The Survivors | Book 16 | New Lies

by Hystad, Nathan

“Sergo?” a voice called from the front of the room, and his shoulders slumped.

  “I guess I should have known a change of clothes wouldn’t cut it,” Sergo muttered. He wiped a hand over his face and clicked his mandibles. “Showtime.” He spun around, striding toward the woman who’d called him out. She was a slender Bhlat, with long dreadlocks and pink eyes.

  “If it isn’t my favorite sniveling jewel dealer.” Sergo lifted his arms like he was about to hug her, but struck with his fist, knocking her henchman back. He attacked the other man beside her, tripping him and kicking his gun free. Sergo’s pistol was in his grip a moment later, and he aimed it at the Bhlat woman. She didn’t seem to mind, judging by the grin on her face.

  “I guess I deserved that,” she said, and everyone in the room calmed, shoving their weapons into hidden pockets. They returned to their own business, growing bored by the newcomers. I stayed where I was, unsure of what was happening.

  “Ralph, come over here.” Sergo waved me in. “This is my business partner, Ralph. Meet Evi, the finest and shadiest procurer of jewels and ancient antiquities this side of Bezepolio.”

  I took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Pleasure, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am? I like this one, Sergo. What happened to the other guy?” she asked.

  Sergo chuckled nervously. “We had our differences. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “Understood. What brings you to Carve after all these years? I heard you were legit now. Working for that blasted Alliance.”

  “Is that what they’re saying about me? I only joined to make a big score,” he lied.

  “And did you?” Evi asked.

  “Sure. I made off with ten Inlorian bars. Been living on them ever since. Did you see my sweet Kraski ride?”

  “Kraski? Haven’t seen one of those for ages,” Evi admitted. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of those bars on you right now, would you?” Her gaze lowered to Sergo’s pockets.

  “You think I’m foolish? Bringing anything of value would be like running naked through a bird sanctuary.” This made Evi smile, and I tried to get the visual out of my mind.

  “What are you doing here?” Evi’s henchmen were on their feet, dusting themselves off and glaring at Sergo. I kept an eye on them, but Sergo didn’t seem to care one way or another.

  “If you don’t mind keeping my name to yourself, I’d appreciate it,” Sergo whispered as we walked toward a crowded bar. “Does anyone else know me here?” His gaze shifted around the space, probably trying to scour for familiar faces.

  “Don’t think so. Mostly a bunch of dated organizations or extremely raw ones. With this Alliance forming over the last decade or so, we’ve taken a bit of a hit. They have a new fleet, and it has some of us worried they’ll make our lives more difficult,” Evi said.

  We neared a table, and her henchmen motioned to the pair of Motrill seated at it. They cursed and left, giving up their spot. Apparently, Evi held their respect.

  I went into the booth first, with Sergo sitting beside me. Evi centered the other bench, while her two guards stood facing out. “I don’t like those guys,” Sergo told her.

  “I know they left you high and dry that time, but I swear it wasn’t my fault. I was about to be pinched,” she said. Without ordering, a server floated over. He was translucent but managed to carry a tray with three drinks on it. I tried not to stare at the red being, wondering about his composition. A hand formed from the side of the ghost, setting the drinks down, and he drifted away.

  “Let’s say we forget it ever happened.” Sergo slid a drink to me. It smelled like stale bread.

  Evi lifted her glass and spoke a phrase in her native tongue. Sergo repeated it, and we all took a swig from the yellow beverage. It pained me to swallow. My eyes watered, and I wiped my burning lips.

  “Smooth,” Sergo said, taking another drink.

  “So what is it really? Why are you here?” Evi asked.

  Sergo leaned closer. “I need help. And since we happened to bump into one another, why not make this a mutually beneficial scenario?”

  Evi stared at him with her pale pink irises. “What do you have in mind?”

  “We are carrying Inlorian bars, just not on us. I have one with your name on it, if you can help me with an issue,” Sergo said.

  Her face shifted, a smile lifting her cheeks. I wondered what the Empress would do if she knew there were Bhlat working underground criminal organizations. I suspected she wouldn’t be overly forgiving.

