have access to the planet-side tech. It would make the process go a lot quicker.”
He nodded. “Yes, it probably would. But we can work out the details to that later.”
“Of course. What can I help you with now, Captain?”
“Well…” he spread his hands. “You can tell me what’s going on, Nikia. Our intel says Velk’s been deposed – and killed.”
“Yes,” the young woman nodded grimly, adding, “after a trial.”
“A trial? What kind of trial? Was he allowed representation? Was he judged by a jury of his peers?”
She glanced at a point somewhere out of the frame, and a moment later a short, balding figure joined her. It was Giya Enden. So far, the captain noted, his observations had been spot on.
“Velk was allowed representation. His advocate was present throughout. I will not pretend to be unaware of what you imply, Captain. But the trial was as fair and rigorous as a trial could be. In truth, we barely scratched the surface of his crimes.
“And if the guilty verdict surprises you, I recommend you watch the footage. Velk didn’t even deny most of the charges. His defense consisted of repeating that he was ‘within his rights’ to do what he’d done.”
“I would like to see the footage,” Elgin declared. “Our ships are unable to access it.”
“Then I will send it to you directly,” Giya answered. “And, if I may, you asked ‘what kind of a trial’ was Velk allowed? More of a trial than Grel Idan was given before he was assassinated by protectors. A fairer trial than Luk and Elsa Aldir were given before they were gunned down on planetary broadcasts. A better trial than the thousands who languish on prison colonies throughout the system.”
Elgin was surprised by the other man’s words, and particularly the fact that he seemed oblivious to their impact on Nikia Idan. These were the young woman’s family he was referencing, after all, and they’d all died in the last week. Even through a holographic projection, he could see the tension in her jaw, the moisture in her eyes.
He did not know Giya’s precise role in all of this, or hers for that matter, but he decided to proceed with caution. “I won’t lie, Mister Enden: the killing of the Supreme Leader has shocked many of us.” He lifted a hand to stem the tide of words that seemed poised to flow from the revolutionary’s lips. “I don’t say it was unjustified. Only surprising. Nothing like this has happened in – well, thousands of years.”
“And the people are the worse for it,” Giya fired back.
“I’m not disputing that,” he reminded the other man. “What I mean is, it hasn’t
happened before. No one knows what to expect. The last thing anyone wants is mass bloodshed.”
Giya crossed his arms, and his tone took on a hard edge. “Would you care to elaborate on that, Captain?”
Gods almighty. “I mean that we don’t want people killing each other in the streets of Central.”
“That’s not going to happen, Captain,” Nikia put in. “We weren’t planning to touch Velk – not if he stepped down without bloodshed.”
He nodded. “Good. I’m glad of it. Mister Enden, if you send me that video, I’d much appreciate it. I will share it with the fleet. I believe – if it describes what you depict – it will quiet a lot of fears.”
“It does, Captain,” she offered. “I’ve seen it too.”
“Good. Now, my next question is – what’s next? Velk is gone. Parliament is disbanded. What comes next?”
“Elections,” Nikia answered firmly. “We let the people choose their leadership.”
He nodded. “Okay. What about a new supreme leader?”
“He or she will be elected too,” she answered.
“Elected?” This was unexpected. “You mean, the people will choose the supreme leader?”
Giya scoffed at his surprise. “Why should it be any other way?”
Despite the other man’s tone, he bit down on his urge to disagree reflexively. “I don’t know. It’s not how things are done. But – it makes sense.”
“Exactly.”
“But – and forgive me, I don’t mean to be contrarian. But I have to ask: if all you are planning is done, and you have your elections…what’s to stop this government from failing the way the last one did? What’s to stop another revolution in three months, or thirty?”
“This one,” Nikia said.
He frowned. “I don’t understand. Didn’t this just set the precedent?”
“Exactly: that if you ignore the will of the people, you will lose your power. That’s never happened before, not in recent memory. Now it has. Now, our elected officials will know where they stand. They’ll know they serve us, not the other way around.”
“Or maybe they’ll learn a different lesson. Maybe they’ll learn from Velk’s complacency,” Elgin observed, “rather than his mistakes governing, in order to make sure no uprising is possible this time.”