Angle of Truth by Lindsay Buroker
“No tolerance from the empire? Imagine.”
“There were good reasons for that. The world war that the colonists left behind was fresh in their memories and extremely terrible.”
“We’ve found ways to make war without religion being involved,” Jelena said.
“Yes, discontent with one’s lot and a desire for more seems to be built into the human psyche. No matter how advanced technology, no matter how convenient and pleasant modern life becomes, we find ways to feel restless and disgruntled. If we have no reason for grievances with strangers, we make them up. Fear of the outsider is ingrained in our genes, not without reason, but the smug glee with which we turn others into outsiders is odd. War seems inevitable for our kind.”
A strange, detached viewpoint from someone who planned to start the next war.
“Perhaps that’s what’s behind the war down here,” he added, waving to the brown landscape below. “Though interestingly, the people of Cholla have rarely made war amongst themselves, despite the fact that they represent at least a dozen of the Old Earth religions, if not more. People came here to flee what they considered the religious oppression of the rest of the system, and they settled in different spots around the continent, ignoring each other initially. But they seem to have grown together and intermingled over the decades and centuries that followed. Maybe fear of the empire and distrust toward the Divine Suns Trinity gave them a reason to bond with each other. They knew they were all the minority.”
“So they lived here in peace? What changed?”
“Tensions with their neighbors across the ocean, the Opuntians. Perhaps the tensions were always there, but they grew after the fall of the empire, turning into something of a cold war, with spying and distrust on both sides. A year ago, the Alliance representatives came, wanting to work with the Opuntians. That seems to have been a catalyst. The Chollans elected a war leader with a brutal reputation, and outright war soon started. The Opuntians claim the Chollans want to spread their religious viewpoints and destroy those who won’t forsake the Suns Trinity, but it seems more likely the Chollans are concerned about what their enemy’s acceptance of Alliance backing could mean for them.”
“They didn’t object to the empire’s presence on the planet, but they object to the Alliance?” Jelena scowled at the desert landscape below, a surge of indignation filling her. How could anyone accept the empire and not accept the much more amenable and fair Alliance? “That’s so wrong.”
“Your prejudices are showing,” Thor murmured.
“Only to those who snoop in my mind.”
“I’m fairly certain they’re in your spoken words too.”
“I—” A faint jolt ran through the ship, and an alarm flashed on the console. Alfie’s head came up, concern in her soulful, brown eyes. “Are they firing on us?” Jelena stared in disbelief even as she shared soothing feelings with Alfie.
Thor had warned her, but why would they have fired on a civilian ship? The Snapper didn’t have anything to do with their war. Yet.
“Yes.” Thor waved at the sensor display. “The attack originated on that hill over there. There are missile silos. With powerful missiles if we felt one with the shields up. They look like they might be old imperial Gem-9s.”
Jelena steered away from the weapons platform. She didn’t see any signs of settlements over there. What were they protecting?
Another attack came, this time from the coast. She glimpsed it on one of the exterior cameras, a missile arcing up from an installation over there.
She had time to adjust their flight path and get out of the way. Or so she thought. The missile banked, a self-guiding system taking it unerringly after the Snapper.
“A lovely welcome,” she muttered, sending more power to the thrusters in the hope of outrunning the missile. The shields could handle a few hits, but she wasn’t sure what the missile range was. Would the Chollans fire at her all the way to Opuntia? For that matter, could they launch missiles into space? “Do you think they know we’re going to see their enemy?”
“It’s possible. We haven’t informed them we’re coming to see them.”
In a final burst, the missile caught up to them and slammed into the rear shields. Light flashed on the cameras as another jolt shook the Snapper.
“They may simply want our cargo,” Thor added. “They are a people at war. Their resources are most certainly limited.”
“That’ll be a disappointment then, since people are the only cargo we have right now. I know Masika isn’t sharing her paint. She complained about the price of the limited supply at the DG-1 station when we stopped.”
“Captain,” Austin said over the comm. “Are we being fired at? I have alarms going off back here.”
The sensors alerted Jelena to another missile being launched from another coastal platform.
“Yes, and expect more of them.” Jelena was speeding toward the ocean so they could get away, but she contemplated returning fire. Picking a battle with a planetary force probably wasn’t a good idea, but if she could disable one of the weapons installations without hurting anyone, maybe that would teach them that firing upon strangers wasn’t polite.
She’d no sooner had the thought than they flew over an abandoned city, half of the buildings flattened and the broken streets piled high with rubble. A massive crater dominated ten square miles in the center.
“I’d just get out of here,” Thor said.
“Working on it,” Jelena said, her desire for vengeance or teaching lessons fading.
“Do you suspect paranormal activity as a problem?” Austin asked over the comm.
“What? No.” Jelena banked and twisted, trying to avoid the missile relentlessly pursuing them, exhaust from its rocket propulsion system streaming from its tailpipe.
“I thought you might not be able to return fire because of ghosts messing with the machinery in NavCom. My ghostometer picked up some interesting activity up there.”
“Something we can chat about at length later.” Jelena braced herself as the missile, unimpressed by her evasive maneuvers, smashed into their rear shields with another blinding flash.
