by Thomas Webb
Renee grinned. “I do enjoy a good explosion.”
Ramsey leaned in. “You are right, Renee. There is work to be done. But you have your freedom now. I won’t hold you to any obligation beyond what you’ve already done for the cause, which has been more than anyone should ever have to sacrifice. You can walk out of this safehouse right now and disappear. You can live out the rest of your days on some out of the way world. If you kept your head down and your nose clean, most likely the UNIA would never find you.”
“But?”
“But as I said, there is work yet to be done. Work which could benefit from a man like you.” He met Leblanc’s eyes. “I have no right to ask, but I have need of your talents.”
Leblanc sighed and leaned back. He looked at Ramsey. “My talents . . . you say you need them? But what you have no need for,” LeBlanc raised his glass and indicated Ramsey, “is to ask.” He emptied his glass a final time. “You have them.”
-12-
“She does not like to ride in the back,” Anesu observed.
She said it with a twinkle in her eye. She’d been listening to Shane twist and fidget behind them for the entire ride out.
“Yeah,” Hale replied. “It’s kind of a ‘thing’ with her.”
Anesu sat next to Hale, her slim, muscular arm brushing up against his massive one. He turned around and looked at Shane, who shifted back and forth next to Zombie in the row of seats behind him.
“She’s doesn’t exactly have a fondness for being away from the stick,” Hale added.
That was an understatement. The former Air & Space Command pilot was a genuine control freak when it came to flying. If she wasn’t in the pilot’s seat, she wasn’t happy. End of story. Hale thought he understood. Shane was a kick-ass pilot. The best he’d ever seen in a combat zone, in all his years of military service. She also made one hell of a co—commander for their little team.
Hale leaned back in the luxurious synth-leather seat, enjoying the comforts of the royal shuttle and the closeness of Anesu. He sipped his twenty-credit bottle of water and took it all in. This ship had everything—lush carpet, heated seats, AI flight attendants. He’d never seen anything quite like the indulgent cabin of the transport. Certainly not while on active duty, where a gunship cargo bay or a hammock on a Starlifter was the extent of a passenger’s creature comforts. Yeah—the Kingdom of Kush really knew how to do it.
Anesu leaned over, across Hale’s lap. She smelled amazing, like an intoxicating mixture of jasmine and spice. Hale followed her line of sight as she gazed out the view of the transport.
They were flying in low and fast this morning. In an instant they rose up high, cresting a range of emerald green mountains, then dipped back down into the valley below. Surrounded by peaks, the brilliant spires of the capital city of Uzuri reached almost level with the mountaintops. The magnificent city itself spread out below them. Shuttles moved along the skyline on silent engines, crisscrossing the valley. A waterfall fell from between the two tallest peaks, Mount Imi and Mount Uji, to pool in a lake near the eastern edge of the city. The lake spread until it touched the grounds of the capital city’s stately government building.
Birds soared past the transport widow as the craft maneuvered inside Uzuri sky space. Hale watched the winged creatures fly past until they lighted on the parapets of the royal palace. His breath caught at the sight of the place.
“It’s incredible,” he said.
The spires of the palace rose majestically from the parapets. The white stone palisades of the kingdom’s seat of power presented an imposing image, softened only by the grains of quartzite sparkling in the late morning sun.
“It is good to be home,” Anesu sighed.
Hale felt at a loss for words. “The kingdom . . . it’s. . .”
“Yes,” Anesu said. “There is no like. On Earth, or on any other planet I have visited.”
Hale nodded. “I can see why your people have no desire to join the UN.” It would be almost like taking a step backward.
“We may never agree to become full-fledged members of the United Nations,” Anesu said, “but a strategic partnership is a beginning. That will have to serve for now.”
A strategic partnership. Not the same as the Kingdom bowing to UN authority, and just shy of a full military alliance. Hale thought it a shrewd and tactically sound move on the Kingdom’s part. With their superior technology and a history of autonomy, what would the Kingdom have to gain from joining the United Nations? Anesu’s people seemed to be thriving just as they were.
