The Seeds of War- Omnibus Edition Page 12

  Best released him. “Doesn’t matter. When we get to Jefivah, you’ll most likely end up in prison. And once you are convicted, I understand that the Metisians are going to try you. Apparently, they think your shenanigans cost them one of their colonies.” He started to walk away, then stopped and turned. “Say, Luxhomme. Why did that alien woman beat the hell out of you? Did you get her pregnant?”

  As Luxhomme smoothed out his shirt, he said, “Douglas, every middle school student knows that humans and aliens cannot cross-breed without a little genetic trickery.”

  “Well, Homeworld Security mentioned she was technically your slave until the moment you two stepped on Metisian soil.”

  “I may have neglected to mention holding her title of indenture until the last minute.”

  Best tilted his head back slightly as he regarded Luxhomme. “I see. Well, enjoy your time in Hell, Mr. Luxhomme. I’ve got to go sedate myself for the jump.”

  He reached the doorway to Luxhomme’s locked quarters when Luxhomme called out. “I’ll tell them everything.”

  Best stopped and turned, standing in the doorway. “I’m listening.”

  “I’ll testify as to what I did and why.”

  “At your trial?”

  “No.” The smile had disappeared. Luxhomme’s eyes were wide now, his posture more slack. “I’ll go to Earth.”

  Best thought he had kept himself impassive, but the hint of that smile on Luxhomme’s face told him otherwise.

  “Yes,” said Luxhomme. “I’m willing to stand before the Compact Security Council in Hong Kong.”

  Best turned and left without saying another word. How could he? Luxhomme had left him speechless.

  * **

  Quantonesia sat in the middle of Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbor, like a fragment of the city had broken off and floated out to sea. A jumbled mass of skyscrapers covered the artificial island from end to end, leaving Best to wonder how one actually got onto it.

  He had come to Earth separately from Luxhomme, who left Jefivah in Compact Security’s custody. It let him ride out the hypergate transit completely sedated with an entire day to recover in his hotel room. Unfortunately, the Hong Kong he found made him depressed.

  Best had learned as a schoolboy that Earth was an overpopulated, smoggy shell of its former self, barely able to feed its population and racked with plagues on a regular basis. Instead, he found a city that, while more crowded than any place Best had ever seen, had clean streets and residents who roamed freely without the aid of facemasks or breathers. Though hardly a paradise, it shattered Best’s illusions that Jefivah might be better off than Earth. He always said that Jefivah lagged behind Earth, but never truly believed it. Now, here was a shining city in a pristine harbor, standing in complete opposition to every justification Best had for staying so long on his native world.

  He took the ferry out to Quantonesia, nearly awestruck as he stepped from the boat. The mass of glittering towers could never exist on Jefivah. The capital had barely managed to raise more than a dozen thirty-story buildings. Best quickly lost count of how many towers existed within this fifteen-square-kilometer patch in the middle of Victoria Harbor.

  The Compact Security Council operated out of the fiftieth through fifty-fifth floors of the Compact Tower, home to the General Assembly, General Secretary, and the Supreme Court of the Compact. There had been some question as to why the Compact would put its legislature, executive center, and highest court in a single building. Aside from the obvious continuity of government facilities, a general from the Marines had answered the question by pointing out that Earth had not faced any real threats since the war with Mars. And the Compact existed precisely to prevent human worlds from going to war with each other.

  The hearing had already begun by the time Best arrived. Yet when he walked in, Luxhomme wasn’t sitting at a table getting interrogated by the Council delegates seated on the dais beneath the giant sunburst symbol of the Compact as expected. No, Luxhomme paced around in front of the dais addressing not the Security Council, but those in the gallery.

  “No, ladies and gentlemen,” said Luxhomme, “the fault does not lie with the government of Jefivah or with my employer or even with me. It lies with the Defense Commission of this Compact. They caused this terrible tragedy by failing to remove those weapons from the worlds now known as Barataria, Gallifrey, and Marilyn. They failed the colonists. They failed the people of Jefivah. And tragically, they failed the crew of the Etrusca Explorer.”

  The delegate from Mars, one of the “old guard” permanent members of the Council, stood up and jabbed a finger at Luxhomme. “Now just a minute. We generously told our struggling worlds they could colonize the old military reserves for free. All they had to do…”

  “All they had to do,” said Luxhomme, whirling on the Martian delegate, “was place into civilian hands weapons we would not entrust to our own planetary forces. Instead of having the military do its duty and remove these dangerous weapons from new civilian worlds, they forced Jefivah to have to contract elsewhere for their removal, lest the military and the Office of Colonial Development shut down their colonies. Jefivah needs food. It needs space to relieve the factional problems that have plagued it since its founding.”

  “And JunoCorp needs the backing of a core world to compete with the major genetic customization firms,” said the Martian delegate, his arm shaking more from 1G gravity than rage, though Best was hard-pressed to tell the difference. “Tell it true, Mr. Luxhomme. This is about money.”

