“The bastard raped her! He raped her and cut her up for sport. His whole court watched and laughed. Damn! That’s why Tim took the Bystocc contract. We didn’t think we had a chance. Tim just wanted a shot at that murdering bastard,” Greg said passionately, and Morgan stared at his reflection in the mirror and remembered her fear of his anger.
“Sansheren can’t physically rape anyone. They don’t have the equipment. They’re all female. As for killing for sport, I’ve heard other rumors no less vicious,” Morgan said with a shrug that she hoped would show how little she valued her own statement.
“Why doesn’t the Sansheren government stop him, her then?” Denise asked with a frown as she joined them once more.
“Sansheren government? There is no Sansheren government. Sansheren means ‘children of the Shere’, the home planet. Tadesde is her own government; she rules her own planet. She holds the Twelfth and highest rank of Sansadee, she’s autonomous. There are no laws to bind her, only a council that discusses customs and traditions and issues declarations of disappointments to chastise and she’s been held to task a dozen times. She doesn’t care.” Morgan looked from Denise to Greg, surprised at the puzzled looks on their faces.
“So who can stop her?” Greg asked, and Morgan frowned at his disbelief.
“One of her peers. It would take a declaration of war. There hasn’t been an inter-House war in two centuries, I’m told. It would be simpler if someone assassinated her, or one of her own people staged a defection. That’s possible; she lost a lot of stature when she abandoned Bystocc.” Morgan did not explain that she was the one to gain the most from Tadesde’s loss.
“Why doesn’t another House call her to task then?” Greg asked, and Morgan knew he was still trying to understand.
“Before Bystocc, Tadesde was the second most powerful Sansadee. Now, no one knows her true strength or weakness. It will take a few years for things to even out and the House intelligence units to decide her standing,” Morgan said as Denise poured Greg a second glass.
“If the bitch is number two, why doesn’t the number one knock her down a notch are two?” Denise asked as she handed Greg his drink.
“The most loved Sansadee is my adoptive father, Neadesto. Her House has honored a pledge of neutrality for over eight hundred years. She will not fight Tadesde openly. And without her support, no other House will dare. The best you could expect from the various Sansheren Houses is clandestine support to any planet opposing Tadesde.” Morgan set her glass down without drinking.
“Yeah, we got help from several different Houses during the war. Tim always hated them for using us to fight their battles.” Greg sat his glass down.
“He hates the Sansheren, now,” Denise said.
“Hey, kid. You have a good life, why don’t you just forget us old losers.” Greg moved to put his arm around Morgan’s stooped shoulders.
“Go home,” Denise said.
“I thought I did,” she answered as she shrugged free of him and sat up straighter.
The door of the tavern burst open with a bright flash of light. Denise continued to watch after the door closed and Morgan turned when she heard Banessa challenge the newcomer.
“I must speak with the most lovely Morganea, I must,” insisted a young Sansheren who wore the banner of Tadesde. She was out of breath and close to tears as she came to stand beside Banessa.
Morgan noted she was a crew member of a merchant class starship.
“Well,” Morgan said from where she still sat as she waited for the young spacer to collect herself.
“Oh most lovely and kind father. Please forgive my worthless self the sins of my family, I beg you,” the spacer shouted past Banessa, and then grasped the multi-colored purple banner that crossed her chest - ripping it free from her body. She bared her teeth and spat in the general direction it fell.
“It depends upon the sins your family has committed against mine,” Morgan said with a serious expression.
“Please understand that my wife and I had nothing to do with the dishonorable plotting of my shipmates. My wife even now runs to the one you defended yesterday to warn her of her danger. But I am sorry to admit, neither of us speaks the language of your most wonderful family.” The spacer was close to tears and kept shifting toward the door even as she spoke.
Greg shook his head in answer to Denise’s questioning look as the flow of the alien language surpassed his ability to follow.
“What danger?” Morgan asked as she made eye contact with Banessa, who was already speaking on her radio.
