by Piers Platt
Rath's Rebellion
By Piers Platt
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1
The two guards turned and withdrew from the ship’s conference room, the metal hatch sliding closed behind them. In the silence that followed, Rath cleared his throat.
“Anders Ricken,” he said, disbelieving.
The young man in the faded police uniform nodded, gesturing to a chair at the well-worn conference table.
“Please, sit,” he said.
Rath walked forward and sat down slowly, cautiously, and then glanced briefly at each of the table’s occupants. Four men, two women, none of them younger than sixty. Can they really be the Council? The six policemen who helped Ricken start the Third Colonial War?
Rath turned his attention back to the younger man seated across from him. “How are you even alive?”
Ricken arched an eyebrow. “Misdirection. A tactic you’re most familiar with.”
“You faked your own death?” Rath asked.
“I did,” Ricken agreed. “And then I went into hiding on this very ship. For over two hundred years.”
“How?” Rath asked. “How did you know they wanted you dead?”
“The man the Senate sent to kill me may have been a skilled mercenary, and for all intents and purposes his mission was the pilot test that formed the Guild,” Ricken said, tilting his head to one side. “But he was no guildsman – he didn’t have your enhanced capabilities, and he lacked the training and subtlety that you and your peers employ today.”
To Rath’s left, one of the old men seated at the table grunted. “He was a common murderer.”
“He was indeed, Lonergan,” Ricken agreed. “And not a very smart one. We caught him trying to infiltrate our base of operations. When we questioned him, he revealed that he had been sent by a group of senators. That shocked me, but it also gave me pause.” Ricken shrugged. “Our rebellion was failing, and I knew it. We had lost the initiative, the momentum was with the Federacy – we had the funds to continue fighting, but our supporters were growing weary of the fight.”
“We asked too much of them. It was a long war,” the elderly woman seated next to Ricken pointed out.
“Far too long,” Ricken said, nodding. “So I reevaluated our strategy. I realized that the galaxy was not ready for the radical solution I was proposing. Some people were, but not enough. And I saw that if the Senate was willing to secretly dispatch a man to kill me, the corruption I was fighting against could only increase over time. I needed time – time for that corruption to fester and spread, time for more people across the Federacy to be exposed to the injustices of our political system.”
“So you weren’t on the ship that exploded?” Rath asked.
“No. We paid the assassin handsomely and set him free. In return, he was more than happy to shoot a video of us boarding that ship, and the ship taking off … and then exploding in the upper atmosphere. But through some sleight-of-hand, we exited the ship unseen before it launched. The senate got what it wanted, and we won ourselves the time we needed. Time to plan, to regroup, and to start anew.”
“To start anew?” Rath asked, warily. This might just be the most dangerous place in the galaxy. Apart from my cell back on Scapa. He eyed Ricken with suspicion. “You want to start another war.”
“No. I want to start a revolution,” Ricken corrected him. “There’s a vast difference.”
“That’s what revolutionaries always say,” Rath said. “Either way, innocent people tend to get killed in the process.”
“Not in this revolution,” Ricken said. “Not this time. That’s another thing we learned – the more blood you spill, the harder it is to justify the fight. And retaining the moral high ground is paramount in this fight. This time, no one dies.”
Rath crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow, but remained silent.
“But we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Ricken said. “You haven’t met my lieutenants yet, the Council of Six.”
So I was right, Rath thought. But they’ve aged, and for some reason, Ricken hasn’t.
“… my trusted advisors – police officers all, like me, who joined the cause in the early days, and have been with me ever since. For a long time, now.” Ricken smiled sadly.
“This is Egline Ursson, my Head of Intelligence,” Ricken continued, indicating the woman to his left. She met Rath’s gaze evenly. “Next is Kolim Yaite, Personnel. Wasan Prevol, Supply and Logistics … Linn Mei, Public Affairs; Marec Lonergan, Operations, and last is Georg Swan, Communications. Last but not least, Georg.” The old man acknowledged Ricken’s joke with a smile.
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you,” Rath said, “but I’m not sure … well, I’m not sure what to think, right now. Am I your prisoner?”
Ricken laughed. “No! No. We broke you out of jail, Rath. We likely saved your life.”
“I’m grateful for that,” Rath said. “Though some part of me feels as though I deserved jail. And maybe even death.”
“I’ve been following your trial closely, my friend,” Ricken told him. “I wanted to know what kind of man you were, before I brought you here. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you deserve to die. We’ve all made mistakes in our life. Many that we regret deeply. But everyone deserves a chance to make things right again. To atone for those sins.”
