Revolutionary Right

by Wayne Basta

  “Couldn’t they have tracked us to our stopping point and then from there to here?” Lei-mey asked with evident concern.

  “I’m no expert, but I do know you can’t track anything in hyperspace. Once we jumped, the Alliance could only guess based on our course. They either would follow our original heading to somewhere we’re not, or would assume we did what we did, but have no idea where we dropped out of hyperspace, so no way to guess where we went next.”

  “So we should have nothing to worry about from the Alliance?” Lei-mey prodded.

  “Correct,” Zeric said with finality. He knew that it wasn’t completely true, but it was close enough.

  “See, Mayor, your people are safe,” Lei-mey said forcefully.

  Zeric was taken aback by her tone. Revas Shim looked annoyed at her, and Zeric sympathized. The mayor had taken them in and offered medical assistance. Zeric didn’t see any reason for Lei-mey to treat him like that. He wished he’d paid attention to what they had been talking about to end up at odds.

  “For now, we are safe,” Revas Shim said, sounding annoyed. “But if your people want to start leaving, we cannot guarantee we’ll stay that way. Back and forth transport between here and Sulas will lead the Alliance straight here.”

  “Maybe. But the Alliance has no authority here. This moon is not an Alliance world,” Lei-mey insisted.

  “And you think that matters?” Revas countered.

  Zeric realized he had missed a whole argument between the pair. Faide stepped in and tried to keep the two parties civil, but Zeric picked up that Lei-mey had ideas about creating a transit network from Irod to Sulas for other refugees. What other refugees, Zeric was not sure.

  After a few moments, Lei-mey said something that shocked Zeric. She asked Revas Shim where they could set up a camp to start training volunteers to defend the colony. Suddenly the question about his assessment of their defenses made more sense.

  If Lei-mey wanted to build an army, was she expecting him to be a part of it?

  Thinking fast, Zeric said, “Um, Faide, I thought you said these people were pacifists? They don’t want an army trained here.”

  Faide nodded, and Revas answered, “Isolationists would be a better description, but you are not far off. Most of us that came here did not want to be involved in the war that was occurring. Some for pacifist reasons, others just to stay alive. And we definitely have no interest in having an army.”

  “Can you speak for all of your people, Mayor? You said yourself they are not all pacifists,” Lei-mey pushed. “It is a big moon; we don’t have to do it here in town.”

  Zeric jumped in. “Maybe building an army here isn’t such a good idea. These nice people have been kind enough to take you in. Besides, shouldn’t you focus on more immediate things, like food and shelter?” He tried to stress ‘you’ instead of ‘we.’

  Lei-mey considered him for a moment and then nodded. “You are right. I apologize, Mayor Shim. You have been more than generous to us so far, and I should not be so quick to dismiss your wishes.”

  Revas Shim smiled. “It is quite all right. I can understand your desire to fight back after being imprisoned. Now let us return to the subject of housing.”

  The conversation returned to mundane matters, and Zeric once again stopped listening. This time, instead of letting his mind wander, he tried to figure out how to get himself out of this mess. He doubted Lei-mey would put off her plans for long, despite what she said to the mayor.

  After the meeting ended, Zeric left with Lei-mey. He had not managed to come up with a solution. The meeting had not returned to the subject of the Alliance or an army. But as soon as they were away from Faide and Revas, Lei-mey brought it up again.

  “This is a big moon,” she began. “We don’t have to remain close to the colony.”

  Deciding the direct approach was best, Zeric said, “Look, Lei-mey, I think you have the wrong impression. I don’t want to become involved in whatever you’re planning. I didn’t break you out of jail because I believe in your politics. I did it to get my friends free.”

  Lei-mey gave him a thorough look that made Zeric feel like she was looking into his soul. After a moment, she spoke.

  “I know. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t want you involved. I knew from the moment we met that you were not one of us. Your willingness to immediately jump in bed with my sister proved that. I have my doubts about this Maarkean as well, though there is no way to know without meeting him.”

  “Then why are we having this conversation?” Zeric asked, confused.

