Coria’s gravity must be much heavier than Earth’s, Lissa thought, for all the Corians were strong and Kiera walked as though the shipboard artificial gravity was hardly enough to keep her feet on the ground.
As always, the shipboard translator bot rolled forward between them. “It is pleasant to meet you.” The bot managed to project a melodious lilt into Kiera’s voice. “For the life of my son and the lives of these servicemen, I thank you.” She gave a slight bow that sent her hair forward to frame the sides of her face.
“It was nothing.” Lissa shrugged, feeling a bit awkward in the presence of so much grace. The way Kiera moved made her feel she was all limbs.
“We were glad to assist you.” Shiro stepped forward and bowed majestically to the Corian musician. Lissa admired how at-home the Kazakh seemed in these formal situations. So much for being from a primitive culture!
“After I have rested, and seen to my son, perhaps we can discuss compensation for the debt of our lives.” Kiera gave another polite bow, her lips curving in a slight smile. Despite her ordeal, she still looked fresh compared to Lissa’s crew.
“That will not be necessary …” Lissa began absently, her mind still on Will’s wounded shoulder.
“Actually, there was something we were hoping you could help with,” Stephanie interrupted, coming up opposite Shiro.
“I am at your service,” Kiera demurred.
“We need to find a market for our blueberry goods so we can raise money to join the GTC without enslaving our people.”
Kiera surveyed them both, a look of careful contemplation on her face.
“You mean to open Earth trade once again with Coria.” It was impossible to tell from her face what she thought of the idea.
“Yes,” Lissa nodded, squaring her shoulders as she tried to mentally shift into her role as ambassador. She felt she was failing in so many ways with this responsibility, but surely now that they had rescued a famous Corian musician, she could convince her to help them forward their ambitions. That was a wise idea on Stephanie’s part.
Kiera looked melancholy. “I do not believe that this will accomplish all that you desire.”
“What do you mean?” Lissa demanded.
“It’s the best shot we’ve got,” Stephanie added. “Surely someone on your planet still wants to purchase blueberries?”
Kiera shook her head. “That is not what I meant. Yes, I am certain there is a market on Coria for the sacred berry, and sure too you would make a small fortune selling them there—and if the popularity were to spring up there, elsewhere in the galaxy also you will have your market. But I am afraid you have underestimated the sheer quantity you would have to produce in order to make your planet profitable to the Galactic Trade Company without the use of the slave trade.”
“There are a lot of blueberry farms on Earth,” Lissa began.
“I’m sure there are,” Kiera assured her, “but it is not enough. Trafficking of sentient species as slaves is the top revenue-producing trade in the galaxy. The fact that GTC has legalized it has only made the market soar even more. No amount of fruit—however plentiful and lovingly remembered from ancient times—would stop the temptation of those whose strength of moral principle is wanting.
“Even if you join the GTC with a contract against slavery, it does not matter. The slavers will come. They will come backed by huge loans from GTC. They will stand in orbit with their warships, little more than pirates—the scum of the universe—and they will offer enormous sums to your government to change its policies.”
Lissa listened in despair, which quickly gave way to anger. “So basically all this has been useless! There is no way to free Earth from extortion, slavery, and doom—is that what you’re saying?”
“I do not mean to crush your hopes.” Kiera bowed again, her translator bot making her voice sound soft-spoken with pity. “What you desire is noble. But I do not believe that joining the Galactic Trade Company will be the solution you are looking for. They are too cruel, too greedy, too selfish in their profiteering ways. The CEO of the Company is a Jerz by the name of Cle-zea, and, like many of the Jerz, she is quick to smile and charm but just as quick to space you while your back is turned.”
“I’m sick of space!” Lissa shouted. Her entire crew stopped and turned to stare at her. She didn’t care. Listening to this Corian woman—suddenly the pinnacle of all their hopes—shoot her idea full of holes was demoralizing and infuriating. She has no reason to help us. What’s it to her? Corians haven’t set foot on Earth in thousands of years. Why should they start to care now? Or worse, perhaps the Corians, all tales of honor and goodness aside, would just as willingly take part in the plundering of the human homeworld as the Jerz had.
“Fine!” she snapped. “Go ahead, shoot down all our ideas. It doesn’t matter.”
She turned and glared at every one of them—human, Corian, and Europan alike, who were all surprised to see her outburst.
“I don’t care if it’s impossible. I don’t care that it can’t be done!” she cried, her fists clenched. The smell of recycled air and that strange sweet odor all the Corians seemed to carry hit her gut as she took a deep breath. “Earth is our home. It’s just … it’s more than that. I mean, look around you.”
She waved her hand at the others who had come into space with her. Diverse they might be, still almost children they might all be, but every human aboard that ship was a caring, brilliant person who had not asked questions when she told them her plan to free Earth from Rocksquatter and Bilderbus. They all saw what needed to be done. They didn’t ask questions or say it was impossible, even though it perhaps was. They were every bit as scared or unsure as she was. Yet, they were here. They were doing something.
She turned back to Kiera and Aewn who had stepped up beside her. “These humans are all that is best about Earth. They are loyal, courageous, honorable—and best of all, they are free.”
