Liberation, page 8
part #3 of Tribari Freedom Chronicles Series
Grunting under the unconscious man’s weight, Tig shifted his hand to the scanner. The door buzzed open, and Tal stepped through, gun at the ready. He found himself face-to-face with a patrolling protector, and pulled the trigger a moment before the guard was able to unholster his own weapon.
A bolt of energy sailed past him, and Tal spun for the source. Another protector had spotted him and was firing in his direction. The protector had ducked behind a wall, and was half leaned out to aim.
At the same time, Tig ducked into the hangar, Baltir still slumped over his shoulder, and started returning fire.
Tig’s shots went far, but they drew the protector’s attention – and fire. “Run.”
His suppressing fire gave Tal a chance to duck behind a crate. It would do nothing to stop a burst of energy, but the visual obstruction would make him less of an easy target. He peeked his head up just far enough to train his gun on the hall opposite, where the protector was hiding. He took a breath, slow and steady.
The other man’s head poked out, and he fired.
The guard went down, but not before getting off a shot. It went wide, and Tal was grinning with satisfaction at the miss when he heard his friend grunt. Shit. He glanced to his side and saw Tig and Baltir collapse in a heap. Fuck.
He threw a quick gaze around the rest of the hangar. Seeing no one else lurking around the bay, he headed for his friend. “Tig? Son-of-a-bitch. Tig, answer me.”
At first, his only answer was a faint groan of, “Ow.”
By time he’d reached the pair of bodies, though, he saw movement. A dark, black-rimmed hole had bored into Baltir’s back where the other protector’s shot struck. He was definitely dead. Tal pulled the body aside, and saw with relief that Tig had escaped the energy blast.
His friend blinked up at him. “What the hell happened?” he wondered.
“You almost died, you dumbass. You’re supposed to stay out of sight while I clear the place.”
He extended a hand, and Tig took it, groaning again. “Son-of-a-bitch, that hurt.”
“You’re lucky it didn’t kill you. Another shot, and it might have bored a hole right through Baltir, into you.”
Tig pressed a hand against his head and blinked again. “I think I hit my head.”
Tal bit down on his annoyance. “Get behind cover. See if you can get into one of the ships. But, dammit, stay out of sight this time.”
“Yessir, Captain,” Tig grinned.
His levity was wholly out of place given the circumstance, but, somehow, it made Tal feel better anyway. He shook his head and turned for the building interior.
Unlike the garage, there wasn’t much in the way of office space here. Beyond the ship bays, there was a single office with a desk, a grease-stained chair, and a few filing cabinets. Off the bay were several workrooms, and off a catwalk overlooking the entire thing, a flight control room. They were all empty.
In the flight control center, Tal paused to survey the panels. The bay doors were locked, so he unlocked them; nothing else seemed to need intervention, though.
He scuttled down the stairs. Tig had not only located a shuttle, but he’d taken the opportunity to pile their goods inside. “That everything?”
“Yup.”
“Great. Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
They ducked inside the shuttle, into the cockpit. “So…uh…I’m assuming you know how to fly one of these things?”
“More or less,” Tal said, tapping the console in front of him. It sprang to life, its flat panels glowing with illumination.
“More or less?” Tig was frowning. “‘More’ as in, we’ll make it out of orbit alive? Or ‘less’ as in, we’re probably going to crash and burn?”
“As in, I haven’t flown this model, but how different can they be?”
Tig groaned. “Good gods. We’re going to die.”
Nikia glanced over her notes. She’d written a half-plea, half-indictment. If Velk truly cared for the well-being of the Tribari empire, she hoped her words would sway him to cede his place, and let the people carry on the business of governing themselves. If not, she hoped at least that her words – and the crowds gathered here – would inspire enough fear in his heart to compel him to do the right thing.
