TREADING ON DREAMS – ACT III

 

“These, in the day when heaven was falling, / The hour when earth’s foundations fled,

Followed their mercenary calling / And took their wages and are dead.”

                                                             – “Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries”, A.E. Houseman,

 

The wings of the pinnace bit into the dense atmosphere surrounding the planet of New Paris, giving a short jolt to the occupants.  From the copilot’s seat, James could see the green of the planet’s surface rapidly approaching.

An indicator light blinked, James reached out to hit the button next to it.

There was a short beep, and then, “This is New Paris Port Authority to unidentified military landing craft, identify yourself at once.”

Moving his hand to another set of controls, James keyed in a command to broadcast the military ID codes that were given to him by his last passenger.

“Thanks Doc.”  James spoke to himself, not knowing that his benefactor was now little more than a charred stain on the floor of a warehouse.

The comm indicator shut off, and the Port Authority of New Paris didn’t call back.

On James’ left, Tanya Kaul announced, “Cruising altitude; we’ll be hitting Maine City in just a couple minutes.”

For a population approaching four billion people, New Paris seemed sparsely populated.  The suburb of the galaxy, New Paris had been home to the Federation’s rich and famous, and had not declined much with the rise of the Middle Kingdom.  Boasting sprawling plantation estates and luxury penthouses, it was the choice retreat and vacation spot for humanity’s elite.

Putting down his mental travel brochure, James focused his attention on the approaching skyline.

Maine City was unlike the administrative cities of most other planets.  It had the standard sprawl of glass-covered towers and grav-plated streets; but, and there was no other way to put, it was clean.  Missing were the slums, the run-down “bad” parts of down; conspicuously absent were municipal dumps and smog-pumping factories.  Oh, there were factories, if one knew what to look for.  But they were very few, and all of them entirely automated, using solar or geothermal energy.  You would certainly be hard-pressed to find a beggar on New Paris.

And this was for the simple fact that no one on the planet was poor, it wasn’t allowed.  James’ mother had once told him that it wasn’t always that way, but James couldn’t imagine it any differently; it had certainly been like that since the Middle Kingdom came into power.  If you wanted to move to New Paris, you had to shell out, and then you had to keep shelling out.  If you couldn’t meet your payments, the Civil Police would knock on your door and politely tell you that you had a week to get off planet before they deported you to the Ark.  Then they would foreclose your home and sell it to the highest bidder.  James smirked; he might be the only exception to that rule.

In fact, the only place on New Paris that even approached lower-class was the Lord-General Chen Hsia Spaceport (formerly the Charles de Gaulle Spaceport), where spacers would hang out between shipments; but the CPs kept that complex well-contained.

After passing by the skyhooks and sprawling fungicrete platforms of the spaceport, they passed into the rolling fields of East Canton, one of the largest and wealthiest of New Paris’ administrative districts.

“Approaching the Samothrace compound.”  The pilot announced.

The house where James’ friend Ian grew up had started huge.  It was now a veritable fortress, with its own mini-spaceport and Senatorial Police barracks and armory.  James made a mental note to stop by to say hi to Mrs. Samothrace.  James’ and Ian’s mothers had been friends, and now that the elder Welthammer had passed away, James would drop in on his occasional planetside stop, and catch up on local and family happenings.  Mrs. Samothrace was also an excellent cook; James’ own mother had preferred delivered meals.

Leaving the squat metal structures of the compound behind, the pinnace passed over more fields, until another building came into being on the horizon.

“Welthammer estate, coming up.”

“Right,” James sat up straight, ‘put her down over by the north wing, as usual.”

The pinnace circled the three-story imitation wood-and-brick and came to a soft landing near what was properly called the back door, but was no less grand for the name.

Tanya flipped a couple switches over her head, “Powered down, and we are cleared to disembark.”

Everyone, soldiers and crew alike was happy to get out of the cramped pinnace and onto firm ground with real gravity to stretch in, and fresh air to breathe.

James walked up to the double doors with the sign “This building foreclosed for taxes due.” hanging over them.  He fished a key out of his pocket, placed it into the dual mechanical and electronic lock, turned the bolt, pulled the handle, and took a deep breath of the stale, musty air of his childhood home.  The power seemed to work, it had better after all the trouble he’d gone through to run an illegal line to the Samothraces’ legitimate one.

