In the distance, Y’lin and Kroshka rode in a chariot, waving to the people they ruled over. The two ladies looked incredible, and they wore matching white gowns and a hair broach with black-and-gray colored diamonds on it, the red sunlight was reflecting off it.
… … …
►► Imperial Palace, Paryo
► Uemaesce System
The crimson orb in the sky set, painting the skies dark. Lights from the cities blocked out most of the stars in the night sky. The evening party for Conquest Day was held ninety stories or so up in the central spire of the imperial palace. A moderately dark ballroom was were everyone gathered. The only source of light came down from small spotlights from the ceiling, lighting up tables where drinks and food were placed on display for all to enjoy. At the end of the ballroom were windows that looked out into the night sky.
As Phylarlie predicted, the party was full of Hashmedai who clearly were living in the upper echelon of Hashedian society. Women wore ultraclassy gowns, headdresses, or revealing outfits. Oh god, how Jazz loved some of the revealing ones. Never had he been in room with so much classy cleavage. Men wore top-tier suits; see-through V-neck tops, or delicate vests with no shirt underneath, while military personnel wore their dress uniforms.
Jazz entered the party, slowly unbuttoned his coat, and removed the hood from his head. He’d had enough of hiding his looks for one day. A few nobles stopped talking midspeech as Jazz came into view. He felt the glowing eyes of many more taking note of his presence. The black guy from Earth had arrived.
Jazz joined Onatiasha and Zhinbryo at the table where they stood having a drink or two. Onatiasha had let her hair down for this event. She smiled when Jazz came over and said, “You know how to make an entrance.”
“You know me,” Jazz said. Y’lin stared directly at Jazz with fierce frown on her face. “I get the feelin’ someone had to pull strings for me to get in here,” he said in English.
Onatiasha replied in English, “It wasn’t me; I had to pull some string to get in as well.”
Jazz was surprised to hear this and asked, “Why?”
“I was demoted,” she revealed. “I was supposed to be the personal guardian of Akeia and Kroshka.”
“And Akeia is dead,” said Jazz, and then he began to ponder who sent the invite out for him. It clearly wasn’t Y’lin, and Onatiasha struggled to get in herself. “Well shit, who the fuck got my ass invited?”
“Who do you think?” Onatiasha said with a smirk.
Kroshka…but why? I made no attempts to contact her after I left for Morutrin—Jazz’s thoughts were interrupted by Zhinbryo grabbing his shoulder, forcing his body to turn around and face what he was facing…rather who. “What is it?” Jazz asked, speaking in Hashmedai.
Zhinbryo’s finger pointed to one of the Hashmedai women with the nice rack Jazz was staring at. “I saw you looking at those women over there when you came in; this is good,” Zhinbryo said. “I hope you focus your efforts of the beauty of Hashmedai women, and not on disgusting Rabuabin,” Zhinbryo grinned at the woman while she ate a piece of meat on a skewer. “Look at the way she walks, the way her eyes glow, her soft blue skin, her fangs as they tear the flesh from the meal she is consuming. Perfection. No Rabuabin…or human woman will ever come close to that.”
“If she’s so great, then go for her,” Jazz said.
“I was giving you the honor of seducing her.” Zhinbryo’s eyebrow rose. “But, if you are not ready to penetrate a Hashmedai woman just yet.” Zhinbryo’s hands placed the drink he was holding in Jazz’s hands and then walked over to her to talk.
Guess he forgot about that drunken hookup Onatiasha and I had back on Earth, Jazz thought.
An older Hashmedai man with dark blue skin entered, his eyes were glowing yellow. Next to him were three women. They all had blue skin and dressed in a provocative manner that made Jazz get slightly hard. Onatiasha’s lips curled at the sight of the man as she said in English, “Lord Hasiv and his harem.” Onatiasha handed her drink to Jazz in the same manner Zhinbryo had.
Do I look like a fucking barkeep?
“I’ll be back in a few,” she said and began to walk away toward Hasiv.
“What’s his deal?” Jazz called out to her.
She stopped for a moment to address Jazz. “Remember that contact I talked about?”