He would see – he would have to see – that he could not prevail. Not against so many. And they’d shown already that they did not mean to exact vengeance. The MP’s had all walked free, returning to their own homes. Even Presider Denis, at whose command so much blood had been spilled, was a free man.
The tides had changed, and the old powers were falling. Velk would have to see that it was better to leave gracefully – and alive – than to force conflict.
Won’t he?
“You ready?” Giya asked.
She nodded. “I think so.”
“Good. I have the bullhorn here.”
She nodded and took a long, deep breath. “Let’s hope this works.”
Giya handed the loudspeaker over, and smiled softly. “He’d be proud as hell of you, you know. Grel, I mean. You’ve done more for our people in two days, Nik, than we did in two years.”
Her eyes misted at his words, and for a moment she found herself unable to speak. When she did, it was with a tremble in her voice. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Giya.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. But first, we have to finish this.”
She nodded, drawing in a series of long breaths. “Alright,” she said in a moment, “let’s get this over with.”
She took the bullhorn and walked with him toward the front of the crowd. It parted for her. It was an unusual sensation for Nikia Idan. Once, as the daughter of Grand Contributors, she would not have remarked such deference. But she’d lived so long as an ordinary woman that now it felt odd and foreign, like slipping the clothes of childhood onto a form that had long outgrown them.
The truth was, it embarrassed her. She did not deserve veneration. She was doing what needed to be done, but the fact was, she did it for Grel. She did it because they’d taken her husband and left her with nothing to live for.
She was fighting for her survival. She was fighting for the life of the child she hoped to have. She was fighting for Grel’s memory, so that his death would mean something.
Her reasons were no more selfless or noble than anyone’s here. She didn’t deserve their adulation. And yet, for some reason, they showered her in it. From the encouraging smiles to the hands that reached out to touch her shoulders as she passed; she was a kind of celebrity to them.
And her own unworthiness shamed her. She glanced down again at her notes, and resolved to put the matter out of her head. She had a role to play now. It would be done soon enough, and they would forget her as they should. Let them remember Grel, not me.
Her attention was drawn from the paper by the whirring of a machine and the abrupt and pregnant silence of those around her. The noise was coming from above her, and she followed it with her eyes.
Two media drones hovered a good twenty meters ahead of her. Are they here to broadcast what I say? She felt a slick of nervous sweat forming on her skin. She was about to address the leader of the Tribari empire. She was about to demand his resignation on pain of overthrow and even death if it came to that. It wasn’t like she needed more pressure in the moment.
Still, the people had a right to hear what was said. And it wasn’t as if a slightly larger audience would make much difference when the fate of an empire was already on the line.
The two drones separated, until there was a distance of some fifteen or twenty meters between them. Then, they whirred to life, working in tandem to project an image.
It was a video feed, Nikia realized, from the inside of the palace. Supreme Leader Velk sat behind a massive wooden desk, his fingers laced and resting on the surface. “Nikia Idan,” he said, and she started. “Don’t be so surprised, girl. You don’t think we’ve been ignoring your treason, do you?”
The drones were, she guessed, recording her reactions and feeding them back to the palace. She tried to collect herself. If her address was to be broadcast into his office, rather than shouted through the walls, well, so much the better. “Supreme Leader Velk,” she said. “I speak on behalf of the free people of the Tribari empire-”
“Save your ramblings. I am not here to bargain with you. I’m here to show you the cost of treason.”
The screen panned out, now, as if the camera drone was flying backward toward the front of his office. Nikia gasped at what the broader view revealed: a pair of bound figures, the embroidered silver and gold of their robes overshadowed by gray shackles.
“Der,” she said in a whisper. “Mer.”
Chapter Seventeen
The visages of Luk and Elsa Aldir, her parents, were projected larger than life in the surreal blue-gray tones of the holographic imagery. Despite the skewed colors, Nikia could see the anger in her father’s eyes and the fear in her mother’s. She felt her heart tremble in her chest.
