Gresham smiled and looked straight at Cray. “So unless Lugrash just happened to have a pair of okka needles lying around the warehouse, I’d say you have plenty of things left to worry about.”
#
“You didn’t,” Lara said, somewhat stunned after Gresham recollected the discussion.
Gresham grinned and cut into his steak. “You know, I kind of liked Cray. Vosen, yeah, you’re right – that guy’s got a stick up his ass. But Cray strikes me as a reasonable man. He and I got along fine.”
“He’s only pandering to you because he knows you’re close to the President.” Lara poked at her salad. “I also suspect that he wants to see what we do next.”
“What do you mean?”
A tall, slender waiter passed their table. “More water for the two of you?”
“We’re fine, thanks,” Gresham replied and turned his attention back to Lara. “You were saying?”
She looked around the gourmet restaurant to make sure nobody was looking at them suspiciously before saying, “I think Cray knows we’re onto something. I think he knows more than he’s letting on but can’t put the pieces together himself. So he’s relying on us to go out and do the dirty work for him. The man was probably the best field agent SIS has ever had when he was in his prime. It’s what won him the Director post. Well, that and collecting dirt on Mariko Suzuki before she became President. I think sometimes Cray secretly wishes he was still out in the field, snooping and looking for answers.”
“Is that why he sits on information and doesn’t share it with anybody?”
“Well, that – and I think a natural sense of paranoia that comes with having been Director of the SIS for over twenty-two years.”
“I think he’s worried he’s got a rat in his organization.”
The comment caught Lara off guard. “What?”
“I didn’t want to say anything up there, but don’t you think it’s a bit sketchy that the only version of the invoice is under lockdown on the Supernova database with only a handful of people who could access it? I mean sure, Vance could have tried to get the clearance codes to look it up, but most people don’t even know what that buggy old program does. It wouldn’t have been too hard to keep everything else locked up at SIS or get the hard copies taken care of.”
“You think somebody’s working from inside SIS?”
“SIS, or just the government bureaucracy in general. Shit, it could have been Alan Evans for all we know. I just think this whole Price business doesn’t pass the sniff test. And it can’t be a coincidence that Brighton, who from all appearances was a competent section head, was killed right around the time this theft happened and had an idiot like Vosen replace him. If I were Cray, I’d be worried too. But that’s just what I think.” Gresham surveyed the restaurant around him, soaking in the atmosphere. “You know, Lara, I think you’re a lot nicer than you come off.”
She smiled and sipped at her wine. “Oh? I don’t come off as nice?”
“The gun to my head the first time we were properly introduced gave me a somewhat negative vibe,” Gresham chuckled.
“I had to be sure, Major,” she answered.
“John.”
“Pardon?”
“You can call me John.”
Lara laughed sincerely. “Alright then. John.” She ate some of her salad and then looked back at him. “So you still haven’t told how you came to be friends with the President.”
“Yeah, I know. I was hoping you wouldn’t bring it up. The Dhruiz War isn’t something I like talking about.”
“Howard Paine fought in the war?”
Gresham laughed and shook his head. “No, no, not at all. Paine’s only child, Reginald, was my commanding officer on Puckshot. We were part of the 48th S-A-D – the Solaris-Aurora-Darwin. I’m sure you recognized Greg Reed in that picture, too?”
“I knew he was familiar when I met him.”
“Well, he was Lieutenant Reed back then. Believe it or not, I was just Staff Sergeant Gresham. Got drafted out of high school and promoted twice on the fly after they lost a bunch of squad commanders on Charity. I was held in reserve during that campaign – then I got reassigned to the 48th for Puckshot and got thrown into the real shit for fourteen long months.”
He grimaced. “War is something we need to avoid if at all possible. Obviously, the dhzirs invaded us at the behest of their Prophets with genocide on their mind and we had to defend the survival of our species. Still, the cost – well, I’m sure you remember.”
“I was really little during the war,” Lara replied. “I’m only twenty-nine.”
