Obligations

by Cheryce Clayton

  Greg spoke slowly as he tried to keep the information in order, pausing to allow Tadalde to fill in the gaps.

  Morgan moved to leave before the translation was half finished, only to be stopped at the door when Tadesde’s voice flooded the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Bystocc - 2012

  “I concede any claim on this miserable rock to you, most beautiful of patrons,” Tadesde repeated her first broadcast, and Morgan’s communication officer released the speakers with an audible click.

  Morgan took a moment to compose herself before she nodded to the captain and then spoke loudly. “You never had a claim on this planet. Your concession is without value. Put my wife Neavillii on now,” Morgan said in a stilted court accent as she moved closer to the display unit.

  Tadesde’s seventeen ships in orbit had more than doubled in number. Thirty seven ships, including two heavy armors, now dotted the display in bright green.

  “I will accept your judgment on this, my Lady. If you will give me a day to pull my people off?” Tadesde’s voice whined through the communication speakers, and Morgan signaled for the circuit to be broken.

  “Fix that,” she said as she watched the holographic display.

  “It is not mechanical, my Lady. The problem lies within her voice,” the communications officer stated with obvious pleasure.

  “What is she hiding?” Morgan asked the room in a whisper. “Put me back on. I would speak with my wife now,” Morgan said loudly, trying to force the other’s hand.

  “The Lady Neavillii was murdered by natives. We discovered her children only recently.”

  Those in the command center winced as her voice grew even more shrill.

  “You are stalling for some reason. What is it? My wife is dead, you tell me. Her name will be added to that of the wife of my dearest mate, Timone. Both have fallen at your hand.” Morgan never realized that she was staring at Tim as she spoke.

  He waited for Greg to whisper a translation to him before looking away from her intense gaze.

  Morgan looked to the display again and noticed Tadesde’s forces were now surrounded by the tell-tale blurring of smaller fighter craft. Her armada was now double the size of House Sheresuan's fleet.

  “We found her children. We have cared for them, fed them, but still you call for war. Your desire to see me dead blinds you to reason.” Tadesde’s gasp for air could be heard over the communication broadcast.

  “I will not let you depart this planet to plot my future destruction. You have given me insults of family, blood, and honor. You will pay for those debts with blood,” Morgan said as she watched over fifty vessels begin moving toward her smaller fleet on the edge of the display.

  “It is war then. I knew when first we met. Let the record show, I fought you valiantly, whatever the outcome-” Tadesde’s piercing whine ended as her fleet picked up speed.

  “The records will show that you died without heirs,” Morgan said with a confidence she did not feel.

  “I do not think she heard you, my niece,” Iedonea said with a smile.

  “How long until contact?” Morgan asked, and focused on breathing as her fear and panic increased.

  “Eight minutes, my Lady. We should assume a position encircled by our freighters and behind our fighters, my Lady.” The captain moved to stand beside her bridge crew, awaiting orders.

  “No. I will not ask others to take a risk I refuse. We lead,” Morgan heard her own voice shout, and leaned forward to grip the railing in front of the display unit.

  “Your courage has never been seen, my Lady.” Tadalde bowed to Morgan over her bent knee.

  Morgan did not see the looks of awe that the Sansheren present gave her, but Tim and Greg did.

  “Closing in four minutes,” an anonymous crew member called out, and Morgan closed her eyes briefly, to say a prayer to some nameless childhood god.

  In doing so, she missed the new blips that formed on the display as the fleets of several planets shrugged off their camouflage and committed to the battle.

  “This is the House Medori requesting the honor to fight under your banner. We are fifteen ships strong and ready for battle,” a Sansheren voice flooded the room, bringing Morgan’s attention back to the holograph before her.

  “This is the House Gashere, stating our intention to defend the beautiful Morganea; we are twenty-three ships strong and ready to fight,” the second voice prevented anyone from speaking.

