Tree of Liberty Read online

  Book Three

  Tree of Liberty

  By Wayne Basta

  To Eric, Beth, Chad, and Liesl

  Great friends in any universe.

  “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.”

  Thomas Jefferson

  Prologue

  Pain. That was the first thought that came to Maarkean Ocaitchi’s mind. His entire body ached. Welts and bruises covered every part of him. If he could have seen himself in a mirror, he felt sure his purple clan screfa would have been indistinguishable from the bruising on his face.

  With difficulty, Maarkean forced himself to sit up. He had no idea how long ago he had been brought back to his cell. It could have been minutes or days. But he did know the longer he lay still, the more he would hurt later. That just meant he had to hurt a lot right now.

  Forcing himself to resist the urge to collapse back onto the cell’s cot, Maarkean slowly started to ease into the Ni’jar stretching techniques he usually started his morning with. After all the abuse his body had been put through at the hands of the Alliance interrogators, even simple stretches were agonizing. It was only the combination of his Braz tradition for meditation along with the advanced Ni’jar techniques that Gu’od had taught him that allowed him to push through the pain.

  After completing his usual routine, Maarkean felt some semblance of personhood returning. He had lost track of the number of times he had woken up like this—the number of interrogation sessions he had been through. Even if he had managed to count them, he had no way of knowing how often they occurred. He’d lost all sense of time in this world of interrogation, torture, and pain.

  The meditation and stretching allowed him to push the constant throbbing into the background of his mind. This allowed his sense of hunger to emerge. Looking around the small cell, he saw a bowl near the barred door. Picking up the bowl, he started slurping the foul-tasting goo. Alliance nutrition mix—standard fare for prisoners.

  The goo tasted horrible, but it did serve to calm his stomach. Feeling better than he had in a while, Maarkean surveyed his surroundings again. His cell looked like a standard Alliance brig cell, like those found on any Alliance warship or station. The accommodations were sparse: a simple, double-bunk cot built into the wall, along with a retractable toilet and wash station, and three walls. The ceiling and floor were smooth metal with no visible seams. The other wall was a set of metal bars too close together for anyone to slip through, but wide enough to allow people outside to observe him.

  It was only now that Maarkean noticed the other figure resting on the upper cot. Looking up, he recognized the green carapace as belonging to Lohcja Cargon. Ronids didn’t bruise the same way most other species did, so any injuries he had sustained weren’t as evident. Except for the antennae bent at an unnatural angle, his friend looked like he was just sleeping.

  He considered allowing Lohcja to continue resting. The Alliance tended any of their life-threatening wounds, but sleep would be their best treatment for the rest. However, he had only seen Lohcja in the cell with him on a few occasions, and those hadn’t lasted long. It wouldn’t be long before the Alliance came and took one or both of them to another interrogation session.

  “Lohcja,” Maarkean said quietly, gently touching the Ronid’s arm.

  A rasping hiss escaped Lohcja’s lips, and then he clicked his mandibles together a few times before going quiet again. With no eyelids covering his multifaceted eyes, it was not easy to tell if Lohcja had woken up. Maarkean gently shook his friend a few more times.

  Finally, with a longer groaning rasp, Lohcja stirred. “Maark?” He groaned.

  “Yeah, it’s me. How you holding up?”

  “By the looks of you, better than you,” Lohcja quipped.

  That was good, Maarkean thought. His friend’s sense of humor hadn’t completely vanished. He tried to smile, realizing for the first time that even that hurt.“I don’t have a tough carapace to absorb all the blows,” Maarkean said.

  “If only they would hit my carapace, I’d be fine,” Lohcja said, struggling to sit up. He looked around the small cell. “How long have we been here? I’ve lost count of the number of times they’ve taken me.”

  “So have I,” Maarkean replied. “But it must have been a lot. They’ve stopped asking me any questions. They’re just torturing me now.”

  Lohcja let out an angry-sounding noise with his mandibles. “Why would they need to ask us any questions? Kaars will tell them everything.”

