Tree of Liberty

by Wayne Basta

  While they walked, Zeric kept expecting Ymp to comment on his decision. To her credit, she remained silent. Ymp had no hesitation about challenging every decision he made, but when the mission was on, she had his back. That was an assessment he never would have imagined making a year ago, when he still thought she wanted him dead.

  They reached the intersection, and Zeric moved in against the edge of the nearest building. Peeking around the corner, he spotted the floodlights from the Alliance checkpoint. A burned-out hulk that had once been an Alliance SPC still smoldered about twenty meters away from the checkpoint where the Alliance forces had parked it.

  The shockwave from their crude homemade bomb had been enough to topple the temporary hut and one of the floodlight stands. Alliance troops were buzzing around the area, a few of them tending wounded on the ground. Zeric was too far away to make out any details, so he had no idea if any of the injured was Gu’od.

  As he watched, a group of figures emerged from between two buildings further down the street. Four figures guided another one between them, heading toward the checkpoint. With them in the shadows, he still couldn’t make out any details, but Zeric felt confident that the middle figure was Gu’od, as he appeared to be holding his hands above his head.

  Zeric drew his carbine out from under his coat and started to step around the corner.

  Ymp once again reached out a hand and restrained him. Camari fingers were typically fairly limp and tentacle-like, but she made them go rigid, exerting enough force to stop him.

  He once again cast a dark look at the Camari. “We’ve already been over this, Ymp,” Zeric grumbled.

  “Looking for Gu’od is one thing. The two of us charging an Alliance checkpoint that was just bombed is another,” Ymp said matter-of-factly.

  Zeric started to argue but stopped himself. Ymp was right. With the entire squad, they’d have a good chance at taking out the checkpoint. But reinforcements were undoubtedly on their way. Having another SPC full of troops roll up while they were in the middle of a firefight would not get them anywhere.

  Another pair of figures appeared across the main avenue from them, crouching against the building just as they were. In the dim light from a nearby streetlamp, Zeric was able to make out Sergeant Obod Ocif and Kumus. The sight of the other two made him smile. He leaned in and whispered to Ymp, “Now it’s not just the two of us.”

  To his surprise, she gave him a wicked grin. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Gesturing to Obod across the street, Zeric signaled for them to target the Alliance troopers on their side. He then held up his hand, with all five fingers displayed. Ticking them off in a rhythmic pattern, he dropped his hand when he had two remaining, allowing himself and the others to finish the count in their heads. Lining up the sight on his carbine, Zeric aimed at the trooper on the right.

  Two, one . . . Zeric counted and then pulled the trigger, unleashing three quick shots. Ymp did the same, and all six blasts hit the troopers they targeted. One of the other troopers dropped at the same time, leaving only one Alliance trooper guarding the figure.

  Not wasting any time, the figure immediately lashed out, stripping away the gun and dropping the trooper to the ground. He then dashed toward the safety of the surrounding buildings. Zeric still couldn’t tell if it was definitely Gu’od, but he felt sure he recognized the man’s fluid fighting style. Either way, if the Alliance hadn’t captured Gu’od, then they had surely grabbed an unlucky civilian and would have placed the blame for the explosion on his shoulders.

  Shouts came from the damaged Alliance checkpoint and the floodlamps were redirected down the street. Zeric became momentarily blinded as one beam of light flashed in his face. He ducked back around the corner of the building. As he and Ymp took off down the street at a dead run, the sounds of blaster fire could be heard behind them.

  Despite the sounds of gunfire, Zeric smiled. For the first time in a long while, he felt alive.

  “I still don’t understand why you have to go.”

  “Because we need Congress to name a commander for the naval forces so we can finally start fighting back against the Alliance,” Saracasi snapped. The question from Asirzi grated at Saracasi’s nerves. They had discussed her need to go to Irod several times, but now she had to make a decision. She had a duty to perform.

  They pair of them were in Saracasi’s quarters in the barracks of the UDF shipyards. Saracasi was in the midst of packing all of her belongings into a duffle bag. No matter what the results of this meeting on Irod, she had nearly made up her mind not to return here at all.

