Tree of Liberty

by Wayne Basta

  Despite seeing her point, Zeric argued, “I can’t be an effective commander if I have to ask everyone to follow orders. Soldiers who don’t follow orders on the battlefield get shot, and not necessarily by the enemy.”

  “That may be true for a professional, well-trained military. But you know as well as I do that you don’t have that. Everyone is here by choice. Authority is much more nebulous in a rebel army. You have to understand that,” Lei-mey said, her tone slowly becoming more informative and less of a reprimand the more she talked.

  Zeric thought back to the disastrous meetings he had sat through on Sulas. Despite his formal position of authority, Jairyd and Kantor had taken over from him with ease. At the time, he had been fine with it, thinking it just natural. But now he realized it had been partly because of his mismanagement, not just their efforts.

  “All right,” Zeric said reluctantly. “Assuming you’re right, what do you recommend?”

  “Start off by offering to help them. Look over the combat situation and see if there’s anything you can do or suggest. As difficult as it will be for you, you need to get them to like you,” Lei-mey said.

  “I thought that was your job. I’m supposed to be here to help them like you,” Zeric said, confused.

  Lei-mey shook her head. “You’re here because they respect you. But you also replaced their well-liked leader. We need to show them that he hasn’t been forgotten and that Cardine’s interests are still going to be important to the Union.”

  While Zeric mulled over what Lei-mey had told him, the ship touched down on the planet’s surface. A moment later, Gu’od and Kumus arrived in the cargo bay. The bay door opened, letting in a waft of air full of the smells of the sea.

  The ship’s internal intercom clicked on. “Have a good trip, General. We’ll be departing immediately in order to make our rendezvous. I trust you can find your own way back.”

  Eri’dos wasn’t lying about his intention to depart immediately—before they were down the boarding ramp, the ship started to power up again. Zeric led the group down in a hustle to get clear of the thrusters. When they were barely clear of the blast radius, the Durandall II lifted off the landing pad and back into the air.

  “An insufferable man, Captain Ar’cher,” Lei-mey complained.

  “I dunno. He’s starting to grow on me. Doesn’t waste time,” Zeric commented. The ship had stunk, but he had had a well-stocked bar onboard. He hoped Kumus had found room for the bottle he had pilfered.

  They waited on the tarmac for a moment. Zeric had expected some kind of reception to greet them. Their visit had been no secret. It wasn’t until they had started walking toward the terminal that a stream of ground vehicles appeared and drove up to them.

  The vehicle stopped and several people got out—all Camari except for one Ronid. Several wore the blue-green robe uniform that the cutter’s captain had worn. One of the Camari who wasn’t wearing a uniform led the group.

  “Delegate Darshawn, Lieutenant General Dustlighter, I’m First Lord Reynol,” the man said, his Standard heavily accented with a lilting flow. His rubbery skin was a dark shade of blue.

  Remembering that Lei-mey had instructed him to take the lead in conversations, Zeric extended his hand and said, “First Lord, it’s an honor. May I present my companions, Master Sergeant Gu’od Dos’redna and Specialist Kumus Stryker.”

  Reynol grasped Zeric’s outstretched hand with his limp fingers, tightening them slightly for a momentary handshake. He then nodded to Gu’od and Kumus. He made no effort to introduce the people with him, which was something Lei-mey had warned Zeric about. She had told him not to introduce anyone else with them, but Zeric had ignored that, finding it a fairly rude practice.

  “I’m surprised by your visit to our world, so far from the front lines,” Reynol said. Then his voice took on a tone of fake indignation. “Did none of our delegates to Congress offer their hospitality in escorting you to our world? I would be ashamed of their rudeness.”

  Zeric shook his head. “No, First Lord, nothing of the sort. This is a military mission. Delegate Darshawn is only here as my political advisor because of our history of working together. Besides, the Cardine delegation is quite busy with matters of utmost importance to the Union. I didn’t want to pull them away.”

