Orbital Decay (Galaxy Mavericks Book 7) Page 4

  “Listen,” Delfino said. “My dad is passionate about this. You can understand that. But Miss Macalestern, you’re right. We can’t afford to walk away. But give us some dignity.”

  “We’ll agree to your first three terms,” Annaliese said, standing. She extended her hand.

  “And the fourth?” Benito asked.

  “We’ll see,” she said. “Do we have a deal?”

  “No publicity for three days,” Benito said. “I have to prepare everyone for the pilgrimage.”

  “We’ll agree to that,” Annaliese said.

  She wagged her hand, and Benito’s eyes went down to it. Then he looked at his family. Tonia, Delfino and Xiomara motioned for him to take it.

  Then, a shadow swept across the window, darkening the room.

  Annaliese’s hand fell to her side and her mouth hung wide-open.

  Florian looked outside.

  A fleet of one hundred warrior ships floated in front of the conference ships, the last remnants of purple hyperspace dissipating from their hulls.

  “They’re going to kill us!” Tonia said. “Ay, dios!”

  Fear gripped Florian as Tatiana grabbed him.

  The ships didn’t look friendly. They were covered with guns and loomed near.

  “Shit,” Benito said. “We’re all dead.”

  “Aunt Annaliese, who are they?” Florian asked frantically.

  “Talk about innocent,” Benito said. “Wish I was as innocent as you.”

  Benito wheeled next to Florian. He overturned the blanket on his lap, revealing a sawed-off shotgun.

  “You’re looking at the Zachary Empire, kid.”

  7

  The warrior ships of the Zachary Empire covered the space around the conference ship like a swarm of wasps. The ships’ gray exteriors shone in the darkness, and so did the guns attached to their hulls. In the presence of the fleet, the corporate cruiser that Annaliese and team came from looked like a speck of dust.

  The warrior ships moved slowly across the field, blocking access to the cruiser.

  “What do we do?” Annaliese asked. “We won’t be able to make it past those ships to get back.”

  “I do not recommend that we stay here,” Chief Counsel said. “We need to leave before they make contact. If we need to enter hyperspace and then reconnect with the cruiser, we can do that. But we have to leave now.”

  “What’s going to happen?” Florian asked. “Are they going to kill us?”

  “Yep,” Benito said. “We’re done, kid.”

  Florian shrank behind Tatiana, who had a look of fear on her face as well.

  “Benito!” Annaliese said. “That kind of thinking isn’t going to do any of us any good.”

  She looked around at the rest of her team.

  “Any ideas?” she asked. “Anything we haven’t considered?”

  “Maybe it’s best to stay here,” Masashi said. “It’s a neutral zone. Legally, we’re in no danger here. The moment we leave, though—”

  “Do you think they’re going to shoot at us?” Chief Counsel asked. “Think about who we are. They don’t want to deal with the consequences of such an act. Not in court they don’t.”

  “Why don’t we radio to headquarters?” the CFO asked. “Let’s get the press involved. They can be here in less than an hour. That’ll keep the bastards honest.”

  “Or,” Tatiana said, “We stay and talk to them.”

  Annaliese puffed. “Tatiana, don’t be silly.”

  But Tatiana pointed out the window to a lone corsair moving toward the conference ship.

  An airlock on the conference ship opened, and the Zachary corsair entered.

  Annaliese cursed.

  “Looks like we don’t have much of a choice,” she said.

  “Florian, stay in the conference room,” Annaliese said after the leadership team formulated a strategy that included Benito. Florian didn’t understand any of it. He wished he could understand adult strategy. He wished he knew what they were going to do.

  “I don’t want to stay here,” Florian said.

  “This is not negotiable,” Annaliese said. “You’re not going anywhere, do you understand?”

  Florian threw himself into a chair and folded his arms.

  Annaliese pointed to Tatiana and said. “Keep him out of trouble.”

  Then, Annaliese, the leadership team, and the Puente family left and shut the door behind them.

  Florian waited a few minutes, glancing at the ships outside.

  They looked menacing.

  What if they meant harm?

  What if something happened to his aunt?

  Then he would be truly alone. Tatiana wouldn’t be able to take care of him anymore.

  He’d lose everything.

  He already lost one parent.

  Then another.

  If he didn’t protect what he loved, he would lose again.

  Outside, the ships stopped their advance toward the conference ship, and they hovered around the ship like a net of metal, with their guns glinting. It wouldn’t take long for them to blow up this tiny little conference ship.

  He thought of his aunt.

  What if she was walking into trouble?

  He imagined her dead, lying on the ground from a gunshot wound to the chest. The image mixed in with an image of his mother lying on the dock, and then his father, stately and dressed in a tuxedo, lying in a coffin.

  He shook his head, tried to blink the image out of his mind.

  Then, when Tatiana wasn’t looking—

  He ran.

  But she blocked the door.

  “Not a chance,” she said.

  “Come on!” Florian said. “What if something happens?”

  “Benito has a gun,” Tatiana said. “They’ll be okay.”

  “There’s a whole army out there!” Florian said, pointing to the fleet. “You think a single gun is going to stop them?”