  “But why you?” Asirzi demanded. “You’re an engineer. You should be here working on more ships. Let Fracsid command.”

  “I can’t. It has to be me. Fracsid is a good smuggler and a good gunship commander, but he’s no admiral,” Saracasi said.

  “And you are?” Asirzi said, her tone disbelieving.

  “I’m the closest thing we’ve got. Aside from Dav, but, unfortunately, we can’t trust him. But I’ve been trained by him and Maarkean. I’m the best we’ve got.”

  “That’s rather conceited, don’t you think?” Asirzi said, bitter truth in her tone.

  Throwing her last spare uniform into the duffle bag, Saracasi zipped it up and then turned her back to Asirzi. Things had been cold between them since the battle against the Alliance task force more than two months before. During that battle, Saracasi had decided she had to become what she feared, and what Asirzi didn’t want her to become: a warrior.

  She had destroyed an entire Alliance escort carrier with several hundred people onboard. She had killed unknown numbers of others when she had almost destroyed a corvette. There was no going back now. She had fought, she had killed, and she had to do so again. Asirzi couldn’t seem to understand that.

  The fight was helping her to make up her mind. It would be best for Saracasi to make her new home aboard Defiant Glory, leaving Asirzi behind. She had flirted with the idea of taking her aboard, but she had dismissed it almost as quickly. Asirzi was good at her job with Chavatwor, but she had nothing useful to do aboard a warship. Saracasi couldn’t justify taking her lover aboard when no one else could.

  “Maybe it is conceited,” Saracasi said. “But it doesn’t change the facts. And the facts are that I have to go and that my duty may not allow me to return anytime soon.”

  A tense silence filled the air between them. Neither woman looked directly at the other. After it seemed Asirzi wouldn’t say any more, Saracasi picked up her bag and started for the door.

  Before she reached it, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Not sure if she wanted to turn to face her, Saracasi allowed herself to be stopped. She reached up and covered Asirzi’s hand with her own.

  To her back, Asirzi said, “You said before that you were worried what fighting would do to you—that it would change you. I’m just worried that if you walk out that door, even if you survive, you’ll never really come back.”

  Saracasi felt tears start to well up in her eyes. A part of her knew that what Asirzi said might be true. She felt no regret for the people she had been forced to kill so far in the war. Before the war, she would never have thought herself capable of that. And until recently, she had actively tried to avoid finding out.

  The urge to turn around, to embrace and kiss Asirzi, almost overwhelmed her. More than anything, she wanted to allow herself that one indulgence. But it wouldn’t be fair for Asirzi to sit around waiting for her. The odds were high she would be killed in combat anyway. It would be better for both of them if they accepted that.

  “Then we’ll just have to say that I’m dead, and that this is goodbye. Any me you see in the future will be a different person,” Saracasi forced herself to say.

  The sound of a sob forced back came from behind her and the hand on her shoulder slipped away. Not sure what she would do if she had to look Asirzi in the eyes, Saracasi strode through the door, not looking back.

  Once in the corridor, tears started to s
tream down her face. She stopped in the building’s stairwell, letting herself feel the sadness for a moment. For a short time, she had let herself believe the fantasy that she might live happily ever after with Asirzi. In a different time and place, they could have been together. But now, she had to be married to winning this war above all else.

  The sound of a door opening on the stairwell above her brought Saracasi back to the present. She was the senior officer on this base. It wouldn’t be good for anyone to see her crying in a stairwell. Wiping away the tears, she continued down to the ground floor and out into the Kol sun.

  She soon joined a stream of people headed toward the landing field where shuttles waited to take them up to Defiant Glory in orbit. At her designated shuttle, Saracasi found Chavatwor and Lieutenant Arzesaeth Ernebee waiting for her. The Kowwok shipwright and her Ronid XO looked almost as nervous as she thought she should feel. Instead, she found she felt nothing but determination. She had shed all her other emotions with her tears over Asirzi.