Taking a couple steps inside, he turned to the men and women following him, and spoke:

“Welcome to my humble home, comrades; please wipe your feet before entering.  Shrak, I believe you and your men will find the storage units in their usual location if you want to get to stocking up.  I’m going to go pay a visit to my friends out west; somebody get the air conditioner going, and order yourselves a pizza, I’ll buy.”

 

 

A few hours later, James was lying on a sofa, slogging through some accounting when his comm-link rang.  Grumbling, he took the phone out of his pocket, jacked it into the receiver on a coffee table, and transferred the call to the large viewscreen on his right, enabling both audio and video.  Ian Samothrace appeared on the screen.

“James, just the man I needed to see.”

Welthammer happily set his bookkeeping aside and sat up, “Hullo Ian, what can I do for you.”

“What indeed.  Where, are you James, I—“ Ian actually saw where Welthammer was, “Golrammit, James, you’re not back at your house, are you?  Do you know how many times the New Paris Chief has called me complaining about you?”

“My father bought this house, Ian.  It belongs to my family.”  Whether James remembered the old ways or not, he believed in them firmly.

The Senator sighed, they’d had the argument before, and Ian knew it was useless, “Have you been to see my mother?  Is she still getting along?”

“Still fit as a horse, keeps the staff on their toes too.  And your wife was there too, Ian, why didn’t you tell me you’d had a daughter?”

Ian jumped slightly, “I didn’t?  I must have been too distracted with the job, forgive me.  How are Gracie and Ann?”

Grace Samothrace was a short, brown-haired Caucasian woman who’d worked for a large advertising firm until she’d married Ian, which allowed her an early retirement.  She was nice, but she didn’t meet Ian until James had gone into business for himself, so he hadn’t met her very often.

“Grace is fine; your daughter’s cute, loud too.”  Halfway through lunch, her mother had had to carry the little girl off, crying.  “Your wife wishes you were around more, though.”

Ian sighed again, in a different way this time, “Yeah, job never lets you have a break; paperwork on top of endless paperwork.  I’d recommend forming a committee to work on efficiency if it didn’t mean forming five other committees to even consider such a thing.  It’s giving me gray hairs, James.”

James laughed, but it was hardly a joke, Samothrace was definitely going gray, and he hadn’t even reached thirty.  James had been there for the campaign that made Ian one of the youngest senators ever elected, and had seen the effect that amount of work had on the man.

“Anyway, James, the reason I called you… I’ve got a high-risk, highly-sensitive job that needs doing.  And unfortunately, I don’t think anyone in my own department is up to doing it.  I hope you’re up to doing it.”

“All right, I’ve been free-lancing since my last boss got himself in on the wrong side of a fight with ImpSec heavies.  What’s the job?”

“Er…well I can’t tell you unless I’ve got your agreement to do it.”

James blinked, Ian had asked James to carry out some awfully surreptitious operations before, including breaking an Imperial blockade; but he’d never needed a condition like this before.

“Sort of hard for me to tell you if I can do it if I don’t even know what it is, Ian.  Can you tell me anything?  I hope you’re just wanting something moved around, I don’t do assassinations and I’m not fond of negotiations.”

“Um…yes, just a pickup.  One passenger, from a potentially hostile area.  I’m afraid that’s about all I can tell you.”

Now it was Welthammer’s turn to sigh, “All right, Ian, I’ll do it.  I figure I owe you one, lay it on me.”  If it turned out to be downright impossible, James could always cut and run, but he’d rather not let down his friend like that.

“Thanks, James; I think you’ll be able to handle it.  I’ve got an agent of the Senatorial Police, deep undercover operative, and he’s just signaled for an extraction.”

“A spy, eh?  So the Senate keeps their own watch on things?”

“He’s observing a local government, yes; and please don’t ask me for details.”

“OK, so this boy thinks his cover’s blown, needs someone to get him out?”

“Well, he didn’t hit the panic button, but the signal was flagged high enough that we think the subjects might be on to him.  You’ll want to use extreme caution on your pickup.”

“Oh, hell, Ian; you sent me to make a pickup under fire from the bloody Bugs once, I think I can handle some suspicious policemen.  Where is he?”

“Istoral.”

James started reviewing his mental map of the galaxy, when every alarm bell ever made went of in his head.  He leapt to his feet.

“Jesus, Ian!  Are you out of your golramn mind?!  You’re spying on the fucking Horadrim!”

“James—“

“How?!  I mean, god dammit, Ian, if he thinks they’re onto him, then they’re damn well onto him!  Christ, just sign his death certificate already; I’d rather save mine for later.”

