Rajani Chronicles II Read online

  He looked over at Rulina, who had a worried look on her face. “It will be fine,” he finally said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll get through this, somehow, I promise.” He hoped with all of his heart his words were true.

  #

  It had been three days since Ries had been arrested aboard the Interceptor and confined to his quarters. He’d been given meals four times a day, as was his custom, but had heard no news, and he was out of kolan. He didn’t know which one irritated him the most. His lieutenant refused to speak to him, and the officers who brought his food had looked terrified at the prospect of telling him anything. They must have been given a briefing by someone high up in command for them to be so afraid to answer even the most simple of questions.

  Finally, his door chime sounded, and he waited expectantly for whomever it was to open the door. When the door opened, he saw that it was an Asnurian. He was wearing the rank of First Admiral, the second highest rank achievable in the Alliance Society for Peace. Ries stood and saluted smartly with his top left arm, dreading what was to come and suspecting it wouldn’t be good. He’d spent hours thinking about what would happen to him. He was well aware the Alliance Society for Peace was not a forgiving organization. Although the Alliance didn’t have a death penalty for crimes, the ASPs did, and had the authority to carry out punishment without Alliance review.

  The Asnurian returned the salute and sat down in a chair across from Ries’s desk. “As you were,” he said in Talondarian Standard after a moment. Reis was afraid to show any signs of disgust at the Asnurian’s odor, which was foul, due to a religious belief held by the Asnurians that forbade bathing. Now was not the time for putting on airs of hygienic superiority.

  “I assume you know why I’m here?” the Asnurian asked without preamble, his blackened teeth sitting like diseased tree stumps inside his mouth, forcing Ries to look away as he spoke. The worse off the Asnurians were physically, the more highly regarded they were in their society.

  “Sir, we had no warning the Rajani ship was armed,” Ries said. “Our complete scan of their ship picked up no signs of weapons. Even when I warned Commander Complin of the danger the ship posed, he failed to take the appropriate security measures when he confronted the ship—”

  “I’ve read the reports,” the Asnurian said, interrupting him. “Both his and yours. That is not why I’m here.” He let this fact sink in before continuing. “I’m here because of your attempts to gain access to classified Alliance files.”

  “I swear, I didn’t know they were classified until my ship’s computer told me,” Ries said. “I was only attempting to research the Rajani to discern their capabilities in disabling a ship, as they did mine and the Waverider. Especially when the two ships were disabled in entirely different manners. I assure you—”

  “I don’t want your assurances, Commander,” the Asnurian said. “I want to know why one of my subordinates was sticking his antennae where they don’t belong.”

  “I told you,” Ries said, almost gagging from the smell emanating from the Asnurian. “I was only attempting to investigate—”

  “Enough,” the Asnurian said, standing up and beginning to pace in front of the desk. “Now, normally, you would have simply disappeared on your way to your court martial, saving us all time and money. It would have been a simple solution, and one I would have preferred.”

  Reis felt his hearts sink at the admiral’s words. He had hoped there would at least be a trial, where he could plead his case and throw himself on the mercy of the ASP court. Now it didn’t look like it would ever happen.

  The admiral sighed before continuing on. “But, my nephew Shinto tells me he owes you his life. So, effective immediately, you are transferred to Asnuria Central Command. All holdings on Mandaka are hereby forfeit. You are demoted to Administrative Specialist. You report tomorrow to Commander Jando Kan. Is this understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ries said, stunned by the turn of events. He would live, but his houses, his bank accounts—all would be gone. It had taken him years to amass what the Asnurian had taken away in mere seconds, but Ries had always been a survivor. As long as he still lived, he could always earn or steal more.

  “Good,” the Asnurian said. “Then you’d better hope I’ve buried you deep enough that Galactic Intelligence doesn’t dig you back up. I don’t think I need to tell you what would happen then.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ries said, standing and saluting. He definitely did not want a visit from GI. He really would disappear then, as he knew very well.

  The Asnurian returned the salute. “As far as I’m concerned, my family’s life debt is repaid. I wish you luck.” He turned and left quickly, leaving Ries standing behind his desk in silence.

  #

  Tumaani had been in the Krahn prison camp for five days when the announcement was made over the prison’s intercom system. There would be a briefing by the Krahn soon. The Krahn had steadily been adding captured Rajani to the prison’s population, and the courtyard was now very crowded. He’d been pleased to find four of his five mates had survived. The missing one, his fourth, had not yet been found amidst the sprawling population of the prison, but he hoped she would be discovered safe soon. He’d also met up with the two sons of the Elder named Delataan, and learned the Keeper of the Promise had been killed on the first night of the attack. Maska and Torile were still only younglings, though they were old enough to Pledge to a House if they chose.

  “What do you think it will be about?” Maska asked. “Will they let us go?”

  “Of course they won’t let us go,” Torile said. “Don’t be dense.”

  “We won’t have long to wait,” Tumaani said, seeing a handful of Krahn warriors enter the courtyard, carrying a square piece of wood about two standard feet tall and six feet on each side. They placed it against the wall of the prison and then surrounded it, pointing their weapons toward the crowd of Rajani. Another Krahn, this one dressed somewhat more elaborately than the other warriors, entered the courtyard and climbed aboard the piece of wood. He held a large translating device in his hands and placed it on the makeshift stage before addressing the crowd.