  Maarkean shook his head. “I don’t know Kaars all that well, but he’s a trained intelligence officer. He’ll hold up against the interrogation better than we will.”

  A thud sounded through the cell as Lohcja slammed his fist into the wall. Maarkean turned to look at the Ronid, surprised to see anger overtake the previous expression of pain—and a Ronid from the warrior caste was not something you wanted to see angry.

  “They don’t need to interrogate him!” Lohcja fumed. “He’s a traitor. I trusted him and called him my friend. And he betrayed us.”

  Maarkean frowned. Having a traitor in their midst would explain how the Alliance had ambushed them over Sulas. They had jumped out of hyperspace at the perfect time to trap the Union fleet as they had headed toward the planet.

  But the Alliance fleet was commanded by Admiral Katerina Sartori. Her reputation for cunning and tactical savvy was unmatched. Even the Dotran Confederacy respected her. Maarkean would not put it past Sartori pulling off that trick without the help of a traitor.

  “We can’t jump to any conclusions. Especially in here,” Maarkean cautioned.

  “Yes, we can,” Lohcja fumed. “While the Defiant Glory was being boarded, we were pinned down, but holding our own. And then Kaars quite literally shot you in the back. He took out you, Davidus, and me. After that, I assume the Alliance marines were able to gain control of the ship.”

  Maarkean considered that chilling bit of news. The information that Kaars had provided the Union military had been invaluable. But it had also been their main source of intelligence.

  “Well, even if you’re right, he can’t do any more damage now,” Maarkean said, leaning against the cell wall. “He’s back with the Alliance, but there isn’t much he can tell them. Our fleet’s destroyed and our army likely wiped out or stranded on Sulas. Nothing he can tell them will likely make that worse. He shouldn’t have known the location of Irod.”

  “Maybe,” Lohcja said grumpily. “But I don’t see anyone else in those other cells. Where’s Commander Brieni? Tadashio? La’ari? Any of the crew? Why keep us separate? Unless they’re all dead.”

  “No,” Maarkean said defiantly. “They can’t all be dead. We’re senior commanders. They’re probably keeping the rest in a different facility.”

  Lohcja just shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We lost.”

  Forcefully, Maarkean whirled toward Lohcja. “We haven’t lost. Don’t ever think that. Things are bad, yes. But we’re alive. Congress is still safe. The Union will live on.”

  Those multifaceted eyes of Lohcja’s stared up at him. Maarkean wished he could find some sense of what the Ronid was thinking there. But he got nothing from them, and Lohcja said nothing in reply.

  The sounds of a door opening drew Maarkean’s attention away. He turned back toward the cell door to see several Alliance guards outside. They held stun weapons and binders and didn’t look friendly.

  A junior lieutenant pointed toward Maarkean. “He looks to have recovered nicely. Take him.”

  The guards opened the cell door and came for him again.

  “We have our orders from General Ocaitchi,” Major Solyss Novastar stated, his voice rising above his normally quiet tone. “I intend to tak
e the Gallant to Trepon Sector and get us the Black Market.”

  “That’s crazy!” Major Fracsid Relis yelled back. “We need to hit the Alliance here. Raid their supply lines. Cut off communication. Keep them unbalanced.”

  Saracasi Ocaitchi remained quiet while the other two majors argued. They had had this debate more than once. She was tired of it. Fortunately, this time it was not just the three of them.

  Sitting beside them in the small conference room in the UDF Inc. Headquarters building on Kol were Intelligence Officer Kaars Aerinstar and Delegates Lahkaba, Valinther, Zoeko Lide, and Lionell Mandrake. She had sent a report to the Union congress as soon as Defiant Glory had arrived in the orbit of Sulas under command of the suspected traitor Davidus Brieni. They had finally sent a response after several weeks, in the form of the delegates. They hadn’t yet given an answer as to who would take over command of the military.

  “We need to figure out who’s in command,” Solyss said, looking pointedly toward Lahkaba. “Then we can avoid these pointless arguments.”

  “First,” Saracasi said, speaking for the first time, “we need to have a trial for Commander Brieni and find out if he’s guilty of betraying us. If he isn’t, then he’s in charge.”