“Is that what you’re hoping to do?” Rath asked him. “Make up for the lives you took during the Colonial War?”
“Yes,” Ricken said, softly. “The lives we took, and the ones who gave their lives on my behalf. I owe it to all of them to see this through, to achieve the vision we struggled so hard for.”
“If I’m not a prisoner, then what am I doing here?” Rath asked. “Why did you rescue me?”
“I rescued you because I need your help.”
2
The waiter seated Senator Foss at a table set for two in the luxury liner’s dining cabin. He sat, ignoring the menu, and instead studied the view through the ship’s thick exterior window. Past an asteroid field, the turbulent yellow and blue clouds of a gas giant filled his entire field of vision. Foss turned and saw the waiter leading a second man to the table. He stood, and shook hands with his guest.
“My name’s … Loh,” the man said.
Foss detected a slight accent, and had the distinct impression that ‘Loh’ was not his name. “Mr. Loh. I believe you know who I am,” Foss replied. “Please, sit.”
The two men sat, awkwardly.
“Would you like anything to eat?” Foss asked.
“No, thank you,” Loh replied.
“You represent General Yo-Tsai, and the Jokuan—”
“Yes,” Loh interrupted, glancing around the restaurant. “Please refrain from mentioning my affiliations again. This is a public place.”
“I’m sorry,” Foss said, caught off balance. “I assumed it would be best for both of us if we met in public.”
“You assumed wrong,” Loh said.
Foss frowned and bit back a terse reply, then took a deep breath. “I asked you here to make you an offer.”
“An offer. What do you want in return?” Loh asked.
“Nothing,” Foss said. “I’m merely hoping to establish myself as a friend to … your planet, and its leader.”
“I’m wary of politicians offering free gifts while asking nothing in return. Especially Federacy politicians,” Loh said.
“There are no s
trings attached, I promise you. You owe me nothing for this.”
“What are you offering, then?”
“Information,” Foss said. “Information you’ll find most interesting.”
“So tell it to me.”
Foss studied him, and then nodded. “There is a team of a dozen Federacy spies conducting intelligence-gathering missions on your planet right now. They are watching every move your armed forces make, and reporting it back to the Senate.”
“Interstellar Police agents?” Loh asked.
“No,” Foss said. He set a data drive on the table between them.
Loh eyed it with curiosity. “And what will I find on there?”
“Grid coordinates to the team’s current locations – their hide sites, safe houses, and patrol areas.”
Loh licked his lips slowly, and then reached out and pocketed the drive. “If they’re your agents, why are you betraying them?”
Foss shrugged. “I had nothing to do with them. I’m merely correcting an error in judgment by my peers.”
Loh looked around the restaurant again. “Is that all?”
“That’s all,” Foss said, standing and holding out his hand again. “Thank you for coming. Give my regards to the general.”
“I will,” Loh agreed, standing and shaking Foss’ hand.
The senator turned to leave, and then frowned, facing the table again. “Mr. Loh?”
“Yes?”
“Will you kill them?” Foss inquired.
“What do you think?”
Foss smiled. “Good hunting.”
3
Breathing hard, Tepper leapt over a fallen log and found the rest of the Arclight team clustered in a tight circle in a clearing between the trees, squatting or kneeling to keep their profiles low amongst the undergrowth. Tepper hurried over and joined them, taking a knee in his shaggy ghillie suit.
“Are they coming from that direction, too?” Rika asked, as he caught his breath.
Tepper nodded. “Yeah. A loose cordon of infantry, with vehicles behind. They’re about two klicks out. Moving slow and steady, just like the units to the north and south-east.”
“It’s official,” Huawo observed. “They know we’re here.”
“How?” Jacque asked. “How the fuck would they know we’re here?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Tepper said. “If we don’t move now, they’ll close the noose around us. On your feet,” he ordered.
The group stood at his command, cinching their packs tight. Tepper pointed through the trees. “South-south-west,” he said. “I think that’s where the gap between units is going to be the widest.”
As the team began to move, Jacque fell in next to Tepper.
“Did you get through to Paisen?” Tepper asked him.
“No,” Jacque said, shaking his head. “We tried her, and Vence, too. They’re not online. I think they must be in transit again. I left them a message with our status, but … no reply.”
“Fuck,” Tepper observed.
“Worried that she’s going to chew your ass when she gets here?” Jacque asked, hoping to get a laugh out of his friend.
“I’m just worried about the Jokuans,” Tepper said, without smiling.
