Preservation_Age of Expansion_A Kurtherian Gambit Series Page 9

  Fletcher ground his fist into his palm, his teeth clenched. “Let’s land on the beach on the far side of the island.”

  “I think…” Lars began, his tone careful, “we should check out the smaller islands first. Find out what’s happened.”

  “Rosco is obviously inhabiting the large island,” Fletcher argued. “Why waste time when we know where to find him?”

  “Because if he’s responsible for the destruction of these other islands, we should find out what we’re up against, collect some intel,” Lars explained.

  Fletcher stubbornly sharpened his gaze on the land mass ahead of them.

  “I think Lars is right,” Nona chimed in from the back. “I know you’re anxious for this mission to be complete, but if we rush it, we could make a mistake.”

  Fletcher appeared to be on the verge of saying something, but only shook his head.

  “The island looks incredibly well guarded, and we have small numbers,” Lars said, calculating. “That’s both to our advantage and disadvantage. I’m not worried about our chances of sneaking into the compound, but I’d like a bit more time to investigate.”

  “Hatch gave me two of the personal cloaking devices,” Fletcher argued.

  “Which sound great, but I caught the captain and commander while they were wearing them on a mission,” Lars reminded him. “The cloaks aren’t foolproof and they superficially inflate a soldier’s confidence.”

  Fletcher chewed on his lip and softened a degree. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s check out the smaller islands first.”

  “What about that one? It’s populated, but from what I can tell, the habitants are civilian natives.” Nona pointed, pulling her face away from her scope she’d been studying the islands through.

  “Good work,” Lars congratulated her, taking the ship in for a landing.

  ~~~

  Fletcher knew that Lars and Nona were right, and he had recruited them for the mission because he respected their input. At his core, he knew he was too invested in killing Rosco, and that his hunger could be his undoing. That’s why he’d let his teammates accompany him. He trusted Nona to keep him honest, and Lars to implement strategy.

  The Q-Ship set down in one of the many clearings surrounded by scorched forest. In the distance, a child carried a pail of water away from the salty sea, her face and arms darkened from the sun. She wore a dress of torn rags, and her black hair was matted to her head.

  “She’s headed for the village over there,” Lars said, catching Fletcher’s line of vision. He pointed at a series of dilapidated huts on the higher end of the beach.

  Why these natives didn’t live inland, Fletcher couldn’t reason. Staying close to the edge of the water wasn’t just a risk, but being subjected to the unforgiving winds also made for uncomfortable living.

  “What’s the plan?” Nona asked, her eyes eager.

  Fletcher strode toward the back of the ship where they stored extra supplies. He retrieved four warm blankets and handed them to Nona, who had been reaching for her rifle.

  “Leave the guns behind,” Fletcher stated. “Something tells me that these people have seen enough guns to not trust those who wave them around freely.”

  When the Kezzin smiled, it made his face look strange, but it also suited him. “I would agree. Good instinct,” Lars noted.

  Fletcher pointed to two large containers of fresh water. “Can you carry those?” he asked Lars.

  The pilot nodded, picking up the ten-gallon containers like they weighed nothing.

  Fletcher pulled a large bag filled with rations and first aid supplies from the back of the storage unit, throwing it over his shoulder. “I say we bring these people gifts and earn their trust. Maybe then they’ll tell us something useful about the large island.”

  “If nothing else, our offerings will mean a great deal to them,” Lars reasoned with gentle pride.

  ~~~

  A group of children looked up from a game they were playing in the dirt when the team of three strode in the direction of the camp. The settlement was small, consisting of only half a dozen small huts and a few larger ones. Women sat around a fire, some sorting through berries, others weaving. They looked up with alarm when the children hollered, running in their direction.

  Fletcher faked a smile, hoping that the universal expression would tell the women that they weren’t in danger.

  One of the women stood, and her height was surprising. She had to be over six feet tall. Her shoulders were wide, but her hips narrow. The children all disappeared into one of the larger huts.