They’d done nothing wrong. She had acted without telling them of her plans. They wouldn’t have allowed it; she knew that. They would have seen only the danger to her and stopped her before she’d ever left, had they known what she was planning.
More than that, though: she’d kept them out of the loop so that no blame could attach to them, come what may. They were Grand Contributors, some of the city’s wealthiest and most venerated citizens. Velk wouldn’t dare touch them. Would he?
“I’ve convened a special council,” Supreme Leader Velk was continuing, “and we’ve reached a decision.”
She passed a dry tongue over her lips. “The Aldirs have nothing to do with this,” she said.
Another voice, a familiar voice, sounded. “We both know that’s a lie, Nik.”
“Diven.” She felt her head swim, and as her brother stepped into the frame, she thought for a minute she would lose her footing. She might have, if not for Giya, reaching out a hand to steady her. Diven was the younger of the two Aldir children. It had been many moons since they’d been close; he’d never forgiven her for marrying Grel. But this? She couldn’t comprehend it. “Diven, what are you doing?”
“What am I doing? What are you doing? What have you done? You’ve committed treason. You’ve betrayed your own people. You’ve dragged mother and father into your crimes.” His tone was angry and bitter. “Their blood is on your hands, Nik.”
“Their blood?”
“You’re getting ahead of me, Diven,” Velk chided.
“Forgive me, Supreme Leader.”
The older man smiled benignly at her brother, then turned icy eyes to the camera. “Luk and Elsa Aldir were charged with and found guilty of harboring two traitors: yourself and the late Grel Idan. They were charged with and found guilty of seditious and unlawful behavior, of aiding and abetting the overthrow of a duly elected parliament, of providing aid and comfort to enemies of the state.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she snapped, her tone cracking with anger and fear. “They knew nothing of what I was doing. Whatever crimes you want to accuse me of, they’re innocent.”
“The counsel disagrees.” Velk shrugged, the glimmer of the silver embroidery and gems adorning his suit translating to a twinkling bluish gray in the projection. “And, given the circumstances, the counsel has recommended no clemency. I concur. I’ve sentenced them to death.”
“No,” Nikia said. “No, you can’t do that. They’re innocent.”
“They’re traitors,” Velk smiled icily. “Like you. If not for your brother, I’d have purged the name of Aldir from the rolls of Contributors. He, however, has proved himself loyal: a true son of the Tribari Empire.”
“Diven,” she spat out, “you traitor. You’d turn on your own mer and der?”
“Their blood is on your hands, Nik,” he said. “You signed their death warrants the moment you fell in with that traitor. The moment you decided to pick up arms against your nation.” He turned to their parents, and shook his head. “And you two – the pair of you: you brought it on yourselves, too. You always coddled her. When she married that revolutionary son-of-a-bitch, that should have been the end. You should have thought of our family, instead of her – always, her. You should have thought of all of us, of yourselves, of me, your son.”
“You’re no son of mine,” Luk said, and his tone was grim. “No son of mine would turn his back on his own sister.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “You made your choice. I’m sorry you did. But it was your choice to make. I will not betray our nation, whatever you do.”
“You’re a rat,” Nikia hissed. “After everything mer and der have done for you, Div? To stab them in the back now?”
“Enough,” Velk said. “I don’t have time to listen to this. I won’t force Diven to hear it, either. You can go, if you want, Grand Contributor Aldir.”
Diven shook his head stoically. “No, Supreme Leader. I will stay. It’s my duty.”
Velk smiled and nodded. “Well said. There are many who could learn from you.” He turned again to the cameras. “I am sending this so that you, and all those traitors out there, can see the fruits of treason. Protectors: ready your weapons.”
Two uniformed men stepped into view on either side of her parents. They raised their pistols to the Aldirs’ heads.
“Wait,” Nikia called, desperation clawing at her thoughts. “Stop. It’s me you want. Spare them, and I’ll surrender.”
“Nik,” Giya gasped. “Don’t.”
