Chapter 26
The heavy stink of sweaty males and apprehension flavored the air in the large, darkened training room. The windows and doors were all sealed, and guards from Command Warship 1 stood at each possible exit, both inside and out. The occasional clink of metal tickled the senses when one of the prisoners lost control of his will to stand motionless before those questioning him. Except for the sounds and scents that were almost overpowering, the room was surprisingly silent considering the number of males being held there, waiting their turn for the focus to shine on them and their actions.
Zha Quin stood bare-chested, wearing only his trousers and boots as he oversaw the interrogations personally. He was sweaty from his own interactions with the accused traitors, insisting that they be given a chance to defend themselves from any accusations tossed their way from their fellow warriors, or from their inquisitors. His focus was on Jhan, sweating and streaked with blood from the battle he’d engaged in with the male he was questioning.
Jhan cracked the whip he held in his hand once more, the sound cutting through the heavy air in the room like a laser. One could almost feel the flesh of everyone in the room except Quin, tense at the anticipated sting of the metal tipped leather strips. But the whip did not make contact with anyone’s flesh. Instead after snapping itself to its full length, it fell to dangle at the end of the tightly woven handle harmlessly until Jhan lifted it into the air again. “I will not repeat myself! You will answer, or the next male will.”
The male, bruised and bleeding, snarled as he glared at Jhan.
Jhan unlike many others with his particular skill set, did not keep suspects, or even prisoners, bound, cuffed or chained while they were being questioned. He allowed them free roam. If they attacked him, he fought them. If they ran, he chased them. There was no honor in attacking a male who couldn’t fight back. And if a male pushed the interrogation to the point at which it was clear he should be killed, then they’d die with honor as they fought Jhan or whomever Jhan gave that responsibility to.
“I did only what is necessary to save our people from those who would have us become weak! The Cruestaci are warriors! We do not comply with the rules and regulations of other worlds! You live in our world, by our rules, or you die.”
“So, you’re only defending the ways of our people. You think yourself a brave male. A fearless male who fights for all he feels is right,” Jhan said. “You only fight with honor.”
“Exactly!” the male shouted, spittle flying from his mouth as Jhan circled him, and he circled Jhan.
“Then explain to me how a brave male who only fights with honor, thinks it is honorable to attack a defenseless newborn youngling.”
“I did no such thing!”
“Oh, but you did. Had it not been for the bravery of a female, his nanny, who fought to protect him, he may have left this world.”
The male shook his head vehemently. “I did not, nor would I attack any youngling!”
“Someone did.” Jhan lifted the whip and gripping it by its handle, he slowly moved it in an arc indicating all the males silently watching the interrogation. “Someone out there did.”
The male stopped circling Jhan and stood straight, chest out proudly. “I did not.”
“Then how is it that you come to be part of an organized military action to protect them?” Jhan asked, thrusting his arm out to point at the four individuals who were cowering nearby. “They attacked the newborn then ran and hid like the cowards they are.”
“I… that wasn’t my order!”
“What was your order?” Jhan asked, his patience growing thin .
“To take my warriors and protect a stronghold where those loyal to the old ways would be taking shelter.”
“Protect them from whom?” Jhan asked.
“Any loyal to the new regime.”
“New regime? You mean the Tel Mo’ Kok family? The nobility that has ruled Cruestace since its inception? The same nobility that has its names decorating the ancient ruins of our original ancestors?” Jhan demanded.
The male glared at him, a scowl on his face as he considered his answer. To simply say yes would paint him as a traitor to their people as a whole, and it wouldn’t be accurate. There was so much more to it than a yes or no answer. “They are not the same.”
“The same as what?” Jhan asked.
“The same as they used to be! They join forces with those who are weaker than we and make alliances that should never be made! They breed with humans and mix the sanctity of the royal bloodline, polluting it to the point that it will eventually mutate, losing all the strengths that we have valued and revered since the beginning of our species! Their commitment to our people has been clouded by the new ideas being pandered to our people! And our people are far too accepting of it all! They sit back and allow the actions of their royal family to tear down all that we have become.”
