“It doesn’t concern you.”
“Sure it does. You lot are our overlords. So why shouldn’t I want to know about all the gritty details? What happened to your ‘right to know’?”
“We aren’t your ‘overlords.’ We will be building up civilian society alongside you. We are your new friends.”
“All the more reason to tell me, then. I want to know more about my new comrade.”
Entryua had worn him down. “Okay, you’ve got me there. To make a long story short, they don’t trust me. They say the Silezia Unaging are born unable to understand the true essence of democracy...”
Now he understood that Military Police Lieutenant Kyte was an unfortunate soul within the organization. He also understood why.
It was racism , pure and simple.
Suddenly, it all made sense. The fact that Kyte had no subordinates. The fact that Kyte’s motion wasn’t paid much attention to by the brass.
He felt sorry for Aizan; after all that effort buttering up Kyte, he wouldn’t be thrilled to learn that Kyte was in fact walking a lonely path far removed from the highway to success.
There was, however, still one more thing that needed clarification for Entryua.
“Isn’t that a bit weird, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“How are you still so zealous, even after all of that prejudice against you? I don’t see myself being so gung-ho about a job where I’m not valued. Commissioner Aizan may not appreciate me, but the people do. That’s how I can keep at this. So how do you manage?”
“I’m quite happy, actually,” he said. And Entryua could tell it was from the heart. “Where I was born and raised, police officers appreciated by the people were a rarity.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“I am a believer in democracy. Isn’t that enough?”
“Is it? I mean, you still can’t get them to trust you.”
“I merely act in accordance with my conscience.”
“Gotcha, gotcha,” he answered perfunctorily. Entryua knew he’d never see totally eye to eye with him, but he just couldn’t sit on the big question: “And you’re okay with that?”
“Of course,” answered Kyte resolutely. But there was something unnatural there, in that forcefulness.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Inspector.” The sergeant handed him his earpiece. “It’s Sergeant Kyua.”
“Got it.” Entryua ran his eyes over the screen. Kyua’s team was in charge of the inn called The Rimzale.
“Stream it.”
“Inspector, we’ve discovered two suspicious persons,” reported Kyua’s voice.
“Don’t give it all to me over the phone. Input the details into the computing crystals .”
“They’ve already left, sir.”
“Did they get away?” There were quite a few things Entryua couldn’t stand, and foolish subordinates was one of them.
“No, sir.” Kyua seemed flustered. “They’d already left by the time we arrived.”
“How do you know they were the perps?”
“It was a boy and a girl, both using aliases. We searched the family registers, and no such names were listed.”
“I see.” Entryua was still unimpressed. It was true that they were looking for a boy and a girl. However, by some strange cosmic coincidence, since time immemorial, when it came to travelers not wanting to be found out by their families or other parties, it tended to be a boy and a girl.
“The names they’d given were ‘Sye Jinto’ and ‘Sye Lina.’”
“Forget their names, what were they like? What did they look like?”
“We had a number of employees testify that they were very young. And that they seemed, off , sir.”
“‘Off’? How so?”
“They almost never left their room. Especially the girl, who literally never left.”
“That’s not so strange. When a man and a woman share a room, there’s all sorts they get up to. Or rather, just the one thing.”
“That’s not all, sir. According to the employee that led them to their room, the girl had a hat on. A hat for men.”
“Haha!” Entryua looked at Kyte.
Kyte was listening raptly. A girl wearing a hat — just like those hooligans had said.
“What about her face?”
“Her hair and eyes were black. Her skin was a light olive color. Slender face. It seemed she was a real looker, too.”
“‘A real looker,’ you say.”
“They also didn’t pay the sheef .”
“The sheef ? I see.” Entryua nodded.
It was odd, all right. If they wanted to evade notice, they should have paid that gratuity, even if just to zip lips. That they hadn’t paid any whatsoever meant one of two things: either they weren’t versed in the customs of the planet, or they were just that incredibly cheap.