“At length?” Thor murmured. “Is that something you truly wish to discuss at length?”
“At a short length.”
“I’m trying to paint back here,” Masika called from the mess hall. “Fewer bumps would be appreciated.”
“I wonder if captains of military ships have to deal with this much commentary,” Jelena said, finally taking the Snapper out over the ocean. Another missile launched from a coastal installation behind them, and she groaned. They weren’t going to be safe until they reached—hells, she didn’t even know.
“It depends how gruesome their reputation is for quashing such commentary,” Thor said.
“Like if there were beheadings, the crew would be too afraid to speak?”
“Floggings might be sufficient.”
Erick appeared in the hatchway behind them. Alfie usually flapped her tail against the deck when anyone arrived, possibly to pet her, but she kept it tucked tightly around her. Her back was pressed as far back against the console as she could manage.
“How long are we going to stay in the vicinity, Jelena?” Erick asked. “The missiles hitting us are powerful.”
“I noticed.”
“We can’t take many more direct hits.”
“I noticed that too.” She flicked a hand at the shield integrity holodisplay. “I’m attempting to get out of their range now.”
“Why were we in their range to start with?”
“Jelena had a sightseeing itch,” Thor said.
“An intelligence-gathering itch,” she corrected.
“Oh? What intelligence did you gather?”
“I learned that they have installations capable of firing big missiles.”
“That’s in the sys-net entry,” Thor said. “Maybe you should read up on the planet.”
She glared at him. “Maybe I should read up on floggings
He returned her glare with the utmost blandness.
“Those were automated weapons facilities,” Erick said. “At least the last two. I didn’t detect any people inside that I could manipulate with my Starseer charms.”
“I should have fired at the installations then,” Jelena grumbled.
“No sign of further missile launches,” Thor reported, tapping a couple of buttons on the sensor panel.
“We are, however, being hailed.” Erick pointed to the message indicator on the comm panel.
“I see that,” Jelena said. “Maybe they want to apologize for their rude missiles.”
She tapped the comm. “This is Captain Marchenko of the Sna—”
“Identify yourself, unfamiliar freighter,” a tense male voice demanded.
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Jelena glanced at the comm display and realized the message wasn’t coming from the continent they had left but from the one they were flying to, Opuntia. “Marchenko of the Snapper, an Alliance-registered freighter.”
If the Opuntians had Alliance allies, maybe mentioning their affiliation would help.
“You’re coming in from Chollan airspace, Snapper,” the man said, sounding deeply suspicious.
“Actually, we’re coming from Macha. Cruising over that stark continent back there was clearly a mistake. Did you see them firing at us?”
“What’s your purpose, Snapper? Do you plan to cruise over Opuntia as well?”
“No. We have a meeting there with…” Jelena looked at Thor.
“General Chang and War Minister Sorel,” he supplied. “Marchenko and I are the leaders of the Mustang Free Mercenary Company.”
Jelena wasn’t sure they should be claiming to have a company, but she beamed a smile at Thor for the name, however fictitious.
“You and Thorian are the leaders?” Erick murmured from behind her.
Did you want to be a leader too? Jelena asked him telepathically, not wanting their comm contact to hear.
I just don’t want to be demoted to a lesser rank by someone who’s only been on the ship for three weeks.
You’ve only been on the ship for four weeks.
Five, and I’ve been working for the family business for ten years. All right, I was away at school for four, but I came back. He truly sounded distressed.
Erick, it’s a fictitious company, and they’re fictitious ranks. I didn’t know about any of it until thirty seconds ago.
Well, don’t let him be in charge. Leonidas would never approve.
Jelena wasn’t sure about that, though she agreed that Mom would not likely approve. I’ll keep your concerns in mind.
“Unidentified leader of a mercenary company we’ve never heard of,” the man said dryly, “your ship does indeed match the credentials of an Alliance-registered freighter, but there’s no marked affiliation with a mercenary outfit.”
“Naturally,” Thor said. “We are simply getting a ride on it.”
“Your entire company?”
Someone must have looked up the specs for the Snapper and found out the model only had eight cabins for guests and crew.
“Only the ones who will be needed for this mission. Please send landing coordinates at your earliest convenience. We, being unfamiliar with your planet, would appreciate an escort as well.”
“Oh, you’ll have an escort,” the man grumbled and cut the comm.
Erick scratched his head. “Is anyone else unsure whether we’ll be greeted or arrested?”
“Yes,” Jelena said.
Her doubt lifted slightly when coordinates appeared on the comm display. The sensors showed significantly more metropolitan areas than on the other continent, and she was glad to have directions. She plugged them in and flew toward a large inland city along what appeared to be one of the planet’s few rivers.
“Are we going to our meeting as fearsome Starseers?” Erick looked at Thor. “Or fearsome mercenaries? I assume fearsomeness of some kind will be required.”
“Do you have a mercenary outfit?” Jelena asked him.
“I don’t know. What do mercenaries wear? Presumably not shoes with sparkles.”
“Definitely not asteroids and spaceships pajamas.”