“Please, James.  The information he’s got is crucial to the security of the Middle Kingdom, possibly humanity itself.  It’s too sensitive for broadcast, we need him.”

James took a couple breaths, calmed down only slightly, “Jesus, Ian…”

“Look, he’s a professional.  Trust me, we sent him in there with the absolute best training and equipment possible, he’s been able to survive unharmed for several months, you’ve got to believe he knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, but…come on, Ian, it’s the Horadrim!”

“I know, and he knows it to.  A signal like this could mean as little as one of them looked at him funny, I’m sure he knows how dangerous his situation is, and values his life just as much as you do.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, James, you’ve already agreed, I need you.”

James hung his head, Ian had him there.  “All right, I’ll do it.  But if I come out of this one alive, then promise you won’t send me back there again.”

Ian nodded, “I swear it.”

“All right, I expect a more detailed briefing to be sent to me before I leave the planet.  How soon do you need this guy?”

“ASAP James, like you said, it is the Horadrim, best not to let them have too long to confirm any suspicion.”

“All right, then I’ll lift tomorrow; I assume you’re giving me digital gate and military route clearance for this one.”

“Of course.”

“Right, then I’ll be there in four days, make it noon local time.  Tell your agent to be waiting for me, preferably as close to the spaceport as possible.  You can send a message like that, right?”

“In four days?  It’ll get there, I’m sure he’ll be expecting you.”

“All right then.  I’d best get going, make preparations, send me that briefing.”

“You’ll get it; tell my family I love them.”

“Will do.  Oh, and Ian?”

“Yes?”

“If I do die, perish the thought, but if I do, I want you to slug Jai Nalwa for me, parting gift.”

Ian laughed, “I’ll break his nose.  See you in a week, James.”  The comm ended.

“Yeah, see you…”  I hope.  Damn Horadrim.

James retrieved his phone from the receiver.  Picking up the datapad he’d been working on, accounting was suddenly too much for him.  He threw the thin piece of electronics against a wall, it cracked and the screen died.

He opened the door to his estate’s hallway; he had to tell his men the bad news.

 

*****

 

Shoko Tanzhi was playing on the computer when the intercom buzzed.  She walked over and activated the vidscreen to see who had called her from the front door of her apartment complex.  The screen lit up to show Hari the delivery guy from Sushi City.

“Shoko Tanzhi?”  Shoko nodded.  “You’re sushi’s here.  Eight crowns, thirty-eight yuan.”

“Okay, thanks!  I’ll buzz you up.”  She discommed and hit the door release button.

 “You recognize the delivery guy?” Metzu asked her, looking up from his comic book.

 “Oh yeah, it’s Hari!  He comes here all the time!” Shoko said cheerfully to her yakuza bodyguard, then after a moment’s hesitation, “It wasn’t Cho.”

“You sure?” Metzu asked, getting up from her couch.  “It could be a fake transmission…”

“Oh, I doubt it,” Shoko sighed as she gathered a plate and chopsticks.  “I appreciate your concern, Metzu, I really do… but to be honest, I kinda think it’s a waste of time.  I don’t know why Cho would show up here, anyway… I wasn’t that important to her, really...”

“Still, better not to take chances,” Metzu shrugged, pulling out and cocking his dart gun.

“Personally, I don’t think you’ll ever see her again,” Shoko said, popping open a can of Yangtze Cola and slurping it noisily.  “If she’s smart – and she is – she’s probably halfway to Kalintos or Elysia by now.”  There was a knock, and Shoko turned toward the door.

“I’ll get the sushi,” Metzu said quickly.  “You stay out of sight.  Don’t argue”.

Shoko sighed.  He always wants to play soldier… silly boy! she thought.  She listened to the amusing exchange as she poured soy sauce into her dipping bowl.

“Uh… Shoko Tanzhi?”

“No, she’s busy.  I’m a friend.”

“Uh… okay.  I’ll still need M. Tanzhi’s credcard and thumbprint, though.  Is she there?”

“I’m here!” Shoko squeaked, stirring wasabi into her soy sauce

“I’ll pay for it,” Metzu said firmly.

“Suit yourself.  Here ya go – tama-don, tuna roll, double unagi roll, extra ginger - right?”

“I guess so.”

“Cool.”  ZAP!!

Shoko looked up in time to see Metzu fly across the room in a hail of sushi.

“METZU!” she cried, running to him as he crashed into the opposite wall and fell to the floor.  “Are you okay?!  Are you hurt?!” 