  “Casi,” Chavatwor said by of greeting. “I’ve loaded the DeeGee’s old reactor as well as the extra hull plating you requested. But they’re going to take up a lot of room aboard. Why do you want them?”

  “I’ve got a little surprise waiting for the Alliance,” Saracasi said, giving her friend a small smile. As much as she trusted Chavatwor, she couldn’t risk revealing those details to anyone just yet. She turned to Arzesaeth. “Lieutenant, the base is yours, as is Audacious. Take her on patrol just as we discussed. Show the Alliance we’re not to be pushed around.”

  “Aye, Major,” Arzesaeth said, saluting. He was one of a handful of people who knew Saracasi’s plan, and he would have to play his part for it to work. “We’ll give the Alliance a good fight.”

  Saracasi returned the salute and then turned to Chavatwor. She dropped her duffle bag and relaxed her body, anticipating the Kowwok’s fervent hug. Despite her suggestions that it wasn’t proper, Chavatwor continued to insist that letting a friend go into danger without a hug of friendship would anger the Great One. She knew he wasn’t a big follower of his people’s belief system, but she didn’t want to offend the few traditions he did follow. Chavatwor had done too much for the Union.

  When Chavatwor released her, Saracasi straightened her uniform and picked up the duffle bag. She glanced one last time at the shipyard, only a small part of her hoping to see Asirzi one last time, before boarding the shuttle.

  The sounds of the celebration still drifted through the cavernous tunnels beneath the Ba’aar city hockey arena. After the previous night’s successful raid, Zeric thought his people deserved the chance to relax, as they finally had something to celebrate. Everyone had made it home alive. Fortunately, the sounds from an ongoing hockey game being played above them covered the sounds of the Union soldiers. The massive crowds that came to the arena provided the perfect cover for the rebels.

  “Now’s the time to act,” Zeric declared, a note of excitement in his voice. “We’ve been quiet for the last few months, and the Alliance thinks they’ve got us contained. But last night’s raid shows they’re just as over-confident as ever.”

  Standing around the table were Gu’od and Ymp. On screens along the walls were video feeds from the senior military commanders, including Pasha Alon and Jairyd Kil’dare. Spread out across the planet, they were using the stadium’s live coverage of the game as a smokescreen for their transmissions.

  “I like it,” Jairyd said. “If we hit them on multiple fronts, we can begin to weaken their resolve.”

  “Something like that.” Zeric activated a tactical hologram of the planet and started pointing. “If we stage a series of strikes in these cities, we can draw off Alliance troops. Once they’re distracted, we make a major push and take the military bases in Chuthor, Ba’aar, and Lashan.

  “Then, we’ll have strongholds to begin pushing out from to take the rest of the planet. With the planetary defense guns and base shields, we’ll be able to avoid orbital bombardment.”

  A few of the faces on the screens nodded approvingly. None of them had been happy about abandoning their control over the guns captured during the failed invasion. Going into hiding had been a necessity they had all disliked.

  “Didn’t we abandon the batteries we already controlled because they made us easy targets for Alliance forces?” Jairyd asked.

  Zeric nodded. “We did. But those guns were out in the middle of nowhere. We would have had no supplies and no support. They were chosen specifically because they were easy to take, which would have made them easy for the Alliance to take back. We only needed them to clear a corridor to get planet-side.

  “Now, the batteries in the cities—those are a different ball game. It won’t be an easy operation, but once we take them, we’ll have a whole city to support us. Plus, the shields are several magnitudes stronger, since they’re intended to defend a civilian population from orbital bombardment.”

  “This is all ridiculous!” Jairyd exclaimed, surprising Zeric.

  Jairyd had been the most vocal advocate that further action be taken. Zeric had been sure the man would support the plan. That he didn’t was problematic. Technically, Zeric and Jairyd were the same rank. Zeric was in command through a minor legal trick—he had been promoted first, giving him seniority. But this was Jairyd’s home planet. He was respected here and seen as a war hero.

