by Joe Vasicek
“Is that so? Well, guess what—I don’t have any money. That’s right—nothing. And you know what? I don’t care. One way or another, I’m going to save my sister. So go ahead and leave me—I’ll find a way. I don’t need you.”
“Ensign!” said Danica in a sharp, commanding voice. “Calm yourself!”
James stopped and realized his whole body was shaking. His head felt hot and dizzy, and his arms were trembling.
“This isn’t only about the money,” said Danica. She gestured to the furnishings in her room. “Look around. Do you think I became a mercenary because of the money?”
“Then why did you take the job?”
She looked him squarely in the eye and said nothing. James blinked nervously, not sure what to say.
“You want to know how I became a mercenary?” Danica asked calmly.
“Uh, yeah,” said James. He wasn’t about to say ‘no.’
Danica rose to her feet and began to slowly pace the room. “Do you see these books?” she said, gesturing with her hand. “The furniture? That antique painting of my homeworld?”
“Yes. What about it?”
“All of these things belonged to my father.”
James frowned. “Your father?”
“Yes. He was an admiral in the Tajji Revolutionary Guard—one of the highest ranking officers in the system. Politicians and dignitaries were regular guests in my house.”
“Your father was an admiral?”
Danica nodded. “I was his oldest daughter. When the Imperials defeated our forces, I ran away from home to rescue him.” She gave him a sad smile. “A lot like you did, in fact.”
“Did you save him?”
“No,” she said softly, turning away. “While I was gone, the Imperials came to my home and slaughtered my family. They executed him for treason a short while later.”
James felt his stomach fall. For several heavy moments, neither of them spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence.
Danica shrugged. “For a long time, I vowed to get revenge. But revenge isn’t what it’s cut out to be—especially when your nemesis is a faceless organization.”
She turned to James.
“You remind me a lot of my brother, Karen. When I left to rescue my father, he wanted to come with me. I made him stay. If he had been in your boots, I wonder if he would have done the same thing for me that you’re doing for your sister.”
“I’m so sorry,” James said, apologizing again. “I—shouldn’t have said what I did. I was wrong.”
Danica casually waved off his apology. “We’ll do our best to commandeer a Hameji ship and pull off this rescue operation,” she said, “but my first priority, above all else, is to watch over my men. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Captain,” James said.
“Good.”
Danica retrieved her coffee mug from the table, taking a quick sip. “I’ll have you know, Ensign McCoy, that that includes you. For better or worse, you’re one of us now.”
James nodded. “So the mission’s still on?”
“That depends, Ensign. That depends on a lot of things.”
* * * * *
Stella ran down the hall, her footsteps landing hard against the shaggy carpet floor. Lockdown had ended only a few moments ago, but she feared she was too late.
She turned the corner and saw Engus walking briskly in the opposite direction. “Engus!” she called out, running after him.
“Sholpan?” he said, turning around.
Stella came to a stop in front of him and paused for a brief moment to catch her breath.
“Where is Narju?”
Engus gave an exasperated sigh. “Not know. Busy.” He turned and started to walk away.
“No,” said Stella, blocking his way. “Show me. Now.”
Engus’s cheeks turned red. He hurled a string of incomprehensible obscenities at her, but she didn’t budge.
“Now. I command you.”
He stared menacingly at her with his beady eyes. When he saw that she wouldn’t give in, however, his anger soon deflated. He shook his head and clucked his tongue.
“No good. No good I show you. Not good.”
“Engus,” said Stella, raising her voice. “Take me to him.”
“No good,” he muttered, but without another argument he turned around and motioned for her to follow.
He led her to the narrow hallway where the servants prepared the food. Two eunuchs at the counter watched them enter, but said nothing as they passed by. At the other side, they came to a door that she hadn’t noticed before. Engus punched a password into the access panel, and the door opened slowly, as if in dire need of maintenance. The shaggy carpet turned to hard industrial floor grating at the doorway. Cheap LEDs filled the corridor with a dark red light, making her feel slightly sick. The wall tiling had been stripped down long ago, no doubt recycled for use elsewhere.
As Engus led her inside, they passed almost half a dozen eunuchs heading for the concubines’ quarters. The corridor was so narrow that they had to turn sideways each time, and still brushed against the passing men.
“Do you live here?” Stella asked, shocked by how different the place felt.
“Yes,” said Engus with a tone of annoyance. He turned a bend and stopped abruptly, almost making Stella run into him.
“There,” he said. “Narju quarters.”
Stella swallowed. About fifteen yards away, two black-armored guards stood watch at a door. The nearest of them glanced her way and tightened his grip on his rifle.
“Thank you,” she said. Engus bowed and left.
Stella drew in a breath and stepped forward, trying hard to conceal her fear.
“Halt,” said the nearest guard. They crossed their rifles across the door to keep her from entering.
“I’m here to see my personal servant,” she said in the Hameji tongue, precisely enunciating each word. “Let me in.”
Both men stared at her in shock. That’s right, Stella thought smugly to herself. You didn’t think I could speak your language, did you? Think again.