  “Announcing the Flagship of the royal family of Dreco. It is our honor and privilege to offer the services of the Drecan navy to the Human Morganea. We pledge an alliance for the purpose of destroying Tadesde,” the badly accented Sansheren came over the intercom to a stunned silent command room. Two hundred or more medium size blips appeared on the screen as confirmation, haloed by their fighter craft.

  “This here is the good ship Montana. Loyal to Morgan, on our own, and loaded for bear.” Frank Griffin said in English, and his southern drawl brought a smile to Morgan’s face as the system display continued to show new ships coming in behind them and overtaking her older vessels.

  “I said my niece was brilliant. And in bringing only a limited force she guaranteed participation of the great Houses. She did not allow her pride in the forces of the House Sheresuan to risk the downfall of Tadesde,” Iedonea said, and Morgan noted the smugness in her voice as the command room erupted in cheers. Several of Tadesde’s blips had already disappeared from the screen.

  #

  “It’s over.” Isaac stood beside her, not touching.

  Morgan looked up from the screen and met his eyes. She realized he had seen her fear.

  “Get me out of here,” she whispered as she felt the threat of tears build. He put his arm around her waist and steered her to the exit.

  “Let her go man, just let her go.” Greg pulled on the silent Tim’s arm as Morgan stumbled from the room.

  She never saw the look of shared pain Tim shot her. Neither did she feel the needle Isaac used once they were within her room. She drifted to sleep crying and wishing she were in Tim’s arms.

  #

  “She’s crying for you,” Isaac said to the chamber of mercenaries waiting for quick passage to the planet.

  Greg looked up to see the doctor pinning Tim within an angry gaze.

  “You’re wrong, man.” Tim’s voice remained calm; even as he addressed the doctor he didn’t surrender his place in the head of the cue waiting to pass through the airlock.

  “She cries for her dead wife, perhaps you could share your grief and offer her comfort,” Iedonea said after Tadalde translated for her.

  It was several seconds longer before Greg finished translating for Tim. “Go to her man, I’ll take care of Tadesde.” Greg put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and pushed him out of line.

  Iedonea moved to stand in front of them after Tadalde finished translating. “It would be my honor to take your place in the hunt for the spawn,” Iedonea offered, her eyes meeting Tim’s.

  As Greg translated her words, Tim handed Greg his personal weapon, before leaving the room with a disheartened shrug.

  “Come friend, we have a duty to perform.” Iedonea waved Greg into the now open airlock.

  “I know,” Greg said in Sansheren with a feral grin as he followed the old Sansheren into the airlock.

  Two of the human mercenaries joined them as did Tadalde. When the airlock cycled, they stepped into a transport vessel. The pilot waved a salute over her shoulder when she recognized Iedonea.

  “They should aim for the stomach,” Iedonea offered to the mercenaries, who neglected to fasten their safety harnesses and now sat in awkward positions checking and loading weapons.

  “We know,” Greg answered without his previous smile.

  “We’re all veterans of the long crusade to defeat Tadesde on this planet,” Tadalde said with her own serious expression. She, too, was verifying the readiness of her personal weapon.

  “You got a gun?” Greg asked without looking
up from Tim’s, which he was loading.

  “I had not planned to come; I am ashamed at my lack of preparation.” Iedonea bowed her head as she realized her lack of foresight.

  “It’s a sawed off shotgun. Packs quite a punch so be damn sure of your footing before you pull the trigger. There are six rounds in each magazine, try to keep count. And see if this will fit in your pocket.” Greg gave Iedonea a second magazine for the weapon he passed her.

  She held the weapon gingerly before unfastening her harness and shifting to shove the magazine into a pocket. The magazine fit, but only just, and she had difficulty sitting back in her seat with its bulk against her leg.

  “How does it target?” she asked as she studied it curiously.

  “Point and shoot. It does not discriminate. That is the trigger housing; keep your fingers clear until we land.” Greg reached out and moved her hand down the pistol grip.