“The Alliance lucked out – the bulk of the fighting was away from the major populated worlds. Once the briling and Gardellis got involved, it was over for Dhruiz – but we had to wait out over two years of war for our allies to get in on it. It could have been so much worse, but needless lives were lost. Like Lieutenant Paine’s.
“We were taking a ridge outside of Avalon City on Puckshot. The dhzirs had taken control of the city, but they’d messed up their troop arrangements, so we’d caught them with their pants down. Or so we thought. We launched an artillery barrage and moved against the city core, but we had a lot of outskirts to cover first. The dhzirs had leveled all the outlying suburbs, so we were really just fighting for every burnt inch in a hell-blasted wasteland at that point.”
Lara sensed Gresham’s discomfort and reached out to touch his hand. “I’m sorry, John. You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”
Gresham breathed deeply and closed his eyes. “We were clearing the ridge, and we never saw the laser cannon. The dhzirs had these big laser cannons they based on the krokator model. They’d blow you right to bits if you stepped in the way of one. Our company got caught in the crosshairs of the two cannons we hadn’t spotted. It was a massacre. Reed and I were at the rear, we watched twenty men walk into a literal wall of heat and plasma. Ten dead, seven wounded. The rest of us scattered and called in an aerial strike against the two nests.
“A friend of mine, Julian Castor, had his arm ripped straight off that day. I carried him to safety – I don’t know how we both survived. He went and got a robotic replacement, but you could tell it changed him. They rotated him back and I never heard from him again after the war. Paine… wasn’t so lucky. We found a few pieces of him and put them in a cigar box. Reed got promoted and I held on to that little cigar box. After our tour of duty was over, I flew to Aurora myself to give it to Reggie Paine’s father – Howard. He always stayed in touch after, and we were pretty close. Well, at least until he became President. Don’t see him much these days.” Gresham smiled. “But that was a long time ago. I’m sure there’s something better we have to talk about than my old war stories, right?”
Lara shrugged. “Sure. I guess. I never realized you’d…”
“Been through all that? Yeah, not many people do. Like I said, I don’t really like to talk about it. Neither does Reed. Sure, he’ll talk about his service record in campaign speeches but… he doesn’t talk about it, you know?” Gresham drank about half his glass of wine in one gulp. “So enough about me. What’s your story? You’re definitely not a native Terran.”
“Well, no, you got that right. I’m from Manhattan originally. Went through college, didn’t really have any idea what I wanted to do, and… well, an SIS man recruited me. I sort of had a crush on my recruiter and I signed a contract. I guess I hoped all SIS men were as charming as he was and thought it would be an adventurous line of work. The reality check I got at Alien Affairs was certainly a shock.” Lara leaned back in her chair. “I do love my job now though. Almost thirty and I’m kicking down doors and going after bad guys.”
“That doesn’t leave a lot of time for you, though, does it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I think under that tough exterior of yours, you’re still the pretty young girl with the crush on a smooth-talking recruiter.”
Lara raised her eyebrows in amusement.
“Major Gresham! Are you flirting with me?”
Gresham laughed and gave her a warm look. “Is it that obvious? I’m afraid you’ve caught me, Lara. Hopefully it’s working.”
“You’re much better at it than Jeff was,” Lara said with a mischievous smile before realizing she’d said too much.
“Oh, I see,” Gresham said slowly. “You and Jeff…”
“We kept it professional,” Lara replied coolly. Her guard was back up. Gresham had pushed too far.
They sat awkwardly for a moment before Lara placed a few credits on the table and got up. “Thank you, John, for helping me out today. And I really was impressed by the way you handled Cray – I’ve never seen anybody talk to him like that before and get away with it.”
Gresham nodded. “Of course. Good night, Lara.”
“Good night, John.”
He stayed at the restaurant for almost an hour after she left, alone, slowly sipping his wine glass and staring into space, watching the scenes of the Dhruiz War unfold before him once more.