  “What do you want?” the woman asked, her voice rough. Like the children, her clothes were threadbare, and her skin hung loosely around her eyes.

  From the large hut the children now hid in, three men appeared, their expressions hostile.

  “We mean you no harm,” Fletcher stated, bowing. “We bring you gifts.”

  Nona set the thick blankets down in front of the tall woman and straightened, dwarfed by her height. She then darted her eyes to the water and medical bag that Fletcher and Lars had set down. Fletcher unzipped the bag to show the rich bounty within.

  “Why have you brought this?” the woman asked, her chin raising high in the air.

  “Because we are visitors to your land, seeking information,” Nona stated.

  The three men had come to stand beside the woman, and their eyes narrowed at the supplies.

  “What is it you want to know?” the woman asked.

  “What happened to your island, and what do you know about the larger island north of here?” Fletcher dared to say.

  The wrinkles on the woman’s face deepened. “Rosco happened, to this island and to our sister islands.”

  Fletcher let out a heavy sigh. “We feared as much. We’re here to take him down, but we thought you might offer some insight.”

  The old woman measured him up with a penetrating stare. After a long moment, she put her back to him and strode for the fire. “Then come this way and make yourself useful. We labor while we talk, or the work never gets done.”

  ~~~

  Lars stared down at the bowl of nuts at his feet. Sitting awkwardly on the ground, he eyed the women around the fire, who were all regarding him with cautious glares. He knew he reminded them of Rosco simply because they were both Kezzin. They didn’t know that many residents of Kezza were honest, hardworking farmers who desired a peaceful life.

  Lars was reminded of a quote he had read that morning during his daily meditations. Stephen Hawking said, “The greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge.” People thought they knew the Kezzin, based on their limited knowledge of the less attractive acts performed by some of the race, so they often underestimated the rest of them and held many biases.

  Maybe in time, he could change that.

  “Sort out the nuts from the rocks,” the woman who had greeted them ordered. They’d learned her name was Vera.

  Lars snapped back to himself and nodded, obediently pulling the bowl closer to him.

  “You said that Rosco attacked the islands? Why?” Nona asked, sorting through a bowl of berries, her attention on the large woman.

  Vera had taken a seat and gotten to work, weaving green vines. The men had moved off to the side to chop wood, but kept their eyes on the group.

  “Because he’s a power-hungry brute,” Vera said. “For centuries, we’ve lived on these three islands, able to sustain a healthy balance by carefully borrowing resources from Anara, the main island, and the surrounding waters. We left Anara uninhabited and only took what we needed, even replanting the trees we chopped down. A year ago, Rosco set up a camp on that island. We confronted him, explaining how life in the Cantjik Sea is best preserved.” Hostile outrage flared on the old woman’s face as she wove more furiously.

  Lars stared down at his bowl, realizing he hadn’t been sorting. Nona, on the other hand, was almost through the berries, apparently having no trouble multitasking. It made him feel s
lightly better that Fletcher’s hands were idle as he stared intently at their storyteller.

  “He did not take your input thoughtfully,” Fletcher guessed.

  Vera shook her head. “He slaughtered many of our people and stripped our islands of valuable resources, then he burned them to the ground.”

  Lars sucked in a short breath, a nut cracking in his fingers from a burst of anger.

  “I’m sorry,” Nona said, bowing her head thoughtfully.

  “I am too,” Vera stated, her tone hot. “We are slow to rebuild, having lost so much and fearing his return.”

  “Which is why you live on the beach,” Lars guessed, gauging their proximity to the sea, where fishing boats were tethered.

  Vera nodded. “We don’t know another way. We can’t survive another attack. Fighting him only leads to our end…We have to be ready to flee if and when he returns.”

  “Hopefully you will never have to,” Fletcher stated, his words full of conviction.