“They planned an ambush of the one I assume is your family. Come, I will take you to the place,” the spacer said, and again moved as if to flee.
Banessa held out her hand to prevent the other from leaving.
“It could be a trap, let me handle it,” Banessa said to Morgan, and let go of the spacer with a tight nod to the door.
Morgan watched the two Sansheren leave without looking at the curious Greg or Denise as she waited for Banessa to clear the doorway. She was in motion the moment her personal guard was out of sight. “Ambush,” was all she said as she ran out the door.
Years of experience had shown Morgan that she could not keep up with an athletic Sansheren; it was her hope to just keep them in sight as they raced down the street. She paid no attention to Greg or Denise as they struggled to keep her in sight.
Morgan stopped just inside the alley entrance; she had been running into the sunlight and her eyes balked, adjusting to the dim lighting.
The Sansheren who warned her was kneeling over an unmoving form that Morgan assumed was her wife. No injuries could be seen. But blood was pooling around the body. The young spacer looked up and met Morgan’s eyes with a sad pleading look that forced Morgan to break contact first.
“Just get here!” Banessa’s cry for help drew Morgan farther into the alley.
Morgan moved around some refuse boxes to find her guard and friend holding one unarmed ambusher against the wall while clutching her own bleeding side. The Tadesde banner could be seen on the captive’s chest. Morgan moved forward to aid Banessa.
“Farther back, go!” Banessa tightened her one hand grip and drew her weapon with the bloody hand. The desperate woman stopped her struggling when she noticed the muzzle of the weapon against her abdomen.
Morgan moved into the darkness of the alley. She paused as she was forced to step over the body of a Sansheren spacer. Bending quietly, she picked up the spacer’s discarded weapon, and then continued into the depths of the alley.
“Death!”
A form detached itself from the wall and lunged toward Morgan, who fired her weapon more in reflex than thought. A Sansheren collapsed at her feet, and Morgan could see several wounds even though she only remembered firing once. A loud shot echoed from behind a stack of crates, and she turned to run, without regard for her safety.
Tim crouched in the far corner, his back against a half wall that ended the alleyway, a locked gate beside him.
Morgan could see one body prone at his feet. Another Tadesde retainer leaned against the wall to his left and Morgan could see a pool of blood at her feet. There was a movement to the right, and Morgan shifted in time to see a third attacker finish loading a weapon. Morgan took careful aim this time, and smiled at the other’s look of surprise when the impact of the bullet beat the sound of the shot.
“What took you so long?” Tim’s voice was as strained as his smile, and Morgan moved toward him without relaxing her defenses. Before she could cross the space between them, Tim closed his eyes and slid down the wall.
Morgan stopped moving and stared at his immobile form for several seconds before screaming to Banessa.
Chapter Nineteen - Bystocc - 2012
“Would you tell him there is no way I’m going to allow that to fly my ship?” the human pilot gestured to Enrico as he finished his impassioned sentence.
“Handsome Jeffrey, be assured that I have voiced my own concerns, but I’m afraid that
my apprentice is very determined,” Neavillii said to the pilot and exchanged bemused glances with Yolunu.
“Well, he can be very determined in someone else’s shuttle. That bird is all I own, and I’m not turning it over to his pet.” The pilot finished speaking and stormed over to Enrico, who was walking Amigo through the preflight checklist procedure.
“May I assume that our talented pilot is less thrilled about this than we?” Yolunu asked in Sansheren. She leaned against the small shuttle craft as she spoke.
“One might even assume that the intelligent Jeffrey is less patient with the idea than we,” Neavillii agreed with a laugh.
“Then I hope he has more success in his objections.” Yolunu added her own nervous sounding laugh.
“It ain’t gonna happen, boy,” the pilot said, and Enrico glanced up to find the man blocking the hatch.
“That’s what you said about teaching me, Jeff. Amigo says she can handle it.” Enrico made a move to step forward; the pilot held his ground.
