It was impossible. But so was the alternative.
Soma came to two possible conclusions. Conclusion number one: the entire encounter was some intricately choreographed presentation that would have had to include the participation of high-level Alliance personnel and assets—including those who saw Remnant as an enemy of the state—just to trick him into believing her. Either that or, conclusion number two: she was telling the truth.
Neither option really suited him.
The truck halted. One of the MPs, Sunburn, dropped the tailgate and hopped down from the bed. Soma waited until he was prompted, then stood and hopped down into an alley between a series of one- and two-story buildings. Unlike the palace proper the buildings down in the town were all modern constructions of synthetic materials, poly-form and nano-carbonate. It was all new and well-maintained but not as austere as the palace with its real bricks and mortar and green creepers climbing the walls.
Sunburn prompted and Soma followed the line of MPs into one of the buildings. Soma blinked against the darkness. When his eyes adjusted he realized he was in a brig.
Bixley had said they were building more of the black-box cells but they only had the two that were occupied. Soma was grateful for that. Instead, the MPs brought him to what looked like a local police station, skipping the front lobby as he had been brought in the back way.
They turned him through another door and he found himself in a perfectly normal cell block. Three cells stood against the north wall, three against the west. Soma found one of the cells occupied. A young woman in the wrinkled and blood-stained uniform of the Meritine Guard grasped the bars of the cell marked with a number “5.”
In the southeast corner an MP sat at a desk. He looked up at Soma and his entourage with a bored, disinterested expression. He said, “Name.”
None of the MPs answered so Soma spoke.
“Sergeant Major Soma Cross. Alliance Navy. Seventh Marine Division. 316th battalion. Serial number Charlie, Sierra, zero, two, nine—”
“Your name and rank are plenty,” the MP said, his tone scolding. “Cell number two.”
The other MPs prompted Soma and he walked into the cell. A buzz sounded and the barred door slid shut behind him. The second later his manacles clicked and disconnected. He would continue to wear the bracelets but could move his hands freely while in the cell.
His cell was identical to the others: poly-form walls, a tiny reinforced window, a small bed and, in the corner, a toilet and fold-out sink. Soma sat down on the bed.
Beside him he saw a tablet sitting in a pocket on the wall. It was probably loaded with magazines and vids to keep him entertained and almost certainly not networked to the local grid. Soma didn’t bother. He laid down, rested his head on his interlaced fingers and stared at the ceiling.
“I want to talk to him. You don’t need to move him. I can do it here. Just give me some privacy.”
Soma’s eyes popped open at the familiar voice. The light peering in through the window told him he’d slept. He kicked his feet down to the floor. He’d fallen asleep with his arms up and his fingers laced and now both hands tingled like they were covered by tiny pinpricks.
Soma wiggled his fingers until the pins and needles left and the feeling returned. Then he stood up and stepped over to the door.
Lieutenant Garin stood beside the desk with her hands on her hips. The bored looking MP sitting behind the desk, the same one who had booked him few hours before, looked up at her from behind his desk.
“Ma’am,” he said, “I’m very sorry, but I have strict orders that these prisoners are not to receive visitors.”
“I’m not a visitor, Sergeant. I’m his CO. And I have the right under Ministry of Defense protocol to interview him.”
“Ma’am,” the MP said again, but Garin cut him off.
“Who’s your CO, sergeant?”
The MP sighed. “Lieutenant Akechi, ma’am.”
“Ozar Akechi?” Garin said, pulling her link out of her pocket.
“Yes ma’am.”
“You’d better go get some coffee before your CO gets a nasty call, sergeant,” Soma said.
The MP turned a withering scowl at Soma. “If a couple of lieutenants want to butt heads over my orders, that’s up to them.” He had an unfamiliar drawl to his speech that only accentuated his bored expression.
“Oh no,” Soma said. He pointed at Lieutenant Garin. “She’s not going to call your CO. She’s going to call her father. Then he is going to call your CO.”
