by Ryk Brown
“That oath also said we’d follow the orders of our appointed leaders,” Kenji replied. “What about that part?”
“We’re just choosing a different leader,” Aiden explained. “It’s as simple as that.”
“That’s just it, Aiden, it isn’t that simple.”
“It is,” Aiden insisted, raising his voice. “If you let it be.” He looked at his long-time friend and second in command. “Now, I need to know if you’re going to fight alongside the rest of us…for these people.”
Kenji looked angry. “If you’re going to fight, I’ll be right there beside you, Aiden. You know that. But don’t expect me to be too enthusiastic about all this, at least not yet.”
“Fair enough,” Aiden replied. “Thanks.” He turned to face his crew, spread out all over the dormitory. “The same goes for all of you. If you don’t want to be a part of this, then speak up now.”
“You already know how Ali and I feel,” Ledge said.
“What about you, Dags?” Aiden asked his sensor operator.
“We’ve come this far together,” Sergeant Dagata replied. “We might as well see it through.”
“You people have no idea what you’re getting into,” Chief Benetti insisted, laughing at them. “But, I can’t very well leave you all hanging.”
“Thanks, Ash,” Aiden said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” the engineer warned. “I’m still considering killing you in your sleep…sir.”
“Good to know,” Aiden replied, “I think.”
* * *
For as long as he could remember, Krispin Bornet had only wanted to be a soldier. The death of his parents, during the Jung invasion of Earth eight years ago, had only strengthened that desire. The moment the Aurora had driven the Jung from their world, Krispin had lied about his age and volunteered for the new Alliance Marines who were being trained by the Ghatazhak.
For five years, Krispin had volunteered for every training program he could get into. He had worked his way up to the rank of master sergeant, through determination and hard work. He had even been offered a chance to attend the academy, which would have made him an officer. That was the one thing he had declined. His place was on the front lines, with the men. That had always been where he wanted to be. Killing the enemy, in the most efficient manner possible, was his specialty. While many would find that talent horrific, Master Sergeant Bornet took great pride in it. To him, it wasn’t about the killing, it was about being willing to kill to defend those who could not defend themselves. His job was to stand on the wall, with a target on his chest.
Then he met Sara Jassa. She had shown him a whole new world. A world full of love and laughter. A world full of hope and dreams. A world full of possibilities. For the first time since he had lost his parents, Krispin had begun to see a future that did not include military service. It was something he had never contemplated, as it had always seemed impossible. People like him didn’t find love. People like him died in battle, defending their world.
Sara had made him believe otherwise.
Their year together had been the best year of his life. He had even considered accepting the offer to attend the academy, so he could become an officer, marry Sara, and start a family. Then it all fell apart.
For weeks, Krispin had hated her. She had lied to him. She had played him. She was the enemy. But as the weeks turned into months, his hatred faded, eventually replaced by the truth, which was that he still loved her. Krispin had replayed every minute they had spent together, looking for anything that seemed suspicious, but the truth was, there was nothing. She had never asked him about his work, about the Alliance Marines, about their weapons…nothing. If she had been a Jung spy, she was a lousy one. At the very least, she had not been playing him for information, since she had never tried to get any. She had never pressed in the slightest when he had avoided talking about his job.
After months of analysis, Krispin convinced himself that, despite her being a Jung spy, their love had been real. She had not lied to him about that. The only lie she had told was a lie of omission and, for that, he had forgiven her long ago.
But now, Krispin stood in front of the door, unsure of what he was feeling. On the other side was the woman he loved, and who loved him. But she was also the reason his life had gone completely awry. What was he to say to her? What would she say to him?
The door buzzed and swung open. He stepped through, pausing as the door automatically closed and locked behind him. She sat there, a couple meters away from him, staring at the table in front of her, undoubtedly expecting another in a long string of interrogators.
Krispin’s heart raced, his breath quickened. He felt as if his legs would buckle at any moment. It took all his will to take a step forward. He grabbed hold of the back of the chair in front of him, steadying himself as he moved closer. He pulled the chair out and carefully sat down across the table from her. After swallowing hard, he finally managed to speak. A single, weak utterance… “Sara?”
She raised her head slowly, more out of habit than desire, as if making minimal effort to identify today’s inquisitor. Her eyes were cold, devoid of the deep emotions that he expected to see. She looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her face crinkled, a faint look of disbelief coming over her. The look intensified as recognition hit her. “Kris?” Her mouth opened, her eyes widened slightly, and her bottom lip began to quiver almost imperceptibly. “Is it you?”
“Yes.” Kris whispered.
“Oh, God, Kris,” she said, barely able to contain her tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. You weren’t my target, I swear it.”
“I know.”
She looked at him, unable to believe that he would forgive her so easily. That’s when she lost control, and started to weep openly, her head hung down in shame.
Kris reached out, taking her hands in his. “It’s going to be alright, Sara. I’m going to get you out of here.”
A small laugh punctuated her sobs, and for a brief moment, a smile pierced through her grief-stricken expression. “You can’t,” she finally said. “You’ll only make things worse. You must forget about me.”
