“No, Captain Kasumi,” the guard replied. “He decided it was too late, and he sleeps in the guest trailer.”
“Excellent,” Kasumi replied and pattered barefooted across the compound. As she half expected, the old man was sitting in a chair outside the trailer. She covered her eyes. “Greetings, Grandfather.” She sat down on the ground at the old man’s feet and rested her head against his knees. “I had the dream again.”
“Was the old monk in the dream?” the old man asked quietly.
Kasumi nodded against the old man’s legs. “She … she gave me a message for you,” Kasumi said, and her crest trembled. “She said … she will wait no matter how long that may be.” She looked up at the old man. “Grandfather?” she said in a voice that cracked nervously. “I am a member of an advanced species. While we believe in dreams, I have never heard of anyone dreaming as I do.”
“Has she been wrong?” Jeremy asked. “Has she given you poor advice?”
“No, Grandfather,” Kasumi replied.
“Then don’t worry about what you dream.” Jeremy placed a hand on the little alien’s head. “Instead, be thankful,” he said. “And the next time you dream, tell her … tell her I miss her.”
16
HAUNTED BY THE PAST
“Daniels!” Lieutenant Commander Eisenstadt said heartily to the screen image of his former subordinate. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Lieutenant?”
“OPS has just completed the background checks on all the civilians on the trade base,” the lieutenant replied. “Sir, command has requested that you remove the Blunts immediately.”
Eisenstadt laughed. “I thought command wanted the trade negotiations to succeed,” he said ironically. “Doing that would guarantee failure.” His voice took on a growling quality. “I don’t know who is making that decision, but they obviously are not reading my weekly briefs.”
“Sir?”
“Daniels,” the commander said in patient tones. “If they were reading the briefs, they would know that the Rynn captain is very close to Ms. Melanie Blunt.”
“I’m sure the Rynn captain would understand, sir.” Daniels replied.
“She might,” conceded the commander. “But what she would not understand is the removal of Mr. Jeremy Blunt.”
“He’s a murderer, sir,” the lieutenant blurted out. “He spent ten years in prison for manslaughter, and there is evidence that those two were not his only victims.” He frowned when the commander laughed. “Sir,” he said in affronted tones. “I am looking at the report right now. He, and I quote, ‘damaged the eyes of both victims before crushing their throats,’ end quote. I looked at the photographs. He crushed their eyes, sir.” Daniels shuddered. “Even if they had lived, they would have been blind.”
“And yet, he was only convicted of manslaughter,” the commander replied. “Doesn’t that tell you something?” The commander sighed. “Then I will spell it out for you: Mr. Blunt’s wife was assaulted, raped, and then stabbed through the throat,” the commander replied. “She lived long enough to identify her killers to her husband.” His voice was a snarl. “In my opinion, he killed them way too quickly.”
“Sir?” Daniels replied uncertainly.
“I personally would have ripped their balls off and made them eat them,” the commander replied. “And even if Mr. Blunt was in actuality a cold-blooded killer as that report is suggesting, you and everyone else are missing one really important fact.” The commander leaned toward the screen. “The Rynn think of Jeremy Blunt as something akin to a messiah,” he said. “Or at the very least, some kind of holy man.”
“Sir, it’s an order,” Daniels replied firmly.
“Then whoever is issuing that order needs to come here and deliver it in person, in front of the Rynn,” the commander snapped. He cut the connection and sat back. “Did you get all that, Kasumi?”
“You were magnificent.” Kasumi stood up from the round padded chair she had been reclining on and padded over to the commander. “Why now?”
The commander rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I know I’ve expressed Mr. Blunt’s importance in nearly every report,” he mused. “So someone either doesn’t know or doesn’t …” He paused. “Or doesn’t care,” he said finally. “Revenge?” He leaned forward and tapped a command into the laptop. He waited until an image formed. “Network issue,” he said to the person on the screen to explain his abrupt departure from the conversation earlier.
