by Rachel Aukes
Seda could’ve stopped the conversation then and there. At that moment, he knew Ausyar did not have Parliament’s full backing. If Parliament didn’t agree with the treaty—or any parts thereof—that Ausyar negotiated, they’d conjure a legal loophole to make the treaty null and void.
Still, Seda chose to continue the meeting. He leaned back in his chair before speaking. “The Fringe Liberation Campaign as well as the Rebus Reclamation Effort is the direct result of the colonies demanding independence. I feel I can speak for both of us when I say we do not want a physical conflict, and we all desire peace.”
“Peace?” Ausyar chortled. “You talk of peace, yet you burned down every fuel production plant on Terra. That doesn’t sound like peace to me.”
Seda shrugged. “They were my production facilities. As full owner, I may choose what to do with each of my facilities. I chose to remove fuel for space travel from the current equation. I broke no law in closing them down, and no one was harmed.”
“I wonder if the Terrans would agree with your statement. After all, you took away the livelihoods of thousands of colonists just to make a statement”
“Perhaps. However, I think you’ll find colonists are quite resilient,” Seda said. “I wonder if the Collective economy can show the same resilience.”
Ausyar’s eyes narrowed, and Seda noticed the older man’s knuckles were whitening.
Now.
“Does the Collective want peace, Corps General?” Seda asked.
Ausyar seemed surprised by the question. “Of course.”
“Then, what terms do you propose?”
Ausyar straightened in his chair. “We are prepared to offer Playa and the Space Coast independence after a transition stage, in return for an immediate cease-fire on all other colony planets.”
Seda laughed for effect. He found, in fact, the proposal to be downright contemptible and not the least bit funny. “The Space Coast is already a neutral colony and has never had any ties, let alone an arrangement, with the Collective.”
Ausyar raised a finger. “However, the asteroid belt falls within Collective space. Therefore, Parliament may elect to incorporate it into the overall Collective at any point.”
Seda gave Ausyar an incredulous look. “We both know that the Space Coast offers no value in the eyes of the Collective. With minimal metals to mine, that asteroid belt is nothing more than a bunch of rocks. And Playa…” Seda exhaled deeply. “Well, you’ve already bombed the largest colony and only fringe station on that planet, which doesn’t leave a lot for survivors.”
Ausyar raised his brows. “If that offer is not sufficient, tell me what you propose.”
Seda leaned forward and eyed the corps general like a hawk zeroing in on prey. “Parliament will recognize full independence of all four colony planets. In return, we offer open trade with the Collective with trade treaties to be established separately by each fringe station.”
Ausyar sneered. “The colonies can’t simply claim independence and have it happen. Parliament may consider Playa and Spate as candidates for independence, but Terra and Darios will remain within Collective control.”
Seda gave a humorless grin. “Ah, yes. Terra and Darios would remain under Collective control. No, Corps General, I’m afraid that is not acceptable. We have already declared independence for all colonies. The four planets beyond Myr and Alluvia will stand as their own. That truth is unequivocal and cannot be denied. We will not leave any of our brethren under your control.”
Seda abruptly stood, knowing the small action would be seen as an affront to Ausyar, and sure enough, the corps general’s eyes widened at the slight. The man huffed.
Seda ignored him. “I believe we’ve reached an impasse. Unless you can offer a solution that recognizes every colony world as an independent world, with no Collective oversight, then the Fringe Liberation Campaign will continue. Going forward, the lives lost as a result of your inability to negotiate fall upon your and the Collective’s shoulders.”
Ausyar jumped to his feet. “You are talking to the Corps General of the Collective Unified Forces. Show respect, colonist!”
At that moment, Seda knew he’d hit publicity gold in winning colonists’ hearts to the cause, and he had to focus to not betray any sense of success in his expression. Not that the infuriated Ausyar noticed. The Myrad’s egotism didn’t allow him to see his own faux pas.