 The door slammed shut behind her.  She turned to see the delivery guy coming at her.

“What?!  What do you want?!” she yelled, frightened.

The delivery guy merely held a finger to his lips.  I wave of cold fear seized Shoko - she recognized those heavily-tattooed hands…

“CHO!?”

“Bo yun jian ri,”  Cho ran curled fingers across her face, and her own features returned.

“What – what are you-“ Shoko’s words twisted into a scream of fear as Cho seized her by the throat and slammed her against the wall.

“Someone betrayed me,” Cho hissed, cutting off Shoko’s cry as she squeezed Shoko’s throat.  “Was it you?  Zhan shi bu ke gao ren…  ” Shoko whimpered as Cho gripped Shoko’s face, each finger pinching into an acupressure point, and psychically ripped into her mind.  “Did you betray me, fatso?!”  Cho screamed.  “DID YOU?!”

Shoko merely whimpered as Cho dug into her thoughts, memories, and secrets. But what she was looking for wasn’t there; no memory of the event. Just some comment by Lord Tanzhi about protecting her from Cho; the reason obviously wasn’t important to her sister.

Cho stepped back away from her sister, as the geisha fell and curled into a ball. If it wasn’t her, the assassin thought, then who could it be?

She quickly left the house and tried to think. I can only go two places for the answers. One is Lord Cornelius; although if Shoko wasn’t there, then Cornelius might not have been there either. The other is Lord Tanzhi; but if I try to find out from him, I alienate my clan forever. What choice do I make?

As she stepped out the door, the decision became clear to her; there was only one way to reclaim her honor.

 

*****

 

            Kago had been given a few hours to prepare himself, and he took that time first to get some clothes and a pack to keep them in, then to try to figure out something of who he was.  Net searches on his name (about the only part of his identity he did seem to have down) turned up nothing but Japanese dictionary entries, but he already knew what his name meant.  He couldn't even seem to locate any family within the Middle Kingdom.  Perhaps they had had to go

underground?  Kago felt like he was some sort of covert agent at the thought of his family in hiding, but the thrill quickly disintegrated when reality set in.

            "I have no idea who I am except for a name," he thought to himself on the orbital shuttle taking him to the Avalon bound transport, the Tentou.  "This is crazy.  What am I doing going to this guy's camp?"

            Two digital gates and another shuttle later, he arrived at the camp on New Paris or a moon of New Paris and was greeted by a couple of well dressed young men, one of whom eyed him suspiciously.  "M. Adauchi, I'm Ian McPherson," said the red head on the left, "and this..." gesturing to the younger man to his right, who appeared fresh out of high school.

            The teenager gave a quarter bow of respect and a smile.  "Hajimemashite.  Matsuzawa desu.  Doozo yoroshiku."  He had an air of youthful exuberance to him.  He seemed to be trying to keep something inside, but Kago couldn't tell what it was.  He was so concerned about it that he almost forgot to bow in return.

            "Hajimemashite.  Adauchi desu.  Doozo yoroshiku."

            McPherson continued.  "Jeff here is going to be your roommate for the weekend.  I'll let you two get acquainted and find your room.  We can discuss the weekend's agenda as soon as you're ready."  He gave a nod and turned to walk away but stopped.  "Oh, and welcome to Camp Icthus."

            The two young men were left alone, and suddenly Jeff had to speak.  "So you got to meet Graham Quentin?"

            Kago shrugged in indifference.  "Yeah, I think that was his name."

            "Wow!  That's so awesome!  He's the most godly man of our time!"

            "Really?"

            "Yeah!"

            "...he seemed like an ordinary guy to me..."

            "Yeah, I know, he's so approachable!"

            "So you've met him before?"

            "Yeah.  He's the one who got me into this camp last year."

            "You mean you've been here before?"

            "Soo desu.  I got to come once I graduated from high school.  I came to know the Lord through some friends of mine my senior year, and I wanted to learn about how I could best serve Him in our time."

            "What do you mean?"

            "Oh, don't worry about that right now, actually. You'll be learning about that all weekend.  For now,let's go find our room.  It's this way."  He gestured toward one of the main buildings on the campgrounds, and they started walking.  "By the way, your English is very good.  How did you learn it so well?"

            "...I'm not sure.  Just... practice, I guess."  Jeff had a look of concern when he heard the tone in Kago's voice, but Kago didn't notice it.  "How did you learn?"