“Yes, sir,” Daniels said impassively.
“Who issued that command, Lieutenant?” the commander asked.
Daniels looked at the order. “Colonel Bridgestone, sir.”
“And the names of Mr. Blunt’s alleged victims?” the commander asked.
“Trey and Obediah Coolidge,” the lieutenant replied. “Brothers,” he answered the unasked question. The lieutenant frowned. “Excuse me, sir. I want to check something.” He tapped a few keys and looked at the result. His eyes widened. “They were cousins to Senator Malcolm Coolidge,” he reported. “Sir, Malcolm Coolidge was Colonel Bridgestone’s roommate at VSU.”
“And how do you happen to know that, Lieutenant?” the commander replied. “An odd piece of data to know offhand,” he said in obvious curiosity.
“Because I went to VSU, sir,” the lieutenant replied. “It’s hard to not know that. There are pictures of the two of them all over the place. ‘The Wonder Twins,’ they were called.” He said. “Football,” he added. “Sir, I apologize.”
“For what?” Eisenstadt replied. “For doing your job?” He smiled. It was a grim smile. “I think we should invite the good senator for a visit.”
Kasumi leaned into the camera pickup. Daniels leaned back in surprise. “No, tell him I’m demanding his presence,” Kasumi instructed. “Tell him I am ordering him here to apologize, and if he does not come within the week, I will remove every Rynn and Rynn associate from here and relocate to a more … agreeable location,” she snarled through her Torque. “And tell him that my first public statement will be to explain why the Rynn will not provide any technological transfers to the United States.”
Daniels swallowed visibly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said shakily. This time it was Kasumi who broke the connection.
President Spencer stared at his commander of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in disbelief. “They are demanding what?” he exclaimed in outrage. “Who are they to demand anything?”
“They are a visiting starfaring race,” General Oswalt replied. “We have two choices: try to destroy them or try to negotiate,” the general replied. “Based on the reports I have been receiving, our chances of being able to destroy them is not quite zero, but not by much.”
The general placed the attaché he was holding on the president’s desk and opened it. He took out a vial and showed it to the president. “This is Omiset,” he said in explanation. “It is nontoxic and easily tolerated by humans.” The general looked at the vial almost reverently. “And, if the medical geeks are to be believed, it will cure just about anything.” He barked a sardonic laugh. “Supposedly, it can even revive someone who’s been declared dead if administered within an hour after brain activity has ceased.”
He looked at the president. “They gave us the method for producing it, for free.” He shook his head. “No, not for free—out of gratitude for the services provided by one Jeremy Blunt.” He almost glared at the president. “The same Jeremy Blunt that your buddy Senator Coolidge wants them to disassociate themselves from.”
The general put the vial back in the attaché. “Now, Mr. President, you can ignore Commander Eisenstadt’s advice. You can ignore Captain Kasumi’s demands,” he said. “The choice is yours.” He snapped the attaché closed. “But if that is your decision, you will have my resignation on your desk five seconds afterward.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed envelope. He held it just above the desk. “What is your decision, sir?�
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“Are you threatening me?” the president asked in disbelief.
“I have a niece who faced a year of chemotherapy, and her prognosis was not hopeful. She was able to leave the hospital, in full remission, one day after receiving a single dose of Omiset,” the general replied. “Your decision?”
The military helicopter touched down inside the Rynn enclave. The fence was completed, and only a few people knew that the fence was mostly for show and completely unnecessary for the defense of the Rynn compound. The trailers that housed the military personnel, Rynn when they were downside, and the occasional—such as now—visiting dignitaries were rapidly being replaced with more permanent dwellings.
Corporal Hendriks and Cool Evening Breeze led their picked squads and formed them into two lines. A blonde white woman and a black woman with short curls took up position off to one side. The black woman held a video recorder.
“Think you can keep your flock from chirping, featherhead?” taunted the big marine.
“Easier than you can keep your troop from scratching themselves, fuzzy butt,” the diminutive Rynn geologist returned. They grinned at each other.
