by C H Gideon
Another universal constant: there were always haves and have-nots.
She drew a deep breath and twisted her head to the side, popping her neck to rid it of some of her pent-up aggression and stiffness.
Geroux, realizing her mood, wrapped her arms around her friend and squeezed. Jiya leaned into the hug, glad to have Geroux there.
Reynolds came over and waved Sergeant Gib on.
“We’re safe,” he told her, thinking that perhaps she had been concerned about the crew and that was what she was reacting to.
That was part of it, of course, but not all of it.
Once more memories of her father and the life she’d led back on Lariest sprang to mind. This time, however, she didn’t sweep them aside or hide from them.
She clung to them and embraced them.
They pissed her off, and she wanted to be pissed off.
Jiya glared down at the Krokus 4 elite, picturing her father and his advisors and business partners and visiting dignitaries, and she growled. She wanted to jump into the crowd and shriek and scream and punch and kick; teach each and every one of these elitist fools a lesson.
She only stopped herself when she realized she was acting just like them, deciding what was right and wrong for a whole class of people.
Her anger spilled from her like a deflated balloon.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
Sergeant Gib, who’d given her distance as Reynolds suggested, inched back over to answer her.
“President Jaer Pon and the vice president are here, and they wanted to meet with you,” the sergeant answered. “I’m supposed to take you to them.”
The sergeant turned and started off, but Jiya grabbed his arm.
“First, answer a question for me,” she requested.
He nodded, unsure if he had an answer she wanted to hear.
“Who were those people who helped us back there?” she asked. “The ones who killed those Orau?”
Sergeant Gib sighed. “I don’t know much,” he replied, but Jiya knew he was lying.
“You mean you can’t tell us much?” she countered.
He gave a noncommittal shrug and said nothing.
“They were Krokans,” Reynolds stated, and Jiya saw the sergeant’s face waver before he got his expression under control.
“They were different, though,” Reynolds went on, probing. “They fought with spears and didn’t wear armor, but they were definitely Krokans.”
The sergeant said nothing for a moment, staring stone-faced between Reynolds and Jiya, and just when he appeared ready to crack and answer the question, the president’s voice rang out over the crowd.
“There you are,” he called, waving the crew and sergeant over. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
The crowd quieted as the president insisted the crew come to him. The people obliged his wishes by moving to the side and making a path.
“We need to go,” Sergeant Gib said, relieved to be off the hook.
Jiya fought the urge to yank him back by the scruff of his neck and demand he answer the question, but she knew it would cause nothing but trouble, especially with every eye in the place on her and the crew.
She snarled and started after the sergeant. Geroux clasped her hand as they walked, and she offered her friend the biggest smile she could muster.
It wasn’t much, but Geroux knew she meant every crooked centimeter of it.
The crew made their way through the crowd. On their way to the president’s side, Jiya was reminded once more that she needed to rein her temper in and get a complete view of things before she acted on her assumptions.
The elite might be dressed in fancy clothes and expensive outfits, but as she drew closer to them, she realized that they didn’t look much better off than the people Jiya had passed in the streets.
Despite their wealth and influence, the elite of Krokus 4 looked every bit as tired as the soldiers and the gardeners and the cooks she’d seen around the compound. Their cheeks were sunken and drawn and their skin seemed pale up close, its deep ebony lacking in luster.
She started to feel bad about jumping to conclusions, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize, even if only in her head. She’d seen too many elitists who were exactly what she’d classified them as.
Just because these people had suffered too, they weren’t any better than those who had been left behind in the streets to die.
She straightened as she strode past them, hand in hand with Geroux, and met every gaze that looked her way, staring until they turned away.
It was petty, yeah, but it gave her a sense of satisfaction.
The sergeant led them up a flight of steps to a small landing separated from the crowd. Dozens of guards surrounded it, and Jiya spotted the president, the vice president, and the minister gathered near the center.
The vice president shuffled as if she were nervous.
“Thank you for coming,” Jaer Pon said once they had come to stand before him.
Jiya bit back her snarky reply of, “As if we had a choice.”
Reynolds stepped forward to keep her from exploding.
“As you see, there is far more to our situation than the Orau invaders attacking us in space,” Jaer Pon stated. “They have become increasingly more dangerous, raiding our land and killing our people. And as you have observed, there is little we can do once they begin their bombardments.”
“It takes nearly all our resources to maintain the dome and keep it from collapsing under the assault,” Vice President Shal Ura added. “Our destroyers do what they can, shooting down the missiles and invading troop carriers, but the Orau overwhelm them, making it impossible to deflect even a small part of the threat.”
“We need your technology,” Jaer Pon stated bluntly, no longer worried about pretense. “But in actuality, we need more than just your technology,” he clarified. “We need your help to end this.”
The vice president stiffened as if surprised by the president’s statement. She glanced at him, narrowed eyes uncertain.
“We’d be glad to help,” Reynolds replied without hesitation, “but I’m not certain what we can do to help you beyond advance your defensive technology.”
