Sector 3 - Daer
Abdullah Al Hakir, Kristi Grove, Ike Oreman
Abdullah stood in the conference hall in front of his seven chosen officers, arms folded behind his back. He surveyed their uniforms to ensure they were pressed and clean. Pristine. The four men and three women he’d selected stood at perfect attention, myriad faces impassive, eyes staring straight ahead.
Are they respecting me or ignoring me?
He didn’t know. He would have offered respect for any High Officer on board Denigen’s Fist. But then again, he’d never had to deal with a situation like this from their perspective: an upstart jumping to the top of the ladder.
Only a few hours ago, Captain Grove had given him the order to select and prep his own team of officers. Jamar, her manservant, gave him a recommendation list, but he quickly scrapped it. The suggested officers were all high-born, but none of them offered anything particularly unique or helpful to Abdullah. With the new accommodations, Abdullah needed all the help he could get.
These were enlisted officers, all hand selected by Abdullah. He’d known some of them personally before his promotion three days ago, but a few he knew only by reputation.
Eddie was his only friend among the seven. Abdullah didn’t have many friends.
But, he liked to keep track of good soldiers on board Denigen’s Fist. These were some of the best he knew of. They were skipped over for promotions because of low birth but scored top marks on all proficiency-based examinations.
They were all near his age, either the late twenties or early thirties. Not much younger than Abdullah, who’d just passed his thirty-eighth birthday. Even then, he doubted they would consider him a peer.
Not anymore, at least.
Abdullah’s life was in upheaval. The ship was in upheaval. And here they were, in Sector Three, trying to find new normalcy amidst insanity.
Thankfully most of his communications were sent electronically. There was a staff ready to relay any order to the correct location at all times of the day. Without them, Abdullah wouldn’t have had a chance. They would have realized him for the fraud he was.
They might anyway.
2
“We picked up something on long-range scanners,” the officer said, hands flying over the control console, tapping out a series of commands. “A shipping vessel, ID signal jammed.”
“Get me a spec readout and lock onto their tracers. If they go to warp, go after them.”
“Should we hail them?”
Kristi thought about it for a moment. If the ID signal was being jammed, that meant most likely this was a smuggling vessel. A smuggling vessel or one of those goddamned pit fighting ships. In either case, it was involved in illicit activities.
And it sat here, floating in orbit above the trading planet Daer. Daer was known for its black-market trade industry and corrupt officials.
Her first duty as a Captain of the Republic’s Fleet was to protect and secure the galaxy against external threats. The likelihood of galactic war was minor, so her secondary purpose was to regulate and protect the citizens.
She wanted to do her job, but it was made more difficult by corruption running rampant through the entire system. It stemmed from the top, from people like the Consul Peter Gavriel. He bought officials and forgave criminals. He’d even bought Captains, Kristi’s peers.
The thought sickened her.
The people of the galaxy deserved better. They deserved more than corrupt politicians who took bribes in back rooms and sold civilians to the highest bidder. They needed to know that they were safe and that there were people on their side; they needed to understand that people who did terrible things wouldn’t be tolerated.
“Hail them, but no threats. Keep it civil and keep them occupied.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We want them to decide to flee. After it’s too late. Move us closer, but slowly. We don’t want them to think they are at risk.”
The pilot nodded and began relaying the orders to the engine controls. The communications officer opened a channel and hailed the smugglers, acting confused and seeking reverification on everything.
Kristi stepped over to the railing and glanced down at one of the officers sitting at the terminals below.
“Where is Lieutenant Commander Al Hakir?”
“He is on deck twelve, sir,” the officer reported.
“Tell him to ready the crew. We’re going to board.”
3
Abdullah was handed a data pad. It contained all the information he would need.
To make his decision…
About how best to board the enemy ship…
As soon as the alarms started blaring, a young soldier found Abdullah and led him to a station he could deliver orders from. He’d walked in a daze, struggling to stay calm.
“Sir?” the young woman asked. She was sitting at a terminal, waiting to relay his orders.
Abdullah stared blankly at her. Alarms were blaring all around him. People were shouting.
“Sir?” she repeated. “What are your orders?”