“Cut the chatter,” growled Sergeant Stilson. He gave the two squad leaders a twisted smile. “You’re definitely wasted as a geologist,” he said to Cool Evening Breeze. Stilson schooled his features into the “attentive but dumb” look he used when he expected fireworks. And there are definitely going to be fireworks, he thought.
The first out of the helicopter was Colonel Bridgestone. Tall and graying, he’d retained the athletic build he had in college. He’d had a single tour in Afghanistan before rotating back stateside to take command of appropriations. He was on the short list for promotion to general.
Stilson shot a warning glance at Cool Evening Breeze. “Say nothing,” he mouthed. Cool Evening Breeze waggled her crest in amusement before nodding. “Atten-hut!” barked Stilson. The soldiers, human and Rynn, snapped to attention.
The colonel absentmindedly saluted and turned to wait for the next person to disembark. Surprisingly, it was not the senator. Rather, it was a young woman, at most nineteen years of age. Her eyes widened when she saw her first Rynn, and she seemed to physically refrain from saying anything. She turned to the helicopter as the third person descended the short steps.
Colonel Bridgestone may have kept in shape as military men tended to do, but not so Senator Coolidge. The senator was tall, balding, and paunchy. His expression soured when he saw the Rynn. “Come along, Denise,” he said. “The sooner this is done, the sooner I can get out of here.” He turned to the colonel. “Alton.”
The colonel nodded and led the senator and the young woman through the double row. The young woman kept looking at the Rynn with an almost gleeful look. She took out a cell phone.
“Sorry, ma’am.” Stilson interposed himself between the phone and the Rynn. “No pictures, no communication.” He held out his hand. “The phone, please.”
“Put the phone away, Denise,” the senator grumbled.
“But Daddy,” whined the girl. She wilted under the glare of her father. “Oh, all right.” She put the phone back in her purse.
Stilson debated whether to make an issue of it and then decided to do as all good noncoms did and buck the issue upwards. Fireworks, he thought in almost gleeful anticipation.
The visitors were led to one of the more recent installations. It was a single-story building. Built round instead of rectangular, it had round windows and an arched door. The sergeant opened the door and waved the visitors in. Stilson winked at the two human women who followed just behind. “Promise me you’ll let me see the reaming,” he whispered to Dierdre McIntosh.
“If it goes as Crystal and I expect, I’ll broadcast it to the entire compound,” Dierdre whispered back. She followed Crystal into the building.
The senator, his daughter, and the colonel found themselves in a mostly empty vestibule. A single Rynn was curled up in a round cushioned chair just to the side of a low archway. The Rynn raised his head and blinked sleepily at the visitors. “What are you bringing me this time, Sergeant?”
“They’re expected, Raindrops in a Tide Pool,” Stilson replied.
A globe appeared in front of the Rynn. “They’re late,” he said in complaint after looking at the globe. “The captain’s time is finite,” he scolded. He waved his hands in dismissal. “Take them to the guesthouse and I will see if I can shift some appointments.”
“Now see here,” the senator barked.
“No, you see here,” Raindrops in a Tide Pool snapped back. “The captain is a very busy woman. She made time available. Are you so incompetent that you cannot even be on time?” he chirped angrily.
The door behind Raindrops in a Tide Pool opened. There was a string of chirps and chitters. The Rynn standing in the doorway saw the visitors. “Oh, you finally made it,” she said through the translator. “You might as well come in.”
“Such incompetence,” muttered Raindrops in a Tide Pool as the visitors walked by. He looked up at Crystal and Dierdre and waggled his crest. The two women covered their mouths to stifle the laughter. Dierdre leaned over. “Good boy,” she cooed. “I’ll expect you and Night Storm for dinner.” She grinned as the Rynn’s crest flared fully open. She wiggled her fingers at the Rynn and followed Crystal.
“Getting lucky, huh, boy?” Stilson said to the Rynn when the door closed.