  “That’s a hell of a bargain. What’s the favor?” Evi asked.

  I grabbed Sergo’s arm, pulling him close. “I don’t know if we should involve anyone else. This is time sensitive, and how can we trust her?” I tried to speak low enough that our friend couldn’t hear me.

  “We can’t, but I’m unable to access the main section of the city. We need someone local.” Sergo buzzed, and clicked his mandibles.

  I let go. “Fine.”

  “If you two are done with your little chat, can we get on with business? What are the specifics?” Evi asked.

  Sergo took another drink. “Is there a man named Fronez here?”

  She blanched. “What do you want with him?”

  “Let’s just say I had some trade with the guy a while ago. And I’d like to stay clear.”

  “He’s the head honcho in these parts. Replaced the old guard ten years ago.” Evi spoke in a hushed tone, making it difficult to hear her over the loud noise in the bar.

  “Damn. How about the Wibox? Where can we find the ship that landed a few days ago?” I asked.

  “What do you want with those freaks? Never trust a Wibox; that’s my motto. And I’ve been right every day of my life.” Evi shook her head slowly.

  “Where can we locate them?” Sergo hissed.

  “You have a problem,” Evi advised him.

  “What’s that?”

  “You wanted to stay far from Fronez, didn’t you? Well, that’s who the Wibox are consorting with. I have it on good authority that they brought him something he’s very interested in. Paid top dollar for it.”

  “For what?” I asked tensely.

  Her gaze lingered on me. “A Toquil.”

  Regnig was here.

  Eleven

  As it turned out, Squad Nine was so motivated by the impressive course times of Jules and Malir, they’d managed to push themselves to victory over the rest of the squads. Jules received the call early in the morning that she was being requested to join their tour of the great warship, Outpost.

  Last night’s meeting with Suma was all but forgotten in the excitement, and today felt full of possibilities. She went outside, the sun shining brightly. It was still early, but most of the people present for the Gretiol celebration had left, including her mother, Natalia, and Patty. As much as Jules loved seeing everyone, there was work to be done. Despite their meeting with Suma last night, this was business as usual, and that began with a visit into orbit.

  Dean walked from the mess hall with two coffees in his hands. He looked so handsome with his hair combed, his white Ambassador uniform neatly pressed. She felt the embrace of love surrounding her, more powerful than her sphere had ever been.

  “Morning, Ju.” He smiled, giving her a coffee. It smelled delicious.

  “Morning to you.” She kissed him lightly and glanced at the sky. “This is exciting.”

  “I’m glad Magnus is letting me go too. I can’t let you have all the fun.”

  “It feels quiet here.” Jules glanced around the base, witnessing the recruits begin their days with the sunrise.

  “That’s a good thing. The moment this place is hectic, that’s bad news.”

  “I hope Karo and Ableen find what we’re looking for,” Jules said, remembering last night. Suma had seemed afraid, and that didn’t sit well with Jules. In her eyes, the Shimmali woman was a pillar of strength, someone who’d been with Slate and Papa since almost the beginning. She’d done so many incredible things during her life that s
eeing her scared or upset was troubling.

  “They’ll get us more information on the Sovan.” Dean sounded sure of the fact.

  “Who’s ready for a tour?” someone asked behind them. Jules turned to find Malir, wearing his black recruit jumpsuit.

  “You’re coming?” Dean asked abruptly.

  “I’m with Squad Nine now. They brought me in.” He looked pleased about this.

  “That’s great,” Jules said, but could tell Dean was fuming beneath his uniform. There was an unspoken tension between the two men, a power struggle, that she hoped didn’t have anything to do with her. She assumed it did. She wasn’t that blind to the way Malir looked at her, but he’d also hit on Patty.

  Magnus exited the residence and slapped his palms together. “Let’s go see Outpost.”

  “You’re happy today,” Jules told him while they walked across the stone pathway toward the shuttle pad.