            "Well, you see, my mom and dad met back during the civil war, when God's kingdom was more visible.  Mom was in the Christian Federation, and Dad met her in college.  My mom stayed around the house all the time and taught me at home until I was about eleven.  Then she started getting more involved in the Christian underground, and... well, Dad was all I had left for a while, but he seemed really distant ever since Mom died, and I got really connected with some Christian

friends at school.  After I insisted on coming to camp last year, Dad disowned me, and now the church is the only family I have left."

            The story was largely lost on Kago, whose mind was still a bit preoccupied, but he managed an "...interesting..." as a reply.  He was particularly concerned about the prospect of brainwashing, which his instincts told him was commonplace among religious organizations.  Of course, he wasn't sure if he had experiences to back this up, but a feeling in his gut urged caution.  Jeff continued.

            "I think you're going to like it here.  There are so many wonderful people, and the scenery really helps bring peace to the soul."

 

            McPherson looked at the cabin, waiting to go in. Who was this guy, he asked himself, wondering why GQ had asked him to take charge of this boy. After all, he had been nothing but a camp director for the past ten years, empowering the new batches of recruits for the cause. Nothing like what it had been like back in the days of the Righteous Army, but… Graham said to be patient, so he would be.

            Still, why me? From what little of the dossier he had received before this kid’s landing on New Paris, he was able to get the details. Quentin was impressed this young man had managed to bypass his security just to ask a question. “Where was Tremont?”

            That’s it, isn’t it? He came to me since I’m one of the few who knows… Ian felt a cold sweat run down his back. It’s either a test or an invitation. Either way, Jeff’s one of my best. If anyone can weasel out of him his identity, he can. Finally, steeling himself against the unknown, he stepped towards the door. Time to play the camp counselor again… what a lie I live.

 

*****

 

            “You’re doing WHAT?!”

            Captain Weathers was unbelievably pissed. He didn’t want to be; the last thing he wanted to do was abandon his cool in front of his bridge crew, but the news had hit him like a ton of bricks.

            “Orders from the top, Dave,” his friend Admiral Matheson reluctantly replied. “The Western Reserve isn’t ready for a head-on confrontation with the Middle Kingdom. We don’t got much of a fleet. Hell, we don’t got much of a population… we gotta bug out.”

            “And just leave us and a whole system high and dry?”

            “Dave, shut up for a second and listen. We didn’t tell you to take this planet, we just saved your bacon when you were about to play Custer with the slants. This is not our fight.” The admiral leaned back and sighed. “I suggest you pull out with as many of the civilians as you can, but we have to depart now.”

            “If someone doesn’t take a stand against the slopes, who will?”

            “Patience…”     

            “Patience my ass! We’ve had over twenty years of patience!”

            “When you’re weak, you go along with what the bully says. When the bully’s weak, you kick the crap out of him. Something’s coming soon, don’t worry. But till then, keep your damn ass out of the fire… or you’re gonna miss the whole show.”

            Weathers was confused. “What are you saying?”

            “I’ve said too much all ready. In fact, it would be nice if the slants didn’t know we were here.”

            David sighed. “Fine, don’t worry, we’ll cover ya. And… I’m sorry.”
            “I would have said the same. Discom.”

            The holoproj went blank, leaving all eyes on Weathers, as the captain simply stretched and thought for a moment. It didn’t take long to figure out his next move. “Aurelius, send a message to Charlie. Tell him to start evacuating the planet; use every ship you can, we’ll evacuate them back to Base. Ring down to Bodovsky and tell him we’ll need some more of Mountain’s Stones and to move on the double time. It’s not going to take those slants long to come back with reinforcements.”

 

            Shih Huang Ti arrived two days later; his task force was leading the entire Fourth Fleet into Chapman’s Folly, steaming active lidar with righteous indignation. “Let them try to sucker us now,” the vice-admiral muttered under his breath, “ou lun dun jhew hai!”

            “Sai, we have contact… a fleet is poised around the planet itself, with one squadron veering away.”

            “Towards the jump gate?”

            “No, sai, toward the outer asteroid rings.”

            “Have we confirmed the fleet exists?”

            “We’ve confirmed the mass of the objects, but not the class. Planetary distortion, as well as our active fire control, make it difficult to confirm…”   

            “Skip it, that’s good enough for me. As long as they’re real ships, I don’t care if they’re corvettes or carriers. We still outnumber them four to one.” Ti turned to his com officer. “Any word from flag?”