The craft banked smoothly and headed toward the shimmering white walls of the palace. They glided in at several thousand meters over parks, businesses, and private homes, gradually lowering their altitude the closer they got to the royal residence. Hale looked off into the distance and spotted something in the industrial center that made him frown—a bright red ULS logo on one of the buildings. He’d forgotten they still did business with the Kingdom. How would that play out once Hale, Shane, and the rest of the team shared the full extent of what they knew about ULS with Anesu’s people?
The royal transport drifted down to a landing pad on the outermost spire of the palace. The pilot set them down, gentle as a lamb, on a circular pad several hundred meters in the sky. The panoramic view of the city spread out before them, affording a gorgeous view of the morning sun to the east.
Hale, Anesu, and the ASI team grabbed their gear from the above head storage compartments and made for the front of the craft. When they stepped down onto the landing pad, they were greeted by a large man wearing a set of the dark green fatigues favored by the Kushite military. He was flanked by two armored members of Anesu’s old outfit the KRG, or Kushite Royal Guard.
“Chewasa!” the man roared. He was nearly as tall as Hale, but broader and slightly more thick around the middle, what had once been thick muscle gone to fat with age. He possessed the dark brown skin of most of the population of the Kingdom. His head he’d shaved clean. Hale looked him up and down, and would bet even credits that the man could still hold his own in a fight. The three stars on his collar told them that he was a general.
“General,” Anesu said, shaking the man’s hand. “So good to see you again.”
“And you!” He looked her over. “Are you still skulking about in the shadows, playing at being a news reporter? Ready to come back to the armed forces yet?”
Anesu shook her head, taking the general’ good-natured ribbing in stride. “No General. Not yet. No matter how many times you ask.”
“I will always ask. I refuse to let such an outstanding soldier go to waste.” He looked at Hale, Shane, and the rest of the team. He smiled, genuine warmth in his eyes. “But this is a matter for later discussion. Why don’t you introduce me to your friends?”
“Trace Hale,” Hale said, speaking up for himself and extending his hand.
The general took Hales hand in a firm, meaty paw and shook it. “General Jaali Njoroge,’ he said. “A pleasure to meet you Mr. Hale.”
Shane stepped up next. “Shane Mallory. And it’s our pleasure to meet you, General.” She allowed her small hand to be engulfed in his larger one. “And this is our team,” Shane said. One by one Zombie, Lash, and Kris introduced themselves.
With the initial greetings completed, the general turned his attention back to Hale and Shane. “Trace Hale and Shane Mallory,” he said, scrutinizing them. “Yes. My old friend Silvio Lima speaks very highly of you both.”
“You know Lima?” Hale asked, surprised. He and Shane exchanged a glance. Seemed like no matter where they found themselves, the old man knew at least one person.
“Of course,” General Njoroge replied. “We go very far back, Silvio and I. Back before the Separatist Wars began. He says that you are one of the best teams he has ever worked with.”
“Wow,” Shane said. “It’s always nice to hear some praise from the boss.”
“Silvio is a true devil,” the general laughed
“Won’t get
an argument from us,” Zombie piped in.
General Njoroge’s laughter faded. “Before we get to business,” he said, “I feel I must apologize for what happened the other night.”
The attack on the prison, Hale thought. That was what he had to be referring to. Although the black site officially didn’t exist, the attack still went down on Kingdom soil. For a man like Genera Njoroge, that had to sting. He would feel like he had to apologize personally. Hale respected that.
General Njoroge looked them in the eye. “By the time we heard what had transpired, it was already over. And of course, being in the community, you understand the ah. . . delicate nature of the site’s location.”
“Of course sir,” Shane answered. “We appreciate that.”
“Yes. Well . . . enough pleasantries, eh?” The general’s smile returned. “Come-allow us to show you that the Kingdom is a place of hospitality to its guests. Perhaps we can, in some small way, make amends for your recent troubles? Let us get you some refreshments before we debrief. May we take your bags?”
