Authors: Christie Meierz
Tapping a panel on the comms unit got him a notification
that a long-range communication was incoming. He stifled a snort and checked
his tablet to confirm it. The signal originated from the human-maintained space
station at the star they called Epsilon Indi. He rubbed his chin and nodded. They
were staying out of Tolari space this time. That was promising.
After signaling a guard to close the door to the sleeping
room, he accepted the connection. The very surprised face of a human male appeared
on the monitor. The Sural waited. Had this human been briefed on the protocol
of communicating with a member of the Tolari ruling caste?
“Sir,” the man said, in English.
Apparently not.
The Sural raised an eyebrow. Earth didn’t know that Marianne
was a member of the ruling caste, but they knew she was “married” to their
leader. Either this human had never been briefed – which he should have been, given
the circumstances – or he was pretending not to have been. Either case was an
insult.
The human cleared his throat and began again, in heavily
accented Tolari. The Sural let his other eyebrow join the first. “High one, my
name is Michael Gould. I call on behalf of Earth Central Command. We attempt to
contact Citizen Marianne Woolsey, but she fails to answer her comms. Will you honor
us, high one, and inform us where she is?”
The Sural waited, keeping the amusement off his face. As the
silence stretched, comprehension dawned on the human’s face. The man swallowed
and remained silent, lips pressed into a thin line.
The Sural finally broke his silence. “Speak,” he commanded.
The man’s face took on an almost nauseated expression. The
Sural suppressed more amusement. Most humans were not accustomed to waiting for
permission to speak.
“High one,” Gould said, carefully, “you honor me. I request
permission to have conversation with Citizen Marianne Woolsey.”
“No.”
Gould swallowed again and looked up past the screen, at some
unseen prompter.
“Central Command needs proof of life, high—”
“You need what?” He let menace into his voice.
Gould backpedaled. “We are concerned for her. Her family is
concerned for her. They want to give her their love and best wishes.”
“Marianne has no living relations.”
Gould went pale. “High one, I—”
“—merely speak the words you are being told to speak.”
The man gave an almost imperceptible nod and swallowed hard.
“You think it appropriate to address the ruler of Tolar by
parroting the words of another?”
He paled a little more, went still, and straightened, looking
directly into the monitor. “No, high one, I do not,” he said in a firmer voice.
The Sural allowed himself a thin smile. This human had some
courage after all.
“High one, if Marianne lives—”
“
If
?” He let danger creep into his voice again.
“—why may I not speak to her?”
The Sural was silent for a long moment. The man fidgeted and
tapped his thumbs together. When he stopped fidgeting, the Sural asked, “Are
you aware what part of the day it is in my stronghold? My
wife
,” he used
the English word, “is expecting a child. I will not disturb her rest.”
Gould punched a button on his desk and glanced at his
monitor once – then again – then took a deep breath. “High one, I offer—”
The monitor went blank. The Sural rubbed his chin. He did
not think the man Michael Gould had broken the connection.
* * *
Michael Gould swallowed. This just wasn’t a good day. First
the Sural. Now the hard-nosed new head of field ops. Rumor had it she was so
devoted to Central Command that she’d sacrificed her husband’s best friend
without a second thought.
I’ll bet her marriage didn’t last long after
that
.
“The Sural uses silence like a weapon,” Adeline Russell said,
her face on the comms monitor a perfect mask. Blonde and brown-eyed, his new
supervisor was beautiful, but her smiles held only arctic chill. “You can’t let
yourself be rattled by Tolari stares.”
“Ma’am, I need authorization to speak more freely. He knew
when I wasn’t, and he considered it an insult. You know what happens when he’s
insulted.”
“Then don’t insult him. He played you like a violin, Gould. You
have to be less afraid to die.”
Easy for her to say.
“Ma’am, this isn’t going to
work.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion. You know the plan. The
package is on its way from Tau Ceti. Whoever – or whatever – is protecting the
Tolari won’t hurt non-combatants, so no matter what, you’ll still have Woolsey.
Be there at two hours past local noon.”