The MP threw his hands up. “What is this, the school playground? My daddy can beat up your daddy?”
“No, sergeant,” Soma explained. “This is Lieutenant Heather Garin.” He accented the name.
The MP shook his head and shrugged.
“Garin,” Soma repeated, “as in daughter of Defense Minister Neth Garin.”
The MP’s eyes slowly widened, then his jaw opened. A second later he shook his head and cleared his throat. He stood.
“I suppose I could use a warm up,” he said.
“Wise decision,” Soma said.
The MP lifted his coffee cup and left the room.
Some motion in his peripheral vision drew Soma’s attention. The young woman in cell five stepped away from her door and laid back down on her bed.
“That was pretty clever, Cross,” Lieutenant Garin said, pulling Soma’s attention back to her. She still had her hands on her hips, but her posture was much more relaxed. She really did look like a model that had borrowed an officer’s uniform. Her hips strutting to one side, her long hair falling about her shoulders, her smile accentuating her beauty mark.
“Well I wasn’t looking forward to hearing the shouting match.”
“What the void are you doing here, Cross?” Garin’s voice lost its jovial tone. She was back to business.
“I was brought here by six MPs.”
“Don’t get cute with me, Sergeant.”
Soma released the bars, stepped backward, ran a hand through the stubble of hair on his head. “I guess I was following your advice.”
“You think this is funny?” Garin asked. Her voice didn’t get louder, just sharper. “If you’re lucky this will only be the end of your career. If you’re not you’re looking at a firing squad. If you’re particularly unlucky the next torture box they finish will have your name on it.”
Soma dropped down onto the bed. “I know,” he said. “I know. I thought I was being clever.”
“What? Trying to befriend the guard to gain access to the girl? They’re not going to put an idiot in charge of a high-priority prisoner like that.”
“That’s just the thing!” Soma shouted, putting his frustration and confusion behind the words. “Why is she a high-priority prisoner? She’s a teenager! What are they so afraid of?”
“That’s not your concern, marine,” Garin said. “It’s above your paygrade and mine.”
“She wasn’t above our paygrade to kidnap off an Alliance member’s ship, though, was she?”
“Kidnap?”
“And now she’s being held on an illegally seized planet.”
“Cross—”
“No, Lieutenant,” Soma shouted. He felt like he was losing control. But he had come this far. Better to finish the job. “When news gets out about what we did here, heads are going to roll and it’s going to start with that MOD man. It will start with Anatheret.”
“What the void does it matter if he takes your head first?” Now she was shouting too.
Soma felt his jaw clamp shut so hard it hurt. He had said his peace. Now he had to pay the price.
Garin stood there a moment, silent. Her eyes scanned left to right as if searching for something she couldn’t find. When she spoke again her voice was ragged, strained, but under control.
“I’m going to report that you were subjected to some kind of esoteric seduction during your first encounter with the prisoner and the experience has produced a psychological breakdown.”
“Wh
at the—”
“I’m further going to recommend a few months of psychiatric rehabilitation—”
“You mean religious re-education—”
“After which point I will request that you be returned to my platoon. You’ll be busted down to private but upon having opportunities to show your worth I’m sure you’ll be returned to your proper post again.”
“What are you doing, Lieutenant?”
“I’m trying to save your career, Sergeant,” Garin said. Her voice sounded desperate. Her expression held a frantic energy to it as well. Then she sighed, and her voice and face were just sad and stern. “Now take my advice. Forget about this girl, Cross. Some things just can’t be explained. The sooner you forget it, the sooner you’ll be back where you belong.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Her shoes created sharp echoes through the cell block as she walked out the door. Soma let go of the bars and turned back to the bed when another voice stopped him.
“You must have done something pretty bad,” the young woman in cell number five said.
Soma turned toward her. She stood behind her own set of bars. The light coming in through the window across the room painted black stripes up and down her face.