I don’t know, Abdullah almost said. I have no idea what I’m doing. What I’m supposed to do. I don’t even remember what your name is. Sally. Or Susie. Or something. Why are we attacking smugglers? Are we sure they are smugglers? What kind of ship is this?
But he didn’t dare ask those questions. The data pad would include all that information, he knew. It would also include the list of all the boarding teams. Twenty members apiece. Or maybe it was twenty-two.
He wiped his sweaty finger across the screen. Nothing happened. He tried using the cusp of his shirt to dry it off. His entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat.
If I mess this up, is Kristi going to execute me?
“Sir?” the young woman repeated, a concerned expression on her face.
Will they execute her, too?
He felt someone touch his arm. He glanced to the side and saw Jamar Paskin, a mildly bored expression on his rotund face. Abdullah remembered him as the man who spoke in the conference and Kristi’s servant.
“Here you are, Sarah,” Jamar said, handing a data pad to the young girl. “The Lieutenant Commander asked me to hold onto these for him. It must have slipped his mind. If you would be so kind as to relay the messages?”
The girl nodded and accepted the data pad. She turned back around in her seat, sliding a pair of headphones over her ears, and began relaying orders. Her fingers flashed over the screen at the same time as she rambled off a series of alphanumeric codes.
Abdullah watched for a second, having no idea what was going on. Jamar put his hand on Abdullah’s shoulder and led him away.
“We’ll let her be for now,” Jamar said.
“Were those my orders?” Abdullah asked.
Jamar nodded. “And they were excellent, my friend.”
Abdullah allowed himself to be steered over to the door of the bridge. They dodged several other officers and assistants before finding a quiet place to stand. Jamar removed his hand from Abdullah’s shoulder and then swept it across in a dramatic motion.
“This,” he said, “is like a well-oiled machine.”
Abdullah watched people scrambling around him. Lights flashed. Sirens blared. A soldier slipped and fell only a few feet away, hitting his arm hard on a rail. Only Captain Grove, standing on her raised platform, seemed relaxed. She could have been on a beach somewhere, she was so calm.
“It looks chaotic,” Abdullah said.
“Indeed,” Jamar agreed. “But there is beauty in chaos. If you can control it…harness it…why, there is no telling what you might accomplish.”
Abdullah didn’t know what to say.
Denigen’s Fist rocked suddenly, followed by a loud roar.
“Did we just fire the plasma cannon?” Abdullah asked. Jamar nodded.
“You just disabled their engines. Your next shot will damage their hangar to keep anyone from fleeing. The third shot will take out the bridge. You’re certain the battle will only take three shots and are hoping to minimize loss of life.”
“What about drop pods?”
Jamar held out his hands. “Four ships are deploying between the smuggling ship and the planet. Any pods they cannot capture are to be destroyed.”
“What else did I order?”
“Twenty ships will board from four entry points, entering with concussion grenades. A broadcast is playing in four languages over their speakers promising to take anyone prisoner who lays down arms. The ship has been split into quadrants so that the enemy cannot regroup in a centralized location.”
“Is that all?” Abdullah asked.
“Not by a long shot,” Jamar said. Another shock reverberated as their massive cannon fired off another shot. Jamar headed for the door leading from the bridge and gestured for Abdullah to follow. “But we don’t have time for the minutiae. You’re expected down at Hangar Four to oversee prisoner transfer.”
They stepped onto the Command Deck. It was packed, unlike the last time he’d been through. Hundreds of people typed away at terminals. The drone of conversations echoed throughout.
“Prisoner transfer?” Abdullah asked. “You think they’ll surrender?”
“They already have,” Jamar replied. “They just might not know it yet.”
“I need to be there?”
“You should be there,” Jamar corrected. “It is an ideal place for the men to see you. A good first impression.”
Abdullah glanced down at his shirt. The armpits and neckline were a darker shade of gray from sweat. “I’m not sure what kind of impression I will make.”
Jamar opened his bag. He drew out a gray shirt, folded and pressed. He handed it to Abdullah. “There’s a restroom by the exit. The Nano-fiber material of this uniform is more comfortable than anything I’m sure you’ve ever worn. Still, I’d recommend wiping yourself down first. Just in case.”
Abdullah accepted the shirt, rubbing it with his thumbs. “You’ve thought of everything.”