  Most of the Cardine delegation had actually gone on the diplomatic mission to the Camari Republic. Zeric didn’t want to discuss it out here in the open, but since they had traveled aboard a Cardine ship, he felt sure Reynol knew about it.

  “I see,” Reynol said. “And what’s this military mission you’re on?”

  Again taking Lei-mey’s advice, Zeric said, “I’m here to see if there’s any way I can help in getting rid of your Alliance problem.”

  “How considerate. We would, of course, be grateful for your experience in this matter. Your effort in removing the Alliance from Enro was quite effective,” Reynol said, making no effort to hide the backhandedness of his compliment. “Though I must wonder why your first act was to order our defense cutters away. Without them, we have no naval presence, besides a few captured fighter squadrons.”

  Zeric cursed to himself. He hated it when Lei-mey was right. “Those ships were needed for another operation. If the Alliance did come here with a sufficiently powerful naval force to get past your planetary defense guns, those cutters would have been cut to ribbons. They will be far more effective where they’re going.”

  “I see,” Reynol said again, his eyestalks ridged and fixed on Zeric.

  “Now, if I can be shown to whomever’s in command of your defense forces, perhaps I can provide them some assistance,” Zeric said, trying to change the subject.

  Reynol remained staring at Zeric for a second before turning to one of the robed figures. “Marshall Teev is in command of our home defense forces.”

  Despite the Union military having adopted the Alliance military structure, Cardine had stuck with the Camari system. Zeric knew that, like general, there were several grades of marshalls. Unfortunately, he wasn’t familiar with the rank emblems or if the grades were abbreviated to simply “marshall” the way “general” was.

  However, even if Teev’s brand of marshall technically outranked a lieutenant general, Zeric was now the supreme commander of all Union forces, including planetary defense forces. But taking Lei-mey’s advice to heart, he decided to strike a tone of cooperation, rather than simple authority.

  “Marshall, a pleasure.”

  “Likewise, General,” Teev said, extending his limp red hand. Unlike Reynol, Teev hadn’t added the “lieutenant” portion of Zeric’s rank. While technically correct, it was usually omitted when spoken. Reynol had included it either out of ignorance or to be an ass.

  Zeric shook the man’s hand, careful not to squeeze too hard. “I’m eager to get started whenever you are. I want to see Cardine free of the Alliance.”

  “Then let’s head to my command post,” Teev said.

  Based on the man’s skin shade, a once-bright red that now appeared to be losing its shine, he was a Camari approaching his middle years. Zeric judged them to be about the same age. Also like him, Teev would be old enough to have participated in the fighting during the last war.

  “Sounds good,” Zeric said, now ignoring Reynol and following Teev. They climbed into the cars and headed off without another word.

  “Maark, wake up.”

  Groggily, Maarkean looked up to see Lohcja standing beside him. Not looking at him, the Ronid stared at something outside their cell. Following Lohcja’s gaze, Maarkean saw Lieutenant Merski, in the process of opening the cell door.

  Pulling himself up to stand beside Lohcja, Maarkean tried to decide what this meant. They hadn’t seen Merski since that first encounter, nor had they discussed whether or not they believed her claim of wanting to help free them. Based on the lack of other guards in the room, he felt sure they would find out soon.

  “We don’t have much time,” Merski said. “Put these on, quickly.” She tos
sed two naval uniform coveralls into the room and then looked down at her comm device. Maarkean got a glimpse of a timer counting down on the screen. He took the uniform and started pulling it on.

  “These weren’t exactly designed with Ronids in mind,” Lohcja said, holding up his uniform.

  “I got you a bulky one. And it doesn’t have to fit well, just enough to help you blend in a little,” Merski said, clearly impatient.

  Lohcja clacked his mandibles but started to pull the coveralls on. While he struggled to fit them over his carapace, Maarkean leaned in and whispered, “Looks like something’s about to go down. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s an elaborate game and we’re going to get shot attempting escape,” Lohcja said. “But, even if it is, maybe we’ll find a chance to really escape.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Maarkean said. “I think I believe her.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not,” Merski said, overhearing. “We need to move now.” She moved to the door of the brig and stepped outside, walking with her back straight.