“I can’t, Sara,” Kris insisted. “I love you.”
Again, she smiled through the tears. “Sweet Kris,” she sobbed. “I cannot live with the guilt of what I’ve done to you.”
“I’m not kidding, Sara. They want me to do something. They say they’ll let us both go free if I do. We can be together.”
Now she looked confused. “What? What is it they want you to do?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Kris, you can’t…”
“Do you love me?” Kris asked her.
“Kris…”
“Do you love me?”
Sara fought to control her emotions, finally answering, “Of course I love you.” She looked down again, adding, “that’s why I have to let you go.”
“No one is letting anyone go,” Kris insisted. “You have to trust me, Sara. You have to believe in me. I need that. I need to know that you’ll come with me when I’m done. It’s the only way.” Kris could see the doubt in her eyes. “You say you love me, but do you trust me?” When she didn’t respond, he repeated the question. “Do you trust me, Sara?”
“Yes,” she finally answered softly. “You’re the only person I do trust.”
Krispin smiled, his heart filling with love for the first time in more than a year. He rose slightly, leaned across the table, and kissed her on the forehead. “I will be back for you,” he promised as he rose to his feet. “We will be together again, I swear it.” Krispin stared at her for a moment, waiting for a weak smile from her to carry with him during his upcoming mission.
“When?” she asked meekly.
“I do not know,” he admitted, “but I will be back.”
Krispin turned back toward the door, taking two steps and pausing. “Door!” he barked. A moment later, the door buzzed and swung open, and he ste
pped through into the next room.
The door closed and locked behind him. Krispin turned to look at Mister Dakota. “I’ll do it,” he told him. He turned and looked at the old man straight in the eyes, with that same, cold stare, adding, “But if you fail to deliver as promised, I will kill you, and Galiardi, and no forces, great or small, will stop me.”
* * *
It had taken every credit in his possession to convince the guard at the gate to allow him in, and considerable begging of the receptionist to allow him to sit and wait in the grand lobby of House Mahtize in the hopes of getting the briefest of audiences with the lord of the manner. But Tensen Dalott had always had a way with people. His strong, confident manner and unbreakable will had swayed many to support him, despite their various objections.
The hard-nosed receptionist had been a particularly difficult case, and had taken him more than an hour to win over. Yet, he had been sitting in the lobby for more than five hours now, during which time he had not eaten, drank, nor visited the facilities, despite her numerous offers to do so. His mission was vital, and he had this one chance to try to speak with the only man on Takara who might help him.
When he heard the rumble of thrusters from outside, Tensen knew Lord Mahtize had finally returned. Since the Dusahn had taken over, only nobles were allowed to operate private shuttles, and even then only under Dusahn control.
Another hour passed, during which many staffers bid the receptionist farewell until the next workday. Soon, she would be telling him that Lord Mahtize would be unable to see him, and she would suggest he leave his contact information and await the lord’s call another day.
Tensen hated being right at times.
“Mister Dalott,” the receptionist called from her desk. “I’m afraid that Lord Mahtize will be busy the rest of the day. If you’d like to leave your contact information, I can see that he…”
Tensen rose from his seat, holding his hand up to interrupt her. “I know you are only doing your job, but the matter I wish to discuss with your employer is of the utmost importance, and I am sure that if he was aware of the subject matter, he would heartily agree.”
“No offense, Mister Dalott, but everyone who wishes to speak with Lord Mahtize says as much. It is my job to filter them out.”
“I understand this, I truly do,” Tensen assured her.
“Perhaps if you were to tell me what you wished to speak with him about…”
“Would that I could. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you that your lord will thank you for allowing me to speak with him.”
“Anything,” she continued, “anything at all.”
Tensen sighed, thinking for a moment. If he told her the true nature of his visit, she might lead him to an anteroom and notify the Dusahn to pick him up. But if he told her nothing, his chance would be lost. Tensen normally prided himself on his ability to read people’s character, but too much was riding on this very moment.
Then it came to him. “Tell your lord, that ‘Yassey’ wishes to speak with him.”
“Yassey?” she asked skeptically.
“Yassey.”
“Very well,” she replied. After tapping a button on her communications console, she spoke. “Please inform Lord Mahtize that a gentleman named ‘Yassey’ wishes to speak with him.” She looked at Tensen again. “You’re sure it’s ‘Yassey’?”
“Quite sure.”
“Yes, Yassey,” she assured the person on the other end of her comm-link. “Understood.” The receptionist looked at Tensen. “The message is being passed to Lord Mahtize, but I cannot promise that it will change anything.”
“I understand,” Tensen replied. “Thank you.”
Before Tensen could return to his seat, the receptionist’s communications console beeped.
“Yes… Understood.” She ended the communication and looked up at Tensen. “Mister Dalott, if you’ll enter the elevator, it will take you to the top floor, where someone will escort you to speak to Lord Mahtize.”
“Thank you,” Tensen said, graciously. The elevator doors opened on the far side of the lobby, and Tensen quickly moved to board. Moments later, the doors opened again, revealing a stern-looking gentleman.