  “And it’s effective radius?” Iedonea asked, and Greg paused to answer as the craft they were in began to shred atmosphere in its descent.

  “Grounding in eight,” pilot called over her shoulder.

  “Best at short range, the rounds alternate. Tracer, shrapnel, slug, slug, shrapnel, tracer,” Greg shouted, to compensate for the increased ship noise as they began skimming over clouds.

  “In five,” the pilot chanted.

  “Keep your friends behind you. It is for crowd control, you know?” Greg grabbed hold of the straps as the craft veered violently.

  “One would wonder of the crowds that encouraged the design of such a weapon.” Iedonea murmured as she, too, clutched her safety harness.

  “And, grounded! The Administration building is straight in front of us, ladies; let’s go.” The pilot was first out of the craft’s airlock bypass hatch; Greg beat her to the ground.

  “Clear!” he hissed, and Iedonea dropped down beside him.

  Tadalde and the other two mercenaries dropped to the opposite side of the craft using a different auxiliary hatch. The street before them was empty of all except rubble and a few random bodies, and those native Bystocc.

  “Call off,” Tadalde said softly into her communication unit.

  “Second unit, all clear.”

  “Fifth unit, all clear.”

  “Sixth unit, all clear.”

  “Third unit, all clear.”

  Tadalde made eye contact with Greg under the craft as she waited for unit four to respond.

  “Fourth unit, talk to me,” Greg whispered.

  “Fourth unit, we have multiple surrenders. Request backup,” a loud voice answered in English.

  “This is unit two; we have people coming out of the building. They are crawling. Thirty, maybe forty surrenders. Also requesting backup.”

  “This is unit five, we have confirmed surrenders.”

  “This is unit three here, we need backup for least thirty surrenders.”

  Greg looked from Tadalde to Iedonea before thumbing his communication unit. “Silence on the line. All units, hold your position and relay requests to orbiting vessels.” Greg released the switch and shrugged.

  “We’re not alone,” Iedonea said, pointing to the top of the Administration steps.

  A large group of Sansheren were forcing, at gunpoint, several green tinged Sansheren out of the door in front of them. One of the harassed bolted from the group and ran toward their ship. Iedonea growled as she raised her weapon and pulled the trigger. The running woman was blown in half and the tracer shattered against the steps behind. Debris and gore splattered down for several seconds as all but the humans stared in horror.

  “Most impressive,” Iedonea said.

  “I said to make sure your friends were behind you,” was Greg’s response as he rubbed his most affected ear.

  “We surrender!” one of the Sansheren on the steps called out.

  “Then drop your weapons,” Greg shouted.

  “If we do, these carrion eaters will escape,” the other replied.

  “I demand to be taken to the lovely Arbitrator. Her justice and honor are impeccable,” a high-pitched whine echoed the familiar voice.

  The one who stepped away from the guns on the stairs was a vibrant emerald green, a shade Greg had never seen on a Sansheren before. Little hints of orange were all that remained of her original adult markings. The fur had even grown back to cover her forehead.

  “Come, Tadesde, I will take you to Morganea, it is witnessed that you voluntarily sought her justice. Come.” Iedonea stepped from the side of the craft and leveled her weapon at the former leader.

  “She will be just. We are equals, she and I,” Tadesde giggled to herself as she moved forward and was chained.

  “We would pledge our allegiance to Morganea. We brought her enemies as offering to her beauty,” the leader of the captives said rapidly, and her lack of confidence was apparent to all that heard her.

  “Morganea will give you justice, whatever you deserve. Shackle the others and bring them here,” Iedonea drawled as she handed her weapon to Greg and leaned against the warm craft.

  “All units. Forcibly secure any who show symptoms of regression. Press the rest into service.” Tadalde released a communication unit with a sigh before kneeling to join Iedonea who now sat on the ground. They both stared at the remains of the Sansheren Iedonea had shot.