“Always plan for the worst. You’ll never be caught off guard.”
“Why are you doing this for me? Wouldn’t it be easier to just let me fail?”
“Yes,” Jamar said with a chuckle. “It would.”
Then he disappeared, stepping back into the chaotic crowd around him. Abdullah hesitated for a second and then made his way to the restroom. He stripped his shirt off and threw it in the trashcan. He dried his chest off as best he could and then put the shirt on. It felt smooth on his skin and weighed almost nothing.
As an afterthought, he folded up a few pieces of toilet paper and put them between his sleeve and armpit.
He paused to look at himself in the mirror. His skin was paler than normal and his eyes looked slightly glazed. He splashed some water on his face, took a few deep breaths, and exited the restroom.
4
The battle, if it could be called one, was over in only a matter of minutes. Kristi ordered for the Gunnery Officer to target the engines as soon as they were in range. After only a few shots, the smuggling vessel was disabled.
Alarms blared all around her. Officers ran from one terminal to the next. People yelled, shouted, and cheered as events progressed in the confrontation. Kristi stood unmoving with her hands folded behind her back, an island of clarity against the raging storm around her.
She was most pleased by how quickly and efficiently the ship was boarded. Any doubts she had about promoting Abdullah Al Hakir were abolished as the smuggling vessel was overrun and taken. Reports were still coming onto the bridge from the front lines, but she knew the crew casualties from Denigen’s Fist could be counted on two hands.
She watched her twenty drop ships attach lines to the other ship and haul it closer to Denigen’s Fist. Several smugglers were shot during the engagement, but the soldiers managed to secure the enemy bridge and round up all the crew.
That crew numbered almost four thousand. Traitors and thieves all. Men and women who have turned their backs on the First Citizen.
Normally, after securing the vessel it would be hauled to a nearby planet. Each smuggler would be given a trial. Despite being a Captain of the Republic Fleet, Kristi Grove was not within her rights to judge the smugglers. She could not judge anyone outside of a military court.
However, there was a problem: the nearest world was Daer.
An officer handed her a data pad. It listed casualties.
The alarm system powered down, casting the bridge into silence.
On Daer, the smugglers would see only a modicum of justice. Of the four thousand, only a handful would be found guilty. And those would be given short prison sentences in lieu of the harsher penalties possible.
If anything, it would help them gain more friends and ties in the criminal underbelly of Daer. The most corrupt members of society were the ones running it.
The thought of racketeers and criminals judging smugglers and murderers boiled the Captain’s blood. If she had her way, she’d wipe the establishment clean, fix the corruption at its source. But that was a fight for another day.
Today was all about the message.
Thankfully, she had an alternative. She could not judge the prisoners for civil crimes, but she could turn them over to the Envoy for justice.
The Ministerial Envoy had the full backing of the First Citizen and Ministry. In Republic space, an Envoy’s word was law. They could judge any criminal activity and deliver the appropriate punishment in the First Citizen’s name.
Such action was not common. Normally the Holy Ministry avoided political or economic endeavors. The little priests were taught to dispense justice only in the worst of situations. They certainly weren’t willing to go above and beyond the call of duty and make examples of criminals, and when criminals were turned over for judgment, they were often forgiven by the Ministry.
However, turning the criminals over to the Envoy was greatly preferable to turning them over to Daer.
Plus, she had great confidence in the new Ministerial Envoy aboard her vessel. Abi would make the right decision, Captain Grove knew. She nodded to her First Officer and exited the bridge.
She strode to a meeting room off the Command Deck where her Minister was waiting.
Animal paintings and crayon drawings decorated the walls.
A tiara hung from the door handle.
The room stank of youth.
Why did I let her keep so many toys?
Abi was playing with a large stuffed bear when Kristi entered, but she broke into a wide grin and ran to the Captain, throwing a hug around her mid-section. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” the little girl repeated. Kristi extricated herself.
“You like the bear?”
“I love it.”
“What’s his name?”
“Wade,” the girl said shyly, grinning ear to ear. “I named him after my daddy.”
A knowing smile creased the old woman’s lips.
“That’s very nice of you. Have you been reading the paper I gave you?”
Abi blushed. “Yes.”