“If you’ll follow me, Mister Dalott,” the gentleman instructed, turning to lead Tensen down the corridor.
Tensen followed the gentleman, his eyes forward, not making eye contact with anyone as they made their way down the corridor. A minute later, after passing through yet two more weapons detection portholes, he was led to a rather nondescript door. The stern-looking gentleman stepped to one side, making room for Tensen to enter.
Tensen opened the door and stepped inside, allowing it to close behind him. The office of Lord Mahtize was just as he expected: massive, lavishly appointed, and utterly useless except to impress all who entered. But Tensen was not easily impressed, especially by Takaran nobility… Not for years now.
“You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Mister Dalott,” Lord Mahtize began, stepping out from behind his desk to greet Tensen. “You used my childhood nickname…one that few would know. Yet, I am unfamiliar with the name ‘Tensen Dalott’. Is the name even of Takaran origin?”
“It is not.”
“From where do you hail, Mister Dalott?” Lord Mahtize asked as he approached.
“I was born and raised on Takara, and have only recently returned after a long absence,” Tensen explained.
Lord Mahtize shook Tensen’s hand politely, studying the stranger’s face. “There is something familiar about you…something in the eyes.”
“Is this room secure?” Tensen wondered.
Lord Mahtize smiled, turning toward his wet bar. “You are in a lord’s office, Mister Dalott, if that is indeed your name. If you belong among men such as myself, then you already know the answer to your question. Might I interest you in a drink?”
“Thank you, no.”
“Then shall we get to the nature of your visit? I was told you have something of great importance to discuss with me,” Lord Mahtize said as he poured himself a drink. “What might that be?”
“I have a difficult task to perform,” Tensen explained. “One that requires assistance, which only you can provide.”
Lord Mahtize sipped his drink, closely examining Tensen’s calm demeanor. “I am speaking to you only because you knew my childhood nickname, which means that you and I have similar associates. However, my curiosity is limited, as is my patience.” Lord Mahtize took another sip. “What is this task you speak of?”
“I wish to steal the Teyentah.”
Lord Mahtize did not react, instead continuing to sip his beverage. “Theft of a Takaran warship, even one not yet completed, is a serious crime, Mister Dalott. The logical thing for me to do would be to signal security and have you turned over to the Dusahn. But of course, you know this…which makes me somewhat curious as to why you think that I would provide the assistance you seek. After all, I don’t even know you.”
“As Tensen Dalott, no. But perhaps you remember an old childhood friend…one who grew up to become the leader of his own noble house. One who commanded the last capital ship of Takara. One who was the only nobleman to support the true leader of Takara, Casimir Ta’Akar, who was assassinated by those whose nobility was in name only. One who stands before you now, asking if you are still the same man he knew and respected all those decades ago.”
Lord Mahtize’s mouth fell agape as he examined Tensen’s face more closely. “Suvan? Is it you?”
“It is I, Yassey,” Tensen replied. “Suvan Navarro.”
CHAPTER THREE
Nathan leaned back on his bunk aboard the Seiiki, watching the Ghatazhak battle-cam recordings from the engagement on Kohara four days ago. He wanted desperately to find something to justify his original concerns, but despite viewing more than thirty different battle recordings, he had yet to do so.
What he did see, however, was precision, expertise, and uncompromising discipline. But tha
t was not what struck him the most. It was the composure each of them had while under fire. Alliance Marines were trying to kill them, yet they continued to fire so precisely that only a handful of their attackers suffered serious injury. Based on what he had seen thus far, Nathan was unsure if any Alliance Marines had died at all. Shots to the hands, legs, shoulders, even to the weapons they held, but no actual kill shots. If, in fact, any of them had died, it was more likely by accident.
Even more impressive was that the Alliance Marines were quite well-trained themselves. Their shots, although not as precise as those of the Ghatazhak, were well-placed. The Alliance Marines were by no means equal to the Ghatazhak, but they were not a force to be taken lightly. Had they not had rapid reinforcement by marines stationed aboard the Jar-Benakh, General Telles and his men would have easily overpowered them.
The hardest part had been those recordings that captured the deaths of Ghatazhak soldiers. Nathan had sent men into harm’s way before, but rarely did he witness their demise. With each man who fell, Nathan’s anger grew, as did his determination.
Someone pounded on his cabin door, breaking his concentration. “What?” he bellowed, stopping the video.
The hatch swung open, revealing an angry Jessica. “What the hell, Nathan!” she exclaimed as she entered, closing the hatch behind her.
“Come right on in,” Nathan said, not bothering to get up.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Watching videos. How about you?”
“I’m talking about Telles,” she continued. “What the fuck!” she exclaimed. “It’s Telles!”
“Yes, I know.”
“Then what were you thinking?”
“Well, I was thinking, as the leader of the Karuzari, it was my responsibility to question his decision.”
“What? You think you know better than he does?”
“You need to take it down a notch, Jess,” Nathan warned, sitting up on the edge of his bunk. “I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page, that’s all.”