  “Because, regardless of your intentions, you’re a hero now,” Lei-mey said, clearly frustrated by the truth of what she said. “My friends have already shared the story with everyone freed from Olan. Pasha, Lohcja, Ceta, Meyka, all agree that this was only possible because of you and Maarkean.

  “That story can be allowed to spread once we allow people to return home. The only one who might become a bigger hero is Jairyd, and I fear that is because he is likely dead.”

  Lei-mey’s voice betrayed the most emotion Zeric had seen from her when she mentioned Jairyd. He regretted leaving the man behind, but it was unlikely that he had still been alive. They would probably never know for sure, unless the Alliance revealed what happened.

  “So you see, I may not like you, but I can use you,” Lei-mey continued. “You’ll be the perfect example of what people can accomplish.”

  Zeric looked at Lei-mey with a sense of shock. He had never considered the consequences of their raid on the prison.

  Death or success had been the only two outcomes he had expected. He did not like where Lei-mey was going.

  “I thought you weren’t a terrorist,” Zeric asked. “Your friends all made it clear you were just a politician.”

  “I am not a terrorist, nor will I ever become one,” Lei-mey said bitterly. “But there is a lot of grey area between the two. I was all about trying to find a political solution to the problems Sulas faced under Alliance rule. You’ve opened the door to something more.”

  “Believe that if you want. I don’t want to be a part of it,” Zeric said. “I work to get paid. This was a one-time gig to save my friends. I don’t think there’s a lot of money in what you’re proposing.”

  Lei-mey gave him a dark look that almost made him regret what he’d said. He wasn’t as cold-hearted a mercenary as he sounded.

  But joining a rebellion led by Lei-mey did not appear to be a way to ensure a long life. As a thief, he had to take risks, but he was very careful about which ones he took.

  “Very well. I could have made you into a hero across the colonies. You could have helped me save millions from oppression.” Turning away, Lei-mey stalked off.

  Zeric felt sure she was not done with this conversation. She struck him as the type of person who normally got her way in the end, and unfortunately, he wasn’t unsympathetic to her cause. Getting off the moon soon would be his best defense.

  “Saracasi, good, there you are,” Zeric said as he approached her.

  Saracasi turned suddenly from where she had been about to board the freighter. Her ponytail caught on her shoulder, and she flicked it off so it once again hung down her back. Zeric was approaching her, moving quickly, with Gu’od and Gamaly following behind.

  “How soon can you make this thing ready to fly?” Zeric asked.

  His question mirrored what she had wanted to discuss with him. The urgency in his voice concerned her, though. Even though she wanted to go meet Maarkean, she was in no rush to get back aboard the freighter.

  “That depends on what you plan to do with it,” Saracasi replied. “The engines are fully functional, so it will fly right now.”

  “Okay,” Zeric said, a bit of annoyance in his voice, “how soon before it can take three people to the nearest civilized planet?”

  Gamaly jabbed Zeric in his ribs. He gave the Liw’kel a dirty look before turning back to Saracasi and saying, “I mean, take four people to Kol?”

  The an
nouncement of their intentions to go to Kol filled Saracasi with excitement. It seemed Gamaly, at least, was on her side in getting her back to Maarkean.

  “Couple hours,” she said after thinking for a moment. “We need to refill the oxygen tanks, see if the colony can spare some deuterium, and then vent the ship thoroughly, get as much of the accumulated CO2 cleared as we can.”

  “Okay, let’s get started,” Zeric said, passing her and boarding the freighter.

  Once the work began, Saracasi excused herself and headed into the colony. Zeric had insisted on leaving immediately, but Saracasi couldn’t leave without looking in on Asirzi. She politely invited Gamaly to come with her, but the woman declined with a knowing smile.

  Arriving at the small hospital, Saracasi looked around for a receptionist. She found none, but a few moments of looking turned up an exhausted Noti Istru. The Ronid doctor was sitting in a small cafeteria with a cold cup of coffee in front of him. Saracasi was hesitant to bother him, but he was the first person she had found who wasn’t actively helping a patient.