  Valinther said, “That will not be a quick process. Congress has convened a committee to investigate any possible traitors. Unfortunately, the membership is still being chosen.”

  Saracasi looked at the Kowwok, confused. “I thought that was what you four were here for.”

  Lahkaba shook his head, sand sprinkling out from his white fur. “No, we’re just here to relay that Congress is looking into Brieni and will decide on a new commander in due time. We have a different mission. One we’re going to need a ship for.”

  Lahkaba shared an embarrassed look with his fellow Kowwok, Valinther. Both looked ashamed of something, and Saracasi didn’t think it was Congress being slow. She waited for Lahkaba to expand on his statement, but he said nothing more. Zoeko gave the two Kowwoks an aggravated hiss but also said nothing.

  Finally, Solyss asked, “What kind of ship?”

  “The best we have,” Lahkaba answered. “I don’t wish to take the Gallant away from her mission, though. I think you should carry on with your attempt to gain support in that sector and to get us the use of the Black Market.”

  Solyss smiled, but Saracasi interjected, “We can’t divide our forces! We’re seriously outnumbered. We need every ship we have to try to relieve our forces on Sulas and to rescue General Ocaitchi.”

  Regret was evident on Lahkaba’s face when he looked at her. She decided to press forward on that. “When I was imprisoned, my brother risked everything to get me out. Now I have to do the same. With your help, he succeeded. Will you give me yours now to get him out?”

  The white fur covering Lahkaba flattened and his shoulders drooped. Saracasi could tell she was getting through to him. She needed all the support she could get if she was going to take on the Alliance.

  “I want to free Maarkean, Casi. Believe me, I do. Lohcja is still a prisoner as well, and he’s like a brother to me. I know what you’re feeling,” Lahkaba said.

  Before Lahkaba could relent, Zoeko spoke, her Dotran voice a hiss. “We cannot engage the Alliance yet. General Numba made that mistake already. We need more support. Our mission to the Confederacy must go forward.”

  Saracasi felt her eyes widen as the golden Dotran spoke. A mission to seek aid from the Dotran Confederacy? Maarkean had told her that the Dotrans had offered to take the worlds of the Kreogh sector under their protection. The recent vote for independence had been partially aimed at stopping that endeavor.

  “You can’t be serious,” Fracsid stammered.

  “I agree,” Solyss said. “We cannot trade one master for another.”

  The regretful expression on Lahkaba’s face shifted to determination. “We won’t! That’s why I have to go. We’re seeking aid and an alliance. Not submission. We’ll remain independent.” Less forcefully, he continued, “But the fact remains, we need ships, troops, and equipment. The Dotran have those. Our goal is a trade and defense treaty, not to join them. A similar effort has been dispatched to the Camari Republic.”

  Saracasi let this news sink in. An alliance with the Dotran? What would her brother say? He would hate it, she felt sure. But if Lahkaba, whose Kowwokian people were subjugated by the Dotran, could go along with it, surely she could, too?

  “In order to make a strong impression, we want to take our strongest ship. I believe that’s this FX-21, that you’re now calling the Audacious,” Zoeko continued.

  Before Saracasi could say anything in response, Kaars Aerinstar spoke up. “That would be foolish. The regenerative shield technology on that ship is years ahead of anything the Confederacy has. We can’t risk it falling into their hands.”

  Saracasi nodded. “I agree. And besides that, her hyperdrive still isn’t working 100%. She’ll never make a journey of that distance.”

  “How about Defiant Glory?” Lahkaba asked, cutting off a comment from Zoeko.

  “Repairs are underway,” Saracasi said. “She was pretty banged up in the battle. We had to completely rebuild the main reactor. But she’ll fly now. We’re just about done with the exterior repairs, though there’s quite a bit of internal work to be done.”

  “Good, she’ll do,” Lahkaba stated decisively. “It’s almost a three-month journey to Confederate space. Repairs can be completed en route.”