            “One moment, sai.” He was listening to his implant. “The word is: ‘Forget the maneuvers, just go straight at them.’”

            The admiral couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, Nelson… if only he had been born a han. Very well, signal the task force. We have the honor of leading the attack. Course 024 mark 354; straight at the shebing planet.”

 

            “Frankly, those FMS’s aren’t worth the crowns we shelled out for them!” Paul Bodovsky whined to his captain. “Once they get within missile distance of the planet, they’re going to be able to see that our ‘fleet’ is just asteroids with missiles on them, and then we’re fucked… sir.”

            “Just get them in range, commander, that’s all I ask.” Weathers replied calmly.

            “They’ll be able to just turn around and outrun the range our weapons!”

            “I depend on surprise, Paul, not footprint magnification systems.”
            “But without good FMS…”

            “I’ll take care of it.” David replied stronger, signaling an end to the debate. “Understood?”

            Bodovsky sounded dubious. “Yes, sir.”

            Weathers didn’t wait for the coming comment, but simply stepped into the lift and made his way onto the bridge. As he took his chair, he thought about the civilian ships he was leading away from the zone. Some refused to leave; some always did. He couldn’t make them leave, but he could allow their chances for survival to be greater.

            “Commander Palmer?”

            “Sir?” Teresa looked over at him with concern.

            “Remember what I said before. If I don’t answer for some reason, I want you to take command until I order you not to.”

            “I… still don’t understand.”

            “I don’t ask you to. Just do it.”    

            “Yes, sir.”

            The captain relaxed a bit further and stared into the holoproj of the converging red blips and concentrated. They must believe that a fleet is there, if we stand any chance of getting out of here. His mind started reaching out to the ships, but it was too much. Wait, I don’t need to convince the ships, just their sensors… sure enough, the tension ceased, and he started playing with electronics across the far reaches of space.

 

            “Sai, confirmation on the fleet. We read three battlecruisers, seven heavy cruisers…”

            “Belay that,” Shih yelled back, “I can see it for myself. But why aren’t they moving?”

            “Maybe they’re trying to use the planet as a shield, sai?”

            The admiral gave a grin. “Then we better take it away first, shouldn’t we?”

            “Sai?”

            “Signal task force to load quantum torpedoes – aim for the center of the planet, fire when ready.”

            “But sai, we’re beyond effective range!”

            “It doesn’t matter. We’re destroying the planet, commander, as long as you aim in the right direction, the range doesn’t matter!”

            “But a planet, sai?”        

            “Carry out my orders!”

           

            “Sir, they’re already firing.”

            Weathers was just as stunned as the rest of them. “At this range? What do they expect to hit?”

            The whole bridge crew waited and watched as the tiny red blips moved ever closer and closer towards the fleet. Suddenly David figured it out. “Signal the automation on board the battlestation, automate the chaff and ECM, hurry!”

            But it was already too late. In vivid color, they watched helplessly as the planet that used to hold a hundred thousand souls was ripped apart by sub-nuclear fire, tearing great chunks of earth and rock into all six vectors, leaving everyone on board the Dickerson stunned.

            “Uh... sir, we’ve lost communication with our asteroids.”

            Weathers simply closed his eyes. “Electromagnetic pulse, Lieutenant Aurelius. It wiped all communications. Shielding can’t help against that level of magnitude.” When David opened his eyes again, they were stained with tears. He could feel the last gasp of the colonists who were left behind; he had left his mind too far open. To pull great feats of magic, he couldn’t shut himself down in time to avoid the pain of distant death. “Open a… jump point and get our little fleet out of here, this should be safe enough.” He quickly wiped the tears away and turned back to Aurelius. “Did we record that?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Since the enemy left us no other weapon, we’ll have to use that.”

 

            Cynthia Beatrix was in the middle of the quiet bar, stunned like all the rest of the patrons, watching the destruction of an inhabited planet by the Imperial Fleet. Somehow it had gotten to all of the news networks. Even Imperial Security couldn’t stop the information from getting out; it was so horrible. No one could speak as the footage taken from… God knows where, she thought, was repeated again and again. Of course, the government had tried to put a spin on it, but this time, no one was buying it.

            I’ve been serving a lie, Cynthia realized, sitting there in the Wilke’s Star café, her whiskey and water untouched. All this time, I’ve been serving a lie. Any government who does this…

            Beatrix left her loyalties on the counter, paid, and left. There was only one person she could talk to about this; only one person she could trust. I have to find Weathers.

 

END OF ACT III