“If—if anything was done by the guild which violated guild law—I’m not saying there was anything—but if there was, then it was done under the orders of Leeto. Unfortunately, she is no longer available to answer the charges, so they are null and void.”
“I dispute that the charges are null and void,” the Goltar representative replied. “There are still a number of admirals and captains—and generals—actively serving, who carried out these actions, and who need to be held accountable for failing to refuse an illegal order.”
Seezo shivered slightly. The interjection was obviously meant to include General Peepo. Was the Goltar representative daft enough to think they would actually try General Peepo for the crimes committed by her and her forces during the Human War? After centuries of sitting on the sidelines, he had to know that wasn’t going to happen!
“Seconded,” the MinSha representative said.
“Third,” the Selroth representative added. “I dislike the madness I see this guild falling into.”
“No one called for a vote,” Seezo said, “and a proposal hasn’t even been made.” The Goltar indicated he wished to speak, but Seezo ignored him as a realization came over her. They’d had to put up with Goltar representation on the Council for thousands of years. But by taking an illegal contract, this was the chance to kick the Goltar off the Council. She—Seezo—would be remembered as the leader who finally brought the Council totally under Veetanho control.
“Besides,” Seezo said, her lips curling into a smile, “I hardly see how it is good form to try to cover your illegal action by casting aspersions on members of other races in good standing. Before we do anything, I would like to deal with the illegal action the Goltar took in taking the Peacemaker contract in direct contravention of guild rules.” Her smile grew. “I would like a motion to censure the Goltars and remove them from their seat on the Council.”
She recognized the Goka representative. “I motion we censure the Goltars and remove them from their seat on the Council,” he said.
“Second,” the Besquith representative said.
“Third,” the Oogar representative replied. “The sooner this is over with, the sooner we can go have dinner.”
“All in favor?” Seezo asked, adding her upraised hand to the tally. She only needed one more vote, and the Goltars could be expelled for all time.
The Tortantula representative looked at the Flatar representative, who shook his head. Both hands stayed down, as did the ones of the Selroth, MinSha, and Goltar representatives.
“All in favor?” she asked again, staring at the Tortantula rep, who knew better than to block her. The Flatar rep shook his head again, and the Tortantula’s hand stayed down.
“The motion fails,” Seezo was forced to admit. She glared at the Flatar rep, who returned her gaze steadily.
“Sorry,” the Flatar rep said, “but we don’t approve of the way this war is being prosecuted, nor in the wholesale slaughter that is occurring to our forces. Tens of thousands of Tortantula lives have been lost, and there are many riders who have perished with them, as well. While we don’t approve of the methods the Goltar representative took, we believe his actions were in the best interest of the guild and do not believe they should lose their seat for it. While we approve of censure, we cannot approve the motion as it stands.”
“Not only are we disgusted by the flagrant disregard for the loss of MinSha lives,” the MinSha representative added, “we are also…unhappy with the way this war is being spun on the GalNet. There are a number of our queens who have had positive interaction with the Humans. While they may have done some of the things which they are accused of, most of them seem to be in response to actions taken against them by this very council. It has come to our attention that the previous Speaker led us astray in some of the things she told us, and in how some of it was presented. We are no longer sure this war was needed or even justified.”
“Once again, I cannot speak to the actions of my predecessor,” Seezo replied. “She is dead, and any misdeeds have passed on with her.”
“Have they now?” the MinSha representative asked. “I’m sure that is what you would wish us to believe, but I find her approach endemic to recent Veetanho leadership as a whole over the past century. I find myself wondering if it isn’t time for a change of direction—for a change of leadership—at the top of the Council.”
“Hear! Hear!” the Bakulu representative yelled from his seat. Several audience members shouted their approval.
“I will have quiet in the audience,” Seezo said with a snarl. She couldn’t understand how the mood had changed so quickly, but she knew she had to nip it now. “Anyone who cannot be silent will be removed.” She nodded to the Selroth representative, who could always be counted on to dispute whatever the MinSha rep wanted.