“We don’t have clearance,” said the guard on the right. Stella guessed he was the leader. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“I am one of Qasar’s women. Let me in.”
“Qasar has many women.”
“And how many wives?”
She lifted her hand and showed him the ring. The guard’s eyes nearly doubled in size.
“A thousand apologies, milady.” He nodded to his comrade and they both stepped aside.
It worked! Stella thought gleefully to herself. It actually worked!
The head guard accessed the panel, and the door to Narju’s chambers hissed open. Stella started to step inside, but the guard on the left reached out his hand and stopped her.
“Let us enter first. The prisoner is dangerous.”
“No,” Stella commanded. “Wait outside.”
The guard didn’t move out of the way. Stella stared at him without flinching.
“Very well,” he muttered, “but be careful.” With that, he stepped aside and held his rifle at the ready. She ignored him and entered, shutting the door behind her.
Narju sat up on his cot, hands shackled in front of him. A large, purple-green bruise ran down the side of his face, and his hair was wet with blood. A few red specks had fallen on his clothes, staining his otherwise immaculate serving smock. In spite of all this, he smiled when he saw her.
“Narju,” she cried, her face turning white as she ran up to him. “Narju, are you all right?”
“Mistress Sholpan,” he said, opening his mouth as if to say more but failing to come up with the words. Stella gave him a quick hug, but his body felt stiff and unresponsive.
Hameji ships have no prisons, Tamu’s words came to her. Capital punishment is so much more efficient.
“It gives me joy to see you, Sholpan,” Narju said, his voice labored. “But why have you come?”
“I�
��ve come to get you out of here.” She stood up and glanced hastily around the room.
“Get me out?” A dumbfounded expression crossed his face.
Stella hardly heard him. She flitted about, trying to find an alternate exit. The room was little larger than a closet, windowless, with one red LED light that gave the place an eerie glow. Except for a cot and two bins of servant’s clothes, Narju’s quarters were drab and empty.
How could anyone live in this place? Stella wondered to herself. And I thought I had it bad.
“I am sorry, Mistress Sholpan,” said Narju, rising painfully to his feet. “I cannot go.”
“Of course you can,” said Stella, still distracted with thoughts of escape. “I’m breaking you out right now.”
Maybe if they exchanged clothes, Narju could slip past the guards and find a place to hide. But he was so tall—would the disguise work? And besides, how could she hide his wounds? Stella wished she’d worn a headscarf—that would have made things a lot easier.
“No,” said Narju, more forcibly this time. “Sholpan, look at me.”
Stella turned and put her hands on her waist, sizing herself up against him. “Do you think this skirt would fit you?”
“Sholpan.”
The power in his voice made her stop. To her surprise, his face was a picture of calm and peace.
Of resignation.
“You cannot save me,” he said. “But I sincerely thank you for wanting to.”
Stella frowned. “What are you talking about? Of course I—”
“No, Sholpan. This is the way it must be. You cannot help me; I must die.”
For a brief, painful moment, they both fell silent. Stella’s heart raced in her chest.
“Don’t say that! There has to be a way out of—”
“There isn’t. Qasar is already assembling his entire household to witness my execution.”
“But—but how do they know it was you? They can’t prove anything.”
“I have already confessed.”
Stella felt as if the floor had fallen out from underneath her. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t want another to be punished in my place. I killed, and I must die. I accepted this long before I took Borta’s life.”
Stella’s arms trembled, and her vision started to blur. Tears burned like acid in her eyes, and she bit her lip to keep them from spilling out all at once.
“Why did you kill her?” she asked, but she knew the answer before she spoke.
“To save you.”
“Why?” she cried, clenching her fists until her hands turned white. Painful tears streamed silently down her cheeks.
“Because one day,” he told her, “the Hameji will conquer the last free star and rule over the known universe. When that day comes, goodness and virtue will only survive because of people like you in places of power.”
He no longer had the downcast eyes of a mere servant. When he spoke, he spoke with the sincerity of one who had already accepted death.
“What are you talking about?” Stella asked, her head spinning. “Me? I-I can’t do that.”
“Did you give yourself to Qasar last night?”
“No,” Stella admitted.
Narju smiled as relief flooded his face. “Good. Then I didn’t give my life in vain.”
Her head spinning from a thousand screaming thoughts, Stella collapsed by Narju’s side and wept into his blanket.
“No,” she cried. “I don’t want you to die!”
“Sholpan,” he said, putting a shackled hand on her shoulder. “Listen to me very carefully. We do not choose the life that fate gives us. We only choose how we live it—and how to give of ourselves before our time is over.”
Stella’s shoulders trembled as she wept under his gentle touch. Still, she quieted somewhat to hear him speak.
“I am the last of my people,” Narju continued. “My family, my tribe, and all of my loved ones are dead at the hands of the Hameji. They slaughtered my people and destroyed my homeworld. They broke me down and made me into the thing that I am today—an unmanned servant for their pleasure women.”
Stella glanced up at him. Narju met her gaze with his humble, sincere eyes. His hand felt tense on her shoulder.