  When she approached, Noti looked up from the table and gave her a weak smile with his mandibles. “What can I do for you, Ms. Ocaitchi?”

  “I wanted to see how Asirzi was doing,” Saracasi asked, surprised by her nervousness. “The Liw’kel with the blaster shot and multiple lacerations?”

  “Remarkably well. We were finally able to stop the internal bleeding, so her eventual recovery is almost certain. Though there is still a chance we might have to amputate her arm. The equipment is pretty rudimentary here, so we won’t be able to do a clone regrowth.”

  The news that her friend was doing better overshadowed the news about her arm. “Can I see her?”

  “Unfortunately not,” Noti said. “She is still recovering from her surgery, and we have her sedated. She’ll be out for quite a while.”

  Saracasi was filled with regret. She hated the idea of leaving without at least saying goodbye, but Zeric insisted on departing today. There was always the chance that Maarkean would bring them back here to drop off the member of this rebel group that was with him.

  “Could you give her a message, then?” Saracasi asked hesitantly. “Let her know I stopped by to say goodbye. We’re leaving to go meet my brother on Kol. I wanted to… wish her well.”

  The words sounded weak and pointless in her head, but it was all she was comfortable saying through an intermediary. Noti smiled and nodded. “Of course. I will give her the message. When do you think you will be back?”

  Saracasi shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a question if the freighter will even make it all the way to Kol.”

  “Sounds dangerous. Is it wise to go?” Noti asked, concerned.

  “Maybe not. But my brother risked everything to get me out. I can’t leave him on Kol wondering what happened to me.”

  Noti smiled. “I understand. When you get there, and emphasis on the when, thank him for me. It is nice to be free of that place and able to practice medicine again. Though, you can also tell him, the next time he wants to break into a prison, try to keep the number of lacerations and blaster wounds down.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Saracasi said with a small laugh. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  Noti nodded at her and appeared to immediately go back to staring at his cold cup. Saracasi assumed he was sleeping. It had been almost a day since they had arrived, and she doubted he had had any actual sleep since then. She knew he had also gotten too little during the trip here.

  As she was leaving the hospital, she was stopped by another Ronid, this one with a thicker green carapace. She recognized him as Lohcja, one of the group which had broken them out. His arm was still in a sling, but he looked much better than he had the last few days. “Lohcja, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah, and you’re Saracasi, Maarkean’s sister.”

  She nodded, and he continued, “I overheard you talking to the doctor. You say you’re heading to Kol to meet Maarkean?”

  “Yes. He had no idea we had to change our plans. He’ll be waiting there. Unfortunately, the ship’s life support system is pretty strained. It’s going to be an iffy trip.”

  Lohcja nodded. “I want to come with you. My friend Lahkaba was flying with your brother.”

  “The ship can’t support very many people,” Saracasi replied. “I don’t know if we can take any more.”

  Zeric had been pretty insistent that only the four of them left. She had wondered why at the time, but it hadn’t really mattered to her. Now she wondered how serious he was about it. Lohcja appeared gravely concerned for his friend.

  Deciding to pass the buck, she said, “You can come with me to the ship. It’s Zeric’s call, though.”

  “Fair enough,” Lohcja said.

  The pair of them walked through the dark colony. The moon’s rotation was within the reasonable range, with a day taking thirty hours. However, because of their current orbital position, the gas giant Zod blocked part of the sun even in daytime. There was still enough light to call it ‘day,’ but Saracasi thought of it as more of an awfully long dusk.

  Lohcja didn’t speak during the walk back to the ship. Saracasi realized she had no idea why he had helped break them out. She understood Zeric and Maarkean’s motives, but she only vaguely understood the others. Making a raid to retrieve a leader of a political group was a risky endeavor.

  “I never thanked you for coming to break us all out,” Saracasi said.

  “No thanks necessary,” Lohcja said uncomfortably.

  “How did you come to join this group?” she asked, trying to get something out of him.

  “I’m not really part of any group. Let’s just say that Lahkaba got involved, and as his friend, I followed him.”

  “Lahkaba is the one with Maarkean, right? He was part of Lei-mey’s movement?” Saracasi asked, curious.