“I find myself in an odd position,” he said. “For the first time in my memory, I am in agreement with the MinSha representative. It appears as time has gone by, more races have become, let us call them ‘client races’ of the Veetanho.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” the Goka rep asked.
“I mean they are happy to do whatever the Speaker tells them, no matter what it is,” the Selroth rep replied. “I don’t want to call them slaves of the Veetanho—slavery is such a harsh word, after all—but it seems the free will of some races has been suborned over the centuries.”
“Perhaps it is that they’ve seen the things this guild has accomplished under Veetanho leadership and have chosen to embrace that leadership,” Seezo replied. “Profits are way up, and deaths—before this war, anyway—were way down. Besides, I do not hold anyone’s vote in sway. All members are able to vote their conscience.”
“I would like to motion we have a vote to fill the previous Speaker’s seat with a different race,” the MinSha representative said, “rather than allow the Veetanho and their stooges to continue to run this august body.”
“Stooges?” the Goka rep asked. “Was that addressed to me?”
“If the insect booties fit, wear ‘em,” the Flatar rep said.
Before anyone could reply, the Goka drew a wicked-looking knife from under his carapace and slashed. The Flatar’s head canted and then fell to one side while his body fell to the other. The Tortantula rep launched itself onto the Goka, pinning it to the ground, and began ripping pieces off it.
The Oogar rep roared and jumped to his feet but looked unsure of whether to aid the Goka or the Tortantula. The Besquith drew a laser pistol and shot the Oogar through the head, ending his indecision. The Selroth pushed the Besquith’s hand aside, making his second shot go astray, but the Besquith grabbed the Selroth’s hand, stuck it in his mouth, and bit it off. Blood sprayed like a hose under pressure as the Selroth waved his hand around, until the Besquith shot him in the chest. He fell backward, but then the Besquith landed on him as the MinSha rep shot the Besquith in the back.
* * *
The Goltar rep chuckled as the meeting of the storied Mercenary Guild Council disintegrated into a pit battle, but then had to duck as a stream of the Selroth’s blood arced past him. Drawing his pistols, he jumped onto the table to get an angle on the Speaker; if nothing else, she needs to die. While he was moving, Seezo shot the MinSha, who’d just killed the Besquith rep, saving him the trouble. He fired each of his pistols at the Speaker, putting a round into both her chest and head. She fell backward, struck also by a round that came from the direction of the audience.
He saw motion from the side, but then the Tortantula tackled him off the table, knocking aside both of his pistols as she slammed him to the floor. He tried to move, but she held him tightly as she jerked several times.
“I’m…I’m going to…let you go…now,” the Tortantula said. She slowly released him, then limped backward, bleeding from a number of spots.
Realization dawned on the Goltar; she’d saved him and had been shot several times for her effort. He scanned the room quickly. The only living member of the audience was a
Bakulu, who was slipping his pistol back into his shell. He turned back to the Tortantula.
“Why did you save me?” he asked.
“You would…set us free,” the Tortantula replied. “Could not…let you die.” She collapsed to her knees, then fell on her side and lay still.
The Goltar bowed the way his kind did to an honored enemy, then turned to the Bakulu, who was looking at him with two eyestalks; the third appeared to have been shot off and was leaking fluid from where it lay limp. He gave the same bow to the Bakulu. “Thank you for your assistance,” the Goltar said. “It appears the Council will need some new members. Are you available?”
“I am,” the Bakulu replied, “although I may need some medical attention first. I would, however, like to know something.”
“Yes?” the Goltar asked.
The Bakulu waved a pseudopod at the carnage. “Where do we go from here?”
* * *
Cartwright’s Cavaliers Main Base, Houston, Texas, Earth
Her eyelids were so heavy. But Ziva Alcuin had lifted heavy things before. She sucked in a breath and forced her eyes to open, and then immediately squeezed them closed again as a piercing light stabbed into her retinas. A groan escaped her lips.