The Rynn chittered. “It isn’t luck,” he said smugly.
Stilson laughed. He looked at the door. “Fireworks,” he said.
The Rynn woman led the visitors into another room. This one was much larger and had several low desks off to one side and a number of chairs of various types forming a conversation nook. The Rynn woman led them to the conversation nook and sat in one of the odd round Rynn chairs. “Well, I’m waiting.”
“Excuse me,” Senator Coolidge said. “Who in blazes are you?”
“Raindrops in a Tide Pool was right. You are incompetent,” the Rynn woman chirped. “We do not all look the same,” she said through the translator.
“Oh, give him a break, Granddaughter,” a gravelly baritone voice said. A man rose from a seat near the back of the room. “People are not elected to public office because they are the smartest or the most competent.”
“It’s amazing you’ve advanced as far as you have then,” the Rynn woman replied. “Oh, very well. If you haven’t guessed yet …”
“And he probably hasn’t,” the old man said in an aside to Crystal and Dierdre.
“I am Kasumi Blunt,” the Rynn woman said. “Expedition leader and, for lack of a better term, captain of the trading ship the Seeker,” she said. “You are, unsurprisingly, Senator Coolidge,” she chirped. “You are here to apologize.”
The senator’s expression darkened, but it wasn’t Kasumi he was looking at. It was the old man. “You!” he growled. “You dare show your face.” Before anyone could react, he pulled a pistol from his pocket and fired several rounds at the old man. He smiled triumphantly as the room erupted in screams and shouts. His triumphant smile faded immediately, however, when the old man refused to fall.
“I would drop that gun right now, senator,” said another voice. A tall gray-haired man in military greens was aiming his own pistol in the senator’s direction. “If you do not, I will shoot you.”
“Commander, put down that gun now,” Colonel Bridgestone barked. “That is an order.”
“You may wish to rethink that order, Colonel,” Lieutenant Commander Eisenstadt replied, “or I will be forced to arrest you as well as an accessory to attempted murder.”
Another door opened, and Cool Evening Breeze and Corporal Hendriks marched in. “Sir?” the big corporal asked.
“Confine the senator to the brig,” the commander ordered. “And have someone escort the colonel and Ms. Coolidge to the guest house.” He walked over to t
he senator. “And if you open your mouth to complain, I will execute you for treason right here and right now,” he snarled. “If you had succeeded in killing Mr. Blunt, I don’t know if any human on this base would survive an hour afterward.”
“They would have lived, David,” Kasumi replied. “But most would have been exiled from the compound. Most,” she repeated. “And those who remained would have had a very difficult decision to make.”
The commander jerked his head. The big corporal handcuffed the senator, and then he and Cool Evening Breeze forced the man from the room.
“Daddy!” the young girl screamed in panic.
“I would not attempt to follow, Miss Coolidge,” Kasumi said coolly. “It would do you no good, and you could be hurt.”
“What are you going to do to my father?” demanded the young woman.
“Whatever I wish,” Kasumi snapped. “If he were Rynn, he would have been executed immediately,” she added. “He is fortunate that he is not.”
“He has diplomatic immunity,” the young woman returned.
Kasumi shook her head. “No, he does not,” she replied. “There is no treaty. There is not even an acknowledgement that we exist.” Her crest flared, and the young woman took a fearful step backward. “He, and you, could disappear, and there is not one thing you could do about it.” She waved a hand. “Now leave,” she ordered. “I will decide what to do about the two of you … later.”
The young woman looked at the Rynn captain in disbelief. “You … you can’t dismiss me like some … some … common trash,” she snarled. “My father is powerful. He knows people.”
“Your father is incompetent,” Kasumi snapped back. “There is no greater crime among the Rynn.” Her crest remained at its fullest. She tapped herself on the chest. “I was accused of incompetence and almost lost my life.” She glared at Denise Coolidge. “It was only by the favor of the spirits that I met the one human who could help me regain my honor.”
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