“Well shit.”
“He’s the lord of Taxah; colonies like his have their own celebrating to do and are expected to be a part of.” Onatiasha’s orange glowing eyes returned to Hasiv. “If he came all the way out here, then.”
Chapter 9
►► Imperial Palace, Paryo
► Uemaesce System
The darkness of the party gave Onatiasha and Hasiv the perfect cover to sneak outside to the balcony. A spectacular panoramic view of the icy city below them could be seen, along with its towering buildings, arcologies. Every structure, every ship in the sky and vehicle on the ground had made a significant contribution to the light population of the region.
Onatiasha wrapped her fingers around the balcony’s frost covered handlebars, while Hasiv’s aging body slowly crept beside her like an Earth turtle. “You must have a great many questions on your mind,” Hasiv said.
“Taxah has its own plans for Conquest Day,” Onatiasha said. “Why are you here?”
“There was an attempt on my life,” he said as his yellow glowing eyes tilted lower toward the city below.
“Assassins?”
“Yes, my guardian took care of them but, I have reason to believe they’ll try something again with the festivities,” he explained.
“So you made a surprise visit here.”
“No assassin would dare carry out an attack in the imperial palace,” his wrinkled hands reached out to feel the icy wind chill. “Especially one taking on a Celestial Order kill request.”
Onatiasha snorted and then concluded, “So now we’re your bodyguards.”
“I put my life on the line to leave the order and feed you information.” The glow from his eyes vanished as they shut. “And now, I’m starting to regret it.”
“What do you want?”
“Y’lin seems to think only one guardian is enough for a lord,” Hasiv said. “If I can’t stay alive, I can’t feed you more information.”
“Then request more protection. The Assassins’ Guild has a hit on you.” Onatiasha’s voice was stern.
“A hit petitioned from the order—the guild will deny that any such contract exists.”
“Can’t we provide them with proof of your attack?”
“The only proof we have is some overturned furniture and the word of a guardian and me.”
And considering you had Noylarlie and Iolysta hiding with you years ago. Your word means nothing to the empress. “I’ll request to be transferred to a base in Taxah,” Onatiasha said.
“Zhinbryo too,” Hasiv added. “Two guardians and a warrior—no assassin will risk that.”
Onatiasha let out a small laugh and then said, “Unless they send more.”
“Once I’m satisfied I’m safe, you’ll get new intel.” Hasiv slowly turned around to leave…but not before stroking Onatiasha’s hip in the most inappropriate manner possible.
I’m going to slit your throat the instant you’re useless to me, she thought while her whole body tensed up.
“And believe me,” he added, “you’re going to want to know what I have to say.”
Onatiasha pushed back from the railing she was leaning on, while her mind was processing the new situation she found herself in. Being stuck on Taxah is going to limit her investigation into the Celestial Order, speaking with another one of her contacts, not to mention limit her power to find the agent who’s working within the palace. However, keeping Hasiv alive is critical. When she, Zhinbryo, Phylarlie, Jazz, and Kroshka returned to the empire from Earth; they had nothing to go with in regard to their search into the existence of the order. Each and every search turned up no results until Hasiv sho
wed up, wanting to strike back at the order for failing to protect Iolysta from execution.
Onatiasha felt a pair of hands travel up her hips. Must be Hasiv again. She spun around with fury in her voice and said, “Listen, touch me again like that and.” She stopped midsentence. This wasn’t Hasiv; in fact, he was nowhere in sight.
A young woman with short blood-red hair, hair that was eerily being blown in the wind, stood close to Onatiasha. So close, their lips almost touched. And at one point, Onatiasha thought that was going to happen. And so she pivoted her head backward to create distance. Now if only this woman would let go of her hips.
“And what?” the woman asked.
“Who are you?”
“Di’aria Wintersembrace,” she said softly. “And you must be Onatiasha Ladyknight, the guardian who failed to keep Akeia alive.” Onatiasha could see she wasn’t going to let go of her, so she pushed her aside and walked toward the exit leading into the ballroom. “Leaving without hearing my warning?”