Ausyar fumed. “Your little declaration isn’t recognized by Parliament, and certainly not by me. The colonies remain under Collective control and must abide by Collective law immediately. You also must turn over Aramis Reyne for the murder of Dr. Zara Wintsel, a citizen, and turn over Gabriela Heid and her entire crew for treason. In addition, you will return the Arcadia and the Matador, both of which are stolen property of the Collective Unified Forces. If you do not cease and desist these attacks against citizens immediately, all colonists will be treated as terrorists to the Collective, and I will crush you all, starting with you.” He pointed at Seda’s chest.
Hook, line, and sinker. Seda wanted to smile. Instead, he grimaced. “I see that we cannot have an objective discussion, and so I believe we’re done here.”
He motioned for Ausyar to leave.
Ausyar wagged his finger at Seda. “Watch yourself. You think that because you have made some money, you have some kind of power. But you can’t buy your way to citizenship. You’re a colonist, and you’ll die a colonist. You are foolish to think you have any say whatsoever. You’re nothing but a cockroach, Faulk, and I look forward to silencing you once and for all.”
Seda said nothing.
Ausyar left the room with a swagger Seda had seen only Myrads pull off. The moment Ausyar’s envoy departed, Seda walked to his desk and turned off the recording. Hari closed and locked the door.
He turned to Hari and Critch. “That was rather interesting.”
“You were right,” Hari said. “Parliament has no interest in negotiating.”
Critch smiled. “I didn’t realize a Myrad could turn so blue.”
Seda leaned back onto his desk. “We know the truth now. Ausyar pulled out of Rebus Station to attack rather than to discuss peace. I believe he’s planning to cripple Terra like he did Playa by bombing the space docks.” He turned to Critch. “I support our plan to attack first. Tell the Arcadia to jump.”
Chapter Fifteen
Smoke and Mirrors
Nova Colony, Space Coast
Heid
Heid had never thought she’d fly the Arcadia through the Space Coast again. This time, Will had graciously relinquished the controls before they’d even entered the Coast. She navigated the warship through the asteroid belt, adding a few more dings and scrapes to the warship.
She imagined Ausyar had ranted for some time when the Arcadia had gone into jump speed within visual distance of the fleet, leaving them wondering what she was up to. Good.
She never left the ship when they reached Nova Colony, which was back up and running, thanks to Stan. The Arcadia’s transport ships were busy making runs between the warship and the colony, bringing crewmembers and supplies to the asteroid. It’d taken nearly two days—far too long in Heid’s opinion—to strip everything of value from the warship. When all of it, including all transport ships and gunships, had been moved to Nova Colony, she felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. If only she could fly the Arcadia alone.
“They’ll be safe at Nova Colony,” Sylvian said.
Heid looked up to see her crewmember watching her with concern. “I know. It’s you and everyone stuck on board with me that I worry about.”
Sylvian chuckled. “There’re only twelve of us left. When you walk through the hallways, they echo.” When Heid didn’t smile, she continued. “We volunteered for this mission. You didn’t force any of us into this.”
“Jump coordinates are programmed,” Nolin announced from the navigator’s seat. “We’re ready to jump the moment we’re clear of the Coast.”
Heid strai
ghtened. “Then, let’s get going.”
Stress added to her reaction time, and the return trip through the asteroid belt was not some of her best flying. In a way, she was fortunate there weren’t too many crewmembers on board to rib her about it later. As she cleared the final asteroid, Nolin sent the warship into jump speed. It would take seven jumps to cover over four hundred quadrants between the Space Coast and Terra, since there was no straight path from their current coordinates.
Traveling through jump speed was as smooth as flying off solar power, even though the ship was traveling at point-three light speed. She used the time to prepare the escape pods, working alongside the crew not busy monitoring the jump systems and engines.
She cringed, looking at the escape pods, small tubes that lined the ship’s hull. They were every dromadier’s worst nightmare. Escape pods had minimal life support systems, and nothing else. They were essentially logs that would travel in whichever direction they were jettisoned, and survivors would pray they’d be found before they died a miserably slow death in space. She triple-checked that the pods’ beacons were set to the encrypted channel Critch would be monitoring.