Thor eyed them up and down. His expression suggested he was far too mature for the conversation. Jelena redoubled her resolve to glitter up his shoes one night.
“Assuming you two insist on coming, Starseer robes with the hoods up to hide your ages.”
“My age is older than yours, buddy,” Erick said.
Thor ignored him.
“Don’t I have to come?” Jelena asked. “As the co-leader of the Mustangs?”
“I suppose,” Thor said. “But I want Masika standing next to me. She looks far more believable as a mercenary than you two. You can stand behind us and act ominous in your black robes. Bring your staffs.” He lifted a hand when Jelena opened her mouth. “Yes, I’ll still acknowledge you as one of the leaders, but let’s make you a silent leader. I’ll get my weapons and meet you in the cargo hold after we arrive.” Thor stood, strode past Erick, and disappeared into the corridor without waiting for a response.
“I’m not fond of when he gets bossy like that and thinks he’s in charge,” Erick said.
“I’m not fond of suggestions that I should be silent. That’s not one of my strengths.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“I hope this goes well,” Jelena said, adjusting the controls to compensate for a stiff wind blowing across the sea.
“We should let your parents know our plans, don’t you think?” Erick waved to the comm. “In case something happens and we need to be rescued.”
“We won’t need to be rescued. But I’ll absolutely let them know.”
“Good.” Erick headed to his cabin to change.
After we’ve rescued the Alliance people and been paid, Jelena amended silently. Mom and Leonidas would never give her permission for this, but if she simply dropped a fat deposit into their account later, they would praise her wisdom and initiative. After all, they didn’t want to be in debt for the next twenty years, either.
Chapter 5
An escort of eight soldiers arrived to meet Jelena and the others at the base of the Snapper’s ramp. They didn’t point their rifles—automatic weapons firing bullets rather than blazers using energy packs—at her team, but they also weren’t friendly, especially considering Jelena had come intending to rescue some of their leaders.
After an exchange of very few words, during which Thor did the talking, the men led the way along the docks and into the city. Jelena and Erick, wearing their Starseer robes and carrying their staffs, as instructed, followed Thor and Masika. Thor wore his usual black getup, with the telescoping sword attached to one hip and a knife and blazer pistol on the other. He, too, kept his hood up and most of his face covered with the wrap that hid his throat, mouth, and most of his cheeks and nose. Masika walked openly in her gray fatigues, with a blazer rifle slung across her torso on a strap, and a dagger on her hip. In addition to her staff, Jelena carried a multitool on her belt. Since she didn’t have the stomach for shooting people, she didn’t bother carrying a blazer.
“That’s disturbing,” Erick said, nodding to a wrecked ship in one of the other docking slots, a ship that wouldn’t be flying again. Only the clamps and the bottom third remained. The rest of the body had been blown away.
One of the other docking areas was closed due to damages, and as the group walked deeper into the city, Jelena saw more signs of destruction. Gaps in the skyline that denoted collapsed buildings. A road closed with barricades, the pavement ending raggedly at the lip of a crater. Charred and overturned ground vehicles. A lot of the damage appeared recent. Very recent.
Jelena eyed the sky above them, feeling vulnerable now that they weren’t in the Snapper with the shields up. They had left Austin inside with Alfie—he had even poorer odds of passing for a mercenary than the rest of them. He could keep the power on and raise shie
“When was the last attack?” Jelena asked one of the soldiers closest to her, a bleak-faced man with a hawkish nose.
“The Minster of War will decide what you may or may not be told,” he said, keeping his gaze forward.
Thor looked back at Jelena. He didn’t say anything out loud or telepathically, but she imagined him remembering his instructions for her to play a silent role. She thought about sticking her tongue out at him, but that didn’t seem very mercenary-ish.
All of this triggered memories she thought she had forgotten, of living in Perun Central during the bombings near the end of the war, of the day when she had been one of hundreds of children ushered from their classrooms and down into the bunker under the campus. They’d hidden there in fear and confusion as explosions sounded in the city above them. The power had gone out for hours that seemed like days. Children of all ages had asked to go home or simply asked for their parents. Then the lights had come back on, and Mrs. Reid had pulled Jelena aside to deliver the bad news. Her tenement building had taken a direct hit. Dad had been grading papers from home that day, so he’d been there when the bomb struck, when the building was destroyed. Her Aunt Sylvia would be coming to pick her up once it was safe to go out in the streets again.
Thor stopped, and Jelena bumped into his back.
“Sorry,” she muttered, realizing the entire procession had stopped at a set of wide stone stairs leading up to a building’s front entrance. The lead soldier jogged up the steps and inside.
Thor looked back at Jelena again, and she thought he might chastise her for not paying attention. Mercenaries were supposed to be aware of their surroundings, weren’t they?
Instead, he rested his hand on her arm and surprised her by sharing a feeling with her, much as she did when she communicated with animals. A sense of comfort and also shared commiseration. Yes, he knew what it was like to be under fire and lose one’s family.
The lead soldier returned to the landing. “The War Minister will see you now.”
Without waiting for a response, he waved for them to come up.