“So you justified attacking an innocent newborn as punishment.”
“No! No, I did not! Had I known that was part of the plan I would never have agreed to guard the spineless males that did so! There is no honor in killing younglings, no matter where their parentage lies. You teach the younglings, you guide them. You do not kill them. It is never honorable.”
“That’s what they did,” Jhan said. “They tried to take a newborn male from his nursery. Did they plan to kill him? Did they plan to use him against his parents to ensure their compliance with their demands? We don’t know. But does it matter? He could not defend himself. He could not fight them off. His nanny did. His female nanny fought them off. How honorable is that?”
“It is not honorable. And I would not be a part of such a plan.”
Several other males who’d been taken into custody readily agreed — loudly.
Jhan shared a quick glance over to Quin. “You claim not to know the extent of their plans. Only that you were sent to guard a stronghold. Prove it. Give us the information we need to locate the individual who planned to use a youngling as a bargaining factor in this revolt.”
Silence was the answer as their options were considered.
“There are those who want the old ways, civilians, too. I am one of them, but I am not without honor. I do not condone their actions. Had I known, I’d have brought them to you myself!” he declared, spittle flying from his mouth as he glared at Jhan.
Jhan locked eyes with Quin.
Quin gave a barely perceptible nod.
“Who ordered you to protect those who would seek refuge in the stronghold in the old house?” Jhan asked, intentionally leaving out words that would indicate the male might be admitting to treason or prior knowledge of those who attacked Alexandrus.
Another male, off to the side, still cuffed with at least seventy others shouted the answer they’d all suspected. “Mir’ Ahn ordered that we protect the house, making it a stronghold for those who agreed with our desire to keep our traditions intact. We did not know of the attack on the youngling!” the male insisted.
Jhan turned to look at the male who made the admission.
“He speaks the truth. We stood for what we believe in. We did not stand for attacking a newborn youngling,” the male being questioned agreed.
“Where is Mir’ Ahn?” Jhan asked.
“No one knows,” the male answered.
“He deserted us!” the lone female wailed. “He left us to die without him when his plan failed! Have mercy! Have mercy! ”
“Be quiet, you stupid female!” one of the males who bore the markings from having battled with Zahn shouted.
“What of Mirilla?” Jhan asked, looking back and forth between all those who’d given information, whether it was voluntary or demanded. He saw multiple warriors look back and forth questioningly at each other.
“Who?” the first male asked. He seemed genuinely confused.
“Mirilla. She is Mir’ Ahn’s sister.”
“Mir’ Ahn has a sister?” he asked.
“Does anyone know where Mirilla is?” Jhan asked.
“There was a female who came looking for Mir’ Ahn. She didn’t know he was gone.”
Jhan walked over to the male who’d just spoken. He was a different male than any who’d spoken so far. He was not chained or cuffed or in custody. He was working security, helping to keep those in custody under control. “When?”
“The night after the attack. The night after we realized Mir’ Ahn and so many of our warriors were not accounted for.”
“What did she say?” Jhan asked.
“Nothing much. I sent her home. I told her that she didn’t want to be out and about and she should return to her room in the palace.”
Jhan shook his head. “What did she say?”
“She asked to see Mir’ Ahn. When told he wasn’t there, she wanted to know where he was, and even asked if she could have access to his room when she found out we didn’t know where he was.”
“For what reason?”
“She said she had a message for him from the palace.”
“Did she tell you what the message was?” Jhan asked, his irritation becoming clear.
“She said if he returned to tell him that Sire Zha Quin was waiting to speak with him. He should report to the palace.”
“Was it Mirilla? ”
“I don’t know a female named Mirilla. And even if I did, this female’s head was covered with a cloak, so I’m not sure what she looked like.”
“Jhan!” Quin said.
Jhan turned immediately and jogged toward Quin.
“I think it was Mirilla that went in search of Mir’ Ahn,” Jhan said when he got close enough to Quin.
“Most likely. But I don’t think she was involved. She figured it out just as we did,” Quin said. “I’m sure Bart will find her and all will be rectified.”
“Should I kill the others?” Jhan asked.