Each tube would hold three people stuffed in it as tightly as a fresh recruit’s duffel bag. With a skeleton crew of twelve, they needed only four pods. While at Nova Colony, she’d had those pods painted flat black so they wouldn’t reflect any light. The metal in them could still be picked up on radar, but she’d figured there would be enough debris to hide within—as long as shrapnel didn’t slice through them first.
By the time they started their fifth jump, they were a couple million clicks from Darios, and Heid could see the beautiful world through her viewing panel. It was a bittersweet sight. That was the colony that would make or break any peace treaty. She knew the Collective would never give up the garden world, but the remaining colonies needed Darion food for survival.
The Collective. Her fingers trembled as she contemplated making the call to Barrett. If the others knew she was telling him the plan, they’d think she was crazy. She’d been betrayed by someone she cared for before, but she told herself that if she became jaded and no longer had faith in anyone, she’d become like her father. Even though it terrified her to do so, she made the call.
When she hung up, she let out a breath and relaxed. Whatever Barrett did next was up to him. Would he betray her, or would he help?
She glanced at her hand to see it no longer shaking, and she realized now that control was out of her ability, the stress had become dampened.
After the sixth jump, Heid had Nolin and the crew take a break. She spent the time catching up on the news, as it couldn’t be obtained during jumps.
No surprise, Parliament had never reached out to Seda to counter Ausyar’s terms. Vapor had loaded the full video onto the network, yet Parliament had remained quiet. The networks were filled with chatter comparing the differences between the full fourteen-minute video and the forty-second video the DZ-Five News broadcast. The edited video covered Ausyar offering terms, and Seda standing and saying, “I think we’re done here.”
She shook her head and scrolled through other articles. Her fingers froze on a headline several pages down.
LINA TAO PUBLICLY EXECUTED FOR TREASON
DZ-Five News Reporter Found Guilty of Conspiring Against Citizen Welfare
Heid’s temper roiled as she read the article. Lina had been her best friend through grade school and her roommate at the academy. She had no doubt her father had made sure Lina faced a firing squad simply to make a point—I can take everything from you.
Her jaw tightened. She looked forward to showing him she was her father’s daughter. She would make sure he paid for all his crimes, and paid for them with his life.
Her door chimed, and Sylvian stepped in. “Nolin is ready for jump seven.”
Heid felt steel in her bones. “I’m ready.”
She watched the countdown. The hours ticked by interminably slowly. When they had two hours to go, she put the ship on alert status and made sure everyone knew exactly what they needed to do the moment they came out of jump speed.
When the moment came, a visual of the fleet—with the Unity in dead center—filled the wall screen. Heid gripped her captain’s chair. “Raise shields. Arm phase cannons.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Sylvian obliged.
“Now, run!” Heid yelled.
Heid, Nolin, and Sylvian ran off the bridge. They sprinted—God, it felt like they were so slow—down the never-ending corridor until they reached their designated escape pod. She prayed the three other pods were already loaded and ready to go.
Heid pressed Nolin and then Sylvian into their stations, where five-point harness held each in a standing position. As soon as both were secure, she squeezed in and set her harness. The door closed, enveloping them in total darkness. She counted to five, then hit the release button.
The pod jettisoned down with such force that all three people inside grunted. She was sure her collarbone was broken, if not badly bruised. The pod suddenly changed direction again, this time brutally, at a right angle. Too late! Heid’s head hit something, and all sensation blinked away into single flash of light.
Chapter Sixteen
Just Deserts
In orbit above Rebus Station, Terra
Critch
The Honorless eased in behind the Unity with the systems turned down to minimal support and no engine power. The pirate ship, painted a flat black and in stealth mode, would be nearly impossible to see by anyone not searching specifically for it. If the Arcadia didn’t arrive soon, he’d have to use a nav engine to keep from running up into the Unity’s tailpipes.