“We might end up being the last free people on Earth.” Stephanie’s voice was gentle as she stepped close in support to Lissa, her hands out to Kiera but the set of her chin firm as she sought to make the Corian woman understand. “But we won’t stop until our world is just as free as we are—or die trying.”
“On Earth, we have a saying,” Shiro added, coming to stand beside both of them. “Don’t ever criticize anything unless you have something better to put in its place.”
“Do you?” Lissa demanded, not over her anger in spite of the warm glow she felt at their support. “Do you have a better idea?”
The Corian singer shook her head. “No,” she admitted.
Lissa crossed her arms. “Then until you do, don’t slam what you don’t have a share in. When this is all over, you get to go back to your planet, make music, and forget all about the slavery in the galaxy. That’s nice for you, but some of us feel the need to be a little more proactive about changing the universe.”
“She’s right, though.” Aewn came to stand next to Kiera, just as Lissa’s friends had come to stand beside her. His tattooed blue face was closed, and he crossed his muscled arms in a universal gesture as he stared at the four young humans.
Lissa whispered softly, “Aewn, we just want to make a difference, that’s all.”
“You are right, too,” Aewn said. “This is about more than just Earth. We all want the same thing—to end the oppression GTC has brought to this galaxy. And we have the perfect solution.”
Kiera looked up at him in bewilderment. So did Lissa.
“I think you should join the Universe Corporation.”
“The what?” Lissa asked.
“Universe Corporation,” Kiera repeated slowly. “They’re an intergalactic conglomerate, mostly catering to the ecological needs of inhabited planets.”
“What does that mean?” Ash demanded.
“Universe Co. makes things like artificial solar systems, space stations, stars—and sells them,” Kiera explained.
“They make solar systems?” Ash gulped.
“You’ve got to be pretty wealthy to buy a planet, much less a solar system!” Lissa said. “I’m pretty sure Earth doesn’t have that kind of cash flow. How does this help us, exactly?”
“Like I said, they’re a conglomerate. They don’t conquer—they buy up other companies. And they’re intergalactic,” Aewn added. “They’ve been trying to make a move on the Milky Way for decades. If you offer up Earth as a member planet, they’d have a foothold from which to start expanding.”
“The best part,” Kiera said, “is that Space Patrol is the enforcement arm of Universe Co.”
“Could you please say that again?” Stephanie asked.
“The reason Space Patrol has appeared in this galaxy for the last fifteen years is that we are the vanguard of a project to bring the Milky Way under Universe Co. management,” Aewn admitted.
“That’s why you guys don’t listen to what GTC says!” Lissa was astonished.
“That’s right,” Kiera told her. “Universe Co. has a very different ethical system than this galaxy currently does. Best of all, they’ve found that the best way to expand into new sectors of the universe is to increase the chances of people accepting UC by recruiting from local worlds.”
“This is all confidential, you realize,” Aewn cautioned, “The Corian legislature is currently undergoing changes. They want to join Universe Co. Allowing citizens to be recruited into Space Patrol is part of the process.”
“The whole point is to prove that their way, the honorable way of life, is better,” Kiera put in.
“That’s an interesting concept,” Shiro observed.
“You think this would work?” Lissa asked her friend.
“Perhaps. Aewn, if we enter into a contract with Universe Co., would we be under the protection of Space Patrol?”
“Absolutely. They would send a shield grid, and probably place a garrison unit on your moon.”
“That sounds ominous,” Lissa said. “We don’t need another military power fighting over ownership of Earth.”
“Not fighting,” Aewn corrected. “Supporting. Universe Co. does have warships, it’s true. But their medium of integration is persuasion. They don’t force; it’s against their policies. They protect the local laws but also seek to prove that order and personal integrity are worth more than war and interplanetary chaos.”
Octi scuttled over, curious now. “What is a shield grid exactly?”
“Millions of field-generating gadgets that form a shield just above the planetary stratosphere. It prevents anything, from ray blasts to projectile weapons, from penetrating the atmosphere.”
“Would it also repel incoming ships?”
“Of course,” Aewn acknowledged.
“Woah, okay,” Lissa held up her hands, “So, if this is really what Mr. Piff and everybody from Space Patrol is doing, why didn't he mention this before? I mean, he practically pushed us into a contract with GTC!”
“Like I said before, the true mission of Space Patrol in this galaxy is a secret,” Aewn pointed out, “We're not interested in going head-to-head with GTC. By the time you met Mr. Piff, the GTC Rep was probably already involved. He couldn't just step in and suggest you tell them to shove it—not without starting an interstellar war.”
“So he enforced the law,” she said slowly. She was starting to figure out what Mr. Piff's true agenda really was, “I remember when we were on Europa—he said that trying to get the contract with GTC was our first choice. He never mentioned what the other ones were.”
“Well, if things don't work out between you and GTC—in spite of a Patrolman advising you to try it, then there'd be no reason why you couldn't go with Universe Co. as a second option.”
“So, we had to try and fail before you could offer us help.”
“Sorry,” Aewn shrugged, “Politics. It sucks.”