“Give me the footage. The footage of them.”
Kyua hesitated to tell him. “About that... we’re told there’s no footage left of them. It’s been disposed of.”
“‘Disposed of’? What exactly did the manager tell you?”
“That once a customer leaves, if there was no outstanding problem, they get rid of the footage, sir.”
“Do they even know hotel law? They’re supposed to hold onto it for a year...” But Entryua stopped himself. There was no point in complaining to Kyua about it. “What did the receptionist tell you? If they were in the room the entire time, then the person who saw them the most must have been the person at the desk.”
“The manager was at the desk, but his testimony completely contradicts everyone else’s. He claims they were middle-aged, for one. That they seemed so ordinary as to leave no impression.”
“That manager person is shady,” Kyte butted in. “I fear he may be covering for them.”
“I can’t deny the possibility. Kyua, give me that manager’s name and citizen number.”
“Yes, sir.” The pertinent information flowed from Kyua’s telephonic transceiver to the command car’s computing crystals . Entryua then entered the identification number and brought up the police info regarding him and The Rimzale on the screen.
He fixed his eyes on the screen. “Well, this is unexpected. He’s a member of the Secessionist Party, and provides moral support to radical extremists.”
“The Secessionist Party?” asked Kyte. “What is that?”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like. A party that advocates for the exile of the appointed lord and independence from the Empire .”
“Is it a secret society?”
“No. They have a headquarters, with signage and everything. They’ve even got seats in the state legislature.”
Kyte was dumbfounded. “A party like that’s allowed to exist?”
“Yep. You didn’t know? I thought you lot would’ve gotten the downlow ages ago.”
“No, I honestly didn’t know. So that would mean anti-imperial parties are legal.”
“Yeah, being against Empire rule isn’t a crime. It just blocks you from being a territorial citizen representative . The lord would veto you.”
“A ridiculous charade,” Kyte smiled derisively. “You’re just working within the Empire ’s framework. Personally, I see it as them treating democratic debate as an amusing plaything.”
“Oh, there are plenty here to agree with you, trust me. That’s the very reason the Secessionists can’t win elections. And there were even folks within the party that say independence can’t be achieved by peaceful means. They exited the party and became extremists. There are a handful of groups, now. Seems our manager man’s sympathies lie with the ‘Clasbule Anti-Imperial Front’...”
Entryua drew information on the Clasbule Anti-Imperial Front from the public safety records. “Damn, nothing much on them here. They attempted to occupy the orbital tower , once, twenty years ago. Most of the perps were arrested, and now it looks like the front is dormant.”
“What do those ‘extremists’
do?”
“Nothing noteworthy.” Not compared to what you lot have done, Entryua wished dearly to add. “They set fire to the plantation of the Marquis’s Estate , bomb the Star Forces Recruiting Office , that sort of thing. ‘Course, those are crimes, so we’re always on those cases. That’s why we’re keeping an eye on the members of extremist secessionist groups and their allies. They just don’t get our undivided attention.”
But Kyte was shaking his head. It wasn’t adding up for him. “You’re saying the Empire knows such groups exist, but...”
“I’m not sure the Empire does know.”
“Huh? Didn’t they do humanity the service of bombing that Star Forces office?”
“Yeah, ages ago. That was from before I entered the force. Plus, Clasbule told the Star Forces who the perp that did it was. I reckon they forgot more or less immediately afterward, though. As far as I know, the Empire hasn’t breathed a peep to us about any of the Secessionist Party or extremist business.”
“I don’t believe it... You must be being deceived.”
“That right? Guess it’s not out of the question. Anything could be a big lie. I can tell you for a fact that the Secessionist Party exists, though.”
“But...”
Kyte was about to speak, but Kyua had grown impatient. “Inspector, what do we do?”
“Sorry, slipped my mind.” Etryua scratched his head. “Detain that manager.”
“To take him to the precinct?”