“Those that knew my youngling would be attacked and willingly planned for it, yes. Those that didn’t, not yet. I find it hard to kill people because they don’t agree with evolving politics. We can’t go round up the civilians who helped hide the revolting warriors and civilians and kill them, too. While we are a monarchy, we are not in the habit of killing those of our people who disagree with our laws and governing choices. I have to consider this from a place of reason, rather than one of reaction. I will never rule with the support of my people if they are afraid I will kill them if they disagree with my policies.”
Jhan nodded and smiled proudly as he would with a child who’d learned a new lesson. “You will be an amazing Sovereign, Quin. But I’ve always known this.”
“I’ll announce that they’ll be held while we consider the outcome.”
Jhan and Quin walked together toward the center of the large room, which Quin stopped in the middle of. Jhan continued until he was standing beside the warriors guarding the three males and one female who’d been aware of the attack on Alexandrus and went along with the plan regardless.
“We still have questions to be asked, and decisions to be made, but for the most part, we have the information we need.”
“So now we all die without a chance to even speak?” one of the males called out angrily.
“No. No one dies for a differing opinion on political policies. You will be held under guard in one of our barracks until our investigation is complete. There is much to be determined. At that time we’ll determine the best move forward for all of us. Perhaps not everyone will continue in our military. Perhaps concessions will be made. Perhaps more severe punishments will be enacted on some, but no one dies for simply not agreeing with our policies.”
The warriors started looking around at each other and nodding and speaking quietly to one another.
“The only people sentenced to death, are those who attacked my family.”
The female screamed and began to sob and shriek uncontrollably.
Quin raised his voice. “They willfully plotted and participated in the attack of a youngling. Were it any youngling, not just mine, their sentence would be the same.”
“They have no honor,” the male Jhan had been questioning said.
“Take them to the barracks, place a multitude of guards around the building they’re housed in. No one gets out for any reason until our investigation is finished. See that they’re fed and have what they need,” Quin ordered.
Kron and his team started rounding up the males in custody and preparing to march them over to one of the barracks buildings to house them in temporarily.
The female continued wailing and lamenting, screaming for mercy.
“Jhan!” Quin shouted.
Jhan looked in his direction.
“Take care of it.”
“Gladly,” Jhan said, turning to the four condemned individuals with a cold, unfeeling smile.
“I’ll show you the same mercy you intended to show the youngling,” he said.
~~ ~
“No, he’s my brother. He’s gone missing and I’m trying to find him,” Mirilla did her best to growl out harshly. She was standing in another bar, or lounge, or drinkery, or brothel, whatever this one was called, they all served about the same function, and she’d been in so many of them over the last week or so that she’d actually lost count. The only difference she’d found, was the sad, lost eyes of most of the females working in a brothel. Other than that it was all the same. Males trying to forget their misery, females trying to help the males forget as long as they had money to spend to forget.
“I don’t recall a male that fits that description,” the barkeep said. “Either buy a pint, or move along.”
“I don’t want a pint. I’ll ask the other patrons if they’ve seen him.”
“No, I don’t think you will. Nobody spends time unless they buy the right to.”
Mirilla growled a bit, though it wasn’t half as frightening as the growl of a Cruestaci male — she was trying, though. “Fine. Give me a pint, and a pint for those standing at the bar as well.”
The barkeep looked up and down the bar. There were at least thirty people standing at the bar. The tables were full as well, but the male had only mentioned those at the bar. “What about those at the tables?”
“I said the bar. I did not say the tables.”
“You did at that,” the barkeep said, quickly scanning the credit band on the wrist that was held out for him to scan for payment of the most likely poison alcoholic beverages she’d just bought.
The barkeep noticed three things as she pulled her arm back and tucked it within her heavy cloak. One — the credit band she wore was black. That was indicative of a credit band with no limit on spending. Two — the wrist the black band was encircling was not as sturdy as it should have been had the wearer been male. In fact, the wrist, the hand and its fingers were all feminine in design. Three — the band was far too large for the arm it was being worn on .