“Don’t lie to me, Abi.”
“It’s too hard! I don’t even know what the words mean.”
“You don’t need to know. You just must recite it. It has to be perfect, okay, Abi?”
“Okay,” the little girl said sadly. “I promise I’ll practice.”
“It will be in a few hours, and afterward, I promise you can play with Wade for as long as you want.”
That made her happy again. “Thank you!” she said, smiling widely.
Kristi was smiling as well. One more piece falling into position.
5
The next several hours were a blur. Soldiers watched as a procession of prisoners was brought aboard Denigen’s Fist into a hangar bay. Several High Officers congratulated Abdullah, a few going so far as to pat him on the back. His strategy was brilliant, his attention to detail superb. How had he managed it so cleanly after only a few days on the job?
Abdullah took it all in stride. Or at least, he hoped he did. To be perfectly honest, he was glad he managed to make it through the day without fainting. By the end of it, even the second shirt was covered in sweat and he had sticky little balls of toilet paper covering his skin.
This was his first taste of leading a warship: simultaneously euphoric and terrifying.
They had attacked and captured a smuggling ship. Two had been in range, but Kristi was only interested in taking one.
The escaping ship was a large merchant vessel known as the Screaming Lady, and it was owned by a man named Immanuel Lefelenzo. He wasn’t a smuggler but operated several fighting pits and slave rings.
Too bad he got away.
Things had calmed since the frantic battle, and now Abdullah wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his cot and fall asleep. He had a dull headache behind his eyes and felt utterly drained.
But that wasn’t possible. Instead, he returned to the meeting hall where his seven soldiers waited. No one said a word about his absence. He wondered if they’d been here during the entire battle. Probably. They wouldn’t dare disobey an order from their Lieutenant Commander.
“You are all being reassigned,” he began finally. “To work for me. At ease.”
The officers relaxed. Eddie was at the end of the line to the left, but his expression was as blank as those of the others. It was as if he was refusing to acknowledge that he knew who Abdullah was.
“Do you have any questions?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. There is going to be a lot of information sent to your quarters over the next few days. I expect you to know all of it. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they all said.
“And one last thing,” he said, deciding to keep the meeting short. “I expect you all to be honest with me. Never withhold any information, for any reason. I’ve picked you all because you’re the best at what you do.”
He looked them over one last time and then waved his hand. “You are all going to report for duty tomorrow at—”
“Lieutenant Commander,” a voice interrupted over the intercom system. “Your presence is requested by the Captain.”
Abdullah glanced at the speaker. Again?
“Now?”
“Yes, sir. Hangar four.”
“Not the bridge?” he asked, surprised.
“No, sir,” the voice said. “Hangar four. Captain Grove is expecting you immediately.”
Abdullah looked back at the soldiers. “Then I better not keep her waiting. You are all dismissed for the day. Report at my office tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred, and we’ll discuss everything. Read every single paper you get. Dismissed.”
The seven saluted and filed out of the room. Abdullah watched them disappear and then picked up his jacket, folding it over his arm. Will I ever get to sleep again?
He doubted it. Hangar four? That’s where the prisoners are being held. Kristi must be planning to deliver a speech to the new prisoners.
And then Captain Grove would drop them off on Daer and be done with it. It was the nearest planet, only half a day away. Dropping off the prisoners would take a week, and it would be tedious. But that would give him time to relax and recover.
The sad fact was Daer harbored criminals. Captain Schmidt had never taken a smuggling vessel this close to Daer. It was a rookie mistake, the kind that would make Kristi a lot of enemies. They would all be back out in a month, looking for a new ship to work on with a score to settle.
But she was a new Captain. Prone to making mistakes. She couldn’t have known that Daer would free all her prisoners.
And, the more he thought about it, the better it seemed overall. The other officers were impressed with him—even if he had nothing to do with the orders—and the men and women under his charge respected him more now. They knew he could do the job.
The next time we flag a smuggling ship, I’ll be ready.
6
Lieutenant Commander Al Hakir made his way through Denigen’s Fist. He passed through one of the gardens. Above him was an enormous glass dome, and beyond that only stars. It was beautiful, one of his favorite places on the ship, and one he hadn’t known about until his promotion.
