Revolutionary Right

by Wayne Basta

  Zeric’s heart sank. It had been almost two weeks since the prison break, and he had not doubted that word of what had happened on Sulas would have made it to Kol by now. An event like that was unheard of in Alliance territory. The man’s declaration shattered his hope that none of them had been identified. If Maarkean was known, then he might be as well.

  The commotion at the bar had stopped Gu’od and Mr. Black’s conversation. They watched as Maarkean tried to convince the man, and several confused onlookers, that he was mistaken. It was clear Maarkean was uncomfortable with the attention and was looking for a way out.

  “What kind of freighter did you say it was again?” Mr. Black asked.

  “YM-82,” Gu’od answered simply.

  “Wasn’t that the same type of ship that was involved in that prison break on Sulas?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Gu’od answered.

  “I think it was, boss,” one of the other Terrans said.

  Standing up, Mr. Black quickly said, “I’m afraid we won’t be able to come to any kind of agreement. Good luck, gentle-men.”

  The three men swiftly left the club via the back door. Zeric and Gu’od were left alone at the table. More people had gathered around Maarkean. Their hopes of a low-profile sale had just evaporated.

  The group around Maarkean appeared to have split into two camps. Some, like the man who had identified him, were calling Maarkean a hero, while the others were calling him a terrorist.

  Maarkean stopped trying to talk his way out of the situation and stood up from the bar. As he started for the door, two men, a Braz and a Terran, blocked his way to the door, flexing their hands.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to sit back down until the AIS gets here,” one of them said.

  “There’s been some kind of mistake,” Maarkean said calmly.

  “Maybe,” the Terran said. “We’ll let the AIS officers sort that out. We don’t abide terrorists around here.”

  Maarkean was now surrounded by a small group of tough-looking people. The few people who had been supporting him disappeared into the background at the sight of the two new men. Zeric did not like how things were going. He exchanged looks with Gu’od, trying to decide what to do.

  “Closest AIS officers are a few hours away,” Zeric said quietly.

  “I doubt this crowd will wait a few hours,” Gu’od said as he looked around. “Local authorities might be called in, but that might even be too late.”

  “Guess we better move fast, then.”

  Standing up, Zeric gave a nod toward Lahkaba and Lohcja, who were hanging back on the sides, and strode out toward the cluster in the middle of the bar.

  He noticed Gamaly holding Saracasi back. Having her run into the middle of the crowd wouldn’t do any good, though he was about to do much the same thing.

  “Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” Zeric asked, trying to use his most charming smile.

  “It’s none of yours,” one of the men who had first stopped Maarkean said.

  “I couldn’t help but notice you inserting yourself into the business of this poor man,” Zeric said.

  “Listen, buddy,” the man said, turning toward Zeric. As he did so, his eyes grew wide. “It’s the other one! Dustlighter.”

  The crowd momentarily got quiet as all of their eyes turned from Maarkean toward Zeric. His shoulders drooped as he realized he was known. It had been highly likely that Maarkean would be identified after using his ship in the attack. Zeric had hoped it would take the AIS longer to ID him, if they ever could.

  “I think we’ll be going now,” Maarkean said.

  The collective attention of the bar shifted off of Zeric and back onto Maarkean. Zeric smiled when he saw the man’s SK-9 held up less than a meter from the head of the Braz who had stopped him. Wasting no more time, Zeric quickly drew his own pistol.

  Zeric shook his head slightly at Lahkaba and Lohcja, whom he saw reaching for their weapons. He saw no reason to involve any of the others if he could help it. Lahkaba drew his hand out of his jacket without a weapon, but he still continued moving forward.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, please,” Lahkaba said, getting everyone’s attention, “there is no need for guns. I’m sure we can work this out peacefully.”

  Stepping forward between the two groups, Lahkaba held up his hands to show he was unarmed. He gave Zeric and Maarkean a direct look, making it clear he was speaking to them as much as the others.