  “Trade,” said Luxhomme, “is how we are able to move resources, Mr. Roosa. Maybe money does not allegedly exist on Mars, but it is how the majority of Compact members get anything accomplished. Tell me, Mr. Roosa, do you not chair the General Assembly’s Defense Appropriations Committee?”

  “Yes,” said Roosa.

  Best had to smile at the turn of events. Luxhomme had just successfully made Delegate Roosa the scapegoat for seven missing weapons of mass destruction and for the deaths of the Etrusca Explorer crew. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, Best found First Minister Myrna Gillorn sitting behind him.

  “I didn’t think you could salvage this situation,” she whispered as Luxhomme began brow-beating the Martian delegate. “If you haven’t taken that teaching position, I’d like to have you come back.”

  “I was an elected delegate, Myrna,” said Best. “Don’t you think we should hold an election?”

  “The First Minister’s chief of staff is not elected.” She smiled. “Nor do they have to endure approval hearings in the House of Delegates.”

  They both turned their attention back to the dais as a new voice chimed in on the exchange between Luxhomme and Roosa.

  “I think,” said Xiao Li, the delegate from Tian, “we can agree there were procedural failures in this tragedy. The military does, indeed, have the best protocols for handling such weapons and did not provide the personnel and equipment to do so. Dasarius Interstellar is most likely not equipped to transport such cargo, and using a projection drive ship likely increased the odds that the Etrusca Explorer would get lost with those weapons.”

  Luxhomme appeared ready to take back control of the hearing once more when Xiao continued. “I think we can all take comfort that the ship was discovered outside Compact space with no trace of human intervention. While I, for one, will mourn the loss of the crew, the likelihood that those weapons will be used against human worlds is minimal. Madame Chairperson, I move that we shift the focus of our investigation to one of prevention. Let’s allow the Jefivans to grow their new colonies and take their rightful place among the other founding worlds of this Compact.”

  To Best’s surprise, Malakar, the Earth delegate, stood up and seconded the motion.

  “All those in favor of the motion put forth by the distinguished gentleman from Tian,” said the Chairwoman, “say aye.”

  Most of the Council’s fifteen delegates said “aye.”

  “Opposed?”

  Only Roosa
said “Nay.” The remaining delegates kept silent.

  “Motion carries,” said the Chairwoman. “Delegate Roosa, your committee is hereby tasked with looking into preventive measures for the transport of non-conventional weaponry from military reserves.” She banged the gavel, which surprised Best. Hardly any legislatures used gavels anymore. Some did not even meet in person. “Mr. Luxhomme, thank you for bringing this to our attention. Next, we will discuss a petition by the Assembly Delegate from Metis concerning their colony on Gilead…”

  As Best filed out with the other Jefivan presence, the First Minister punched him lightly in the arm. “Welcome back, Doug.”

  * **

  Douglas Best, chief of staff to the First Minister of Jefivah, watched as the parade marched through Capitol Square. Most of the participants were Marilynists. Most of the floats had Blessed Mother themes. A few protestors had taken up station here and there along the route, various Abrahamists complaining about the Marilynists’ use of the title “Blessed Mother” for their goddess, a few atheists complaining about religion in general. Unlike the riots that followed the Compact’s threat to shut down the new colonies, these protests resembled outdoor parties for sporting events.

  Best wished he could enjoy the parade with the same detachment he had watching Settlers’ Day parades and welcomes for various notables. Unfortunately, each Marilynist group in the parade turned and saluted him as “the Prophet.” He tolerated the title, but he would never accept it.

  “I heard you turned down the governorship of Marilyn,” said the Grand Dimaj, standing up on the platform with Best as a guest of the First Minister. “You could have been set for life.”

  “To govern a desert,” said Best, “for a faith I don’t believe in? I don’t think so. Besides, your method of baptism requires me to cheat on my wife.”

  “Too bad,” said the Grand Dimaj. “Because those people down there believe in you.”

  Best grinned. “Most of them are going to Marilyn. Let them create myths about me. It’s what they really want anyway.”

  “Your loss.”

  “But not yours.”

  The Grand Dimaj simply stared back at Best with arched brows.

  “I know you asked for the governorship of Marilyn,” said Best. “I can’t say that I approve. It’ll make Marilyn a virtual theocracy. But these are your people. They won’t listen to a secular governor, not even me.”

  “You’re too cynical, Douglas.” The Dimaj moved away.

  Best hoped it was the last time he would have to speak to the charlatan. He doubted it was.

  As the parade ended, Best’s palm tingled. He looked down to see a secured text message from Jefivah’s militia commander. He leaned in toward Myrna Gillorn and said, “There’s a projection drive ship trying to land at the spaceport. It’s from Amargosa The captain demands contact with the government. Apparently, something has happened there.”

  “That’s a Mars colony, isn’t it?” asked Myrna.

  “Last I heard.”

  “Go. Be my representative. Find out what’s going on. I’ll send a hyperpacket to Mars as soon as I have your report.”