  Lohcja hesitated and shrugged awkwardly. “Not exactly. Lahkaba was part of the political movement that supported the Kreogh Sector Congress. When the delegates returned, the Alliance put warrants out on all of them, even though their identities were supposed to be secret. Everyone associated with them was labeled traitors and terrorists. Maarkean and Zeric stumbled upon a group of us trying to hide some of them. Lei-mey was not so lucky.”

  “So there were other delegates in that group?”

  Evasively, Lohcja answered, “That’s not really for me to say.”

  Saracasi decided not to press the man any more. When they reached the ship, Saracasi found Zeric talking with Chavatwor in the cargo bay. As they approached, she overheard Chavatwor saying, “I still think this is foolish.”

  “Any more foolish than what we’ve already done?” Zeric asked with a coy smile.

  Chavatwor shrugged. “I guess not. Maybe by the time you return, we can get the parts we need to fully repair her.”

  “Maybe,” Zeric replied noncommittally. “But don’t go spending good money on parts. Wouldn’t want you to waste your money if we just end up lost in space.”

  Chavatwor shrugged and turned to Saracasi. “It has been nice working with you. Let your brother know if he is ever in need of repairs or upgrades to his ship, he can look me up. I would be happy to provide what help I can.”

  “I’ll do that,” Saracasi said and on impulse, gave the Kowwok a hug, startling him. The soft fur on his shoulder tickled her nose, but she suppressed the urge to sneeze. Hugs were an important thing to share among Kowwoks.

  With more emotion than she expected, he hugged her back, nodded to Zeric and Lohcja and then left the cargo bay as well. She would miss him, she realized. Despite their meeting being under less than ideal terms, she had grown attached to more than just Asirzi.

  Once Chavatwor left, Zeric turned to Lohcja. “Come to say goodbye? I hope your arm recovers okay.”

  “Actually, I was hoping to go with you,” Lohcja said. “You did this to rescue your friends. Mine is now on Kol, and I’d like to make sure he’s okay.”

  It looked to Saracasi as if Zeric
was about to say no. To her surprise, he nodded. With a quick look at the colony, Zeric led them to the elevator.

  Chapter Eleven

  Recent events were putting a bad face to space travel. The last three journeys Zeric had made had either ended poorly or nearly killed him. He wasn’t sure that, should he survive this, he would be willing to take any more journeys. Retiring back on Irod might have been the smarter move.

  With only five people breathing the air onboard the freighter, the chance of catastrophic failure of the life support systems was much less than on their first trip. However, they were spending twice the amount of time aboard, so, to Zeric’s mind, things balanced out to an equal chance of death.

  They had increased their odds by filling the ship with as much oxygen as possible and sealing off every section they could. As the CO2 levels rose, they would move to a new section uncontaminated with the gas.

  Despite having the entire ship to themselves, this resulted in quarters as tight as they had been during the first journey. This afforded him the chance to get to know his new traveling companions. Lohcja seemed to be a pretty simple person, not in a stupid way, but in an uncomplicated way.

  For whatever reason, he had followed his friend Lahkaba into this mess and was now sticking it out. Until recently, Zeric would have found that foolhardy, but his recent actions had shown he would do the same. He decided it was a trait to admire in the Ronid.

  Lohcja and Gu’od got along very well. Lohcja was a collector of ancient weapons, and Gu’od’s status as a Ni’jar master fascinated him. Ancient fighting techniques that the Ni’jar practiced were on par with ancient weapons. Gu’od offered to train him once Lohcja’s arm was healed and they had more oxygen to burn, but he made his customary stipulation that the Ni’jar ways were more a philosophy than a fighting technique. Lohcja seemed eager, but Zeric doubted the Ronid would take to the meditations any more than he had.

  Saracasi was a different person than he had expected. Maarkean had never revealed why his sister had been arrested. Zeric had let his imagination run away with him as he had considered the options. Since Maarkean had never claimed that she hadn’t legitimately been jailed, he’d expected to see something sinister about her. Instead, she came across as more idealistic and intellectual than cutthroat.