Hale looked at the team, already knowing the answer to the general’s last question. “Thank you, sir. But no-we’ll manage our own gear.”
“Of course,” the general said. “I would expect nothing less from warriors of your renown. Right this way.”
They followed the general and the guards from the landing pad, through an arched entryway and into the palace proper. Inside the stone was as white as the exterior, the same quartzite crystals catching the light of the ascending sun. The ceilings were supported by graceful ribbed arches, and seemed to stretch up to enormous heights. Anesu walked ahead of Hale, falling into step beside the general. They spoke softly as they led Hale and the ASI team through the halls. The team fell in behind Hale and Shane, forming a natural patrol formation as they walked.
Zombie gazed up at the arched hall, the portraits on the walls, and the fluted columns supporting the structure. “Swank digs they got here,” she grunted.
Shane frowned at her girlfriend. “’Elegant,’ was the word I would have used. Maybe even ‘amazing’ wouldn’t be out of line. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Yes,” Lash added. “Amazing would not be out of line in the slightest. As a matter of fact, this building reminds me of a story. It calls to mind the imperial palaces on. . . “
Hale tuned Lash out as the Salayan launched into an extended soliloquy on the finer points of intergalactic royalty. Hale tended to block him out sometimes, what with the Salayan being exceptionally long winded. Hale would pick up on it if anything important emerged from Lash’s droning. Being able to listen with half an ear and still register pertinent details was a talent of his. It had served him well in the Marine Corps, and he had no doubt it would continue to do so now that he was a civilian.
Hale noticed Kris, her face shadowed beneath her drawn cowl, quietly taking it all in. She hadn’t uttered a word since they’d disembarked.
“What about you Kris?” Hale asked. He wanted her professional and tactical opinion on what they were witnessing. “What’s your take on the palace?”
“It is . . . quaint,” the Tauranian said.
Quaint? That was an odd choice of words. This palace was a lot of things to Hale’s mind, but quaint it was not. The team wasn’t completely forthcoming with their pasts, nor did they necessarily need to be. He’d read everyone’s files, but they didn’t really provide much background. Still, of all the team, Kris’nac’s background was by far the most limited when it came to her past. Everyone else talked a little about home, but now that he thought about it, Kris had always been quiet about where she came from. Hale figured Silvio knew something. He had to, even to have brought her on board. But the old man wasn’t talking. Hale made a mental note to ask Kris more about her home world at some point.
They passed through a series of twists and turns, until they reached a long corridor covered in an array of vast archways. They followed the length of the passageway, until they arrived at a fortified door with robotic sentries posted to either side.
The sentries snapped to attention as General Njoroge approached the door, their optics and facial recognition software triggered by his features. The general ignored them, instead leaning forward and eyeing a flat panel occupying the space in the door where a locking mechanism would ordinarily go. The panel emitted a green light, which touched the general’s eye. He allowed the retinal scan to complete its work before standing to his full height and straightening his uniform.
“Good morning,” a disembodied computer voice with a Kushite accent said. “Please state your name for purposes of identification.”
“General Jaali Njoroge, authorization Namiri.”
They waited a beat before the machine gave its reply. “Good morning General Njoroge. Welcome to the Operations Command Room. Long live the royal family.”
The door slid aside, opening into what could only be described as an interior sanctum. Control panels lined the walls. Holoscreens flickered to the side. What appeared to be a round briefing column stood in the center of the room, streams of blue light pulsating up and down its length. There was comfortable seating consisting of couches and chairs positioned around the room’s perimeter. A long table lined one wall. A meal had been set. The smell of bacon, eggs, and pastries tickled Hale’s nose. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of the hours it had been since he’d last eaten.
Lash rushed over to the table, lifting the shining lid on a platter. A pile of fat, skinless creatures lay underneath. “Are these Salayan sand rodents?” Lash asked, his red eyes alight with excitement.