Onatiasha froze upon hearing her statement. “Speak quickly,” she said.
“Investigating the Celestial Order is going to be solely Zhinbryo’s and your job soon,” Di’aria said. “Unless Phylarlie changes her stance…but I don’t see that happening. Phylarlie has another path that she plans to walk.” Onatiasha remained silent. Another person knowing about the order and investigating it was not a good sign. Someone has loose lips. “Aren’t you curious as to why Kroshka and Jazz won’t be much help?” Onatiasha swiftly walked back into the palace to rejoin the mingling and drinks. “I’ll take that as a no.”
… … …
Jazz found himself alone at the party. None of the Hashmedai there was interested in talking with him. They kept their distance as he neared. He couldn’t blame them, not fully. As far as they were concerned, he was the alien from outer space. Onatiasha ran off to talk with her contact, and Zhinbryo was busy flirting with women—and doing a terrible job at it. Ten rejections and two drinks splashed in his face.
A strange pink-colored tartare appetizer was the only food that looked edible to humans. It had a cold and flaky texture, but a nice spicy and citrusy taste. Most Hashmedai meals gave Jazz an upset stomach, Hashmedai ate only meat, and they liked it as rare as possible and more often than not blue-rare or straight-up raw.
A slender finger poked Jazz from behind. He turned around, and then tilted his head lower; whoever this person was, Jazz was a solid foot taller. It was Kroshka. She smiled and waved at him in a flirty manner. She was still wearing the same outfit from earlier that day, though now that they were face-to-face, he was able to get a better glimpse of her. Her long platinum-blond hair was tied into a double braid. The white gown matched unbelievably well with her pale skin and hair and had a large white ribbon attached to the back of it; the sleeves were transparent along with the sides of her gown.
And of course, there was that pendant. A red gem with a dim glowing sphere within the heart of it. It was the same gem that more or less brought Jazz back from the dead when Xyniea, a Celestial Order member, shot him multiple times during the invasion of Earth. That gem was one of the main reasons Jazz avoided contact with Kroshka upon arriving in the empire. She was withholding facts about it; that part Jazz could tell. These facts could possibly explain why the commander of the Hashmedai invasion force turned into a psionic zombie with the aid of a gem he had that looked exactly like hers.
“I am glad to see you accepted my invitation, Jazz,” she said in English.
“I’m surprised I managed to get this far without any issues,” he replied, in Hashmedai.
She gave him a bubbly grin then said, “You speak our language.”
“Among other things, yes.”
“But,” she said in English again, “let us speak like this. I have not spoken in this tongue for a year now.” Kroshka hooked her arm with Jazz’s and then began to walk toward the exit, dragging him along. “This way—these people bore me.”
Kroshka’s fascination with Jazz generated enough attention to get nearly the entire ballroom to lock their glowing eyes on the two, as they vanished from sight into the dark. She led Jazz through a maze of dimly lit and narrow corridors without a care that his feet were somewhat reluctant to move with her. A sliding glass door welcomed them onto a wide balcony with a lush and vibrant garden growing on it. As they entered, Jazz felt the comforting embrace of warm air touch his face. Must be a greenhouse, he thought, and the two stepped in, walking on fresh green grass. There was a shield above the balcony they were on, which kept the cold air and snow from the outside world away. From the outside, this area appeared as a hanging garden attached to the side of the central tower of the palace. Looking up, Jazz noticed several other platforms just like this, all encased by an energy field that periodically flickered with blue waves.
Kroshka unhooked her arm from him and walked forward, examining every plant, tree, and rock with a childlike gaze through her red eyes and soft hands. Jazz’s brief exploration unveiled the presence of small hills and ponds among the alien plant life. It was almost as if someone had removed a small section of a nature preserve from some obscure planet, and dropped it on top of this balcony.