  Sharing a glance with Lohcja, Maarkean shrugged and followed. Lohcja hastily zipped up his uniform and joined him.

  They passed into an empty control room. A monitoring station showed blank screens, but no one sat in the seat. As they moved to the exit door, the monitors flickered back on, showing two cells. Both sat empty.

  Moving into the ship’s corridors, Merski led them at a brisk pace. They didn’t pass any other crewmembers directly, but Maarkean did catch sight of a few down other branches of corridor. He hoped Lohcja’s uniform would be enough to keep any of those crew from taking a closer look.

  After traveling down two flights of stairs, Maarkean started to get an idea of where they might be headed. His suspicion proved correct when they turned a corner and stopped at a door marked “Shuttlebay.” Merski hastily entered a code into the keypad and the doors opened.

  Two shuttles occupied the bulk of the room. He recognized them as TU-17 cargo shuttles, which gave him a sliver of hope. TU-17s came equipped with hyperdrives, even though they had a fairly limited range. The ship could be anywhere at this point, and having a hyperdrive would give them a lot more options on where to go.

  Merski strode purposefully toward one of the shuttles, but a voice brought her up short. “Can I help you, Lieutenant?”

  A young Terran male crewmember stood over a piece of equipment behind the shuttle Merski had been approaching. He looked up at her, a look of surprise on his face. Maarkean spotted a ration pack open on the floor and could faintly hear the sounds of music.

  Food in the shuttle bay was against regulations, and Merski clearly hadn’t anticipated anyone being here. Maarkean assumed the crewmember hadn’t expected anyone else to walk in on him doing whatever he was doing, either. An awkward moment passed before Merski recovered.

  “Specialist, what are you doing here with an open ration pack? This area is off limits,” Merski said, clearly trying to sound authoritative.

  “I’m working on Shuttle Two’s transponder system. I’m part of the deck crew,” he said, his voice wavering.

  “With an open ration pack? No wonder the hardware’s having trouble,” Merski snapped.

  The specialist looked nervous, and Maarkean thought Merski might be able to overcome this obstacle. But then the young man turned and saw him and Lohcja. His eyes grew wide at the sight of a Ronid.

  Reacting immediately, Maarkean leapt forward, grabbing the Terran in a choke hold. He applied pressure, and the specialist dropped unconscious without putting up much of a struggle. All the time he’d spent practicing in his cell was paying off.

  “Why did you do that?” Merski said, surprised.

  “There was no way you were going to be able to convince him not to report a Ronid in a uniform, lieutenant or no,” Maarkean said, lifting the specialist onto his shoulder.

  Walking toward the hangar’s control booth, he put the Terran on the floor and sealed the room so that he wouldn’t be sucked out into space when they opened the bay doors. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time was not a reason to die.

  Merski gave him a long look as he emerged from the control booth. For the first time, he got a sense of genuine emotion from her, unmasked by her intelligence training. She looked relieved, and he felt sure his action had surprised her.

  Not wanting to waste time figuring out what that meant, Maarkean moved toward the shuttle. Lohcja had already gotten onboard, giving the all-clear sign. There would be no more unexpected visitors.

  Maarkean boarded the shuttle and took a seat at the pilot controls. He started the power-up sequence. With the transponder system uninstalled and in pieces on the hangar deck, he felt fairly confident in their chances—it would be harder for any Alliance ship to track them as they attempted to escape.

  “I’ll go set the bay doors to auto-open in two minutes,” Merski said before turning and stepping off the shuttle.

  As soon as she left, Lohcja leaned in. “This is our chance. Where would they keep a weapon aboard this thing?”

  “For what?” Maarkean asked.

  “To use on Merski,” Lohcja said incredulously. “If this is some elaborate hoax, if we arm ourselves, we can still turn it to our advantage.”