  “They said we’re in a neutral zone,” Tatiana said. “Nothing is going to happen--”

  BLAM!

  The sound made them jump. Then they looked at each other, fear in their eyes.

  A gunshot.

  “Aunt Annaliese,” Florian whimpered.

  He pushed Tatiana aside and bolted out the door.

  “Florian, stop!” Tatiana cried.

  But Florian was out the door before she could stop him.

  8

  He ran.

  He ran without looking ahead.

  All he could think about was his aunt.

  The metal hallways of the conference ship were wide and spacious.

  He passed by conference rooms with people inside. Through the frosted glass doors, he caught glimpses of the rooms. Some people were still carrying on as if nothing had happened. Maybe they weren’t paying attention to the ships outside. Others, however, were standing at the window with cell phones in their hands, taking photos or calling for help.

  His footsteps rang out on the metal.

  The dress shoes he wore, black and shiny, were unbearable. He wanted to kick them off but knew he couldn’t.

  He broke into a rotunda with a high ceiling and stained glass painting of the heavens above.

  Several hallways stretched before him.

  He stopped.

  And listened.

  One way, he heard nothing but air.

  Another way, silence.

  And the third way, he heard whispers.

  He charged down the third path and came to a door to a stairwell.

  Maybe he could use it to get a vantage point.

  He entered the stairwell and bolted up dimly-lit stairs, taking the steps two at a time. When he reached the top to the second floor landing, he panted.

  He wanted to lean against the metal railing and catch his breath.

  He wanted to relax, tell himself that everything was going to be okay.

  And then he heard another gunshot, and it made him jump.

  His heart raced.

  He began
to sweat.

  The gunshot had happened nearby.

  In the next room.

  He dropped to his knees and pushed the door open quietly.

  He crawled into the airlock, on a storage balcony full of cargo crates. Making his way through a maze of crates, he reached the railing that looked down on the airlock, where his aunt’s ship rested on the far end. Next to it, the Zachary warrior corsair parked haphazardly as if to stop his aunt from leaving.

  In the center of the airlock, there were two lines of people.

  His aunt and her leadership. They faced a line of gray soldiers with menacing black rifles. The soldiers wore orange visors over their faces, silver-colored camouflage armor, and they aimed their guns at his aunt. In the center were two men.

  One was dressed in a gray suit with shoulder-length brown hair. He wore sunglasses, a gold chain, and he carried a pet chinchilla, which he caressed behind its short ears.

  The other man was a short, older man with a white beard and mustache. He wore a lavish black and red gown that trailed the floor, and two circular drone bots hovered in the air around him like eyes, connected by wires to his shoulder. His entire arms and legs were covered in swirling tattoos. Two vertical, black lightning strikes were painted on the man’s cheeks, drawing attention to his red pupils. He grinned devilishly at Annaliese.

  “You can fire your little shotgun all day,” the emperor said, “but it won’t help you…”

  His voice was weak and decrepit, but full of influence. It had a sing-songy, lilting rhythm to it, as if the man were trying to persuade the room.

  “I believe the course of action is clear,” Tavin Miloschenko said, petting his chinchilla. “Hand over the family and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

  “We have a right to be here just as they do,” Annaliese said. “It’s not appropriate, nor is it intergalactic protocol to take anyone into custody without probable cause.”

  “Oh, we have probable cause enough, Miss Macalestern,” the emperor said. “Little Benito here has been poisoning public opinion against me. In our galaxy, that’s called treason.”

  “And in the GALPOL Accord, it’a called lawful civil obedience,” Annaliese said.

  The old man laughed.

  “What is the meaning of a word? Ah, one word can mean so much. So much, indeed…you know all about words, Miss Macalestern. You use them quite well in your corporate endeavors.”

  The emperor stepped forward. Miloschenko tried to stop him. The old man pushed him away.

  Benito cocked his shotgun and fired it into the ceiling.

  The blast didn’t faze the emperor. Instead, he grinned.

  “We will defend ourselves if needed,” the emperor said. “We’ll deal with your traitorous family as soon as these people leave.”

  “We won’t subject ourselves to the empire’s rules,” Benito said. “Spiritually, we’ve been dead for years. You can’t take anything else away from us.”

  “What we have asked of you is very simple,” the emperor said.

  The emperor held up his hands and looked at the ceiling. “A family with a rich heritage like yours surely understands the value of a…shared community. Why, look at your beautiful grandson. He could be emperor one day. I may not be long for this world, but I have made the sacrifice required of me. Is that so hard to understand?”

  Benito shrugged.

  “The glorious dawn of our empire is just beginning, Benito,” he said. “I have shown you incredible mercy. The next emperor may not.”

  “We’re not going to subscribe to any hive mind,” Benito said. “I’ll take my chances with the next guy. Or girl.”

  “Very well,” the emperor said, dropping his hands. A evil scowl spread across his face. “If you don’t wish to obey the laws of your home galaxy, then I no longer wish to obey the rules of the GALPOL Accord.”

  Benito cocked his shotgun.

  The emperor motioned to the guards.

  “Kill all of them.”