“You can do what we cannot,” the president went on. “You can take the fight to the Orau, whereas we are stuck on the defensive, unable to send our small fleet after the source of the attacks without leaving ourselves defenseless.”
“You want us to fight your war for you?” Ka’nak asked.
Jiya knew the thought excited the Melowi warrior, but she’d asked the same question in her head—only her tone was one of disgust that he would ask them for that.
“I don’t think—” Jiya started, but Reynolds silenced her with a glance, his eyes steely.
“What are you suggesting, Mister President?” Reynolds asked.
“Yes, what are you suggesting?” Shal Ura repeated, obviously frustrated by the direction of the conversation. “We cannot involve these people in our battles, Jaer Pon,” she argued.
The president shook his head, dismissing her. “They want to negotiate, let us negotiate. What say you, Reynolds? Do you want the technology for the filtration system? What about some of our other tech? We have more than you’ve seen. Much more,” the president teased.
Are we seriously considering this? Jiya asked over the link.
Let’s get a clear view of what he wants before we reject it out of hand, Reynolds shot back.
Out of hand? she growled. This whole situation is already out of hand. We should pack up and leave, fire the ESD at the Orau assholes, and get the fuck out of the galaxy.
I suspect that’s what the president is suggesting, Reynolds told her. At least some part of that, mostly the ESD part.
Jiya huffed but shut up, letting Reynolds negotiate with the president without her in his ear.
“What exactly do you want us to do, Mister President?” Reynolds questioned, demanding a straight answer.
“In exchange fo
r all of our technical data, a sanctuary, and supplies, we want the schematics to this defensive ring of yours, but we also want you to take the fight to the Orau in our stead.”
“You realize we don’t have a standing army?” Reynolds asked.
“You won’t need one,” the president argued. “The Orau are a nomadic people. Their outposts are little more than collections of huts and tents. Their true threat lies in their ships and artillery.”
“They bombard us from long range, and there is nothing we can do to stop them. However, there is much that you can do. A single salvo from your ship to their launchers would set them back years. It would give us a chance to recover, to repair and assemble this defensive ring. We could protect ourselves.”
“Jaer Pon!” the vice president cried, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her frustration at his demands.
Jiya glanced at Reynolds, and she could see he was contemplating it.
Her first thought was to argue against it again, thinking much like the vice president was that it wasn’t their battle and getting involved put the crew and the ship at risk.
Then she realized how easily the Reynolds had swatted the Orau ships when they’d first arrived.
While the Orau posed a huge threat to the crew here on Krokus 4, once inside the superdreadnought, there was likely little the Orau could do to them.
They could pummel the bastards with near impunity from space and do to them what they had been doing to the Krokans all these years.
The thought brought a smile to her face.
“This is preposterous, Jaer Pon,” Vice President Shal Ura exclaimed, shaking her head. “We cannot do this.”
“We accept,” Reynolds stated, overriding the vice president’s defiance. She gasped.
“You will do this for us?” Jaer Pon asked as if unsure he’d heard the AI correctly.
“We will, in exchange for the data on your filtration system, safe haven for future visits, and supplies as needed. We don’t need the rest of your tech.”
Jaer Pon grinned at that and stuck his hand out. “We have a deal, then,” he agreed, excitement clear in his voice. “My minister here, To Gul, will provide you with the coordinates of the most dangerous of the Orau installations. Once you have rained fire down upon them, we will gladly provide you with the tech specifications you need in exchange for those of the defensive ring.”
Reynolds nodded. “Fair enough.”
President Jaer Pon grinned and grabbed the minister by his shoulder. “Come, To Gul, we have much to prepare,” he told the older male. To Reynolds, he said, “We will transmit the information to your ship posthaste.”
Jaer Pon and his advisor raced off before anyone could argue.
Once they were gone, Vice President Shal Ura sighed and wished the crew luck, turning around and stomping off without another word.
“We’re really going after these guys?” Geroux asked.
“Looks like we are,” Jiya answered.
“We are,” Reynolds confirmed. “Doing so serves two purposes. We get the tech we wanted, and we get to see the Orau up close and personal.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Geroux asked.
“Given that they, like the Loranians, have been influenced by the Kurtherians, I believe it is,” he answered. “After we left here, I would have directed that we hunt down the Orau anyway. This gives us a better reason for it than simple curiosity.”
“Bloodshed and ass-kicking!” Ka’nak shouted.
“There will be plenty of that,” Reynolds assured the Melowi.
Jiya nodded, agreeing to go.
Whatever she thought about the president and his elitist supporters, she’d be doing this for the rank-and-file people on the streets, those who’d lost loved ones and friends in today’s bombardment and invasion as well as all the others.
“Let’s do this,” she said with a growl. “I have a new armored boot I need to break off in someone’s ass.”
Chapter Nine
Maddox stood outside the servants’ entrance to the presidential compound, hiding in a mass of overly thick foliage to keep from burning out his unperfected cloaking device.