  “I don’t think it’s a hoax,” Maarkean said. “The transponder has been removed, and we’re aboard a hyperspace-capable craft that’s fully fueled. That specialist working on it surprised her. She must have disabled the transponder in preparation for our escape. He just noticed the problem and came to fix it. I think she’s legit.”

  Lohcja paused in his search of the shuttle. “Maybe, but I’d still rather be armed than not.”

  “Unfortunately, shuttles don’t typically come with a supply of weapons. They’re only used for moving supplies to and from the ship. It’s not a combat vessel,” Maarkean replied.

  Shrugging his antennae, Lohcja resumed his search. Maarkean turned back to the forward window and saw Merski emerging from the control booth. As she started back toward the shuttle, a blast rang through the hangar. Something hit Merski in the back, and she tumbled forward.

  Once Merski fell, Maarkean saw a squad of marines dashing into the shuttle bay. They had their blasters raised, and they immediately fanned out. Turning away from the pilot controls, Maarkean looked at Lohcja. “Any luck finding a weapon?” he asked.

  “No, I thought you said we . . .” Lohcja stopped as he looked out of the viewport.

  Seconds later, three marines came around the back of the shuttle. Reluctantly, Maarkean raised his hands, followed a second later by Lohcja. As the marines led them out of the shuttle and back toward the brig, Maarkean caught sight of Merski’s motionless body laying on the shuttle bay’s floor. In the center of her back, the black burn mark of a blaster bolt stood out. The marines hadn’t been set to stun.

  Whatever doubts he’d had about Merski’s sincerity faded away, replaced by guilt at her death.

  Chapter Ten

  Saracasi’s first major command decision weighed on her. Eager to begin taking the fight back to the Alliance, she had decided to take what ships she had and begin the campaign. She would have had better odds of success if she had waited for Eri’dos and the cutters from Cardine to arrive, but that would have added another month of delay—a month more for the Alliance to entrench themselves.

  Fortunately, Fracsid and Chavatwor had kept busy, and she still had five gunships available, even with Eri’dos gone. The gunships and the two fighter squadrons aboard Defiant Glory would be their main strike force. It wasn’t much against an Alliance taskforce, but then, she’d beaten one before with less.

  “All fighters report ready for launch,” Jerik said beside her. “Reserve fighters are prepped and ready to move into position the moment the bay is clear.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Saracasi said.

  One of Defiant Glory’s biggest flaws was the inability to fit more than twelve fighters in the launch bay. She carried an
other six, but they would have to be moved to the launch bay once the others launched—an operation that meant a lot of time spent without their full complement of fighters available. It also meant they could only recover twelve fighters at a time, making a quick exit difficult.

  “Hyperspace exit in one minute,” Tadashio reported from the operations station.

  Saracasi tried to keep calm, but the approaching battle kept intruding. Her palms were sweaty, and she debated wiping them off on her uniform. Would that look unprofessional? Would it look bad for the commodore to appear nervous? Or would it just show good sense?

  While debating this in her head, she completely missed the final countdown. Suddenly the fleet had left hyperspace, and Tadashio was already reporting on sensor contacts. She quietly berated herself and refocused her attention.

  “Picking up one Alliance escort carrier, one frigate, and one corvette,” Tadashio reported as the images appeared on the tactical hologram. “One flight of two fighter craft appear to be flying CAP.”

  The Alliance ships were arrayed in a loose formation covering the northern hemisphere of Dantyne. Given their positions and altitudes, they had complete coverage over half of the planet. Saracasi guessed that more ships would be on the other side of the planet, hidden from their sensors.

  Without any direction from her, Jerik went about his duties, commanding Defiant Glory. The fighters launched and the reserve fighters moved into position. The twelve fighter craft spread out in pairs, taking up a point position in front of the carrier and three gunships that accompanied her.

  Tuning out the background noise as the bridge crew went about their duties, Saracasi activated the comm array. “Alliance fleet, this is Commodore Ocaitchi of the Union 2nd Fleet. You’re in an illegal orbit of a Union world. You’re ordered to withdraw immediately, or we’ll be forced to open fire.”