Kroshka leaped off the steep incline of the hill she stood on and then signaled for Jazz to come over to her with a hand wave. He walked over with his coat now in hand and the image of him wearing his black assassin trench coat armor reflected in the pond adjacent to them. Kroshka was kneeling next to a set of aqua flowers as Jazz approached, her hand raised toward them as if she was going to touch them. The petals of the flowers began to expand, as if they were reacting to the presence of her hands. She looked up toward Jazz with a sense of delight and happiness radiating from her body.
“And I thought my uncle’s backyard in Detroit was off the wall,” Jazz said.
“This is one of many gardens within the palace,” Kroshka said. “Each one has a layout and flora from a different planet.”
“What world is all this stuff from?” asked Jazz.
“Talsyk, the Rabuabin home world.”
Oh really? Jazz thought and moved his head to scan for any signs of Talsyk roses, as per Kalis’s request.
“There are so many gardens here in the palace, I have yet to visit them all,” she said, dipping her fingers into the pond below. “In fact, this is my first time in this one.”
Jazz’s eyes led his feet next to a small patch of roses next to the flowers Kroshka was interacting with. He grabbed one and placed it in one of his inside pockets. A tiny stasis device activated inside the pocket to preserve the rose. Afterward he said, “I’m surprised y’all made a garden based on the ecosystem of an enemy planet.”
She giggled and then stood up. “We don’t hate the planets they occupy, just the people. It would not be fair to the plants and animals living there unable to speak for themselves.”
“And from what I witnessed firsthand, glassing a planet from orbit is a common tactic among your people,” Jazz said.
“And Radiance.” Kroshka added. “But I don’t fully agree with those means of warfare. In fact, today marks fifty years since New Paryo was glassed by the Union.” She shut her eyes and then revealed with a heavy heart, “My father was still on the planet at the time of the glassing.”
“Wait, so you were born over fifty years ago?” ’Cause you look really good for a fifty-year-old.
“More than half of those years were spent in cryostasis or space bridge limbo,” she explained.
Jazz stopped to think that he was now in a similar spot. He was born fifty-eight years ago; twenty-one of those years were spent in cryostasis, fleeing Earth. It was indeed a new age where your date of birth was no longer an indication of your age if you travel the stars.
“This is why we Hashmedai do not measure our age with number of years, but rather the stage in our body’s natural development. Onatiasha for example, was born almost two hundred years ago. Spending most of your life in space has the adverse effect of having time
slip away, while you remain youthful.”
“I heard Chidorli’s buried here at the palace,” Jazz said.
“Yes,” she said, “we made a monument in her honor in the resting Chamber of Heroes.”
“Can I see it?” Jazz had a feeling this was going to be the last chance for him to be here. Kroshka nodded and guided Jazz out of the garden, and into an elevator farther down the hallway.
They arrived at the Chamber of Heroes; it was long museum-like necropolis where fallen Hashmedai from warfare were placed to rest. Each monument had a holographic image of the fallen Hashmedai during a time when they were still alive. Coffins equipped with a stasis field held the cadavers, while a glass cabinet above held their personal belongings, mostly the weapon and armor they were using until death. Chidorli’s cabinet held the frozen unicorn she made just minutes before her death. Chidorli’s hologram stood next to it, her long green hair looking exactly the way Jazz remembered it when he first saw this brave and young psionic. Her hologram was programmed to smile to anyone standing next to it, providing a faux sense that she was still here. Jazz placed his hand on her coffin, and then shut his eyes.
“Rest in peace,” he whispered.
Kroshka’s tour with Jazz though the palace led them to a solarium on the same floor where the party was happening. She sat on a bench with a wineglass secured within her fingers; he stood farther out, admiring the night sky and city skyline. “Jazz,” Kroshka called out from behind. “Come sit down, and as your people would say, ‘stay awhile.’”
He shrugged and said, “As you wish,” and then sat next to her.
“And smile!” she jubilantly added. Jazz’s facial expression remained neutral. “I’m not turning away from you until you do!” And she did just that, stared into his eyes with an enchanting smirk. Jazz turned away, so she began to poke his arm with her one free hand while the other fed her more wine from her glass. Jazz caved in to her demand, more so because of the laugh he let loose.
Uprising of the Exiled (Splintered Galaxy Book 2) Page 13