“You still couldn’t handle her in bad weather - that takes hundreds of hours of flight time, boy. And your friend has only been on board a few times. I ain’t letting it near my controls,” Jeff said.
The pilot failed to notice Amigo sneaking on board, and Enrico hoped he would not realize the cause of Neavillii and Yolunu’s smiles as they watched the standoff.
“It is my Foster child, and her name is Amigo,” Enrico said through clenched teeth and moved away from the hatch.
“I don’t care if its name is God, it ain’t flying my ship,” Jeff finished speaking just as the engines of the craft fired. Cursing loudly, he turned to grab the hatch handle only to be knocked to the ground by the lifting ship.
The ship rose a few feet up and spun to the left several rotations, stopped, and swung back to the right until Amigo could be seen in the pilot’s window, a very human grin on her face showing a mouth full of tiny pointed teeth.
“Damn,” Jeff muttered from the ground.
The ship hovered a moment longer and then zoomed straight up until it was a speck against the high clouds. It held, and then began soaring downward, making wide circles and lazy eights.
The pilot was pacing when Amigo finally landed. “If you’re done hot-shotting around, maybe we can get going,” Jeff addressed Amigo angrily as she opened the hatchway.
“Hot shotting? You fly,” Amigo said, before she moved out of the doorway, and sat in the passenger seat.
“Hot-shotting! Showing off!” Jeff shouted over his shoulder as he settled himself behind the controls.
“Sure thing, boss.” Amigo grinned once more as she offered the pilot a thumbs up gesture using both hands to imitate the human thumb.
Jeff snorted in response.
#
“We are still not certain of your request. Would you be so kind as to repeat it once more?” Neavillii asked from where she sat on a raised dais.
It was late in the day, and Enrico and Amigo had long since grown tired of the endless stream of Bystocc natives Neavillii was giving audience to.
“It is simply that we most humbly petition your most gracious body. It is our faithful desire only to be loyal to you, our love. And in showing our love to your most delectable self we bow low and request the most undeserved privilege to be allowed to toil upon your exquisite behalf.” The tall thin native kept its face pressed against the floor as it spoke, thus obscuring the inflections and further garbling its message.
“Either they want jobs or they’re proposing a group marriage?” Neavillii leaned back in her chair and muttered in English to Enrico who was sitting beside her on the floor.
“Definitely marriage,” Enrico whispered back as he tossed the ball to Amigo.
“Though we are truly flattered by your sincere compliments, we find it difficult to think with our head swooning. Please state your request in one sentence. No compliments and no detractions. And look at me, please,” Neavillii ended with a smile.
“We-” Whatever the native may have been proposing became of no importance when Neavillii and Enrico’s communication units both screamed at once.
The high pitched, ear-splitting sound was replaced by Yolunu’s voice.
“Attack! Planetary attack! Tadesde forces-“ her broadcast was cut by static.
Neavillii stood in the now silent room and turned her gaze to Enrico who still sat, ball in hand.
“We have to get out of the city,” Enrico said as he tried to jump to his feet. He forgot about his amputated foot with its mismatched prosthetic, and only Amigo’s quick reflexes buffered his fall.
“Agreed,” Neavillii said as she bent and picked him up. Amigo grabbed his cane and trailed the running Neavillii.
“Move!” Neavillii shouted to the crowd of petitioners, both Sansheren and Bystocc.
But the entire room had heard the emergency broadcast and everyone now milled about in various degrees of panic and confusion. Amigo stepped in front of Neavillii and growled at the people blocking their path to the entrance. The Sansheren closest cowered backward in fear, bumping into others and causing an even worse traffic snarl.
“But, my Lady, what should we do?”
The native petitioner from before fell at Neavillii’s feet.
“Survive, my friend, survive.” Neavillii tried to step around him to find her path blocked by others.
