Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3) (27 page)

Heading back to Sam’s quarters, Tharyn felt a sudden longing to see Jeremy. After three days, she missed him dreadfully. By now on Terra Sollus time, he should be out of school. She had half an orv before her next class, so there was time for a quick talk.

Entering Sam’s quarters, Tharyn was happy to be back in a place with furniture, walled holoimagery, and souvenirs on shelves—a place that felt
lived in
. However, every holoimage was either of her and Sam or Sam and other Brigadiers—none revealing Sam’s life outside Star Brigade.

Tharyn dashed for the comm console on a far common-room wall. She hopped into its comfy seat, wrestling her curly hair into a loose ponytail, then typed away at the console to connect with Jeremy.

Knees drawn up in her seat like an excited kid’s, the Korvenite impatiently waited for her transmission to go through. Just then, the console beeped before the Brigade insignia was replaced on the viewscreen by the face of Rukk Rigeff, Habraum’s old friend. The Cercidalean’s rugged features and lavender eyes looked weary with frustration. He was clearly in the middle of something. “Hullo?” His voice sounded annoyed.

Tharyn introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Tharyn, Sam D’Urso’s adopted daughter—”

“I know who ya are, lass,” Rukk snapped in a thick, Cerc brogue. “Spit out what ya want.”

Tharyn tried hiding her shock at his rudeness. “Uhh… is Jeremy back from school?”

Rukk’s demeanor abruptly changed. “Yea, Jeremy’s…napping now. The sprout had a long day.”

“Oh.” Tharydane frowned, feeling a pang of disappointment. “I can call back later—”

“Best that you don’t. Gotta go.” Rukk abruptly ended the transmission, leaving a stunned Tharydane staring at the Star Brigade logo once more.

High in the windy, snowcapped Jalphec Mountains, Taorr son of Maorridius Magnus faced a motley crew of spectators nestled deep between the range’s lower peaks.

Bloodied, bruised, and bound by the wrists, the Ttaunz was kneeling in powdery white snow. Howling winds bit into his skin like teeth, and the swaddle of furs the Ghebrekh had wrapped around him made little difference. At least the cold had numbed his sore ribs.

Not far behind Taorr, the insurgent Ghuj’aega gestured out a speech. Four Farooqua watched Taorr—Ghuj’aega’s trophy—with shock, awe, and horror as they listened. Given Taorr’s travels and talks all over Faroor, the Ttaunz recognized each tribe these Farooqua came from.

The short, beefy Farooqua, adorned in a tree-bark headdress and reddish fur skins, led the woodland-based Udaa tribe. Next to him, looking at home in the snow, stood an inordinately tall Farooqua with a long braided mohawk and barrel chest—representing the Ajjadr from Faroor’s northern polar caps.

To his left was a slightly shorter Okka of the vast Suqat Swamps not far from Kurrey, skinny in the limbs but oddly potbellied. The final Farooqua, lean, ropey, and heavily tattooed like a Quud, was actually a native of the grassland-centric Ffola tribe.

The quartet soaked in Ghuj’aega’s hoots, clicks, and sharp arm gestures as he addressed them in the common kineticabulary used between tribes. Taorr couldn’t see what Ghuj’aega was saying behind him, but his audience’s reactions told quite the story.

The Udaa leader seemed mesmerized. The Okka leader looked angry, quivering in fact. The Ajjadr and Ffola envoys, however, could barely look at Taorr. Whenever the Ffola representative did glance over at him, there was such regret. Taorr had actually met with both Ffola and Ajjadr tribes during earlier peace talks.

Behind Taorr, Ghuj’aega apparently finished speechifying, because each leader suddenly lobbed questions, praises, or accusations all at once. Their gesturing hands moved so fast, hoots and clicks intertwining so much that Taorr was getting dizzy attempting to keep up with who said what.

“[Amazing! Blessed be the Zenith Point and its six elements of totality!]” the Udaa leader gestured.

“[You have condemned us, Ghebrekh!]” the Okka argued with sharp gestures. “[Now the Ttaunz devils have every reason to plow us down in search of this boy!]” He jabbed a long finger at Taorr.

The tall, brawny Ajjadr stayed silent, observing his counterparts blankly.

Taorr yearned to warn these hapless souls that Ghuj’aega would only lead them to their deaths. But he knew better than to speak up. Several brutal beatings had taught Taorr to stay quiet.

“[The Quud will never agree,]” the Ffola jabbed and click his tongue. “[Not after your assaults on the Ttaunz…and the Narii Secondary…]”

Taorr craned his head around to see Ghuj’aega’s response. The insurgent’s venomous glare made him shudder, regardless of the weather. Ghuj’aega wore only a loincloth over his lean build, the winds clearly having no effect on him.