“No, no need. We can’t take him on the grounds of a hotel law violation. Just have your team cling to him. Tell him not to go anywhere, but all polite-like. Get him to cooperate. I’ll be there soon. Wait, Mr. Manager hasn’t rung anybody up in the meantime, has he?”
“No, sir, he hasn’t. We’re observing him closely.”
“Good. Don’t let him contact anybody. If the inn suffers losses because of it, tell him the occupiers’ll pay for them.”
“What, really?” Kyua sniggered.
“Hey, if that promise falls through, it’ll be them he resents, not us.”
“Roger that.”
“End transmission.”
“Ending transmission.”
Entryua patted the shoulder of the sergeant beside him in the car. “‘The Rimzale,’ was it? Be a pal and take us there. And tell the cops that are on their way here to go there instead.”
“Yes, sir.” The command car took to the road.
“Listen, about those ‘orders’ of yours...” Entryua was gazing at the scenery flying past through the window. “YOU were the one ordered to ‘not arrest.’ That has nothing to do with us. Just so we’re clear. Us police, we’re just in this to catch a car thief.”
Kyte felt relieved. “Yes, of course. I never received any orders to stop you or your people.”
“Let’s take Mr. Manager into custody, for starters.”
“Is it possible that the manager is harboring an Abh?”
“Beats me.”
“If he’s a secessionist, then there’s no way he’d want to, right?”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
“Don’t tell me the ‘Secessionist Party’ might be a ruse?”
“A ruse? To what end?” Entryua cocked his head.
“It might be an underground organization whose true purpose is helping the Empire ’s people flee in a situation like this.” Kyte was immediately stirred by his own theory. “It wouldn’t be strange to think they could have anticipated liberation would come, and set up such an organization beforehand!”
“It would be strange to think. I think your theory needs work,” replied Entryua calmly.
“Aren’t you the one who said anything is possible?”
“Suppose so,” Entryua shrugged.
“If you think it isn’t a ruse, then why do you think the secessionist would be sheltering an Abh?”
“Us territorial citizens , we’re leery of the Abh. The leeriest of us become card-carrying secessionists, and the hopelessly leeriest of them run with extremists. If I recall, the extremists I investigated way back complained that the Empire , quote, ‘wouldn’t clamp down.’”
“No! That can’t be!”
“It’s daffy, that much is true. But look at it this way: The Empire , it’s not interested in our little world. They don’t really react much, at least, not enough for the secession movement to gain much traction.”
In fact, I wager these new conquerors will give the extremists much more meat to chew on, Entryua mused. These jokers seemed like a much worthier adversary in the extremists’ eyes than the apathetic Empire could ever be.
“But if the Empire isn’t interested in surface societies, why do they clearly want to conquer every planet?”
“Because they don’t want us out in space, of course. Isn’t that obvious?”
“I have my doubts that that’s the only reason.”
“What other reasons could there be?” Entryua responded lightly.
“I just don’t think it’s possible they have no other motives, but now’s not the time to be getting into this.” Kyte took off the cell phone terminal from his waist. It was fitted with accessories that went on Empire-made memory crystals .
“The memory crystal with the investigation data, if you please,” he asked of the sergeant.
“Yes.” Reluctantly, the sergeant handed Kyte the memory crystal .
“Oh, let’s add in how the Secessionist Party might be a ruse,” he smiled, as though he’d hit upon a good idea.
“That possibility is near zero, though,” Entryua pointed out.
“All the better, then.”
“Why’s that?” Entryua couldn’t pick up what Kyte was sending out.
“The military police regiment might have many personnel, but they’re not well-versed in this land’s circumstances. They’re probably looking for a target to hit that stands out. So if we give them that intel, they’ll busy themselves with searching Secessionist Party premises for a while. And in that time, we catch the Abh.”
Seeing Kyte’s proud expression, Entryua’s mood plunged ever downward. I think I may’ve just accidentally increased the “student” population of those democracy reeducation camps...