As he went about filling enough tankards to supply all of those standing at the bar with a fresh pint, courtesy of the female who’d just paid for them, he slyly pulled a vial out of his pocket and turning to go back to the bar while he pretended to drop the tankard, drizzled some of the contents of the vial onto the handle of the tankard. Slipping the vial back into his pocket and setting the tankard to the far left of all the others, he finished filling all the tankards.
He grabbed four of the tankards in one hand, holding them by their handles, and the fifth he held by the tankard itself, making sure to avoid the handle. “Compliments of the gentleman here!” he cried loudly as he smiled grandly for the benefit of all. “Here you all go, come get your tankard!”
Mirilla waited patiently while all those she’d been trying to work her way through to ask about Mir’ Ahn returned to their places. Shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the situations she’d found herself in in the last week, she started toward the opposite end of the bar.
“Here’s yours!” the barkeep insisted.
“No, thank you. I don’t want one.”
“Oh, but you must!” he pressed, shoving the tankard at her so vigorously that it sloshed over the side and onto her.
Mirilla instinctively grabbed the tankard by the handle that was so obviously shoved her way, then walked down to the opposite end of the bar where she sat it down. She began asking if anyone had seen a Cruestaci male and gave a description of Mir’ Ahn. When she got nothing but no’s in response, she turned back toward the door, planning to leave, but her head began to swim. Her equilibrium was off, her stomach lurching.
“You feeling alright, there?” the barkeep asked.
“I’m alright,” she answered, forgetting to keep her voice gravelly.
“Here, have a sip or two. It’ll help,” the barkeep said, handing her the tankard again.
Mirilla curled her fingers around the handle again.
“There you go. Drink some now. It’ll make you feel better,” the barkeep said .
“No, I don’t… I don’t need…” Mirilla dropped the tankard to the floor as she reached out for the bar top and tried to brace herself with both arms grasping across the top of the bar.
The barkeep smiled sinisterly as he removed the credit band from her wrist. “Won’t be needing this anymore now, will you, female?” he asked as he leaned into her field of vision. “Won’t be needing much of anything anymore.”
Mirilla lost control of her body and slammed to the floor.
The barkeep leapt over the bar and quickly gathered the female into his arms, keeping her hood over her face and head. “He’s had far too much to drink. Needs some fresh air!”
“Better get off this godforsaken space port, then. There is none!” one of the patrons shouted laughingly.
Peals of raucous laughter responded to the patron’s comment as the barkeep walked through the single door behind the bar with Mirilla slung over his shoulder like he’d carry a male.
“Consortium,” she mumbled.
“What?” the barkeep grumbled.
“Consortium… come.”
“As if anyone would come, much less the fucking Consortium.” Scoffing at her claim, he hurried through the kitchen and out the door on the other side, to the steps that would take him to a room where they kept their most valuable treasure secreted away until it could be shipped off of the port. He knocked on the door, three times, then twice, then four times to let those inside know it was him, then while he waited for the multiple locks to be unlocked, he slipped the credit band onto his own wrist and shoved it up high enough that it wouldn’t be seen beneath his shirt sleeve.
“What’s this?” an old man demanded.
“They wanted a female from Cruestace, right?”
“That’s a male. Do you still not know the difference?”
“No, this is a female. She just wants us to think she’s a male.” He walked over to one of the mattresses on the floor of the dark, damp room and dropped Mirilla onto it. Half her body fell on the floor rather than on the mattress, but neither of the males seemed to notice. The barkeep leaned over and yanked the cloak off her face and head.
“Well, I’ll be fucked raw,” the old man said.
“Told you.”
“I told him it was impossible. The Cruestaci females never leave their planet without escort.”
“This one did.”
“Good job, Eienir. You can expect a bit of a bonus in your pay this week.”
Eienir smiled a quick, disingenuous smile. “That’s why I do what I do.”
“Leave me to it. I have less than a week to get her ready.”
“Better you than me,” Eienir said. He quickly left the room, closing the door behind himself, and grinned smugly as he felt the credit band encircling his arm. He’d happily gotten more than a pitiful little bonus for his efforts. And no one would ever know.