He was the only human on Misrere Prime. For most of the species, this would have been the cause of a great deal of anxiety. For Commander John Scherer, it was just another alien planet where almost everyone ignored him. It was the fourth such planet that he had visited. John couldn’t count Macer Alpha; all the aliens there had tried to kill him.
Even though he didn’t feel particularly threatened on Misrere Prime, he was still quite glad to have a much more traveled companion with him. Fernwyn Rylie had been here before, although not to this particular city. Fernwyn had a sharp eye, a quick draw, and was loyal to John. That added confidence, however, did not diminish the thrill of seeing a new alien world. Their current environs seemed safe enough, but as they both well knew, the lack of any obvious danger was never a good indication of reality.
John and Fernwyn sat in an outdoor cafe in a massive commercial center known as Requiem Ziggurat. The base of the central building measured a full kilometer across; the central cone itself was fifty stories tall. Encircling the complex every ten stories were circular structures which jutted out fifty meters from the side, creating additional square footage inside and flat surfaces without. These flat areas were either covered in domes or left open, and the latter were used for either landing platforms or as outdoor shops or restaurants. According to Fernwyn, the weather was agreeable 95% of the year at this particular latitude, and indeed it was a beautiful, warm day.
“Chrysanthemum,” said John.
“I’m sorry, my translator missed that, John,” replied Fernwyn.
“It’s a kind of Earth flower. I couldn’t remember the name. That’s what this place looks like from above. A chrysanthemum.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I thought it looked like a layer cake.”
A Kau’Rii waitress approached the pair. She looked different than others of the species that John had encountered, and he struggled to identify the discrepancy. As she turned to speak to Fernwyn he realized that she was slightly taller than usual and she was dressed much less modestly than those in the Residere system. The waitress, whose nametag was written in an unknown language, began to speak. John recognized the words as Residerian, and did not notice the split-second delay as his translator earpiece kicked in.
“I’m sorry, Fernwyn,” she was saying, “but we are definitely out of yutha beans. The kitchen manager says the shipment from Residere Beta has been delayed.”
“No big deal, Lyra, thanks for checking,” Fernwyn replied. “What’s the closest thing you’ve got?”
“Genaro. It’s a brescaré fruit. It’s sweeter than yutha, more like tea, really, but definitely dark and smoky.”
“Sound good to you?” Fernwyn asked John.
“Sure,” said John.
The waitress moved away. Fenwyn shrugged and smiled.
“Was the girl’s name Lyra?” asked John.
Fernwyn nodded, and said, “Yes, that’s right.”
“What’s brescaré?”
“It’s, uh... a plant that grows close to the ground. The fruit is harvested by allowing the vines to grow on trellises.”
“Ah, you mean vineyard. Got it.”
“I’m sorry the software on that thing isn’t better.”
“On the contrary, I’m surprised it isn’t worse. Since we stole them, I can’t complain.”
“I wish I had more time to teach you Residerian.”
“As long as I have this device, I’ll be fine, but knowing my luck it will quit working in about an hour.”
Fernwyn smiled, and resumed scanning the cafe patrons. They had given good descriptions of themselves to the man they were supposed to meet, and considering the dress of the other customers present, John was confident there was little chance of confusion. He was wearing a green Gore-Tex jacket (his favorite Army jacket long since destroyed), blue jeans, and hiking shoes. It was a little too warm for the jacket, but removing it would reveal the Beretta 92FS pistol he was carrying. Most visitors to the Ziggurat did not conceal their firearms, but the practice was not forbidden. John was happy to keep his weapon hidden; he was already too distinctive as a species for his liking and carrying a weapon no alien could identify would only add to the problem.
Fernwyn’s own vestments, a flight jacket, cargo pants, and a baseball-style cap were fairly generic compared to the local populace, but her physical features made her stand out. She could easily be mistaken for a human, as her Residerian heritage and borrowed Kau‘Rii blood were well blended. Together, John and Fernwyn were hard to miss, if one happened to be looking for them. So far they hadn’t been treated any differently than any other visitor with money to burn.
“Interested Rakhar on my three,” Fernwyn said without looking.
John glanced up. A lithe, fawn-colored Rakhar had entered the terrace from the interior of the cafe. He was dressed in a long coat and sported long hair tied back into a ponytail. He was also wearing sunglasses, which were almost certainly augmented with various useful devices. He finished scanning the patrons, settled his gaze on Fernwyn, and began to walk over.
“Officer Rylie, I presume,” he said upon arrival.
“Please, have a seat,” Fernwyn replied.
The waitress appeared and placed two mugs of a dark liquid on the table.
“Something for you, sir?” she asked.
“Is that genaro?” he queried, pointing at the mugs.
“Yes, sir.”
“That will be fine.”
The waitress nodded and turned away. When she’d returned inside, the Rakhar spoke again.
“My name is Hzolter. I’m with the Galactic Free Warriors Guild.”
“You already know my name, although you can dispense with the title. This is my associate, John. We represent only ourselves.”
“Yes, as your message indicated. So you’re trying to get in touch with one of our members?”
“The captain of the Almagest, specifically. That’s one of yours, right?”