“So … who controls this grid thingy?” Lissa asked.
“Space Patrol,” Aewn admitted. “But the language of your contract would govern who has access to it.”
“More importantly,” Kiera interjected, “in the initial phase of integration, all of Earth’s people will be surveyed to find out what they need and what they want in a government. UC technology makes it possible to have a true democracy—one based on the principle of government by and for all of your people.”
“You mean they literally survey every single person?” Lissa was skeptical.
“Exactly so,” Aewn assured her. “They use drones—Universe Co. owns a whole fleet of them.”
“Wow,” Ash breathed. He was trying to imagine how many drones UC must own in order to survey an entire planetary population whenever needed.
“I guess … well, there’s no harm in entering into negotiations,” Lissa said.
“I would like to see my son,” Kiera interjected suddenly. “If it is alright with you, Captain, I will retire to rest and be near him. I am sure Aewn can answer your questions from here. As the Patrol captain in this sector, we will need Will up and about if he is to help you contact UC.”
“Where is Will?” Ash asked. He glanced around.
“He was wounded,” Lissa admitted, feeling abashed that she had temporarily forgotten. “How is he, Aewn?”
“The shoulder will heal,” the second mate assured her. “He is resting but was lucid when I had finished dressing it.”
Lissa was relieved and gave Kiera a nod of thanks with a hint of guilt. The singer disappeared below.
***
When Kiera stepped up to the bed where her adopted son lay, Shika, who had been leaning over him, turned to face her. The two met eyes and Kiera stopped abruptly in her tracks.
“My, what beauty Earth’s people have!” she exclaimed, almost breathlessly. She reached out a slender blue hand to touch Shika’s dark cheek.
Shika was startled, but she did not draw away as Will’s mother surveyed her, taking in the African garb and the white chalk paint, and most of all marveling at her lovely skin. Kiera noticed her hand gently held Will’s, unconscious though he was, and frowned. “The other dark Earthling … he is your—”
“My brother. We are from Africa—a different land mass than the captain and the others.”
“I did not know humans could bear young of such hues,” Kiera said, her voice soft with awe. “You must have achieved great prominence on your home planet with this color.”
“It doesn’t work like that. Alas. In many places on Earth, my people are held in contempt for our dark skin.”
“How barbaric!” She gave Shika a pitying look.
Shika simply shrugged her indifference. “I don’t set much store by it. I think who you are has nothing to do with color.”
Kiera was somber. “You know, I think it is well past time for my people to embrace the same philosophy.” She stepped closer to her son, taking in his ashen face and the fingers of his hand curled gently around Shika's palm. She touched his cheek, which was cool.
“Did you give him something?” she asked Shika.
“Aewn seemed to know what to give him. He passed right out afterwards.”
“I feel about ready to do the same.”
“We should eat something, then,” Lissa suggested to them both, standing in the doorway. “When he wakes, we’ll all talk about contacting Universe Co.”
She led the way into the galley, noticing with a bemused look that Kiera gestured respectfully for Shika to go first. The other girl took it in stride.
It was several hours before Will awoke, relieved to see Kiera at his side with his new Earthling friends. When Aewn explained to his wounded captain their plan to contact UC, he agreed readily and gave Octi coordinates for the nearest garrison on Space Station 42.
Krywith was relieved of duty and went to rest while Lissa took up position next to her Europan friend. They hadn’t spoken much in the chaos of the last few days.
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you yet for getting us out of there so fast,” she told the octopus as he tapped away on an underwater Tri-D screen
in the tank Krywith had rigged at the helm. He found it easier to concentrate if he was underwater, he had told her.
“That was pretty good, right?” Octi bragged, bobbing up and down in the sloshing brine with the movement of the ship “Those Dragg’k meant business!”
Lissa marveled at how alike a teenaged boy he seemed.
“How did you learn astronavigation?” she asked him.
“I did three years at a tech school on Europa before Nask grabbed me.” Octi’s large black eyes narrowed with dislike at the thought of the late pirate captain. “I don’t think I ever got to thank you for spacing that piece of jetsam.”
“No prob,” Lissa said. She shrugged uncomfortably. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the space custom of quick executions, even if Nask had deserved it. “You’ve saved my life twice now—I think we’re even.”
“That’s what friends do,” Octi replied. He paused his typing and curled a tentacle like a fist to tap gently on the glass between them. Lissa caught the familiar gesture and repeated it—giving a fist pound to an octopus should have seemed completely ridiculous, but she could tell Octi meant every word, and so she kept a straight face and accepted the loyalty he offered.
“Let’s go kick some serious diplomatic butt,” she vowed.
“Like a nova!” Octi gave the octopus version of an elated grin, thrusting bubbles up from the pointed beak at the base of his head. She took that for the approval it was.
***
Several days later, Lissa stood on the rear deck, holding firm to the starboard rail as their proximity to a nebula caused ripples of space dust and energy to toss the ship up and down along their course. Lollipop’s eyeball stalks waved excitedly, high above her round body, as she gave a little bounding hop down the planks and landed beside Lissa, rubbing an affectionate eyestalk on her lace-up boots.
Space Patrol! Page 14