Chapter Seventeen: An Alien World
Los Angeles, Planet Terra, Sol System
Zurra blinked. He had woken up, completely undisturbed, and felt just as exhausted as when he had gone to bed. It had been nightfall by the time he had arrived at the Krokator Empire’s embassy in Los Angeles, and a friendly embassy employee had shown him quarters for political visitors. The room he was staying in was small and bare of any decorations beyond a small Imperial flag hanging next to the door and a small prayer shrine in the far corner from the bed.
He rolled out of bed and leaned back and forth slowly. While similar to Rukkur, he could notice a slight difference in the gravity on Terra. He was somewhat lighter here – and the way to test that newfound lightness was to go run and experience his physical abilities firsthand.
Zurra opened his luggage and found a comfortable, simple white tunic and civilian kekkalo with a light green sash. Once dressed, he stretched and left his room, navigating the maze of hallways out to the compound’s courtyard.
His first view of the embassy by daylight was less impressive than he had hoped. Four large, dull concrete buildings squatted in the middle of an open tarmac space, clustered together. A steel and plaster wall one hundred feet high obscured the outside world, although Zurra could make out the tops of office buildings on the other side of the wall on the far side of the compound.
Zurra checked the watch the embassy employee had provided him with. It was a digital timer, not unlike the one he used on Rukkur, but the numbering system confused him. Where were the thirty-one time names associated with common Rukkurosh animals? Cut the last seven out for the local clock and Zurra would have been just fine.
The guard at the gates held up a hand and tightened his grip on his Obedience Stick. “Good morning, Sharm Zurra, did you sleep well?”
The guards at the embassy all wore civilian clothing and had their hair in tokkom knots, although Zurra could tell they had the build of well-trained soldiers. He had even spied an aruntuk from afar when he arrived the night before. Recalling his distasteful experience at the spaceport the night before, he wondered what the problem was with members of the Imperial military being on Allied soil.
“I did sleep well, thank you,” Zurra replied cordially and returned the courteous salute he was afforded by the gate’s guard. “I was going to go for a run.”
“Ambassador Jerven mentioned you might try your legs at exploring. He expects you back here for an appointment by 2 PM.”
“Ukkum strike me, friend, is this human time-telling system not confusing to you as well?”
The guard shrugged and pressed a button on the panel he sat behind. The gates slid open slowly, and Zurra realized for the first time that they were several feet thick.
“Are you unarmed?” the guard ventured.
“I was discouraged from bringing my okka gun with me,” Zurra answered with a sardonic smile. “After my experience at the spaceport yesterday, I can see why.”
The guard pulled a simple, inexpensive knife out of his sash and handed it to Zurra. “I would carry that with you whenever you are outside of the embassy grounds. Los Angeles is not known as a safe city for non-humans.”
Good to know, Zurra thought and accepted the knife. He bowed his head. “Thank you for the gift and the advice. I had best be going.”
He slipped out through the gate and absorbed the scene before him. Three large office buildings lined the quiet street before him, and to his back the mighty walls of the embassy stretched in both directions. Beyond the office towers were an assortment of smaller buildings and shops arrayed across a series of plazas.
As he jogged along the street away from the embassy, Zurra heard the noise of cawing in the air. He looked up to see white birds circling nearby, and soon thereafter heard the noise of waves.
Intrigued, he followed the noise down a virtually empty street and came out onto a long beach that was already crowded, and the street that ran along the sand was packed with an impromptu marketplace set up like a winding snake along the pavement. Zurra had never seen so many humans in one place, and he paused for a moment to observe their behavior.