“He’s a member in good standing, yes. What is this regarding?”
Fernwyn leaned back. “That’s between us.”
John sipped his genaro. It was reminiscent of bergamot tea with a drop of barbeque sauce.
“I’m not going to arrange a meeting without more information,” said Hzolter.
“Fine. We believe the captain has something that belongs to us. If so, we are willing to offer a price for its return.”
“Credits or material?”
“Whichever strikes his fancy, Hzolter.”
“You’re going to have to give me some idea of what you’re offering... excuse me, I have a call coming in.” The Rakhar reached inside his coat and activated an unseen communication device. “Hzolter. Yes. I’m there now. Already? I... understood, I will comply.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. The Almagest is already here. Once the captain gives me his landing platform number we can go see him.”
“You weren’t expecting him so soon, were you?”
Hzolter shifted in his seat. “I am authorized to negotiate for members of my guild. Captain Calico simply decided to do this deal in person.”
“I don’t like this, Fen,” said John.
“Relax,” said Fernwyn, and looked at Hzolter. “Most mercenary guilds play by the rules.”
John rolled his eyes, and said, “Like the Universal Mercenary Guild?”
“I understand you were involved with some sort of altercation with the Black Crest,” said Hzolter. “I’m sure you know that they were fined millions of credits for their actions on Residere Beta.”
“What about the way station?”
Fernwyn shrugged. “There was nothing illegal about the Black Crest’s actions there. The GFWG has a better reputation than the UMG anyway, regardless of the actions of a few overenthusiastic members.”
“I never thought I would hear a shuffler compliment a merc guild,” said Hzolter.
“Former shuffler.”
“Obviously. I also never thought I would hear a plank compliment a merc guild.”
“Former plank. Is your file really that incomplete?”
“A Z’Sorth doesn’t change its scales, Rylie.”
John peered into Hzolter’s sunglasses. For a moment he saw reflections of light on the Rahkar’s face.
“Do you really think I’m going to investigate crimes now that I’m not wearing a badge, Hzolter?”
“Only those of a personal nature.”
“What does your file say about me?” asked John.
Hzolter looked at John and smiled. “You are much more interesting. Tell me your full name and I’ll add it to the file. There are a lot of people out there who would like to know the names of the crew of the ship that destroyed Aldebaran, liberated Umber, and almost crippled the Zendreen fleet.”
John leaned back, sipped his drink, and said nothing.
“He doesn’t think it’s wise to reveal anything more,” said Fernwyn.
“I don’t blame him. Everyone in the Tarantula Nebula is still trying to sort out what happened over the last few weeks.”
Hzolter was distracted for a few moments as he answered an incoming call.
“If it‘s best for Umber we might want to reveal more about us,” began John, “but I’d just as soon remain a mystery.”
Fernwyn nodded. “You never struck me as the type to enjoy fame.”
“Okay,” said Hzolter. “Captain Calico is waiting for you down at the yard.”
Five minutes later, John, Fernwyn, and Hzolter emerged from an elevator onto first floor. The Almagest was too large for any of the landing platforms, so it was parked in an area adjacent to the building known as the yard. An above-ground shuttle was available as the far end of the yard was over four kilometers away. Hzolter lead the way to the shuttle station and the three waited for the next car to arrive. John watched people go about their business. The first level was either travel-related services or facility administration and maintenance, so there wasn’t anything particularly interesting to see. John had been watching for signs that they were being tailed but so far he hadn’t picked up on anyone. Fernwyn was certainly doing the same while still managing to make small talk with Hzolter.
A car showed up and the three boarded. They were joined by half a dozen other travelers. The Almagest was only four stops out so it was a short ride. The heat of the desert hit them as they exited the car and crossed the tarmac. The ship was the only one parked nearby and looked huge from the ground. Three men waited for them at the bottom of a personnel ramp. The man on the left was a sage-colored Kau’Rii. The one on the right was a Residerian with obvious cybernetic enhancements.
The man in the middle was of an alien species that John had never seen. He looked human but was completely bald - not even eyebrows - and his ears lacked any upper lobes. They resembled inverted teardrops and hung a good four or five inches down his neck. The neck itself was a bit shorter than that of a human (or Umberian for that matter), and his shoulders were broad. His torso was shorter as well, but his legs were longer, so as a result he stood the same height as John. His arms were the same length. He took a step forward and spoke. John’s translator didn’t hesitate as the man was speaking Residerian.
“I am Farril Calico, captain of the Almagest,” he said, then gestured toward the others. “This is Knoal, my bosun, and this is Gueyr, my senior technician.”
“Fernwyn Rylie,” said Hzolter, “and her mostly unidentified companion.”
“Some might think it rude not to introduce yourself, sir.”
“Call me Temerity,” said John.
“Nice to meet you. Please join me in my galley and we can discuss business.”
Everyone but John moved toward the ramp. Fernwyn turned around.
“Come on, T,” she said.
John shook his head. “I don’t like this one bit.”
“I really don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
“Forgive me, Fen, but my experience out here hasn’t exactly warmed me to trusting new aliens.”