  “For security purposes, we must separate all Rajani males over the age of twenty Talondarian Standard years from the rest of the populace,” the Krahn announced to the gathered crowd of captives, his voice translated to Talondarian Standard by the device in front of him. “We’ve run out of space to safely house all of you, so we must send some of you to another holding facility to ensure overcrowding does not result in a breakout of sickness amongst your members.

  “You can understand our concern, yes?” the Krahn continued. “All Rajani males over the age of twenty Talondarian Standard years, please stay in the middle of the courtyard. All other Rajani, please exit the security enclosure in an orderly manner. You are to be processed by our attendants. I can assure you, you will be reunited when our time here is finished.”

  Some of the Rajani females and young ones were starting to exit out of the enclosure already, herded along by armed Krahn guards. A few of the females were holding their mates, weeping and hysterical. One of the male Rajani turned and struck the Krahn guard who was attempting to separate him from his mate. Another guard stepped in and hit the Rajani in the head with the butt of his gun. The Rajani dropped to the ground, blood streaming down his face from a cut on his forehead. Another Rajani male, this one with a bandage already covering one of his eyes, attempted to wrestle away the Krahn’s weapon. He was surrounded by a group of Krahn guards and beaten down to the ground with their weapons and fists. The first Rajani male screamed as his mate and offspring were ushered out, crying and calling his name. This caught Tumaani’s ear. He knew who the Rajani was, another Elder named Welemaan.

  The Krahn who had been speaking to the crowd clicked off the machine in front of him and spoke to one of the armed Krahn, who was standing near the dais. “Give the males enough food to keep them calm. We don’t want them too unhappy.”

>   “The females and young?” the guard asked.

  “Take them to the field we prepared,” the Krahn replied. “Get it done quickly and quietly.”

  “Yes, sir,” the guard replied with a salute. He turned to carry out his orders.

  #

  Dreben had been in charge of the farm for almost thirty years. He’d been hired when he was still a young Rajani; unsure about what he wanted to do with his life. Because the Rajani were mostly self-sufficient, there were numerous endeavors available for someone who had already decided he didn’t want to be a Priest of the Kha. Which also meant he would never be chosen for the Elder Council, he knew. However, because life on Rajan was rather simple and plain, there weren’t many endeavors Dreben found interesting. There were manufacturing jobs making everything from clothing, to furniture, to the simple ground transport vehicles used by most Rajani. There were medical fields and dentistry. There was maintenance, where he could repair city infrastructure, such as roads, parks, bridges, or buildings.

  There were no new buildings being built, though. The architecture was from thousands of years before, when the Rajani had built fantastic spires and tall buildings that touched the sky; but most of those buildings had been modified to fit the modern needs of the Rajani; dwelling areas, prayer centers for the Priests and their Pledges, manufacturing facilities, and medical suites were now the norm, with very little upkeep needed. There were food industries; merdin hunting off the coast of Melaanse, farms used to raise pulko, an animal grown for its meat, and farms and orchards providing the plants used as food for the Rajani, Sekani, and Jirina. There were also the turvien farms producing a small, hard fruit fermented to create the drink known as fernta.

  Dreben had found he couldn’t stomach working on a merdin vessel, the pulko were disgusting to raise, and the turvien farms hired almost exclusively Sekani and Jirina workers. It seemed Rajani did not possess the needed craftsmanship to brew the drink correctly, or so it was rumored. He finally found something he enjoyed when he was hired as a farmhand at one of the largest farms on Rajan. He’d slowly but steadily risen in the ranks until he’d been placed in charge of the large orchard next to the farm. A few years later, his boss and owner of the farm and orchard, Nebraani, had promoted him to Chief Farmhand, when the old one had died unexpectedly.

  Dreben had been in charge of the farm and orchard’s operations ever since. He’d been saddened when Nebraani had died, but he’d known the boss’s son, Tavien, since he was still a youngling, and when Tavien had taken over for his father after becoming a Priest of the Kha, Dreben had been proud to stay on as Chief Farmhand. Tavien, by that time, had changed his name, as was the custom when becoming a Priest of the Kha. When Tavien, who now went by the name of Rauphangelaa, had journeyed out to visit the farm and give him orders for the coming planting season, Dreben had started preparing, as usual. But then, shortly after Rauphangelaa and his Pledge, Bhakat, left, word came that Melaanse was under attack. All communications had ceased from the city.

  Dreben had sent a couple of his farmhands into the city to see what had happened, but they never returned. Dreben was afraid to send anyone else for fear of the same result. Meanwhile, he had farmhands coming to him daily, asking if he’d heard anything, to which he had to truthfully answer ‘no.’ Dreben knew his duty. He knew how important the food he grew was to the occupants of the city. Until he heard otherwise, he would follow Rauphangelaa’s orders and plant what he’d been told to plant. At least it kept everyone too busy to think about what may very well be happening in the city. He only hoped Rauphangelaa would come back soon, or at least send word.