Gould hid a sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * *
Marianne didn’t like what she was feeling.
It wasn’t coming from her. Shortly after he left the midday
meal, supposedly on his way to the first meeting of an afternoon full of them,
the Sural began seething over something. She’d grown accustomed to his usual
parade of emotion as he went about his day: interest or excitement, surprise,
annoyance and frustration, even boredom. Outraged anger – that was a first. And
he didn’t even try to suppress it. Something was going on.
Her appetite disappeared. Knowing she could do little about the
cause of his anger, whatever it was, she left what remained of her meal and
headed for the family wing library. Kyza would be waiting for her there.
Sometime later, she’d almost managed to forget the roiling
irritation emanating from the Sural and was working Kyza’s vocabulary with word
games in Mandarin, when a servant approached.
“Yes?” Marianne said.
“High one,” he said, addressing Marianne, “the Sural
requests your presence in the head guard’s office.”
“Show me where that is.”
The servant nodded and led the way. Marianne shrugged an
apology to Kyza and followed. The head guard’s office would be in his quarters,
and those would be on the main floor for practical reasons, but that was all
she knew. When the servant showed her in, the head guard was at his console speaking
with a human. Marianne drew a sharp breath. It was Laura Howard. Crying.
The Sural silently handed her a tablet. She read it,
frowning.
Two tiny trans-light scouts were orbiting Tolar. The first,
with three humans aboard, was directly over the stronghold in synchronous orbit.
That one was cloaked. Marianne snorted. Central Command had no idea that the
cloaks on military ships were useless here.
The second ship, bearing two humans, was broadcasting a
distress signal and maneuvering into a standard orbit.
“Which one is Laura on?” she asked, lowering her voice,
though she knew the stronghold communications would filter it out.
“The ship transmitting a call for help,” the Sural answered.
He signaled the guard with a gesture.
The guard interrupted Laura. “The – Marianne is here now,
Mrs. Howard,” he said, in English. “Do you wish to speak with her?”
Laura’s hazel eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her cheeks
running with tears, her grey hair disheveled and falling down from a widow’s
knot. “Please,” she whispered.
Marianne went over to the console and paused while the guard
switched the focus to her. Then she said, “Laura, what’s going on?”
“I’m here, Marianne. In orbit around Tolar.” She sniffed
into a handkerchief. “Please, please don’t let anyone shoot us down.”
Marianne shook her head. “No one’s going to hurt you. What’s
this about? What are you doing here?”
“I managed to get away from them, from Central Command. Please,
let me land. I don’t have anywhere else to go. You have to take me in!” Laura’s
image on the monitor seemed to stare right through Marianne, a silent plea on
her face.
“Of course I’ll take you in. Let me talk to the Sural, all
right? I need to silence the comms for a minute.”
Laura looked off-screen and back and nodded, giving a wan
smile. Marianne muted the channel.
“She is lying,” the Sural said.
She turned to look up at him. “She’s also terrified.”
He rubbed his chin. “This is likely another abduction
attempt.”
“But what’s their plan?” She frowned. “Can that ship harm
us?”
“No. We can disable its weapons before the pilot can complete
the process of bringing them online.”
“Why would Earth send Laura to a place where she’d be safe
from them?” She pondered the possibilities and found them more limited than she
liked. The only way to find out what Central Command was up to was to let them
make their next move.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Let them think they’re getting away with it, whatever it
is, until they fail.”
“Devious. You propose we allow them to land?”
“Laura’s in fear of her life, beloved. You can protect her
if we can get her down here.”
He rubbed his chin again, nodding.
She turned back to the console and unmuted the line. “Laura,
the Sural says you can land,” she said. “How are you flying that thing? Do you
have a pilot?”
Laura nodded and looked off-screen. “He might need sanctuary
too.”
It was another lie. Marianne suppressed a wince. “We’ll talk
about that when you get here, all right? There’s a field the size of a soccer
pitch about halfway down the cliff below the stronghold. You can land there. Is
your pilot hearing this?”
She nodded again. “Thank you,” she said. “You just saved my
life.”