  “What’s not to be delighted about? We’re growing here at the Institute, fine-tuning our issues, streamlining processes and training. Hell, it feels like we might actually build the foundation of our fleet with this group of recruits.” He clapped Malir on the back. “The Gretiol have been a welcome addition, Your Highness.”

  “Please, call me Malir.”

  “Okay, Malir. I want to thank you and your family for having the decency to join and show such a large amount of support. We won’t forget this in the years to come,” Magnus said.

  “We welcome the opportunity to be part of an organization larger than ourselves,” Malir said. The line came off as genuine, but Jules sensed the rehearsal behind the words.

  Thirteen eager recruits stood patiently beside the shuttle, lined up, dressed immaculately, with Sergeant Raron at their head. He saluted Magnus and turned to the squad. “Everybody better be on their best behavior today. We’re the first among the Alliance Institute to view what may become one of your future homes. Outpost is a state-of-the-art war machine, and you will treat her with the respect she deserves, is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir!” the recruits echoed, Jules and Dean joining in.

  “Well said, Sergeant. File on.” Magnus opened the shuttle doors, and everyone entered the ship. Jules and Dean sat beside each other, strapping in with the shoulder braces. Magnus himself took the pilot’s seat, and soon they were lifted from Terran Thirty on New Spero, heading through the atmosphere and into a far-looping orbit. From here, Jules spied the construction station, where three more warships were being built simultaneously.

  Outpost was a marvel, a ship three times the size of Light or Horizon, with the same sleek lines and more firepower. It was a far cry from the blocky Kraski vessels, or even the first-generation Keppe exploration ships. This was a masterpiece.

  Jules stared through the windows, catching glimpses of the hull’s gray exterior. She hadn’t been this enthused in a while. She’d visited in the early stages of construction, but this was different.

  They docked a few minutes later, the recruits buzzing with anticipation. Sergeant Raron let them chatter, not wanting to reprimand them for their excitement. Jules glanced at the recruits and smiled. They worked so hard, and some of these people would end up as officers aboard warships just like this. Suddenly, they looked young to her, fresh-faced and new, and she realized many of them were the same age as her. Jules had always been in classes with older students at the Academy because of her advanced education and abilities.

  The shuttle landed in the docking bay, and Magnus asked Jules to open the doors. She did, and was shocked to spy who was on board awaiting their arrival.

  “Slate!” she shouted, running off the ship to hug her uncle. Loweck embraced her next, and Jules let go, suddenly feeling embarrassed by her actions. “What are you doing here?”

  “We decided to take a detour with Light and see what all the fuss was about,” Uncle Zeke said.

  “Do you think I could convince Slate we didn’t need to visit Outpost? He’s been nagging me for weeks to come check it out,” Loweck told her.

  Magnus arrived, shaking hands with Slate, then Loweck. “Glad you could make it. She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” He glanced around the docking bay like a proud parent.

  “It’s something, all right. Is it true you have the wormhole generator built into the hyperdrive?” Slate asked.

  Jules perked up and took Magnus’ expression as confirmation. “That was supposed to be a surprise,” Magnus muttered.

  Slate laughed and apologized. “Sorry, my bad.”

  Magnus turned to the recruits and started the tour while Dean chatted with Slate and his wife.

  “Outpost is two point three kilometers in length and has fifteen decks. Within the ten docking bays, we’ll be housing forty high-speed and powerful Skimmers, like the ones you’ve been training for in the simulators.” He walked across the bay to a bulky item covered in a drop cloth. Magnus smiled as he tugged the fabric off, revealing a shiny Skimmer.

  The audience went silent as their jaws dropped. “It’s magnificent,” someone mumbled under their breath.

  And it was. The ship was slender, with enough weapons to single-handedly fend off ten Kold fighters. The cockpit had space for two people: one to pilot, one to kiss the enemy goodbye. Jules couldn’t wait to test it out, but that was for another day.

  “Some of you might sit in this very Skimmer, so work tirelessly on the simulators. The top five percent will have a chance at them in a month,” Magnus said, getting a few smiles from Squad Nine.

  “Maybe I should stick around,” Slate joked, making Loweck roll her eyes. “Fine. But I will requisition one of these Skimmers for Light.”