Chapter 2: Dihérhoth (On the Run)
“Please, enter. The place is shabby, but make yourself at home,” said Marca.
“Oh, I’m so sorry it’s ‘shabby,’” scowled Undertaker. “I like it this way, I’ll have you know.”
“This house is yours, Undertaker?” asked Jinto.
“Sure is.” Undertaker nodded.
It was in a city-tree a mere ten blocks from The Rimzale. Specifically, Undertaker’s house was on its third floor.
Jinto followed Marca and Undertaker inside. Lafier soon entered as well, as did Min, Bill, and Daswani after her.
“So lax,” sneered Bill. “If we wanted to pull something, you wouldn’t have stood a chance, just now. Your back is defenseless.”
“Ah, right.” Jinto hadn’t thought to guard his back, so he nodded his thanks. Of course, he should have been the last to enter.
“You think that’s good enough to be her guard?” Bill continued
Jinto just shrugged. He wasn’t her guard. If anything, she was his. But Jinto didn’t feel like explaining that to him.
Speaking of Lafier, she really was treating Undertaker’s home like it was her own bedroom. Unbidden, she’d taken the most comfortable-looking seat, the leather chair, for herself.
“Hey, that’s MY chair. The owner’s throne.” In his resentment, Undertaker jabbed Lafier with a finger.
Lafier deigned to look at him, but didn’t respond.
“You’re our hostage, Abh. Just think, normally you’d be tied up rolling on the floor, and all your pleas would fall on deaf ears...”
Lafier listened to the man go on as though he was spinning a curious yarn. Her expression was not that of an avid student, but rather of a researcher observing a peculiar organism.
“Okay, I know what you wan
t to tell me. You want to say you’ve come here of your own volition, and that you’ve got a gun. Yet come what may, I’m gonna be treating you two as hostages. And the only reason you fired that gun earlier is ‘cause I asked you to show me your marksman skills with that miniature cannon of yours, got it? ‘Cause your skills are nothing to sneeze at. We could never beat you, even if we formed a firing band. Even so, I...” Undertaker found his voice turning weaker and smaller the more he mouthed off.
“...If you like that chair, I’d be pleased as punch.”
Jinto watched Undertaker slump meekly onto the couch, and worried he might break into tears. But Undertaker refrained from crying, which was a relief. Jinto took the time to examine the room closely.
Marca had called it “shabby,” but it wasn’t really. There wasn’t much furniture, so it looked quite spacious. No table, just a few chairs. There was a picture on the wall, an abstract piece that evoked fire issuing from above.
“Did you paint that, Undertaker?” Jinto asked.
“Yep, that’s all me. Did a good job of it, didn’t I?” For a second, Undertaker smiled, but then he remembered to suppress it and complain. “For heaven’s sake, you two do know you’re HOSTAGES, right!? HOSTAGES ! We’re not celebrating your damn birthdays here! Don’t act like we invited you over for a spot of tea!”
“Jinto, deary, please sit. Ruffling Undertaker’s feathers is a great pastime, but we’ve gotten bored of it,” said Marca.
“I didn’t mean to ruffle any feathers,” said Jinto. “I just thought it was a nice picture, that’s all...”
“Yeah, well, hostages are usually a tad too worried fretting over their precious lives to appreciate fine art,” said Undertaker.
“There’s room for debate there. I don’t know if I’d call that ‘fine art,’” Min remarked.
While Undertaker talked back to Min, Jinto took the seat next to Lafier’s.
“So, what now?” Jinto caught Marca’s eyes.
“Come morning, I’ll be having you stowing away in the load-carrying tray of a freighting vehicle and heading to a certain place outside the city.”
“I’m a delivery car driver,” said Bill. “Every day, I carry meat from the synthetic meat factory in a town called Dee Segohn. That’s why I know how the checkpoints are set up. The occupiers know my face now. They won’t think to peek into the flatbed.”
The Return to Strange Skies (JNC Edition) Page 2