  With regret, Zeric lowered his weapon. It wasn’t the first time Lahkaba had convinced him to put a weapon down, but he’d never been surrounded before.

  “I think what we have here is a case of mistaken identity,” Lahkaba said, speaking loudly enough for the entire room to hear. “If these were the dangerous terrorists the news talks about, would they have lowered their weapons?”

  Though not unanimously, many in the crowd agreed. Lahkaba continued, “You have nothing to fear from these men. Do any of us really want an AIS team coming here and questioning us all? If these men were really terrorists, or freedom fighters, if you prefer, surely we would all be taken away for questioning. Wouldn’t it just be better if we let them leave peacefully, proving to us all that they aren’t terrorists?”

  The crowd appeared mixed on how to reply to Lahkaba. Enough of them were swayed that Zeric thought they had a good chance of reaching the door.

  With a look toward Maarkean, they both started making their way toward the door. He was sure to keep his weapon down but ready.

  The two men who had originally stopped Maarkean started arguing with Lahkaba that they shouldn’t let them leave. Fortunately for the two of them, the men appeared content to argue their point rather than actively try to stop them from leaving. As Zeric and Maarkean slipped out the door, the argument continued, allowing them to get away without pursuit.

  “What if we tried another city?” Lohcja suggested. “Maybe keep Maarkean and Zeric away from the meet?”

  “No, word will have already spread throughout the planet,” Gu’od answered. “If no one in the bar did, I wouldn’t be surprised if those men we were meeting have already alerted the Alliance authorities. They’re a Terran-run company, and being associated with a traitor wouldn’t be good for them.”

  Maarkean knew Gu’od did not mean anything negative when he said ‘traitor,’ but the word stung him nevertheless. It was not untrue, he knew. He had betrayed his government and the oath he had sworn.

  After the incident at the club, the rest of the group had slipped out unnoticed. Lahkaba had stayed the longest, but when the men had tired of their debate, he had been able to leave. They had all made their way back to the Cutty Sark.

  Once free, they had accessed the planetary network and the reason for Maarkean’s and Zeric’s recent fame. It turned out that, within days of Maarkean’s and Lahkaba’s arrival on the planet, a cargo ship had arrived from Sulas carrying the story of the prison incident. The story spread across the planet. When an Alliance courier craft had arrived with the official news story, it was already known the world over.

  Despite the negative spin of the news story and the mostly hostile reception they had received in the bar, Maarkean was surprised by the number of relatively positive articles that had appeared on the network. They all seemed to be by fringe elements and radicals, but it was more than he expected. Kol was not the most loyal planet.

  “We’re probably not going to have any luck here,” Zeric said. “Most people operate a little outside the law, but no one is going to risk their company by buying the freighter that defied the Alliance.”

  Zeric’s wording was straight from most of the news stories. Official reports cast it a different way, but some of the private articles described them in grand heroic terms. Part of Maarkean appreciated the flattery, but he believed the official reports. They glossed over the type of prisoners that had been freed, but they were honest in their assessment of him as a traitor.

  “We’ll have to go someplace buyers won’t care about w
here the ship came from. We should go to the Black Market,” Zeric continued.

  Maarkean had been hoping no one would make that suggestion. Flatly, he replied, “We can’t go there.”

  Lahkaba asked, “I didn’t think that was actually a place. Weren’t we technically just trying to sell the ship on the black market?”

  “The Black Market is a ship,” Saracasi answered. “It’s an old Alliance battle carrier that was stolen and converted into a roaming home to criminals and thieves. All kinds of illegal activity occur there. The only problem is that the freighter is too big to dock.”

  “That place is real?” Lohcja asked incredulously. “I thought that was just a legend.”

  Ignoring Lohcja, Zeric replied to Saracasi, “Yeah, but we can take the Cutty Sark and make a deal. Then we can meet them somewhere else with the freighter.”

  “I said we can’t go back to the Black Market,” Maarkean said forcefully. Everyone stopped talking and turned toward him. “We were hired to make a delivery to Sulas, and we failed. If we go back there, Joss is going to kill us.”