  Saracasi wanted to stage a counter-attack on Sulas. But if Defiant Glory and Gallant went across the galaxy on missions to seek aid, any hope of a major assault was gone. She’d need every ship to pull that off. “I’m not authorizing Defiant Glory to leave the repair yards,” Saracasi said, trying to work as much authority into her voice as possible.

  Lahkaba looked at her, an expression of regret on his face. “Casi, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to overrule you.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “You can’t. Congress can decide who’s in charge of the navy. But I’m the chief engineer, and certifying ships for deployment is my responsibility. Not even Maarkean could override my decision on that. He could only replace me. And until the navy has a new commander, there’s no one who can do that.”

  The expression of regret on Lahkaba’s face changed to betrayal. Saracasi regretted having to come down against him so forcefully, but she couldn’t let him take Defiant Glory away for almost six months.

  “I’m going to have to agree with her, Delegate,” Solyss said. “She has that authority.”

  “Very well,” Lahkaba said slowly. “We’ll have to find civilian transport. That will be all, Majors.”

  Formally, Lahkaba stood, followed by the other three delegates, and left the room. Feeling like she had betrayed a friend, Saracasi leaned back in her chair with a slight frown on her face. After a moment, the room was emptied of everyone but the three remaining navy majors.

  “Thank you, Solyss,” Saracasi said. “I didn’t like having to do that. I’m glad you had my back.”

  Solyss nodded. “Of course. I hope that means you’ll have my back for my trip to Trepon. Gallant’s not in the repair yards, so you can’t stop me, but I’d prefer going with your support.”

  With a reluctant sigh, Saracasi nodded. “Let me know what you’ll need. I hate to lose the ship when we need everything we have. But it looks like it’s just you and me, Fracsid.”

  “That will be enough,” Fracsid said with a confident smile. “The Lis and Ocait clans can take on the entire Alliance.”

  Saracasi whispered, “We may have to.”

  Chapter One

  The explosion shattered the window above Zeric’s head. Oops, he thought. That wasn’t intentional. In the distance, he could just make out the light from the fire started by the explosion.

  “Looks like Gu’od made his delivery,” Zeric commented to the Terran boy beside him.

  Kumus Stryker smiled. “You said he wouldn’t disappoint, General.”
/>   The reverence with which Kumus said his title still made Zeric uncomfortable. Despite having been a general for more than two months, most of that time in command of the stranded Union Army on Sulas, he still hated it. To be fair, Kumus had acted the same way when the boy had been his aide back on Enro.

  Several more minutes went by, and Zeric’s initial pleasure faded. By all rights, Gu’od Dos’redna, their designated bomb planter for the evening, should have made it back to them before the thing went off, taking an Alliance troop carrier with it. That the fires had already started to dwindle and there was no sign of Gu’od meant something had delayed him.

  Glancing around, Zeric frowned and then nodded, making his decision. “Something’s happened. We need to go look for Gu’od.”

  Before he could stand up, the reddish-pink Camari in their group put a hand on his arm. Speaking quietly, to avoid Kumus hearing, she said, “Sir, I don’t mean to be crass, but Gu’od knew the risks. We can’t risk your capture—or anyone else’s—just because he’s your friend. The mission was a success. We should pull back.”

  “You know the motto, Major, ‘leave no one behind,’” Zeric replied, just as quietly. Then, louder, he spoke to the small band that was hidden in the alley with him. “Fan out in pairs, try to find Gu’od, but stay out of sight. The Alliance will be sending out patrols. We have five minutes to find him, and then we need to pull back. Let’s be sure we don’t do it without him.”

  The small squad of six mixed marines and army, including Kumus, quietly acknowledged the order and spread out from the alley entrance. Zeric led Ymp down the dark street, heading toward a cross street that would give them access to the main avenue leading out of town. That road would give them a clear line of sight to the Alliance blockade that Gu’od had just bombed.

  Zeric and Ymp walked the streets briskly, trying to remain unseen but also inconspicuous. While there was an Alliance-enforced curfew in effect, few citizens would report on others just walking the streets at night. But two people creeping through the shadows with guns drawn would elicit comments.