The connection cut out.
“She believes her last statement was a lie,” the Sural said
in a dark voice.
Marianne grimaced. His outrage churned in her gut, fading as
he clamped down on it. “Central Command is using Laura to get to me,” she said,
“and given their reputation, I don’t think they’re going to let her survive it.”
A tone chimed from the head guard’s desk. He examined the
displays. “High one,” he said to the Sural. “Mrs. Howard’s ship is entering the
atmosphere. It is heading for the plateau.”
“Disable its weapons.”
The guard’s hands flew over the displays. “Done.”
“Are there weapons on the ship in orbit?” Marianne asked.
“No, high one.”
“No weapons? On a long-range scout?” She turned to face the
guard. “Scouts always have weapons. At least, they used to – that’s why the
overflights of Far India during the Sugar Rebellion caused such a panic.” Her
eyes narrowed as a chilling thought struck her. “Does it have a phase
platform?”
The guard checked his console. “Yes, high one. The ship in
orbit carries a phase platform.”
Her stomach twisted. “I’ll bet they’re going to try to use
her to get a phase lock on me. The ship coming in for a landing isn’t the one
that will try to grab me – the one above us is.”
The Sural nodded. “Plausible. Would she have a locater
chip?”
“Oh yes, absolutely. She’d have been on any number of
planets with the Admiral, and anyone who sets foot on one that isn’t under
Central Command’s heel gets a locater chip.”
He turned when the guard’s console chimed again. The ship
carrying Laura was arcing through the atmosphere, sonic booms shaking the city
in its wake as it headed straight for the stronghold plateau. Decelerating
quickly to a hover, it landed on the same field where the shuttle carrying
Marianne had landed eight years before.
“Two humans in the ship,” the guard said. “The larger one
carries a distance weapon.”
“Send guards out ahead of us,” the Sural ordered. “And disable
communications in Mrs. Howard’s ship, as well as the phase platform and engines
in the ship overhead.”
“Yes, high one.”
“What now?” Marianne asked.
“We greet our uninvited guests,” the Sural said, offering her
his arm. He took her to an inconspicuous door just inside the stronghold
entrance. Opening it revealed a set of stairs.
“These have been here all along? You made me walk all the
way up the cliff path the day I arrived!”
His eyes sparkled. “I wished to observe you.” He turned and
started down the steps.
Marianne snorted, following him into the dim stairwell,
through a heavy door that opened at his touch, and out onto the field, which
was, as she’d told Laura, about the size of a soccer pitch. Shaped like a fat
crescent and covered with the ferny vegetation she liked to call grass, it sat
a bit more than halfway up the cliff below the stronghold.
The scout ship was larger than the tiny shuttle in which
Marianne had arrived on Tolar. Four camouflaged guards were already stationed
near its hatch, and another four, also camouflaged, arranged themselves around
the Sural and Marianne. As they crossed the field, the ship’s hatch opened.
Laura Howard emerged, blinking in the bright sunlight, a
distraught expression on her patrician face. Her clothing, a loose blouse and
ankle-length skirt in unrelieved black, was wrinkled as if she’d been sleeping in
it, and her feet were bare.
“Laura,” Marianne called.
Laura went to Marianne and threw her arms around her,
shaking and crying. A chemical smell from her clothing enveloped them, strong
and stinging, making Marianne’s eyes and throat burn.
“Please forgive me!” Laura sobbed.
Marianne blinked away the stinging and hugged her back. “For
what?”
“For what they’re making me do.”
A scuffle broke out just inside the ship, and two guards
dragged the struggling and cursing pilot out the hatch. A third guard followed,
carrying the man’s weapon as if it were about to come alive and bite him. The
Sural went over to Laura and put a hand on her shoulder.
“What are you hiding?” he asked in English.
The pilot laughed. “You’ll find out any second.” He was relaxed
now – too relaxed. It began to feel to Marianne as if his resistance had been a
pretext of some kind.
Laura pulled away. “I don’t understand,” she said.
Marianne peered at her. “Is there something you want to tell
us?”