  “He won’t kill us,” Saracasi said dismissively.

  Maarkean fought back an aggravated response. She had always been ignorant of the threat the man posed. There was nothing Maarkean would put past Josserand. He wasn’t a psychopathic killer, but Maarkean had no doubt that when he decided it was necessary, someone ended up dead.

  “Maybe not right away. But we didn’t deliver the goods. We now owe him twenty thousand. Assuming he doesn’t tack on any interest.”

  “Twenty thousand?” Zeric said incredulously. “We should easily be able to get one hundred for the freighter. Your cut will cover your debt, no problem.”

  Maarkean looked at Zeric. “You don’t pay a man like Josserand back with money.”

  “So how do you pay him back?” Zeric asked.

  “Well, for one thing he’s always had his eye on Casi,” Maarkean said. “I’m sure he’d be happy to cover some of the debt for a night with you.”

  Saracasi squirmed a little, and Gamaly put an arm around her and said, “We won’t let that happen. It’s not just the two of you now.”

  “Of course that won’t happen,” Maarkean said, exasperated. “Because we’re not going to give him the chance. If we stay away, there is a chance he will decide it’s not worth coming after us. If we walk into his base of operations, he’ll definitely want to be repaid.”

  Turning to Zeric, he continued, “And as for you, if he finds out you tried to steal his cargo, I can’t say for sure what he’ll do to you.”

  “He’ll never know. We were very discreet when we snuck ourselves into your cargo. You didn’t notice.”

  Throwing up his hands, Maarkean admitted defeat. “It’s your funeral. If you want to risk it, that’s fine with me. But remember, I warned all of you. This is a bad idea.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “So that’s the Black Market?” Lohcja asked, gazing out the cockpit window.

  Lohcja and Lahkaba were crowded onto the flight deck with Maarkean and Saracasi. They had been curious to see the legendary ship. The two were straining to get a good look without getting in the way. They were doing neither particularly well.

  Maarkean wasn’t sure what was so exciting about it. From the exterior, the ship was the same as any other Victory-class Alliance battle carrier. Still, he had to admit to himself that he had been impressed the first time he had seen one. But that had been after serving on the older, smaller carriers. Impressed was a far cry from overawed.

  “That’s it,” Maarkean said with frustration, as Lohcja was once again between him and a control. “You’ve had your look. Now get out of the way.”

  Lohcja and Lahkaba were two he still couldn’t figure out. At times they appeared to be hardened warriors. Lahkaba had previous combat experience during the war and had kept his cool during the previous battle. From the stories he heard, Lohcja, who had not had any war experience, had performed admirably and had even pressed on despite the wound to his arm. The Ronid claimed his family had once been part of the warrior caste, which made him an exceptional natural fighter.

  Yet many things appeared new to them. Despite being much the same age as Maarkean, they clearly had not seen much beyond Sulas. Whatever their lives had been before, he couldn’t imagine it had been overly criminal.

  Talking excitedly, the two left the flight deck, seemingly oblivious to Maarkean’s frustration. He was glad someone was having a good time. The coming meeting was not something he was looking forward to.

  He was still considering just staying onboard the Cutty Sark while Zeric and his group went off to make their deals. There was a chance that he would be able to wait out the entire visit onboard. But Josserand would learn of his presence on the ship as soon as he docked, if he didn’t know already. If Maarkean didn’t go willingly, things would be a lot worse for him in the long run.

  Saracasi received the clearance for docking, and Maarkean brought them into the larger ship, the dark vastness of space being quickly replaced by bright lights and the bustle of activity. The bay was only half full, which he viewed as fortunate. The fewer people around, the less the chance of any of them being recognized.

  Allowing the tractor beam systems to set them down in the designated spot, Maarkean powered down the ship’s engines. Keeping the ship powered up to allow for a quick escape was highly appealing, but ultimately impossible. One of the Fox’s rules was for all ships to remain powered down until they were departing. That was mostly for safety reasons, but it was also to keep anyone from doing anything they might want to quickly get away from.