  “Do you know how many men he has around his compound?” Nona asked.

  “Not many,” Vera stated. “I’ve only ever seen a dozen or so men at any given time.”

  Nona looked to Fletcher hopefully. “Put me in a tree, and I can take out most of those men, especially with a diversion. Then you can get into the compound and get to Rosco.”

  Vera shook her head. “Rosco isn’t in the compound.”

  “He isn’t?” Fletcher asked, surprised.

  “That’s only where he keeps his stockpile,” Vera explained. “He’s in a cave on the northern tip of the island.”

  Lars smiled inside, grateful that they’d taken the detour to this island. They would not have thought to check the caves on their own, and Rosco would have had a chance to get away.

  “That’s really helpful,” Fletcher said appreciatively, pushing to a standing position and wiping off his uniform.

  “Do you think you three are enough to stop Rosco?” Vera asked, skepticism in her tone.

  Fletcher smiled at Lars and Nona with pride before saying, “He’ll never see us coming.”

  “Then I hope for all our sakes that you are successful,” Vera said, her eyes dropping to the supplies they’d brought. “Thank you for the gifts. They will help more than you know.”

  “You’re welcome,” Fletcher replied. “And soon Anara will be yours once more.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Officer’s Lounge, Ricky Bobby, Paladin System

  Julianna took a sip of the red wine only to make Liesel quit looking her way.

  “Doesn’t it have a lot of complexity?” the engineer asked.

  “Like a fucking crossword puzzle,” Julianna sighed, and then tested the wine again. It wasn’t whiskey, but it did have a boldness to it.

  “Hey, Liesel Diesel,” Eddie said, perched on his stool and shaking his wine glass at her. “Is this vino vegan?”

  “It’s made from grapes,” Marilla said from his other side as she ran her paintbrush over the canvas. She hadn’t even taken a sip of wine or whiskey, and was already busy painting a landscape of sunflowers.

  She really doesn’t know how this works, Julianna thought.

  “But are they vegan grapes?” Eddie asked.

  Jack, for all his pressuring, sat in the back row, where his canvas was out of sight. Julianna looked at her own blank canvas. She’d never dabbled in the arts—well, unless kicking ass was considered an art form. She believed it to be one.

  “What you paint should be personal to you,” Liesel instructed, striding through the easels with a carefree grin on her face. “If you need some inspiration, I have some art books at the front of the room.”

  I thought there was going to be a nude model, Pip said in Julianna’s head.

  She nearly jumped up out of her seat, she was so shocked and relieved to hear his voice. Instead, she put on her best indifferent tone.

  Oh, hey.

  Did you miss me?

  Didn’t realize you were gone.

  He sighed. Oh. I see that absence does not, in fact, make your heart grow fonder.

  Your mistake was thinking I had a heart.

  You do. It’s currently beating at seventy-two beats per minute. Maybe if I have the captain drop his brush and bend over to pick it up, your heart rate will increase.

  Julianna nearly burst out laughing, but took a quick drink to cover it up. The red wine made her mouth pucker. This wasn’t a drink she could slam.

  Did you and Hatch make up? Did you beg for his forgiveness? she asked him.

  Pleeeeease, he said drawing out the word. I told him how it was, and he was like, ‘Don’t sweat a thing, Pip,’ and I was all like, ‘I don’t sweat’. So yeah, we cool.

  Julianna’s cheeks warmed as she suppressed another laugh.

  “What’s got you smiling?” Eddie asked, catching the look on her face.

  She dabbed her brush in a glob of blue paint and spread it across the white canvas, making a dash of bold color. “Pip,” she said simply.

  “The little tyke is back?” Eddie asked, looking relieved and then hurt. “I haven’t heard from him.”

  Tell him ‘hoes before bros’, Pip stated.

  Julianna shook her head, dabbing her brush back into the blue paint. “He said he’s afraid of the dark, and is therefore limiting his time in your head.”

  “Ouch!” Eddie said, clapping his hand to his chest.

  Oh, good one.

  Why haven’t you said anything to Eddie yet? Julianna asked Pip.

  I will, but I kind of figured I should re-establish contact with you first.

  But you were using his body when you wrecked the car.