“Please,” she begged. “They’ve done nothing wrong. They knew nothing. I swear it. Let them go, and I’ll turn myself over – right now.”
Velk pursed his lips in thought. “No tricks? You’ll walk into these doors, and give yourself up?”
“No, Nik,” Elsa warned. “Don’t trust them.”
“I will. I swear it.”
Velk laughed, a long, deep belly laugh. “I’m afraid it’s far too late for that, Nikia. I don’t negotiate with treasonous children, and you will be dead soon enough. But first, you’ll watch your parents die.”
“No,” she pleaded, her eyes welling with tears. “Please, no.”
Luk Aldir’s eyes welled with moisture. “Don’t cry, baby girl.”
Velk glanced at the protectors. “Gentlemen: fire.”
“Give ‘em hell, Nik,” Elsa said.
A second later, two streams of energy flashed from the pistols; and holes tore into the sides of Luk and Elsa Aldir’s heads.
Nikia Idan watched the projection of her mother’s form, tall and elegant, collapse clumsily to the ground. She saw her father’s eyes roll back, and blood stream out of the side of his face. She heard her own voice, shrieking like the disembodied scream of a damned soul, far, far away.
And then she collapsed too, her consciousness slipping and her world going dark.
Chapter Eighteen
Brek cupped his hands, bringing two palmfuls of water to his lips. The water, he noted with mild surprise, didn’t glow in his hands. The entire lake seemed to shimmer with light, yet – somehow – the water itself was as ordinary and unremarkable as any other when separated from the rest.
Drinking the warm liquid down, he wondered how that was possible. He examined his hands, glistening with moisture. They reflected blue back at him, but no more than the rest of his skin. It wasn’t a property of the water itself, he realized, that caused the color and light. Whatever it was must be inside the lake.
He was pondering that when a movement to the side caught his eye. A long, snake-like form, pale and thick, came into view.
Despite his hunger, he felt his skin crawl at the sight. The thing had fins yet undulated like a serpent. Two great, dark orbs sat on opposite sides of its head, and as it swam it parted its mouth to reveal rows of serrated teeth.
Brek shivered, though not – for the first time in many days – from the cold. Brek shivered from the sight of such a monster, and the thought that he was going to try to lay hands on it.
Still, he hadn’t eaten in days, and this was the closest thing to food he’d spotted yet. So he stayed perfectly still, waiting as it got closer.
It slithered in a wide circle around the belt buckle Brek had dangled into the water. The metal shimmered and shone in the lake’s odd light – bright enough, apparently, to be visible even to this cavefish.
He’d set his trap hours ago. At least, it felt like hours. His muscles tensed with anticipation and fatigue now as he waited for the payoff for his patience.
The fish got closer, its body forming tighter and tighter circles around its target. Brek readied to pounce.
At the same time, the fish made for his buckle. Brek dove his hands into the water just as the creature’s mouth fastened around the metal. His fingers slid along a slimy exterior for a space before, squeezing tight, they found purchase near a set of flippers.
The cavefish writhed wildly, thrashing this way and that. Brek stumbled backwards toward the shore, trying to maintain his hold while putting little pressure on his injured foot.
His caution was rewarded by a set of razor-sharp teeth grazing his forearm. He threw caution to the wind at that – and the fish to the shore, as far as he could manage.
It landed with a soggy, wet thump, and flipped and flopped with a manic energy along the rocks. But Brek had got it far enough from the edge of the water that its wild undulations did it no good.
Now he picked up a rock he’d already selected for the task, and followed the fish with the same desperate, fevered pace. For a fish out of water, it was surprisingly quick. Not only was it quick, but it left a trail of slime where it went, and more than once he had to catch himself before slipping in the ooze.
Still, eventually he caught up to it, and after a few misses, managed to land a blow on the cavefish’s head. Its writhing lessened, and he repeated the strike until it didn’t move at all.