  “All right,” Maarkean said as they finished the shutdown sequence. “You stay here. Keep an eye on the newbies.”

  “They won’t like staying on the ship,” Saracasi said.

  Smiling, Maarkean faced Saracasi as he backed out of the door. “Why would they? You never do.”

  The dark look she gave him could cut have through steel. He broadened his smile and left her on the flight deck. Despite the Fox’s rules, the Black Market was not a safe place. But she never enjoyed being told to stay on the ship, and she never did stay put, despite his attempts.

  Passing through the common area of the crew deck, Maarkean found Gu’od and Gamaly stripping off their weapons and placing them on the table. When he reached them, he drew his pistol and placed it on the table, too. Going into a nest of thugs while unarmed was not comforting, but at least no one else would be armed either.

  During the journey, he had gotten some pointers on hand-to-hand combat from Gu’od. Maarkean didn’t know much about the Ni’jar, but he had always assumed they were pacifists. Gu’od had explained that it was more complicated than that, while beating back Maarkean’s every attack with ease.

  The weapon ban made him wish Gu’od could go with him. Unfortunately, Gamaly also needed to meet a contact on the Black Market, and Maarkean couldn’t begrudge Gu’od his decision to go with her. Zeric had offered to accompany him, but Maarkean knew that would just lead to more trouble.

  “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” Maarkean said as he prepared to follow Gu’od and Gamaly down the stairs to the cargo deck. “Hopefully, they’ll be back then, too, and we won’t have to spend too much time here. The rest of you stay put.”

  Maarkean went down as quickly as possible to avoid arguing. He assumed Zeric could take care of himself, and he wasn’t actually worried about Saracasi’s ability to handle herself, despite his attempts to keep her onboard. But if any of them left, they might take Lahkaba and Lohcja, who didn’t know the rules of the ship. Anything could happen. As the captain of the ship that brought them here, anything they did was his responsibility.

  He also didn’t want to have to wait for them to return. When he finished this meeting, he wanted to be gone.

  As they exited the ship, Gu’od gave him a nod and disappeared into the throng of people. The hangar was less crowded than it normally was, but it was still filled with people fro
m every species Maarkean had heard of. Proceeding in the opposite direction from the two Liw’kel, he left the hangar deck.

  The corridors through the carrier were less crowded than the hangar. Many visitors stayed near their ships, which, when combined with the loading and maintenance crews, kept the hangar in a constant hum of activity. The passage corridors were empty by comparison.

  Heading through the ship, Maarkean wasn’t sure where to find Josserand. Their usual meeting place was in the Ready Room, but those encounters had always been prearranged. Josserand had always found Maarkean and made the first contact. He was hoping his attempt to do it this time might buy him some good will.

  When he reached the Ready Room, he found Josserand’s usual table empty. With no other ideas, Maarkean took a seat at that table. A couple of the other patrons gave him a look, clearly concerned about his seating choice. One appeared about to come over to him, but must have decided to mind his own business.

  If everyone in the bar knew not to sit at the table, that suggested Josserand stayed close. Word would reach him before too long, if it hadn’t already. Maarkean decided to try to enjoy himself and flagged down a waitress. Ship rations were becoming unappealing.

  It was not long after his food arrived that the ambient noise level in the bar suddenly dropped. Maarkean did not have to look up to know Josserand’s two bodyguards were making their way through the room toward his table. He decided to try to play it cool and continued to eat.

  Ignoring the bodyguards, he finished off his soup. The two thugs towered over him while Maarkean wiped his mouth and put his napkin over the bowl. It was incredibly difficult to manage without showing the fear that filled his stomach. The last few bites had been awfully hard to get down.

  “Your boss ready to see me?” he asked, making every effort to keep his nerves out of his voice. He wasn’t going to let these two thugs intimidate him – or, rather, he wasn’t going to let them know he was intimidated.