He quickly determined the males from the females – the males were generally larger, as krokator males were, and hairier than the females. They grew sparse hair on their face and torso, but tended to keep a close-cropped haircut. They were, on average, a little over or under six feet, a whole foot and a half shorter than the typical krokator. Most of the men went bare-chested, which few krokator would ever do in such a public setting, and wore strange coverings over their lower bodies that were like nothing Zurra had ever seen before. The clothing these male humans covered themselves with – assuming they were similarly equipped – was like a kekkalo in purpose, but instead of being a tightly lashed garb around the waist had a slot for each leg. Some of these odd garbs extended all the way to their feet, while the majority of the males had waist-garments that only went as far down as their knees.
Zurra scratched his head as he spotted females passing him on the pavement. They had longer hair, more fragile builds and were, typically, shorter than the males. They wore even less clothing than the males, typically only an even smaller version of the waist-garb their male counterparts outfitted themselves in, or a piece of clothing not unlike a hammock between their legs. The majority of the females on the beach wore only a small piece of clothing that covered an odd pair of lumps on the fronts of their torsos – what these lumps were for, and why the males did not seem to have them, perplexed Zurra.
What a strangely outfitted people these humans are, he thought to himself. The only aliens he had ever encountered in high amounts were the bunchu races – muunfi, atvals or bui’toes – who all typically adhered to krokator social customs when it came to dress.
His next observation about the humans was how obnoxiously loud they were. Where on Rukkur a similar scene would have been lively, here on Terra it was mind-numbing how many noises were assaulting him. Zurra had failed to notice screens on buildings and next to booths that blared with noise as holographic advertisements flashed on them, threatening to induce a seizure from their barrage of colors, shapes and sounds. He blinked and turned away from a particularly offending screen that featured the screech of metal cords being scratched at with a small piece of plastic.
Zurra wandered away from the chaos that was the marketplace and through a line of tall, pleasant palm trees. The trees here in Los Angeles swayed pleasantly in the warm breeze and reminded him of similar but smaller plants that were native to Rukkur.
He stepped onto the beach and smiled. The warmth of the sand was apparent even through his sandals and a slightly cooler breeze from the ocean swelled in just as he began approaching the water. He could see juvenile humans playing in the waves as their mothers – all wearing that same strange two-piece outfit – chased after them to keep them from drowning. They were powerful, impressive waves. Further out in the water, he swore he saw the
shape of a human coasting along a wave atop a board. What a device!
Zurra was almost to the water when something hit him in the back of the head. It was a hard object that felt like a glass container. He turned and looked down to see that he was correct – a small, empty bottle lay on the sand behind him.
As he bent to pick it up, another bottle, this one half full, sailed over his head, its contents spilling out over the back of his neck as it flew through the air. Zurra sensed the direction it had come from and instinctively crouched in an attack stance, his hand searching for his knife. Five tall and muscular human males, all wearing the ridiculous kekkalo with leg-slots, stood leering about twenty yards away.
“Hey, ugly! Hey! Can’t you fucking read, you dumb Crock?”
Zurra rose slightly, tightening his grip around the hilt of his knife. “Did you throw a bottle at me?” he asked slowly in Standard.
The male humans laughed and a few of them forcefully struck the hands of the others. It seemed to be some kind of sign of achievement or camaraderie.
“Yeah, we threw that at you. Can’t you fucking space gorillas learn to read? We don’t want you dirtying up our beaches!”
One of the males pointed to Zurra’s left and he followed the gesture to see a large sign that said, in bold letters:
THIS BEACH IS FOR HUMANS ONLY
Nearby, a second sign said equally boldly:
HELP KEEP LOS ANGELES’ BEACHES ET-FREE
Zurra was unsure what the second one meant, but he knew enough Standard to comprehend the first sign. He turned back to see that the five humans had been joined by several other similarly sized and likely inebriated males, all of whom slowly encircled Zurra where he stood. Two of the humans spat at his feet and one another twirled a full bottle in his hand.
“You better have a good fucking reason for coming down to this beach,” one of them said. He had bright yellow hair, a ring above his eye and several rings in his ears. Zurra could tell from the way he carried himself that he was the accepted leader of the group – he was also the biggest, standing barely a foot shorter than Zurra.