“[Answered like a true lapdog, Jier’iger,]” Ghuj’aega addressed the Ffola in scorn. “[But I think the Quud will be more malleable than you think, after what the Ttaunz took from them.]” He gave Taorr a knowing glance.

The Ttaunz stared back in confusion, until the answer hit him—a gut punch of awfulness.
Mhir’ujiid didn’t escape.
He gaped at Ghuj’aega’s mocking sneer in horror, not wanting to doubt, but something in his soul wouldn’t allow it. Knowing Mhir’ujiid, she probably came back for him after the Ghebrekh attacked...
The TDF must have grabbed her then…

Taorr felt sick from head to toe, thinking of how Haemekk must be torturing her. Even as a boy, Taorr knew all about the Defense Minister’s cruelty and sadism. He turned back to the four tribal representatives, their gestures and clicks and arms flailing making him queasier…

A snap of the fingers by Ghuj’aega, and Taorr felt strong hands drag him away, no doubt one of the insurgent’s followers. They dumped him roughly onto warm fur flooring in one of the tribe’s tents, and then Taorr noticed his wrist bounds being cut. Immediately, sensation rushed painfully back to his fingers. But Mhir’ujiid’s suffering made anything Taorr had endured pale in comparison.

Taorr?

The psychic voice stirred the Ttaunz from his daze. He looked up to find Zojje sitting at the far end of the tent. He looked upon those round milky eyes of this virtually unharmed Kudoban and felt rage.

It is good to see you
— Zojje began, elated by their reunion.

Save it!
Taorr seethed, too wrapped up in Mhir’ujiid to care.

Zojje recoiled his long neck in surprise.
What is wrong?

Taorr pushed up to a kneeling position.
Your refusal to stop Ghuj’aega.

Zojje stared calmly.
Youngling, I understand your anger—

You understand NOTHING!
Taorr felt his ears burning despite the chill hanging within the tent.
Do not give me that nonviolence dreg. Not while others die!

The Ttaunz jabbed an accusing finger at his mentor, fury ruling all thought.
That makes you even worse than Ghuj’aega. He’s leading his species into a massacre and they don’t
even know it.

Zojje could find no high ground this time. His three mouths remained tight-lipped.

Taorr slumped his shoulders, drained after chastising the Kudoban. He combed through his memories of Ghuj’aega’s plans.
He’s searching for something, and it holds unspeakable value to his goals...which go beyond stopping the Ttaunz.

Zojje cocked his head to one side in curiosity.
Where is he searching?

Not where.
Zojje’s face crinkled with bewilderment. Taorr didn’t blame him. He had experienced the same confusion during his trip
seemingly
through time with Ghuj’aega.

With a thought, Taorr gave Zojje permission to read his memories. The Kudoban telepathically dove into his mind. Images, sounds, and shock all rushed through Taorr’s head again at light speed.

The moment they broke direct mental contact, Zojje froze in shock, and then stood up. For a long moment, he was silent, vocally and psychically. Finally, he asked,
how can I help?

For the first time since his capture, Taorr’s blood-crusted lips curled into a smile.

“Captain Nwosu, I am Haemekk son of Huokuma, Minister of Defense for Faroor and top adviser to Maorridius Magnus. I wish this meeting were on…better terms.” The Defense Minister strode forward in a dazzling green and gold robe, flanked by two other Ttaunz with over-styled coifs and several heavy Ttaunz soldiers wearing those sunburst helmets.

“Same on this side, Minister.” Habraum shook the minister’s hand. The two stood roughly the same height. “My apologies for this tragedy.” Flanking him was the rest of CT-1 sans Liliana, still aiding the wounded in Thasque with MediCorps.

Habraum and the other Star Brigadiers had arrived at Magnasterium right after sundown. Today’s fatigue had etched into every iota of his body. But on the surface he kept his pace brisk, his demeanor alert. And he expected no less from CT-1.

“Now you see the scope of your adversary.” Haemekk eyed Habraum and his Brigadiers with barely veiled disdain. “You think your… ‘Star Brigade’ can succeed where my renowned Defense Force didn’t?”

Behind Habraum, Marguliese arched an irritated eyebrow and V’Korram was looking surly. The Cerc shrugged, having heard worse from officials many stations above
Haemekk.

“Wouldn’t be here if your ‘renowned Defense Force’ had succeeded, would we?”

Khal stifled a laugh by coughing. Khrome just laughed…loudly.

Haemekk visibly bristled. “Make full use of our resources,” Haemekk snapped, clearly tired of this conversation, “which include a Farooqua at the scene of Taorr’s capture. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a city-state to aid.”