Birk jogged onto the bridge.
Critch looked him over. “Is it done?”
Birk grinned and held up a black marker. “It’s done.”
“Good. Buckle in.”
They waited. Critch’s adrenaline-soaked muscles began to throb as they waited. But he didn’t stand. He knew he’d have only seconds to react when the Arcadia arrived. It took forty more minutes of waiting before the Arcadia blinked into view. Light glows straightaway surrounded the CUF ships.
“Their shields are up,” Birk said. “She’s got their full attention.”
“Wait for it,” Critch drawled. Ships vibrated as their phase cannons lit up. One shot, followed by more. “Now!”
In the middle of the phase blast lightshow, the Honorless fired off a single, unarmed torpedo. It had no systems and no metal, so scans couldn’t pick it up. Critch’s ship was close enough, he watched the torpedo fly unscathed through the energy shields and lodge itself into the Unity’s hull.
Critch zoomed in the viewing panel to make sure the torpedo had broken all the way through the hull.
“Oh, yeah.” Birk grinned. “It breached for sure.”
Critch nodded as he looked at the torpedo. Only its tail remained outside. The rest of it had broken through. He held up his finger for a brief second before tapping it on the button that would cause the torpedo to burst open. They’d removed all explosives from the device, so it would display on the Unity’s systems as a minimal breach. By the time they sent techs down to repair the hull, it would be too late.
A flash of light caused him to wince. He looked to see the Arcadia was gone. The black vacuum of space smothered flames from the exploding ship. Left in the warship’s place was a sea of debris, flying outward. Ever since he was a kid, he’d found it a bit unnerving there was no sound in space. Plenty to see, but nothing to hear. He used to blast classical music to fill the void. Now, he had it play softly in the background.
He entered the frequency for the escape pods and noticed four pod beacons online. He was relieved to see they’d ejected in time. “Now, let’s go get our girl before the fleet discovers her.”
Sneaking up behind the Unity had been nerve-wracking. Flying around the fleet and through shooting debris while in stealth mode was damn near the riskiest thing Critch had ever done. Well, that, and se
arching for survivors in a minefield. Then, he’d been so careful to avoid mines that he’d never even considered a dead soldier could be gripping a grenade without its pin. With the explosion’s damage to his upper body, Critch had felt—and looked—like ground meat for months.
People often asked him why he didn’t have surgery to remove the scars. They had no idea he needed those scars—when he looked in the mirror every day, the scars reminded him of everything he’d done and everyone he’d killed. He’d never be able to erase those memories and so erasing the physical scars felt like a lie.
Critch had chosen to pilot the Honorless on this mission. Gabe was a good pilot, but Critch was the best. If the fleet detected them, they’d be dead, plain and simple. It’d be impossible to escape an entire fleet of ships that had their cannons already armed, targeted in their direction.
“Birk, I need you to monitor every ship of that fleet,” Critch ordered. “Let me know if even a patrol ship sneezes.”
“I’m on it, Boss.”
Critch flew the pirate ship—a highly-modified yacht—slowly around the fleet, using the nav engines on their lowest settings to minimize their moisture trail. Stealth made a ship invisible to scanners, nothing more. The key to not being seen was the flat black paint that didn’t reflect anything. Even then, if someone happened to be looking in the right direction, they could notice the temporary disappearance of a star as the Honorless passed between.
On today’s mission, the likelihood of being seen was much higher, as every CUF ship over Rebus Station had eyes on the debris, shooting at any remaining chunks of the warship with a trajectory heading toward the fleet. Worse, if any shrapnel was headed for the Honorless, he couldn’t shoot it without giving away his position. He’d reinforced the rilon hull, but a big enough chunk of metal could destroy his ship.
Critch respected Gabriela Heid, liked her even, but if it came down to choosing the safety of his crew or the escape pods, he’d leave the pods to the abyss. He rubbed his prickly jaw. It was exactly that kind of thinking that made him deserve the scars he bore.