“Hey,” a voice said. The voice was soft, male, and didn’t belong to anyone she knew. She swallowed and tried again, opening her eyelids a mere slit and turning toward the sound.
“Hey,” she replied. Her own voice rasped like a grinding bit on the hardest granite. She swallowed and tried again. “Who are you?”
“I was going to ask you the same question. I’m Jim. I’m the one who picked you and your Hunter friend up.”
“Fssik!” Fear spiked adrenaline through Ziva’s body, and she flung her eyes open and tried to push herself up to a seated position. Her entire body screamed in protest, but Ziva Alcuin had worked while hurt before, and this was important, so she kept pushing.
“Here, take it easy, let me help,” Jim—whoever that was—said. He pushed a button on the side of her bed and the back began to rise, helping her to sit up.
“I have to find Fssik,” Ziva said, turning her attention to the wires and tubes attached to her arms and wrists. “Get these things off me. I have to find him.”
“Hey… hey, don’t do that, that’s your medicine drip,” Jim said, his voice threaded through with distress. He put one hand on hers, apparently trying to still her fingers as they scrabbled at her various IVs. She slapped his hand away and looked up, her panic turning to a killing rage that boiled in her eyes.
And then she actually looked at him. His uniform was creased and rumpled, but it was unmistakably a distinctive tiger-stripe pattern. On his near shoulder, a colonel’s eagle glinted in the bright lights arrayed overhead. The uniform jacket itself strained over broad shoulders that led to a large gut below.
“Oh shit,” she said, her hands slowing. “You’re Jim Cartwright.”
“I am,” he said. “And you still haven’t told me who you are.”
“I’m Ziva Alcuin,” she said. “And my friend is Fssik. Is he okay?”
“He’s alive,” Jim said, but the uncertainty in his voice made fear twist in Ziva’s belly.
“Where is he? I need to see him.”
“In the next room,” Jim said. “If you promise not to dig out your IVs, I’ll take you there.”
Ziva sucked in a deep breath and nodded, forcing her shaking hands to still. Jim nodded back gravely, then reached over and toggled the quick disconnects on her various lines, leaving her feeling like an idiot. This wasn’t her first time waking up in a clinic or hospital; she should have known better.
“What happened?” Ziva asked as she watched Jim turn away and grab a wheelchair. He wrestled it over to the side of her bed.
“I’m going to lift you into this chair, and you’re going to let me, or we’re not going anywhere, got it?” he asked her in a level voice. She quirked an eyebrow at him but relented and gave him a nod. He stepped forward and slid one arm under her knees, the other under her shoulders, and then lifted her with no more effort than if she were a child. Cartwright might have been a bit portly, but he was sure as seven hells strong. He lowered her carefully into the seat, then buckled the safety belt around her.
“As I started to say before you freaked out,” Jim went on as he stepped behind the chair and began pushing her toward the door. “You and your Hunter fleet showed up out of nowhere and pulled your suicide attack. It gave us an opening, but the guild frigates destroyed every ship you brought. Most of the survivors were picked up by the Hussars and others of our fleet, but your pod ended up near me and my Raknar, so I grabbed you before you went hurtling into deep space. You guys weren’t in good shape, so we brought you here.”
He pushed the chair around the corner into another hospital room identical to hers, but instead of a full-sized bed, it held a small glass-sided case like a baby bassinet. As the chair came closer, Ziva could see Fssik’s dark shape curled inside. His chest rose and fell in time with the hissing of a nearby ventilator machine, and she could hear the quick beeping of his heart on the monitor.
“The best our vet could do was stabilize him,” Jim said softly. “He’s got serious internal injuries, but the Depik have always been so secretive about their physiology that we just don’t know what else to do.”