  “We’ll never be able to hold the cities against an Alliance assault, assuming we can even take them in the first place,” Jairyd argued. “No, what we need to do is stop these pointless and dangerous discussions and become independent resistance cells. Right now, it would be a simple matter for the Alliance to track all of us down and win the war right there.

  “Once we’re operating on our own, each cell can begin performing surgical strikes against Alliance facilities and personnel. Hit and run attacks. Place bombs on Alliance vehicles. Take out officers. Make them run from this planet scared for their lives.”

  The intensity with which Jairyd spoke about his proposal gave Zeric a shiver down his spine. Clearly, the man had been thinking about this for a while. The passion with which he spoke also appeared to have an effect on some of the others, who voiced support.

  “But to what end?” Zeric asked. “Hit and run attacks like you describe are fine as tactics to use against superior forces, or to throw an enemy off balance. But as an entire strategy, it doesn’t work. There needs to be a goal.”

  “The goal is the same as it has been for every insurgency before us. To convince the Alliance that staying is more trouble than it’s worth,” Jairyd said, his tone like that of a bored teacher.

  “I must agree with General Kil’dare,” a new voice said.

  The comm system automatically brought the speaker to the main screen, revealing to Zeric an elderly Terran man. He didn’t recognize the face, and while he didn’t know most of the unit commanders very well, he thought he could recognize each of them. That a new person was in on the conversation without his knowing it reinforced Jairyd’s point about security.

  “Who the hell are you?” Zeric asked. Beside him, Ymp and Gu’od both cringed.

  “Hans Kantor, Prime Minister of Sulas,” the man answered, annoyance clear in his tone. “General Kil’dare invited me into the meeting. I must agree, your plan for taking some cities sounds bold, but it’s too risky. It will put many civilian lives at risk. Better to stick with his plan of small raids against the Alliance military.”

  “We’re not an insurgency,” Zeric said, getting angry.

  “No,” Kantor conceded, “which is why we won’t be taking any actions that will endanger civilians. Such as full-scale battles for control of cities.”

  The statement hung in the air for a moment, and Zeric was reminded of his days in school. It felt like the teacher had just explained to him how his idea was stupid in the most belittling terms. He hadn’t had very good teachers.

  “However, General Dustlighter is correct about one thing. It’s too soon to
completely end these discussions. So for now, we’ll give unit commanders operational autonomy and continue to discuss broad goals periodically,” Kantor said, his demeanor making it clear the matter was settled. “Now, next on the agenda, I would like to discuss some minor supply issues.”

  As Kantor and Jairyd quickly took over the rest of the meeting, Zeric’s initial anger faded, replaced with a sense of relief. This was Jairyd and Kantor’s world, after all. Let them run things. That would give him the opportunity to do what he was good at—shooting people and blowing stuff up.

  By the end of the meeting, Zeric felt pretty good about the turn of events. Based on the look Ymp bore into him, however, she didn’t agree. His Camari companion had her eyestalks lowered and her hands were constantly shifting from ridged to floppy, almost like a Terran flexing their fingers.

  “You have to deal with that,” Ymp said as soon as the video links ended.

  “Deal with what?” Zeric replied, trying to sound innocent.

  “You completely let them take control. You’re in command, you can’t let that happen,” Ymp growled.

  “Kantor’s the prime minister,” Zeric shot back, but he knew his tone was too defensive.

  “Of Sulas, yes,” Ymp argued. “But this is a Union army. Your army.”

  “An army I never wanted to command. Stupid Maarkean,” Zeric cursed, regretting it immediately. He still had no idea what had happened to his friend.

  Beside them, Gu’od made a small noise, reminding everyone that he was there. Zeric sighed, bracing himself for one of his friend’s lectures. They weren’t a common occurrence—normally Gamaly did the lecturing—but he felt sure it was coming.

  “I think Zeric’s right,” Gu’od said.

  Zeric’s counter argument was left dangling on the tip of his tongue. Ymp looked equally shocked, going so far as to raise her eyestalks from their combat position, as if she had to get a really good look at Gu’od. They both remained silent for a moment.