“This way, I have an escape.” The voice came from the right; it belonged to a different native. Four natives encircled them and began shoving a path to the left.
Neavillii allowed herself to be escorted through the crowd, still carrying Enrico.
#
“Are we sealed in?” Aldera directed her question to her assistant Nogina.
“Yes, my Lady. There is still time. Perhaps we should use the escape exit and flee the city,” Nogina said, and Aldera saw several others nod their heads in agreement.
“There is no time. The Administration building is but a few blocks down. It will be the first place targeted.” Even as she spoke, the room shook slightly.
“Then we’re doomed,” said a voice from the back of the room.
“So be it. Our duty is to the children, we can last at least fifty days, and we will do our best. Who would accept the honor of keeping a journal?” Aldera looked about the room; thirty Sansheren sat in their cafeteria. None would meet her eye.
“Then I would ask that each would keep her own journal, and I will keep the formal accounting.” The room shook once more as if to punctuate her sentence.
#
“There is no hope for survival and no honor in cowering. I will meet Tadesde on the front steps of the building.” Thanera opened the door of the shelter.
They were deep within the building, but not safe from the violent shaking that accompanied each explosion.
“No! My Lady, we should wait here for our forces to drive back the carrion eaters above.” The young aide Thanera had never met grabbed her arm and held her within the room.
“We have no forces, my love,” Thanera said while attempting to remove the other’s hands from her own arm. “I was speaking to the brave Yolunu in orbit when Tadesde struck. What few ships we had were destroyed immediately. Our patron Morganea will return too late. But she will avenge us,” Thanera finished. She quit trying to free herself from the panicked aide and turned to step into the hallway. The young aide followed her mutely. A few of the others in the room walked out to join them as they proceeded up the stairs.
Opening the main door to the Administration building, Thanera and her group avoided the fall of debris from above. The aircar responsible for the strafing saw them and circled to land.
“It is a privilege to surrender to one as beautiful as you,” Thanera said without kneeling or bowing.
Tadesde piloted the aircar and now stood grinning at them.
“My Lady, she might have a weapon.” One of Tadesde’s s aides rushed forward from the aircar and attempted to prevent Tadesde from moving forward.
Tad
esde paused to rake her claws across the retainer’s face before continuing on. “Will there be futile resistance?” Tadesde asked after climbing the stairs.
“I can speak for no one but myself.” Thanera continued to meet her conqueror’s eye.
“Very well. I am hungry. See that my meal is cooked.” Tadesde waved her hand in Thanera’s general direction before continuing into the building.
The aides that followed her stopped in their tracks as they assimilated her order.
Thanera turned to watch Tadesde’s departing back as she drew a small gun and placed the muzzle beneath her own chin. It was the same weapon that killed her first lover, the administrator Raceri. Neither Tadesde’s aides nor Thanera’s moved as Thanera pulled the trigger.
Tadesde’s laugh came out of the building to chase the crack of the weapon through the street.
#
“Red dog leader to anybody out there. Red dog leader to anybody out there. The baby’s in the wash. Repeat, the baby’s in the wash. We’re planning a revival on Bootleg Hill. Copy.”
The shuttle pilot Jeffrey started when Enrico’s voice came over the ship’s radio. He was in the communication room of the mercenary ship Yolunu had hired to sweep for mines.
.
“That was Enrico,” Jeff said as a short human woman joined him in the room; several others floated in the corridor.
The minor damage the ship suffered from Tadesde’s strike was offset by Yolunu lying unconscious on a table in a central compartment. Yolunu was not the only one injured when the captain shut off all power and assumed a lifeless attitude: a spiraling drifting orbit around the besieged planet. The cafeteria compartment was now full of injured crew, and the unconscious Yolunu’s broken leg was low priority to the mercenary trying to save his friend’s lives.
“Red dog leader calling anyone, we’re planning a revival at Bootleg Hill. Copy?” Panic and fear could be heard in the voice that pierced through the static.
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