He rode the elevator from level twelve to level four. The halls of the Fist were bustling with activity and excitement. He heard a few soldiers mention the prisoners. Already rumors were spreading.
All the whispers stopped as he passed, which was disorienting. Most of the men saluted or nodded to him. He was surprised that they recognized him at all. People stared at him with expressions varying from respect to frank amazement. Why you? they seemed to be asking. He wished he knew.
“Lieutenant Commander,” a voice called as he stepped off the elevator.
He glanced around and saw Jamar waiting. The man had a data pad clutched in his pudgy hand. He wore an easy smile on his face as Abdullah approached.
“Yes?” Abdullah asked.
“I am to inform you that the Captain will be running a few moments late. She asked for you to check on the Minister’s Envoy and see that she is prepared.”
“She?” Abdullah blurted before catching himself. Jamar smiled wryly and narrowed his eyes.
“Yes. She is in the conference hall to your left. Currently, she is preparing her speech.”
“The Envoy is making a speech?” he asked.
Suddenly, it clicked.
“We’re turning the prisoners over to the Ministry,” he said.
Jamar nodded and then said professionally, “It has been decided that the Minister shall decide the fate of our six thousand captured smugglers. May the Lord light the heathen’s path, yadda yadda. Have you any further questions?”
Abdullah shook his head. “I will check on her.”
Jamar smiled knowingly. “I believe you are already acquainted.”
“Huh?” Abdullah said. “I don’t think I’ve met any new Ministers.”
“It has been a whirlwind of days. You might not remember. Just please make sure she leaves her dolls behind.”
Luckily, Jamar walked away without waiting for a response from the new Lieutenant Commander. He never noticed the horrified expression on Abdullah’s face.
7
“Daer is the closest planet,” Ben said, rubbing his chin and yawning. “And my cousin works at the district office there.”
“For all the good that does you,” Ike Oreman said, his voice bitter.
“You kidding? I’ll spend a few hours in prison. At most. With this many people all dropped off together, they’ll cut most of us loose as soon as this old Junker leaves orbit. Denigen’s Fist. What kind of name is that? Who the hell was Denigen?”
“You think they’ll let us go?” Ike asked hopefully.
“I know they will,” Ben said. He was in his late thirties. Ike was only seventeen, so he didn’t know the ropes yet. Ben had been captured five times like this if you believed his stories. “Why do you think we fly so close to Daer? Our boss knows what to do. Most of the time they don’t even mess with us. They know the score.”
“But they trashed our ship.”
“It happens,” Ben replied with a shrug. “A few people will go to jail. As an example. Truth be told, it does us a favor: cleaning out the trash. But everyone else, they’ll just let go. Ain’t worth the hassle.”
“Will they let me go?”
“This is your first time in trouble. No rap sheet. I’m sure they will. Just be polite. And tell your lawyer you have a sick family. He’ll take care of the rest. We’ll both be free in a couple of weeks. Then we can sign on to another ship. Something smaller, so we get a bigger share of the profits. Most of ‘em are looking for new blood.”
Ike was silent, looking over the amassed bodies around them. There was barely enough room to move his arms. At least he wasn’t claustrophobic.
Though he was cramped and miserable. The air smelled of sweat and body odor. The atmosphere was tense.
But not as tense as he would have expected. Most people seemed to share Ben’s optimism. Soon they would be dropped off on Daer, and not long after they would be free. This was just a hitch in the process. The owners would lose profits, sure, but that was their problem. The people here, in this hangar, they were the small fish.
It seemed like a waste.
“Why would they attack us?”
“Huh?” Ben asked, cocking his head sideways. He had a bum ear and could only hear from the right.
“Why did they shoot us down in the first place? What was the point?”
Ben shrugged. “No idea. Heard it’s a new Captain, so maybe that’s it. Brown nosing, probably, or just plain dumb.” Ben hacked into his sleeve and wiped his mouth. “If the Captain keeps doing dumb stuff, she’ll end up dead. If she figures it out, though…well, there’s money to be made.”
Someone bumped into Ike. “I just want off this ship.”
“Me too, kid,” Ike said. “Me too. But don’t worry, it won’t be long. The Captain’s going to come out, give a speech, and then we’ll be on our way. Ever been to Daer? It’s one hell of a place.”