A prisoner?
Habraum opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Haemekk had already turned away.  The Defense Minister waved a hand lazily at two Ttaunz beside him.

“Jaesppe, Beedrus. Assist our guests.” With that, the Defense Minister took his leave, shimmery robes billowing out behind him, entourage in tow.

“That one certainly enjoys his own company,” Marguliese commented in a low voice.

“Hope he trips on those robes,” the Thulican agreed quietly.

Habraum would not have minded that, either. He faced his combat team, hands on hips. “Khrome, after you skim over the diagnostics Solrao ran on the
Phaeton
, check data readings on those lightning storms. I want to know exactly what we’re dealing with and if Ghuj’aega is connected. I also want a link to any prior skyquakes and to know why Thasque in particular got fubbered so badly.”

His hazel-gold eyes flitted up to V’Korram. “Jakadda, go with Khrome to examine the terrain where these skyquakes happened and which Farooqua tribes live there.”

“Vertex,” he turned to Khal, “the Ttaunz must have some surveillance tracking the Tribal Nations. Find out which tribes are throwing support behind Ghuj’aega or have had large exoduses, anything to give us leads on Ghuj’aega’s whereabouts. And include any interrogations the Ttaunz might have from Farooqua prisoners.”

He ended with Tyris and Marguliese. “Go with Khrome and Jakadda. Base any weapon modifications off Khrome, Vertex, and Jakadda’s findings. Give me some options. Maggie, come with me to see the prisoner.”

Beedrus, the shorter, more effeminate of Haemekk’s aides, stepped forward. “I’ll take you to her.”

Jaesppe looked to the rest of CT-1. “I’ll assist the rest of you.”

Under the hangar bay’s harsh light, Habraum saw his team’s weariness. Nonetheless, his Brigadiers remained at the ready. The Cerc couldn’t help but smile proudly. “We meet back on
Phaeton
at 2130 orvs. Crescendo will join us then,” Habraum ordered. “Let’s get to work.”

Star Brigade then split into two groups, with Habraum and Marguliese striding down one hallway.

Khal, V’Korram, Tyris, and Khrome followed Jaesppe to the other end of the hangar bay, which resembled a gaudy spaceport terminal. Tyris was muttering something to Khrome, but from afar it sounded like rumbling wind. The Thulican sighed, clearly familiar with his tale. “Try harder,” he insisted. “He’ll respect you more.”

Something to their left caught Khal’s eye. “Now that’s my kind of flavor.” He pointed to a gaggle of young Ttaunz females, each swan-like in figure and posture, as they scurried into the hangar bay the like one big flock of birds in chic space-age couture. They were highborn for sure, sporting similarly cropped coifs, each with a differing neon combo of hair and pelt.

Khal watched their progress with considerable interest. The females pointed at Khal, whispered among themselves and giggled as one. Habraum frowned, having heard the tales about Khal’s off-duty appetites.
He better behave himself
. The Cerc looked back at their host. “Tell us what you know about this prisoner, Beedrus.”

Marguliese kept stride with him as they followed Beedrus toward the Farooqua prisoner’s holding cell.

“Like the Defense Minister said, this Farooqua mongrel was at the scene of Taorr’s kidnapping,” he drawled out with the same singsong arrogance typical of highborn Ttaunz. Habraum swallowed his frustration. The sooner they completed their mission and left Faroor, the better.

“You must have imprisoned this Farooqua for longer than one Faroor day,” Marguliese replied with a slight and frigid disdain. “And all you ascertained is that her location paralleled Taorr’s whereabouts?”

Beedrus stopped and spun about, skin flushed beneath his thin layer of fur. “She is a member of the Quud,” he huffed shrilly, “the largest Farooqua Tribal Nation that is allegedly neutral. Anything else, and you’ll have to ask the Ttaunz interrogating her.”

Marguliese looked about to ask another question, but Habraum silenced her with a headshake. “Thank you, Beedrus. Take us to her, then.” The trio arrived at a translifter and descended three tiers, emerging into a corridor built far narrower than the upper-level pathways.

“This way.” Beedrus ran a hand through his braided flaxen mane. “The interrogation is still in progress. You can watch from the observation room.”

Habraum digested his words, taking in the less-ornate surroundings with an unsettled feeling. He glanced at Marguliese. She stared back with those almost inorganic blue eyes, nodding faintly.
Whatever you need
, her fetaures suggested. Habraum smiled. Tyris Iecen was very capable, but unproven as his new second-in-command outside training exercises. Marguliese would have been his second in a heartbeat if not for her being Cybernarr.