“Yes,” General Njoroge said. “The palace cooks have entertained Salayan dignitaries before. These delicacies were quite a hit with them. We hoped you would enjoy them as well.”
“Well done!” Lash said, before grabbing a plate and loading the raw rodents onto it.
“Please,” General Njoroge said, indicating the tables. “We invite you to follow the example Mr. Lash has set. Eat. Refresh yourselves. We have a few moments before the briefing begins.”
Lash was already slamming his fourth rodent down his gullet as Shane, Zombie, and Kris made their way to the table. Hale hung back. Where he came from, the troops always ate first.
“Get yourself something to eat,” Anesu urged him. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She walked over to the table and poured herself a cup of tea, her long legs and tight ass swaying as she moved. As the old saying went. . . he hated to see her leave, but he loved to watch her walk away. Anesu headed toward the general, blowing on her steaming tea to cool it before taking a sip.
Hale got behind Zombie in the impromptu chow line, watching her grab a pile of eggs and two bagels. She sat down next to Kris and began wolfing it all down. The Tauranian sniper nibbled on a small piece of citrus fruit. Hale selected a heaping plate of eggs, as well as some cheese and fruit for himself, before copping a squat next to Shane.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Shane asked, nodding toward Anesu and the general. She bit into a half a bagel covered with cream cheese, smoked fish, and capers.
Hale shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. He had the wherewithal to finish chewing before he answered. “Important matters of state, no doubt.”
“So how’s it going with you two?”
Hale felt his cheeks redden. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Shane laughed. She popped the rest of the bagel and lox into her mouth. She brushed the crumbs from her hands and cupped Hale’s chin. She shook her head. “So handsome yet so clueless. How dumb do you think we all are?”
She winked at Hale as she stood, then walked over to Zombie and the rest of the team.
Hale set his plate down, his appetite now gone. Since when was everyone so interested in his love life anyway? Hale glanced at his chrono, tapping his foot. And when was this damned briefing going to start?
Anesu sauntered over, smiling, the sway of her slim hips a sight to behold. “We are
almost ready,” she told him. “If you and your team would please join us at the briefing table?”
Hale stood and walked with her, his mind now working. Did everyone know about them? Had he been that obvious?
Soon they were gathered around the briefing table. The structure stood just above waist high. The top was round, and waves of light pulsated beneath its translucent surface. A chime sounded. General Njoroge waved his hand, activating a secured wave. A complete holographic image of Silvio Lima appeared, floating above the table’s surface.
“Silvio!” the General boomed. “So good to see you. You look as debonair as ever.”
Lima smiled. “Thank you old friend. It is good to see you as well. How are Akemi and the children?”
“She is as willful as ever. And the twins are both in university. Doing their parents proud. What time is it in Sao Paulo? You look as fresh as a tropical orchid.”
“Local Sao Paulo time is five-thirty in the morning,” Lima said. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile. “And I stay this way through tricks of the trade that I am not at liberty to reveal.” Lima’s image shifted to Hale and Shane. “And how is my team today?”
Lima had shown genuine concern when he’d heard the news of the prison hit. Hale found it almost touching. “We’re all good boss,” Hale said.
“Five by five,” Shane agreed.
“Good. And you Ms. Chewasa?” Lima asked.
“I am well, Mr. Lima. Thank you for inquiring.”
A chime indicated someone else attempting to connect via the Operations Room’s secured wave.
“It looks like our other party has joined us,” General Njoroge said. The general touched the briefing console, and a holographic image of Sanders appeared.
“Mr. Sanders,” Njoroge beamed. “So good to see you.”
Sanders nodded his greeting. “Good to be seen, general. Glad y’all could get me included on the briefing.”
Sanders had stayed behind at the black site. The place needed to be refortified. There were escaped enemy combatants to track down, and a lot of cleaning up to do. Someone from the UNIA had to be there to oversee it.