8
“Abi?”
The little girl looked up, a wide grin on her face. “Dulah!” She held up a small plastic doll in a white dress. It was eerily detailed to resemble a woman. Abigail had covered it in layers of clothing, and it had the vague resemblance of a clown. “Betsy missed you!”
Abdullah coughed. “How…are you doing?”
“We are about to have a tea party. Would you like to join us?”
Abdullah felt sick. “No, not right now. You have a…speech…right?”
Her face fell. “I don’t want to do it,” she said, crossing her arms and pouting. “I don’t like to read, and we have our tea party! Wade is going to come too.”
Wade the doll? Gods, what is going on?
A child as the Minister’s Envoy? This is crazy.
Abdullah had never heard of it happening before. He couldn’t imagine the Minister sanctioning such a decision.
Not that it mattered. Abdullah was in no place to question the Ministry, and he certainly wasn’t going to question Captain Grove. If she wanted the little girl to read a speech, then it was his job to make sure she did it.
But how the hell am I supposed to do that?
“Do you like tea?” he asked.
“Uh huh,” she said. “And we already started preparing the table. Our guests will be arriving soon, so Betsy and I have to prepare.”
Abdullah hesitated, thinking. “Can I come to your party?”
Her face lit up. “Sure, Dulah, you can come!” She ran to the corner of the room where all the chairs had been pushed to. “But now I need another chair!”
“I can get a chair,” he said. “And we can have our tea party. But first I need you to read the speech.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t want to.”
“But if you don’t read it, the Captain won’t let me come to your party. And I really want to.”
He felt like an idiot, but Abi seemed to be considering it. “Will you be there with me when I read it?”
“I’ll be there, right beside you the entire time. And as soon as we are done, we’ll all have tea. Okay?”
She thought a moment longer than nodded. “Okay, Dulah.”
The door opened behind them. Jamar stepped into the room carrying a folded black robe. Red lines ran along the neckline and sleeves. “Are you ready? You need to put this on.”
Abi touched the material. It shimmered under her touch. “It’s beautiful,” she said breathlessly. “Is it for me?”
“It’s all yours. Come with me.”
He led the little girl to a side room, and Abdullah let out a long sigh.
Captain Grove followed her servant into the small office room a few moments later, arching an eyebrow at Abdullah. “Did you convince her?”
“She’ll do it, I think,” he said. “Whatever it is you want her to do.”
Captain Grove smiled, but it didn’t reach her gray eyes. “Good. Better we don’t drug her for this. It’s important that she trusts us.”
Us? Abdullah thought but didn’t dare voice the concern.
“How did you convince her?” Kristi asked.
“I…uh…promised I would go to her tea party after.”
This time, the Captain didn’t smile. “Then I suppose you’d better not let her down,” she said, turning and disappearing from the room.
9
“Where is this asshole? It’s been hours,” Ike said, holding his arms up. His elbows were the only defense he had to keep a little breathing room. The crowd was milling tighter with pent-up energy as more people were forced inside.
The room was well beyond packed, and he couldn’t see anything other than a sea of bodies. He wasn’t even sure how the life support systems were keeping enough air in the same location.
“Won’t be long now. We’re all here,” Ben said. “And you better not be too uncomfortable. We’re going to be here for a few more hours until they can get us to Daer and drop us off.”
“What?” Ike groaned. “Hell’s bells.”
“This is our real punishment. Just think of it as a growing experience. This will make you stronger. And remember kid: this time tomorrow we’ll be free.”
“I just want to get the hell out of this cargo hold and—”
“Shut up,” Ben interrupted. “The door is opening.”
Ike glanced ahead and confirmed what his friend said was true. The bay door was sliding open. Several men strode inside, clearing the area and pushing prisoners back. They were all armed and armored. Ike peered up at the rafters and saw more guards posted above.
“Shit,” Ike said, pointing up. “They are carrying launchers.”
Ben glanced up and hesitated. “Missile launchers,” he said. “Must be crowd control.”
“Crowd control involves blowing us all up?”
“Bean bags is my guess,” Ben said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Or ball bearings. Riot gear.”
“Probably.”