“You heard the whole conversation,” Soma said. “You know what I did. And looking at your uniform I can kind of guess why you’re here.”
“I’m here because I did my job.”
Soma shook his head. “During the battle or the insurrection?” He kept his voice even. If he was thinking like an Alliance marine, he would have considered this woman an enemy. As he stood now, she was someone to talk to.
“I don’t think you can call it an insurrection unless it’s against a legal civil authority. The Alliance, as you noted, is not here legally.”
“Is that supposed to answer my question?” Soma asked.
“Neither,” she said. “I’m a bodyguard...was a bodyguard.”
“Who were you protecting?”
“The governor’s daughter.”
Soma felt his jaw drop. “You were with the saboteur? The woman who blew up that shuttle?”
“Cel,” the woman said, her eyes wide with concern. “Is she dead?”
Soma sighed. “No, but she probably wishes she was.”
Her eyes narrowed and for the first time, Soma saw this woman was someone to be reckoned with. “Torture is against Alliance law.” She banged her fists into the barred door. The loud clang echoed through the room. “But why should I be surprised?”
“They’re not technically torturing her,” Soma said. “Technically what they are doing isn’t against the law, but I guess if the softer-hearted members of the supreme council catch wind of it, they’ll be amending the anti-torture law quite a bit.”
The steel in her expression faded, and she leaned against the bars of her cell. Her eyes closed. And, did Soma see tears forming there?
“What difference does it make?” she asked. “I’ll be dead soon. I would have liked to see the day when the Alliance is kicked out of our system for good.”
“I’m sorry,” Soma said. She flashed him an angry look. “No, really, I am. You’re right. They had no right to come here and take over.”
Just like that, Soma realized, the Alliance turned from “we” to “they,” and he knew what he needed to do.
Chapter Thirty-Nine:
This Book of the Law
Gan stepped into the Jessamine’s galley and took a seat at the table next to Dothin. So far, the room had only four residents: himself, Dothin, Kol and the woman who had accompanied him to their first meeting, Sabella.
“Coffee Gan?” Dothin asked. He lifted a cup and sipped from the steaming liquid inside.
“Sure,” Gan said.
Dothin started to rise but Kol stopped him. “I’ll get it.”
Kol got up and walked to the coffee maker, one of many devices sitting against the aft wall of the galley. Gan recognized everything one would need for a long-term kitchen. There was an oven with cooking surfaces on top, a microwave, a toaster and a blender. To one side a large kiosk designed to hold and dispense various kinds of drinks stood.
Kol pulled a cup from the cabinet. Cups, plates, bowls and cooking utensils were in normal looking cabinets, but once you opened them up you’d find little foam compartments shaped for each item. The cabinet doors weren’t loose either but would lock in place until someone opened them. It wasn’t wise to let your eating and cooking equipment fly about the cabin if the ship had to make sudden maneuvers. Gan figured the Jessamine had to make a lot of sudden maneuvers.
Kol set the cup on the round platter of the coffee machine and tapped a few buttons on the screen.
“You like cream or sugar, Naboris?” Kol asked.
“Black please,” Gan said.
While Kol was bringing the coffee a young woman in baggy coveralls and a red bandana strode into the galley. Kol smiled at her.
“Nat,” he said.
“Captain,” she replied.
“Coffee?”
“Nah,” she said. “You know I like my caffeine sweet.”
Kol shrugged. He handed Gan the cup.
“Thank you,” Gan said. He took a sip. It was rich and bitter and strong.
Kol took his seat.
The new girl, Nat, grabbed a tumbler from the cabinet, stuck it into the drink dispenser and tapped a few buttons. Soon a fizzy, pink liquid poured into it. She popped a lid onto the cup then inserted a straw. She took a seat beside Sabella, activated a wrist-link with a snap, and thumbed through the holographic screen while sucking from her drink.