  Florian gasped.

  In an instant, the guards flowed around the emperor, protecting him.

  BOOM!

  Benito fired, and one soldier fell to the ground.

  Annaliese put her hands up. Her leadership followed.

  “If you kill us, you’ll start a war,” she said.

  Florian balled his fists.

  The emperor laughed.

  “We love war,” Tavin Miloschenko said. “So thanks for the offer.”

  Here it was…it was happening again.

  Violence!

  Drama!

  Everywhere he went, it happened…

  Every person he loved…caught in it!

  No…

  Florian pulled at his hair.

  No!

  He ripped off his tie.

  No!

  He grabbed a crate next to him and he pushed it over the railing.

  CRASH!

  The metal crate clanged on the floor.

  Then the gunshots began.

  CRACK! CRACK!

  BOOM!

  CRACK!

  “I’ve been hit!” someone cried.

  “Your Imperial Grace, we must go—” another voice cried.

  An engine started. The whining pitch of a supersonic turbine filled the room.

  Florian covered his ears, but he kept pushing more crates over.

  One landed on one of the soldiers, knocking the rifle out of his hand.

  And then…

  Benito with a rifle.

  A chinchilla flying through the air.

  The Zachary warrior ship crashing into his aunt’s ship.

  The CFO down, bleeding.

  Florian, running around the top level of the airlock, screaming, tears flowing down his cheeks.

  Tatiana. Her chest. Her hands. Her embrace. She pulled him to the ground and covered him with her body.

  The airlock opening. Fire and exhaust as a ship exploded out of the conference ship.

  A deafening roar.

  The doors locking shut.

  Growing silence.

  Someone crying. A woman. A child.

  Quiet.

  It all happened so fast that he couldn’t process any of it. By the time he knew what was finally happening, it was over.

  “Florian?” a voice asked.

  Annaliese was standing downstairs, looking up at the balcony where Florian and Tatiana were.

  She was alive.

  Behind her, the CFO was bleeding profusely and Masashi was bent over him, tying his suit jacket around the CFO’s arm.

  Two soldiers lay dead on the floor. Bullet casings were scattered everywhere.

  Benito sat in his wheelchair, his family standing around him. They were unharmed. A group of crates lay next to him—the family had taken cover behind them.

  Tatiana grabbed Florian by the shoulder.

  “You’re freaking crazy,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” he said, checking himself for wounds.

  Tatiana sighed. Then she thumped him on the forehead. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  “Ow!” Florian said, rubbing his forehead.

  Benito looked up at Florian and said, “Gracias, kid. Glad your aunt brought you after all.”

  Eddie glanced up and waved at Florian.

  “Florian, are you okay?” Annaliese asked.

  Florian nodded.

  “Good,” she said, clucking her tongue as she looked around the scene.

  Outside, the Zachary warrior ships disappeared one by one as they jumped into hyperspace.

  “I thought we were goners,” Benito said. “If it weren’t for your nephew, we would have—”

  “Say no more,” Annaliese said.

  “I’m, uh,” Benito said, “more interested in your offer now.”

  He extended his hand.

  “If it’s still on the table,” he said.

  Annaliese shook his hand.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said. “And
asylum.”

  Benito looked at her confused.

  “Because we’re going to be at war,” she said, glancing out the window. “And there will be plenty of space for refugees.”

  “Miloschenko already issued a statement to the press,” Chief Counsel said, watching the news on a tablet. “They’re threatening nuclear war.”

  “This is going to be a bitch,” Annaliese said.

  Part IV

  Approaching the Abyss

  9

  “What’s it saying?” Florian asked.

  He craned his head to get a look at a Crystalith in the space station.

  Carly, his direct report, stood in front of the shimmering obelisk with a tablet in her hand. She played a minor chord on a keyboard onscreen, and the alien shimmered red and responded with a dissonant, harsh ninth, filling the room with light as bright as a siren.

  “He’s not happy,” Carly said. She grabbed a stylus from behind her ear and switched to a notepad app, taking note of the inkblots that were appearing rapidly within the obelisk’s core.

  Florian took a step back. The observation room they were in was a small room no bigger than a living room with a single window glimpsing into space. The cameras in the four corners of the room adjusted, noting the interaction.

  “Need out?” a voice asked from an intercom above.

  Florian raised a hand and quieted the intercom.

  “Carly, I pay you to keep that damned thing happy,” he said.

  “Watch your tone, please,” Carly said.

  In his ten years at Macalestern, he’d learned to sweet talk just about anyone. But there was no sweet talking a carbon-based alien that could smash into you with the force of a truck just because you spoke to it in the wrong tone.

  Carly, a short Asian woman in a gray tank top and jean shorts, frowned. She played a gentle melody on the keyboard, but the Crystalith continued to rage, and it oriented itself in Florian’s direction.

  Carly turned.

  “Maybe you should go to the next room?” she asked. “No offense, but it doesn’t like you.”

  Outside, the space station’s revolution brought them into view of the Macalestern fleet, a group of ritzy corsairs floating in the middle of the metal docks with their solar sails up and glinting in the moonlight.