Ike glanced back to the front and saw that the men were setting up a stage. It was raised about eight feet off the ground, high enough that anyone on top could easily be seen. Another few minutes passed as the guards pushed the perimeter back.
Finally, a small contingent came out of the door.
“The hell?” Ben said. “They brought a kid? What the hell are they doing?”
Ike watched the group climb onto the platform. A hush had descended over the hangar and all eyes were faced forward. The lights dimmed. Ike lowered his elbows and felt a chill run down his spine.
Something was wrong.
The little girl was in black shimmering robes that dragged the ground. She stood in the center of a trio of people on top of the stage. To her right stood a woman in a well-decorated uniform and to the left was a bronze-skinned man with sharp features and short-cropped hair. He was holding the little girl’s hand.
She looked up to him for support. The man nodded to her and she stepped forward, opening her mouth to speak. Everyone strained to listen, which was unnecessary. Her voice—shrill and rapid—echoed throughout the entire hangar via speakers.
“You have been gathered to face your crimes. In the name of the Minister, Givon…Givon Mielo, you have been judged,” she looked up at the man beside her and he nodded his approval. The little girl turned back to the crowd. “Seek penance with God.”
The crowd stood in stunned silence as the trio climbed off the stage and exited the hangar.
“What…what does that mean?” Ike asked, glancing over at Ben. “What the hell does that mean?”
Ben’s jaw was hanging open and all the blood drained from his face.
10
“How did I do?”
“You did great, Abi,” Abdullah said, holding her shoulder and steering her away. His heart was racing and he could barely breathe. “So, good.”
“And now we get to have our tea party?”
“Uh huh,” he said. Captain Kristi had stopped, watching through the window the multitude of faces within. So many people crammed into one place.
Not for long.
Captain Grove gave him a long look and beckoned him over.
“Go ahead and set up,” Abdullah said to Abi. “I’ll be right in.”
The girl ran to the office, all smiles and excited energy. She looked so small and innocent, her too-big robes flopping around her tiny frame. He watched her go and faced the Captain.
She was peering through a one-way window into the cargo hangar, hands clasped behind her back and a pensive expression on her face. Abdullah glanced past her, wondering what she saw in those clustered faces.
“Captain?” a voice said over the intercom. “Shall we proceed?”
The moment dragged on. People inside the hangar had figured out what was going on and were pounding on the door. Some were climbing on top of each other. But there was no escape.
Abdullah felt a lump in his throat as he stared at the Captain. She turned to look at him. “You disapprove.”
Abdullah couldn’t hide it. It was written all over his face. “Dead men learn no lessons.”
“You assume this lesson is for them.”
He forced a ragged breath. “Who is it for?”
“We are in orbit over Daer. Once we leave this area, the only gravity strong enough to affect the smugglers will be the planet. And each other.”
“They will clump together and plummet,” he surmised, shaking his head. “A harsh lesson.”
“But necessary.”
“Will the Ministry be offended?”
“Their own Envoy gave the command,” Captain Grove said, her voice making her meaning clear. “They cannot speak against her without speaking against themselves.”
Abdullah’s skin felt clammy and he felt like he was standing on thin ice. At any moment, he might fall through. “Then,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “we have no choice but to honor her decision.”
The Captain studied him for a long moment and smiled, her cold gray eyes boring into his soul. “No choice at all.” She turned back to face the door. “Vent the hangar.”
It happened quickly. Abdullah couldn’t hear anything through the thick doors, could only see the terrified expressions. There was a sudden rush as people were dragged toward the exit and out into space, along with the hangar’s air supply. But with bodies so tightly packed the air only managed to pull the ones closest to the exit out into space.
The rest scattered about in the hangar, the liquid in the air freezing solid in seconds. Abdullah watched them stop moving, horrified and wishing he was anywhere else.
Six thousand dead, he thought. Most of the bodies will burn up on impact with the planet’s atmosphere.
But they don’t have to hit the surface to make an example.
“I’ll have guards clean up the mess before we reestablish atmosphere. I don’t want any thawing out on my ship,” Captain Grove said, peeling her eyes from the spectacle and glancing at Abdullah. The edges of her lips curled.
“Don’t you have a tea party to go to?”