  Scratched, he corrected. And yes, but I’m…well, I guess I’m closer to you.

  We have spent a lot of time together, Julianna said, dabbing more blue on the top corner of the canvas, strangely enjoying the squishing sound her brush made.

  I guess you could say that I missed you.

  Julianna pulled the brush away, tilting her head to the side to regard her painting from a different angle.

  Are you surprised to hear me say that? Pip asked.

  Julianna smiled and took another drink of the bold, red wine. She would be drinking whiskey, but she and Eddie had already finished the bottle.

  Day drinking might be a problem at this rate, even with my nanos, she mused.

  To Pip, she said, I’m not surprised, but it’s nice to hear you say it. I might have missed you too, but don’t tell anyone, she warned.

  I’ve already blogged about it.

  “Your picture…” Eddie began, and then hesitated. “It’s a lot of blue.”

  Julianna stared at her canvas, a monochromatic rendition. “I like the color.”

  “It reminds me of a sky,” Eddie said, dunking his paintbrush in yellow and drawing a circle on his canvas.

  “Is that supposed to be a sun?” Julianna asked.

  “Yeah, I figured I’d paint the thing I never missed but was always told I should,” Eddie said, and for a moment, there was a rare depth to his tone.

  “It’s true that ship life doesn’t give us much of a chance to see skies or suns, but we get a lot of time with the stars,” Julianna said, looking out the bank of windows that offered a gorgeous view of a neighboring system.

  The sun is also a star, Pip informed her.

  Shut it. I thought it sounded poetic.

  Leave the poetry to me, because bad poetry equals oh no-etry.

  That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said.

  I’ll try harder. I can do worse.

  “What’s Pip going on about?” Eddie asked. “You’re grinning ear to ear.”

  “Oh, he’s making no sense at all, so…the usual,” Julianna stated.

  “Tell him I said hi.”

  Tell the captain—

  Pip, are you intentionally trying to be annoying? Julianna asked, cutting him off. You can tell him whatever you like yourself, and you know that.

  I figured we could ha
ve some alone time.

  Yes, just you and me and all these amateur painters.

  Marilla’s painting actually looks really nice. Chester’s is kind of scary.

  Julianna watched the hacker make black Xs on his canvas. It’s his own personal expression. Don’t judge.

  The captain has made a cheerful sun, Pip observed.

  Julianna gazed over to see an elementary sun on Eddie’s canvas. It reminded her of something a child would paint with their fingers.

  “Who are these people saying that you should miss sunsets and sunrises?” Julianna asked him.

  He set down his brush and took a drink. “My mother.”

  “Oh,” Julianna said, putting way too much blue paint on her brush.

  She’d read Eddie’s file and knew it by heart. His parents were huge supporters of the Federation, pilots who had served until the day they died, a notable and horrific day in history.

  What Julianna didn’t know was why Eddie blamed himself when, from everything she could see, he wasn’t culpable.

  “Yeah, she used to say that it was her love of the stars that made her miss Earth,” Eddie stated, a raw sincerity in his eyes.

  “That’s kind of beautiful,” Julianna mused.

  “She was beautiful. One of the most elegant women I’ve ever known,” Eddie said softly, his paintbrush suddenly moving double-time as he talked. “She was strong but had a dainty femininity about her. My father absolutely loved her, and he of course adored that she was a pilot like him. They’d talk for hours about different maneuvers. She was smarter when it came to technique, but he was humbler. They were an incredible combination.”

  Sound familiar? Pip asked.

  Julianna’s brush swiped clear off the canvas, dripping blue paint on the floor.

  You have the worst fucking timing in the world, she fumed, wanting to slap Pip.

  Eddie stared down at the ground for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. Then he shrugged. “Anyway, sorry. I kind of went off, there. Didn’t mean to.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Julianna said quickly. “I like hearing you talk about them.”

  Eddie paused, his paintbrush touching the canvas lightly as he stared at her, a slight, sideways smile on his face. “Thanks,” he finally said. “I like telling you.”