  Best nodded to one of the body guards and started his way off the platform.

  * **

  Black marks from energy blasts had pockmarked the ship at some point before arriving at Jefivah. Miraculously, the two projectors at either end of the ship appeared intact. They had to be. The ship could not have generated its own wormhole otherwise.

  Best arrived just as it landed. Some of its thrusters were firing sporadically, causing the ship to wobble as it descended to the tarmac. Soldiers and medics swarmed the vessel as it came to rest, while ground crews rushed emergency debarkation gear into place.

  Those who came off the ship, escorted by medics or one or two soldiers, had a glazed, faraway look in their eyes. Best noticed the entire aft of the ship had been blackened despite the trailing projector dish remaining intact and metallic white. He guessed that the energy that kept the wormhole from collapsing behind the ship blew off any carbonization. But what, he wondered, would blacken so much of a ship’s hull like that?

  Only one person coming off the vessel did not have that distant look in his eyes. He was doing his best to look as stunned as his counterparts, but Best recognized that infuriating smile despite the wearer’s best efforts to hide it. Luxhomme’s mouth did not display it, but those eyes of his did. What did you do? Best asked silently.

  Luxhomme looked around the terminal as a soldier escorted him inside. He feigned surprise – or maybe he truly was surprised – when he spotted Best. “Douglas.”

  He rushed over to Best only to be stopped by one of the First Minister’s body guards assigned to her chief of staff.

  “It’s okay,” said Best. “I want to talk to him anyway.”

  “Alone,” said Luxhomme. “Trust me. You want to talk to me alone.”

  Best whispered something to the soldier before dismissing him. When the agent asked if Best was sure, he said, “Stay right outside. If this takes longer than five minutes, both of you come inside.” He grabbed Luxhomme by the arm and led him to a room off the boarding gate. Once they were alone, he said, “What happened on Amargosa?”

  Luxhomme’s stupid smile still lurked in his eyes. “Last night… I guess it was night here, too. Anyway, Amargosa’s hypergate exploded.”

  “Hypergates don’t explode,” said Best. “Especially primitive ones like colonial gates.”

  “Well, this one did,” said Luxhomme. “And since Amargosa has only the one gate, it’s been effectively cut off from the rest of humanity.”

  Best realized the same thing had happened to the Metisian colony of Gilead a few weeks earlier, weeks during which Luxhomme had managed to get Mars’s delegate to the Compact General Assembly recalled. “What were you doing on a Mars colony?”

  “Discussing with the governor the possibility of allowing JunoCorp to improve its crop yields. The loss of Gilead has already put a big dent in the Compact’s food supply.”

  Best frowned. Earth and some of the older core worlds, even Jefivah, had vertical farms in the cities and kelp ranges in some of their oceans to stave off a famine. Even so, it still left the more pressing question unanswered. “Why is your ship blasted all to hell?”

  “Alien race,” said Luxhomme. “Primates like us. Gray-skinned, though not like the Grays. More like us, maybe taller, or so I’ve heard. They started prowling the countryside and burning farms. They dropped a nuke on Lansdorp, the capital. My guess is they were throwing sand in the colony’s eyes so they couldn’t fight back.”

  Just like with Gilead, or some had speculated anyway. Two colonies in one month. Had war come to the Compact? And would the core worlds realize it before it was too late?

  Of course they couldn’t fight back, thought Best. When Jefivah, a full member of the Compact, had to beg and plead for military resources, there was no way even the colonies of the wealthier worlds would be protected. It was simple. Colonists did not vote, which made them disposable in the face of an alien threat. “This wouldn’t have been a laser fusion device, would it?”

  Luxhomme shrugged, once again betraying the falseness of the gesture with his eyes. “Douglas, how would I know? I barely got off that planet alive. If the ship I was on wasn’t hardened for deep space, the mushroom cloud would have destroyed it.”

  “I see.”

  Luxhomme clapped him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, Douglas. There’s a silver lining in this tragedy.”

  “Oh?”

  “With two major food-producing colonies out of commission, the Compact will have to turn to newer colonies. Such as Marilyn.”

  Best suddenly felt cold. “You know this because Juno is handling the crop customizations for Marilyn, Gallifrey, and Baritaria.”

  “I know that any prosperity on Marilyn will be attributed to the prophet who made the Marilynists’ new homeworld possible.” Now Luxhomme let that stupid little smile of his bloom. “How’s it
feel to be a hero, Douglas?”

  Best did not bother to explain to his body guards why he had punched Luxhomme in the jaw.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The original version of this novelette was edited by Stacy Robinson, who is rapidly becoming one of the foremost experts on the Compact Universe. She’s why there will soon be a Tishla novella out.

  Gimme Shelter

  Seeds of War Arc Book 3

  Gimme Shelter

  Copyright 2015, TS Hottle

  Cover Design: Clayborn Press, LLC

  Cover Image Credit: Sergey Khakimullin

  Published by Clayborn Press, Phoenix, AZ

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