“I never thought that this would be my life,” he continued. “It would have been easy for me to give up and end it. I could have ended it—I could have died as a martyr, and regained some small kernel of my honor. Still, I held back, knowing that such a death would accomplish nothing. Fate had kept me alive for a reason—and now I finally know why.”
Stella’s eyes burned again, and the room began to spin around her. Why me? she wanted to scream. I’m not good enough—I don’t deserve this.
The door hissed open behind them, making her jump. Stella rose quickly to her feet and stepped between Narju and the two guards.
“The general is ready,” said one of them. “Milady, step aside.”
A snarl rose to Stella’s lips, and she opened her mouth to tell them to go to hell. Before she could speak, however, Narju put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She turned around to face him.
“I’m sorry, Lady Sholpan.”
Stella drew in a deep and tremulous breath. Without thinking, she pressed her lips against his. Her muscles turned to water as she closed her eyes and gave everything to the man who had saved her.
This is my first kiss, Stella told herself. Whatever Qasar does to me, at least I have this.
Rough hands pulled her away, shattering the moment. From the wall, Stella watched as the soldiers led Narju through the door. The shackles on his feet clanged with a harsh sound on the cold, bare floor.
When she was alone, Stella fell to the floor and wept.
Chapter 16
“You’ve gotten yourself in a big mess, honey,” said Tamu. “You should have slept with Qasar the first night like I told you.”
Stella took a sip of her soup and set the bowl on the table; her shaking hands made the spoon clatter. Three days had passed since Narju’s execution, and she still had no appetite.
“I couldn’t bring myself do it,” Stella said, her voice low and hoarse. “I just…couldn’t.”
“Well, darling, you’d better get used to it pretty quick. Once you’re married, he won’t let you hold out any longer.”
Stella shuddered at the thought. She would almost rather kill herself than marry such a man, but that would turn Narju’s sacrifice into a waste. She couldn’t do that—she could never do that.
“How—how bad is it, Tamu?” Stella asked. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
“What, the sex? No, that’s not bad. But being a wife is about more than just sex, dear. You’ll have duties and responsibilities, not to mention all the political games with the other wives. Then there’s the children—Qasar will want you to bear him lots of children, preferably sons.”
Stella’s empty stomach sank through the floor. “Children?”
“Yes, dear. That’s how Hameji women prove their worth. If a wife can’t bear her husband plenty of children, that’s grounds enough for a divorce.”
Children, Stella thought with horror. I’m going to have my children with that man. The crying came slowly at first, but once it started, it soon became unstoppable.
“There there, darling,” said Tamu, kneeling by her side. “I’m sorry to scare you. Don’t cry.”
“It’s not you,” Stella sobbed. “I just want to go home.”
* * * * *
James was lying on his cot when the alarm sounded.
He leaped to his feet and banged his head on the low ceiling as the lights turned red and began to flash. “Ow!” he shouted, cursing his cramped quarters.
“Attention all hands,” came Danica’s voice over the ship-wide intercom. “This is a level three alert—repeat, this is a level three alert. All officers are to report to the bridge immediately.”
That means me, James realized. He nearly raced out the door before he realized he was only
wearing a t-shirt and some boxers. The zipper on his jumpsuit jammed when he tried to pull it up, but after a short struggle, he managed to get it to work. With his boots still unclasped, he slammed his palm against the access panel and sprinted out the door.
The bridge was completely full when he arrived. All the other officers sat at their stations, busy with their work.
“Ensign,” said Danica, giving him a slight nod. She stood in the center of the activity, directly beneath the forward window.
“What’s going on?” James asked, a little breathless.
Danica lifted her hand ever so slightly, silencing him. He took his seat against the rear wall of the bridge.
“All stations, report,” she said, addressing the room. “Konstantin?”
“All systems nominal, ma’am,” said Mikhail from James’s left.
“Sikorsky?”
“Ready and awaiting orders.”
“Nicholson?”
“Drones coming online,” said Vaclav, surrounded by dozens of monitors. “Combat ready in twenty seconds.”
“Ayvazyan?”
“Cyber-ops up and running.”
“Roman?”
“My men are ready,” said Roman. “We await orders.”
“Good,” said Danica. She reached down to a panel at her seat and flipped a switch. The alarm shut off, leaving the room in silence.
“Here’s the situation. Three minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago, the Hameji discovered our mole. We believe they may have gotten a trace, in which case we can expect an imminent attack. As per my order—”
“Wait,” said James. “I thought you told Ilya to erase all evidence that we’d hacked into their network.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault,” said Ilya. “The mole was just a standard precaution, in case we needed to—”
“Silence!” bellowed Roman. Ilya scowled but kept to himself.
“I assure you,” Danica said in a curt tone, “Lieutenant Ayvazyan will be properly reprimanded after the situation has been resolved.”
James glowered. So it was his fault, he thought to himself. Idiot.
“As I was saying,” Danica continued, “we’ve already dispersed three beacons to draw their fire. Our jump drive is recharging and will not be operational for another thirty-five minutes. If the Hameji attack us within that time, we will be forced to engage them directly.”