Fernwyn moved closer to John. “They don’t stand to gain anything from being hostile toward us. Mercenaries are like shufflers. They don’t care about anything but getting paid, and they don’t dabble in revenge if a deal doesn’t go their way, well, certain Rakhar groups notwithstanding. It’s bad for future business.”
“I suppose.”
“Tell you what. If they kill us, I’ll buy you a cup of yutha.”
John smiled, then gestured ahead. “Lead the way, then.”
The group made their way up the ramp and into the ship. They walked down a central corridor for fifty meters and entered the galley. The room was much larger than the galley on John’s own ship and was set up like a cafeteria. Only one crewmember was present when the group entered, and he was too far away to be a concern. Captain Calico took a seat and offered the chairs across from him to Fernwyn and John. The others sat at the adjoining table.
“Now then, what are you looking for?”
Fernwyn cleared her throat and leaned back. “Rumor on the net is that your ship raided a Zendreen ship, the crew of which was stricken by the Vengeance virus. They must not have put up much a fight.”
“You should know better than to believe every rumor you hear.”
“This rumor also indicated that the ship was headed to the Zendreen’s now-defunct research facility on Gamma Misrere VI. Among the things reportedly taken from this ship was a sentient female of unknown genetic heritage.”
“And you think that this female is a friend of yours?”
“It’s possible, yes. Our friend was captured by the Zendreen some time back.”
Calico raised an eyebrow. “Captured how?”
“That’s really not relevant, is it?”
“I suppose not. Even if your friend was an Umberian, there’s no profit in it now.”
“The Zendreen aren’t in the habit of experimenting on sentients, are they?” asked Gueyr.
Calico shot the Kau‘Rii a look of annoyance. “It was long rumored during the occupation that Umberians would disappear in the night, never to be seen again. Not nearly all of them were dissidents either. Exactly what they were doing with the balance was never determined, but many suspected that the Zendreen were engaging in cybernetic and genetic experimentation.”
Gueyr shrugged. “Why?”
“To make them more efficient slaves,” said John.
“Sorry, what?” asked Calico.
“We know of Umberians that were fitted with cybernetic devices meant to directly control their behavior,” said Fernwyn.
“No kidding. That’s awful. However, it is the inevitable result of power bereft of ethics.”
John stood up and crossed to an empty salad bar. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the bulkhead.
“What’s the matter with your friend?” Calico asked, genuinely surprised.
“He knows first hand how effective the mind control devices were. He had to fight Umberians that were ordered to kill him. He never told me the details but I gather it was a very nasty experience.”
A look of shock crossed Calico’s face. He looked at Hzolter.
“You had the same information I did,” said Hzolter, “and you still doubted my conclusion?”
“They’re eight light years out of their way in a two-seater fighter craft!” Calico said, then turned to John. “Is it true? Are you a member of the Perditian ship that created the Vengeance virus?”
“What do you care if I am?” John said lowly.
“It doesn’t make any difference, does it?” asked Fernwyn. “The bounty is defunct.”
Calico stood up. “In terms of sheer curiosity, it does. Everybody wants to know the truth about what happened. The Zendreen aren’t exactly well-liked around the Cloud. If you are responsible for liberating Umber and virtually destroying the Zendreen’s war-making capabilities, then there are a lot of people out there who would like to shake your hand. Myself included.”
The door to the cafeteria opened and Coma entered. John inhaled sharply and Fernwyn leaped to her feet.
“Ari!” John yelled, and rushed across the room.
Embracing Ari roughly, John began to cry. She pushed him away and grasped his shoulders.
“Hello, John,” she said calmly.
“I can’t believe it,” said Fernwyn. “You did survive.”
“My God, Ari,” began John, “tell me what happened to you. You look fine. We heard you were badly injured when the way station was destroyed. Did Captain Calico give you medical treatment?”
Ari smiled half-heartedly. “Not exactly.”
“Are you all right, then? Aren’t you glad to see us, Ari?”
“Arianna Ferro might as well have been killed on the station, John. I don’t want that life back. I’m happy living as Coma Veronice. The Almagest is my home now. Frankly, I’m surprised you came all this way looking for me, after what I did to you.”
“You know I would never give up on you if I thought you were still alive!”
“You’re too forgiving, John. It’s a significant weakness.”
“We’ve had this conversation before. I still believe that Aldebaran was chiefly responsible for your actions. Even still, you sacrificed yourself to save us at the way station. And despite the trouble the two of you caused for us, you still made significant contributions toward the liberation of Umber. We never would have gotten off the ground without you, let alone made it to the nebula. The others understand all of this. You have a second chance with us, Ari.”
“What happened to Aldebaran?”
“Aldebaran is dead,” said Fernwyn. “He died shortly after the station was destroyed.”
“Too bad. He’s the one who deserved a second chance. I am responsible for my actions, despite what you say. Aldebaran only made it easier to live with what I did.”
John stepped back. “Please, Ari, come back with us. There is still a lot that needs to be done. We need you.”
“Stop calling me Ari, God damn it! I didn’t ask you to come out here! If I wanted to go back to the Faith then Calico would have brought me. I have made my choice. Ari Ferro is dead. I am Coma Veronice.”