He had circled around the compound after the bombardment had ceased, taking advantage of the empty streets and black smoke that obscured most of the city.
He’d kept tabs on the crew over the comm, listening in as they went to meet with the president, but he’d maintained radio silence since assuring Jiya that he was okay.
He didn’t want to accidentally give away his location or his plans in case someone was capable of listening in on the comm frequency.
Maddox grinned as he hunkered in the bushes, waiting, watching. Stalking.
He missed the old days before he’d become a general, before he’d been betrayed by Lemaire and locked away to rot.
Now, out here on his own, just his wits and skills to serve him, he felt freer than ever before, even after Jiya had helped him escape from her father’s prison.
He had staked out the servants’ entrance as soon as he could reach it, but he was worried that Kah Dur had already left the compound or been killed in the Orau onslaught.
A number of servants had left since he’d arrived—since the attack ended—but he hadn’t seen or heard anything about Kah Dur.
He wondered if he were wasting his time and whether he should rejoin Reynolds and the crew. They wouldn’t be hard to track down. He hadn’t heard what arrangements they’d made with the president, although he’d determined what they were doing from Jiya’s outburst.
Maddox was sure Reynolds wouldn’t make a bad deal. The crew would do what they had to for the betterment of the ship, the crew, and the mission. He had decided that he could contribute best by getting the information they needed.
It had been so long since he’d been on a mission that didn’t involve a ship or an army that he’d nearly forgotten the joy of being out on his own, with only himself to rely on.
That wasn’t entirely true, of course. He had the crew and the power of a superdreadnought in orbit, but down here, he was alone. He never realized how much he missed that feeling.
As much as he loved being part of a good crew, there was nothing in that which satisfied the adventurer in him. To stand toe to toe with adversity was a pleasure he could never describe.
And although he would never leave his crew, he needed this right now.
He sat and waited and watched, unable to wipe the smile from his face. It wasn’t until he spotted Kah Dur slipping from the entrance and angling along the wall of the compound that the general turned serious and put on his war face.
Maddox triggered the cloaking device and trailed Kah Dur, staying close enough to ensure the servant couldn’t slip away but far enough back that there was no chance that she would notice him, even if he weren’t cloaked.
She walked through the wreckage of the city as if it were just another day, her eyes on the ground, never once looking at the destruction surrounding her. Maddox wondered if that was how the people here survived or if this was simply who she was.
There was a fine line between callous and numb, and Maddox couldn’t tell which side Kah Dur was on.
She strode on a for a long time, winding her way through the almost deathly silent city until Maddox found himself in the same area where they’d been ambushed by the Orau earlier.
Kah Dur splashed through the same puddles Maddox had waded through hours earlier, and she marched past the bodies littering the streets and sidewalks. She didn’t look at the corpses or the guns or any of it. She simply walked on.
After a short while, she left the worst of the aftermath of the attack behind, although it was clear from the area of town they were now entering that it had seen its own share of battles.
While none of the damage was fresh, time having left its mark on the ruins, there wasn’t much to differentiate this part of town from the one that had just been bombed.
The buildings were old and decrepit. A gray pallor s
eemed to hang over the streets.
It hung over the people, too.
Citizens were going about their business in the streets as if Ocelora hadn’t been bombarded only hours before.
Kah Dur avoided the others, keeping her head down as she had the entire way. The locals seemed inclined to do the same, avoiding eye contact or any appearance of noticing anyone else.
Maddox slipped past the people, avoiding them as best he could to keep from alerting them that someone they couldn’t see shared the streets with them.
It was easy with as few of them as were out.
Maddox began to become disillusioned as the servant continued on, never stopping or looking around, never seeming to reach her destination. She walked on and on without looking up or examining landmarks or even widening the narrow slits of her eyes.
It wasn’t until the streets were empty and the lights that illuminated the city had nearly all failed and fallen dark in their floating orbs above that she slowed and looked around.
Maddox felt adrenaline surge through him as she cast furtive glances every which way, then darted down an almost invisible alley off the street she’d been traveling.
He followed her without hesitation, knowing that even if he were directly behind her, she wouldn’t be able to see through Takal’s wondrous cloaking device.
Maddox grinned as he followed her through the darkness, only to catch her slipping into a crevice in the wall near the center of the alley.
He went over and examined it, glad to see that it was wide enough for him to fit through despite his armor. Before he did, though, he listened to make sure she hadn’t stopped on the other side. When he heard her soft footsteps heading away, he eased through the crevice and followed her into deeper darkness.
Once he’d gotten close enough to see her again, he moved behind her silently. He was glad when she came to a halt at last.
She looked around with her bright eyes once again, then stepped through a tattered door that was cracked open. Maddox could hear voices inside; soft, whispering voices.
He eased up to the door after making certain no one stood watch, then crept inside the decrepit building Kah Dur had gone into. A flicker of candlelight and shadow drew him in deeper. The voices called to him.