One by one others entered. A tall, broad-faced and dark-skinned woman Kol called Kahula walked in first. Then Dr. Jens, blonde curls bouncing about her neck. Then a lean Sabatean girl with fair skin and wide green eyes. Then the grizzled Baragazi man Gan recognized as Kol’s deck chief. Then Vance Gosen.
After these were all sitting, drinking and talking for some minutes Nix and Ashla entered.
Nix came in first, looked into the room and said, “Uh, I think we’re the last ones here.”
Ashla followed, pink cheeked with embarrassment. “Sorry, everybody. Neither of us knew where the galley was.”
They took the remaining seats next to Dothin.
The girl with the bandana, Nat, offered them something to drink and then poured them each a cup of the fizzy pink stuff.
“Alright,” Kol said. “We’re all here so let me introduce us.” He started with the passengers. When he named “Dothin Lanseidis and his son Nix,” Nix looked ready to say something but closed his mouth. Kol’s introductions included naming Ashla’s surname. No one batted an eye. He must have briefed them on the job previously.
Then he introduced his officers. “This isn’t the whole crew, obviously, our deck hands and second engineer are busy on repairs. I think you all know Dr. Jens, our medical officer.” Then he pointed to the big dark-skinned woman. “This is Kahula Kai our communications officer.” He pointed to the skinny Sabatean. “This is Tally Ranjo, navigations.” Then to the woman with the red bandana, he said, “this is our chief engineer, Nat Ginsey. Oh, and you probably know Jac Lanjer, deck chief.”
Each of the people he introduced signaled in a unique way. Kahula nodded quietly, Tally wiggled her fingers in a shy greeting, Nat said “Hi y’all!” and Jac Lanjer made a sloppy two-fingered salute.
Gan studied each of them, discovering what he could from their body language and reactions. He reckoned that Lanjer, Kai and Dr. Jens had all served on military ships. He would bet a lot that Dr. Jens had served in the Alliance Navy. Tally was shy but not suspiciously so. Nat was a good engineer but not formally educated. They all were loyal to Kol. They were all, besides Lanjer, female and attractive. They looked more like pretty actresses playing the roles of a smuggling ship’s crew. But Kol had only had intimate relations with Sabella.
“Before we go any further,” Kol said, “I thought I would alert you all that there’s been a change in plans.
” Everyone was silent, so he continued. “Considering the noisy exit we made due to the lockdown, I thought it best to change our destination, at least for now.”
“Okay,” Dothin said, “Where are we going?”
“The Gazi system,” Tally said. “We will arrive in four days.”
“Outside Alliance control?” Gan asked.
Kol nodded. “We have some friends there who can help get our ship fixed up, and also who can open up inroads back into Alliance space, though I don’t know where you are looking to end up.” He pointed this last bit at Gan and his fellow passengers.
Gan looked at Dothin and Dothin looked back. Dothin’s face carried a deep concern. He had accompanied Gan here for Ashla’s sake, to get her to safety. But Gan could see the older man already missed his home.
“Gazi is fine for now,” Gan said.
“Okay,” Kol said. “Then I think we should discuss a few rules since we’ll be together longer than expected. We’re not used to boarding passengers, but we have extra cabins so sleeping arrangements won’t be a problem.”
“As long as there’s private space for the young lady,” Dothin said, “you shouldn’t have a problem from us. We can rough it.” He patted Nix on the shoulder as he said it.
“Likewise,” Gan added.
“Fine,” Kol said, nodding. “You’re all welcome to roam about the ship with the exceptions of the bridge, engineering, and the cargo bays, barring the docking bay.” As he finished he looked at Ashla who looked ready to protest until the last few words.
“I’m wont to follow our deal and I won’t expect any of you to work or pay for anything besides the arranged fee, but stay out of the way and let my people do their jobs. If anyone wants to help with repairs, though, I’ll take who I can get. Is that fair?”
Gan nodded and saw the others nodding as well.
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