  Magnus led them out of the docking bay and into the core of the warship. “We’re on Deck Seven here. It’s the primary deck, and we’ve made it twice the height, with wider corridors to accommodate the major traffic. You’ve all studied the blueprints.” Magnus pointed at Ulen, a Padlog boy. “You, what deck is engineering on?”

  “Decks One and Two,” he said quickly.

  “Correct.” He indicated Ewen, a Bhlat woman. “What deck is the bridge on?”

  She shifted on her feet, looking nervous at the attention. “Entrance is on Deck Nine, but it cuts into Deck Ten as well.”

  “Very good. Come, let’s go there.” Magnus was on a roll, still smiling as he continued the tour.

  Jules and Dean were at the back, and she glanced around, searching for Malir. “Where is he?”

  “Malir?” Dean asked. “He was right behind us.”

  Jules kept going, not wanting to miss out on anything, and they navigated through the various sections of the warship, taking a long detour to the bridge to see the med bay and the primary mess hall.

  “This craft is equipped to house four hundred people at max capacity. We plan on operating them with a crew of two hundred and fifty, with forty support staff. They’re being trained on Shimmal. While making food or working in the laundry crew may not be as glamorous as flying a Skimmer or working the bridge crew on Outpost, every position is imperative to our success, and you’d all do well to remember that,” Magnus said.

  “Yes, sir!” they responded.

  As their group approached the entrance to the bridge, Jules took in the sights. The bulkheads rose higher here, the walls lined with computer screens. They were blank now, but sprang to life when she waved her palm near one.

  Malir appeared, huffing his breaths. No one else seemed to notice as he came up behind Jules and Dean. “I took a wrong turn. This place is like a labyrinth if you don’t know where you’re heading.”

  He was right. Jules had studied the floorplans extensively, so she’d know where everything was, but still felt like walking the actual halls was a far different experience than looking at lines on a screen. “You didn’t miss much,” she told him.

  “I welcome you onto the bridge,” Magnus said dramatically. Jules could tell he wanted to be part of a vessel like this. He’d agreed to lead their training facility, but she’d seen Magnus in
the other dimension. He sought adventure and battles to keep his blood flowing. The Magnus she used to think of like an uncle had felt the same way.

  “This is so cool,” Slate whispered as they entered the bridge after the recruits. The lights initiated, revealing the fanciest stations Jules had ever laid eyes on.

  It was pale gray, with blue accents around everything. The seats were supple leather, gray with blue stitches. There were three stations up front, with two behind, five more along the sides of the bridge, and two on a raised platform behind the captain’s chair. Slate glanced at that seat, and Loweck laughed. “No, Slate. You have a posting already.”

  “Who’d like to sit in it first?” Magnus asked everyone, and the recruits looked at one another. All eyes ended up settling on Jules.

  She pointed to her chest. “Me?” They chose her, and she grinned with pride at the gesture.

  “The people have spoken, Miss Parker,” Magnus told her with a wink.

  Jules walked over, running a finger along the arm. It was perfect. She wished her parents were here to see this moment. As she sat, she pictured this being her command. Captain Jules Parker of Outpost. It felt… like fate.

  She straightened her posture, eyes ahead, and imagined coming out of hyperspeed into an invaded territory, prepared to defend an innocent planet from destruction. Jules could hear the noises of the bridge, the beeping of their sensors, the gasps of the crew. She glanced at the commander’s seat beside her, wondering who would occupy that seat if this was her placement eventually.

  “How does it feel?” Dean asked.

  “Like it was made for me,” Jules answered. The daydream slowly drifted away, and she rose, the sounds of her imagination ceasing. She looked out the viewscreen and saw nothing but stars and the distant space station.

  Magnus let the others take turns sitting around the bridge, and Jules walked around, as if memorizing as many details as she could.

  “I can see what you’re thinking,” Dean told her.

  “Is that so?” she asked.

  “You want Outpost.”

  “Don’t you?”

  He shrugged, leaning against the security stations’ console. “I guess I’d take her if they offered.”