  Chapter 2

  Administrative Specialist Ries an na Van, Chief Protector of Paperwork, and any other mundane task his superior officers wanted to give him, was in a foul mood, even by his standards. He’d reported for duty, as ordered, and had been shuffling duties such as payment reimbursements and payroll inquiries ever since. He supposed his punishment could have been worse; he could’ve ended up facedown at the bottom of a garbage chute or ejected into deep space. It was still difficult to adjust to a new life on a new planet, especially when the planet’s population was so disgustingly dirty. At least there weren’t many Asnurians working in the headquarters building itself.

  It was all the fault of that blasted Rajani starship, the Tukuli. They were probably responsible for the riot on the Mandakan Space Port as well, he thought glumly. No, too much of a coincidence. He knew for a fact the riot had been caused by a rogue Xerbian, a large creature with a nasty disposition, who had attacked his officers without provocation in the middle of the port’s congested main concourse. It happened sometimes; the ASPs were not the most popular organization in the Alliance.

  Besides blaming the Rajani for all of his present woes, he was also curious about what he had almost discovered about the two Rajani planets. His security clearance aboard the Interceptor had been high enough for him to see there were two planets, but not nearly high enough to know why. The average citizen of the Alliance wouldn’t have been able to access the fact there were two planets associated with the Rajani.

  What did it mean? He felt like the answer was just out of his reach. It was becoming an obsession. He found himself thinking of the Rajani the moment he woke up, as if he’d been dreaming about them just before waking. It was driving him to distraction. He’d received two warnings already at work for critical pay errors he committed. If he received a third, he would be demoted to custodial detail.

  He needed to find the truth about the Rajani. But how? He’d spent a few days more thinking about it, his antennae twitching ceaselessly as one of his brains pondered the mystery of discovering how to get past the highest level of ASP security, without getting caught, while the other was tasked with the mundane details of his present occupation.

  Just then, Commander Kan walked by his cramped workspace, shooting a cold glare at Ries from both sets of his eyes. Ries finally thought of a solution to solve two of his problems at once.

  #

  Tumaani had just settled down for the night in his tent when the flap opened, revealing a shadowy figure blocking out the light of the moon.

  “Tumaani?” a gruff male voice whispered.

  “Who is it? Who’s there?” Tumaani asked, sitting up.

  “It’s Welemaan,” the figure said. “Did I catch you before you fell asleep, old one?”

  Tumaani ignored the verbal jab. He wasn’t much older than Welemaan. But he was much more practical, and the younger Elders liked to kid him about being so much older in mind, if not in body. It angered him sometimes. He was the same age as Rauphangelaa, but he’d never heard them giving his friend a hard time about being old. He’d found in his weeks in the prison camp, though, he was one of the oldest Elders in the prison. Although he didn’t know for sure, because many of them had been locked up in the prison cells with little or no way to communicate with those in the courtyard.

  “Yes,” he answered, realizing he had been lost in thought and hadn’t actually answered Welemaan’s question. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  “Other than just about everything? No,” Welemaan answered.

  Tumaani knew how he felt. He hadn’t recognized him at the time, but it was Welemaan who had assaulted the Krahn guard attempting to take his mate and younglings away. He had found the other Elders looked much different bald. He probably did as well, he supposed.

  “Then what is it?” Tumaani asked. “If they catch us speaking together—”

  “Oh, there will be more than us speaking together tonight,” Welemaan said. “Volaan and I are planning to break out of this place, if we can. We’re inviting others to join us.”

  “Which, I assume, is why you’re here,” Tumaani said. He’d thought about risking everything to go after his mates as well, but had come to the conclusion it wasn’t worth the peril. It wouldn’t do any of them any good if he was killed trying to escape from a heavily guarded prison. He knew Volaan had been the Rajani trying t
o help Welemaan when his family was taken away. From what Tumaani had heard, Volaan had lost his mate in the Krahn attack, as well as one of his eyes. “Welemaan, your actions go against the Kha. An escape attempt will only lead to violence. Please reconsider your actions.”

  “They took my mate and my younglings,” Welemaan said, a bitter note creeping into his voice. “Don’t you dare tell me I can’t go after them. They took your mates too. I would think you’d care for them enough to try to rescue them. Maybe I was wrong.”

  “Please,” Tumaani said. “Don’t do this. There has to be another way.”

  “There isn’t,” Welemaan said tersely. “I apologize for disturbing your rest, old one. Good night, Tumaani.”

  “Wait—” Tumaani said, but Welemaan was already gone. It was a long time before Tumaani could fall asleep. It was not much longer after, he was awoken by the sound of weapons firing. He knelt and prayed for the remainder of the night, though he was unsure what outcome he was praying for.

  #

  Ries had taken an immediate dislike to his new boss, Commander Jando Kan. The feeling seemed to be mutual, if Kan’s attitude toward him was any indication. So the decision to implement his plan to steal the officer’s identification chip wasn’t difficult for Ries to make. Each computer used by the Alliance Society for Peace had a scanner that read the identification chip implanted in a user’s body. For security purposes, not even the user knew where it was implanted, so Ries knew it would take some time to find Kan’s. He needed seclusion if his plan was going to work.