“Send for Esthik,” she said, urgency throbbing in her voice as she forced back tears. “At my mother’s outpost. I have the coordinates, you can send a ship and bring him back; he’s a Hunter of Hurts, he’ll know what to do…”
“We already have,” Jim said, trying to soothe her as he stepped around her chair so she could see him. “But they just left yesterday, and it’s a hyperspace transition both ways. Our vet is good, though; she can keep him stable until the Depik Healer arrives. Don’t worry.”
Ziva let out a short bark of laughter at that.
“Don’t worry?” she asked. She sounded hysterical, but she didn’t care. “Fssik is my companion, Jim. He’s like a part of me. I owe you my life, but I’m afraid I can’t make that promise.”
Jim looked at her for a long moment and then nodded slowly to show he understood.
“Can…can I touch him? Hunters are very tactile, and maybe…”
“Go ahead,” a new voice said, and a grey-haired woman wearing scrubs and a caduceus entered the room. As she moved closer, Ziva could see the letter “V” emblazoned on the front of the serpent and staff.
“You’re the vet?” Ziva said.
“I am,” the woman replied. “Joy Thompson, DVM, at your service. I don’t know how much Jim told you, but we’ve done all we can to stabilize him and keep him comfortable. I am hopeful the Depik healer will be able to do more when he or she arrives.”
“He,” Ziva said, absently. “Esthik is a Deo… an honored male elder.”
“Good to know,” Dr. Thompson said. “But in answer to your question, if you want to touch your friend, there’s a window on the side of the bassinet, there. Jim, can you help her unlatch it?”
“Sure,” Jim said, stepping forward.
“But can I hold him?” Ziva asked. “Hunters are very tactile, and they are constantly touching one another when they’re hurt. If I can just cradle him…” she trailed off, frustrated by her inability to express how important her gut told her this was.
The doc looked as if she wanted to say no, but then she pursed her lips and scanned her equipment.
“Maybe,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t want to take him off the ventilator or fluids or anything, but these lines are pretty long and flexible. Maybe if you roll right up there next to the bassinet…yes. Good. And now, Jim, you reach in and carefully lift him…what did you say his name was?”
“Fssik,” Ziva said.
“Yes. Thank you. Jim, gently, gently, lift Fssik out…good. And young lady, hold your arms like he’s a baby and…perfect!” The grey-haired veterinarian’s eyes shone behind her wire-rimmed spectacles as she beamed down a
t Ziva, now holding Fssik’s warmth next to her chest.
“Doc, are you sure—?” Jim started to say softly, but the doctor shushed him with a wave of her hand.
“No, the lady is right,” Dr. Thompson said. “If she’s Fssik’s person, then close touch can only help, as long as we’re gentle. His heart rate will tell us if there are any problems, but I see this with my patients all the time. Even when they’re not conscious, they know when they’re being held in love. Love has the power to do miracles.”
“If you say so,” Jim said, and even though she was focused on Fssik, Ziva could hear the bitter edge to his words.
* * *
Fssik wasn’t the only one banged up after their adventure. Dr. Thompson allowed Ziva to hold him for several hours and then sent her off to meet with the physical therapist for her own injuries. It turned out she had broken both legs in the explosion. Nanites had healed the bones, but she was going to have to do therapy to get her muscles back into shape.
When Ziva woke in the middle of the night with a full bladder, her legs howled in agony when she tried to use them. She got as far as swinging her feet off the side of the hospital bed before the blackness closed in around her vision, and she nearly passed out. Sweating, she fumbled for the call button on the side of the bed and clung to it for dear life.
“Ziva!” Jim’s voice preceded him into the room. He’d changed out of his uniform and was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. “What’s wrong?”
“What are you doing here?” she asked through gritted teeth as her vision slowly cleared. “I called the nurse!”
“Our nurses are exhausted from dealing with battle casualties, so some of us are taking shifts watching over non-critical cases while they get some much-needed rest. Do you need me to wake one?”
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