The smile slid off of Jacque’s face. “Maybe it’s time we armed ourselves,” he suggested, indicating his Forge with a thumb.
“No,” Tepper said. “Absolutely not. Come on – let’s pick up the pace.”
* * *
They ran for nearly ten minutes, and then Rika, in the lead, held up a fist. The team froze in place. She turned and pointed two fingers at her eyes: I see them.
In the center of their formation, Tepper grimaced and shook his head. With hand signals, he responded. Back up, head that way. Try to go around them.
The team retraced their steps for several hundred yards, and then Rika set off in the new direction, moving more slowly this time, minimizing the noise of her footfalls. After two minutes, she held up another fist, and then pushed a flat palm toward the ground. The Arclight team scrambled for cover.
Tepper low-crawled up to her position beside a thick tree trunk. He lifted his head slowly and carefully. In the distance, he saw a pair of Jokuan soldiers patrolling slowly toward them, an armored jeep providing them cover. One of them held a device that Tepper did not recognize, waving it deliberately from side to side as they walked.
“Fuck.”
He scanned the woods to either side, zooming in with his enhanced eyes, but in each direction, he saw more soldiers, and more vehicles.
“They must have linked up with the other units on either side,” Rika whispered. “No more exits.”
Tepper nodded and glanced back the way they had come.
“Fuck.”
“We could camouflage our positions. Remain in place and hope they walk right past us,” Rika suggested.
Tepper bit his lip. “No. I think that guy’s got a sensor unit. Could pick up our pheromones. Too risky.”
He wavered for another second, and then reached a decision. Tepper moved behind the tree, and peeled off the ghillie suit, setting his Forge between his legs and opening it.
“What are you doing?” Rika hissed.
“Plan B,” Tepper told her. “Set your Forge to build me a pair of uniform pants.”
Jacque arrived a minute later, crawling through the underbrush. He found Tepper pulling on a Jokuan army shirt with a general’s stars on the collar.
“What’s the plan?” Jacque asked.
Tepper pulled a small mirror from his Forge, and held it up in front of his face. “I’m getting you guys out of here,” he whispered. His face shifted and his hair shortened, and in a few seconds, he bore a striking resemblance to General Yo-Tsai.
“This is not going to work,” Rika warned him, handing him his pants.
“Got a better idea?” Tepper asked. “At minimum I’ll be able to distract them enough to create a hole in the line. Split up into pairs and get the hell out of here. Assume the safe houses are compromised, too. Get off-planet, back to Bellislas.”
“Tepp, this is fucked,” Jacque said.
“Just do it!” Tepper whispered. “Tell the others.” He stood briefly, his back pressed up against the tree, and adjusted the uniform. “How do I look?” he asked.
“Out of place,” Rika told him.
He took a deep breath, and then shot them a roguish grin. “See you guys on the other side.”
Tepper stepped out from behind the tree, and sauntered nonchalantly toward the Jokuan patrol. The distant soldiers saw him immediately, raised their rifles to cover him, and then hesitated. He gestured at them angrily, cuing up his internal computer’s translation program.
The two soldiers traded a look.
As Tepper drew close, they recognized him, and both men saluted smartly.
One of the soldiers pointed at the armored jeep.
Tepper strode over to the jeep angrily, as the door swung open. A young man stepped out, and saluted nervously.
The lieutenant frowned, and then the radio in the vehicle crackled to life.
The lieutenant looked at Tepper in confusion, but Tepper was already moving, placing a well-aimed kick in the man’s stomach. As the young officer stumbled backwards, Tepper jumped into the truck and gunned the engine, slewing the vehicle through a tight turn before driving past several other jeeps, honking to get their attention.
Come and get it, assholes.
He turned the jeep again, pointing directly away from the Arclight team’s location, and floored the accelerator.
Run, guys. Go!
* * *
Rika and Wick had been sprinting flat out for nearly an hour, pushing the limits of their hemobot-enhanced endurance, when they heard the sound of another drone overhead. They hit the ground instinctively, hastily brushing a covering of leaves over their camouflage suits. The two teammates held their breath, but the drone disappeared to the north a few seconds later.
Wick sighed with relief. “They didn’t see us. No bombing run this time.” He stuck his head up, listening for sounds of pursuers. “I think we shook that infantry squad, too,” he told Rika.
“Hope so,” she grunted, wincing.
“How’s your shoulder?” he asked.
“Hurts like hell,” she admitted, touching the bandage gingerly. “Fucking hemobots won’t give me any more pain meds for another thirty minutes.”
“You want me to take a look at it?” Wick asked.