  Greg leaned against the craft and listened without interrupting.

  “Any movement?” Tadalde asked as she finished sitting down.

  “No. What could survive such a weapon? I wonder that Tadesde could hold this planet for so long.” Iedonea shifted and leaned against the younger leader.

  “Such powerful weapons are rare, and well cared for. The one you used belongs to Timone himself.” Tadalde brought her arms around Iedonea, and they sat there in silence for some time before Greg sat down beside them.

  “Tell me, my friend. What planet created such destruction?” Iedonea nodded to the shotgun Greg handled casually.

  “This? This is nothing. Earth, the human home world.” Greg set the gun down within the women’s easy reach as he shifted to squat on his knees, ignoring the pain in his hip.

  “Such a people could conquer the universe, my friend. You scare me.” Iedonea met his eyes as she spoke.

  “Yeah, well, they would have to get it together first,” Greg said before struggling to his feet.

  “The pirates are the only species to travel to Earth, and they don’t announce themselves, I think,” Tadalde said to the silence that followed Greg’s departure.

  Iedonea drifted into sleep with unpleasant thoughts dancing beyond her reach. Tadalde continued to guard her friend.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Earth – 1995

  The smell of urine woke her. The room was still lit, the glare of the overhead lights painful to her. She lay in the huge bed and listened to the sounds of the giant house: a clock ticking from the stairwell, a cat mewing in some unknown room. She was cold and the bed was still damp beneath her. Lui Moih-Gan rose and left the room in search of a bathroom.

  #

  “What little flower sings to me?”

  She was lying immersed in the near scalding water of a large sunken tub when the door opened, and a male face peeked in and spoke derisively.

  “Lui Moih-Gan, what did she sing?” the teen she assumed was her brother taunted from the now open doorway.

  “I am pleased to meet you, brother. If you leave, I will get dressed.” Her desperate attempt to pull the shower curtain closed seemed to fuel her brother’s interest.

  “Such a pretty little bird, sweet nectar to my eyes. Sing, sing.” He walked into the room and repeated his demand as he tore the curtain from her grasp.

  “Please, don’t.” She crouched into the corner of the tub.

  “Now that is music to my ears, little sister. And to think I was worried you would put a crimp in my lifestyle.” He laughed as he climbed into the water.

  Her gaze darted from his fancy shoes to his face and down his clothed body in fear. />
  “Such a pretty flower for the plucking, thank you for waiting up for me. I know we’re going to be real good friends,” he whispered in her ear while pinning her body beneath him.

  And she felt herself grow faint as the stench of his alcohol laden breath overwhelmed her. But she never passed out, and it was over three hours before he threw her, bruised and bleeding, on to her bed.

  The dawn was just beginning to tinge in the sky in sympathy.

  Chapter Thirty - Bystocc – 2012

  Morgan felt the tears burning in her eyes as she lay perfectly still. The silence of the room was broken by her gasp for air and by another’s soft breathing. She was in an adult body, she realized, as the horror of the dream began to fade. A sharp pain in her back brought her attention to the other person present. She was held in someone’s arms, propped up with them holding her tight and rocking slowly. The pain was joined by another in her neck as she realized the person holding her was dressed in armor. Flexible but stiff, it poked her in several uncomfortable spots. She opened her eyes, to confirm that it was black. And then suppressed the hope that tried to bloom within her.

  “I’m still dreaming,” she whispered, hoping for a denial.

  “As long as it’s better than the last one.”

  Tim’s voice startled her and she shifted to see his face. He let go of her and she felt the ache begin anew.

  “I was dreaming about…” she couldn’t force herself to give voice to the memory.

  “I know,” Tim offered and reached out to pull her back into his arms.

  She looked up at his face and saw her tears in his eyes.

  “My Lady! The carrion born has been captured!” Iedonea threw open the door and shouted with a grin before continuing on her way.