The Shape of Surrender

Tor’laen shifted in his seat as the shuttle slipped out of the Aegis’s hangar. There was a split second of zero gravity as the small craft left the Citadel’s artificial gravity field before the shuttle’s own AG switched on.

“When did I get nominated as the official Ydani babysitter?” Saia grumbled, though there was a wry smile on her face.

“Apologies, Corporal,” Tor’laen said, glancing over at her.

“Don’t apologize, man,” she chuckled. “I’m just bitching about nothing.” The woman shrugged. “If I wasn’t escorting you, they’d probably have me chaperoning civvies, anyways.”

“The civilians? What for?” The Ydani shot her a confused look.

“Well, they just love shore leave. One of the big perks of living on a Citadel, I guess. See all sorts of different planets, go shopping, try different local cuisines, that sorta thing,” Saia explained.

“And what reason would they need a guard for?” Tor’laen gave her a sideways glance.

“Usually we just let them freely go down, keep shuttles running back and forth from the surface, you know?” The corporal gestured at the ship surrounding them. “But with all the shit that’s been going down, we’re only sending a few small groups at a time, accompanied by a couple Armswomen. Discourage any shitheads from trying to snatch them off the street. Last thing we need is for the Aegis to get involved in a damn hostage situation.”

“You think they would do that?” the Ydani asked, surprised.

“It’s not unheard of, let’s just say that,” Saia chuckled grimly.

Tor’laen leaned back in his seat. The idea disturbed him. For all its faults, he doubted there was a safer place to be a non-combatant than Ydan, or one of its colony worlds. Crime was almost non-existent in Ydani society, a holdover from the days of the war, when even minor crimes could lead to charges of treason. There was no tolerance for anything that might hinder the war effort, after all.

Tor’laen had assumed Zakkili society would be similarly ordered, but the idea of a civilian group acting against Aegis citizens hadn’t even occurred to him. A notable tactical blind spot, it would seem. He might have to rethink how he was to approach the situation.

He watched as Saia glanced furtively around the empty shuttle, as if she expected some kind of eavesdropper to have materialized out of thin air. Slyly, she looked up at him.

“Was there really a fucking bomb in the governor’s office?”

He raised his visible eyebrow at her.

“Isn’t that classified information?” The Ydani wasn’t actually too sure himself. Neither Vessa nor Mikka had mentioned anything of the sort.

“I mean, that’s what everyone is saying.” Her eagerness and excitement Pressed against him.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but yes.”

Mikka seemed to completely trust her people, and Saia was assigned to escort him. That put her firmly in the category of need to know for the Ydani.

“Oh, damn.” She seemed impressed. “Maybe there’ll be some excitement after all!”

Tor’laen simply turned to look at her.

“What?” she asked, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. “I haven’t seen any action for like, five measures. I’m just saying it would be nice to bag a terrorist or two. Maybe arrest a couple pieces of shit.”

“Just do remember whose sake we’re doing this for,” the Ydani said wryly, leaning back again in his seat.

“Yeah, yeah. For the civvies, I know.”

Saia’s ears wiggled playfully. Or at least, in what he assumed was a playful manner. He was still getting used to just how expressive the average Zakkili was. Tor’laen gave an amused huff and closed his eye, feeling the shuttle start to shake slightly as it entered Orphila’s atmosphere.

“No. No no no no.” The woman stamped her foot, her bare skin slapping against the metal paneling. “I must repeat. This building. Needs more protection!” She added a string of words in her native language, shrill with anger.

“I understand your concern, citizen,” Tor’laen said, trying his best to keep his tone firm but gentle. “The Orphilian government and the Star Citadel hear your request, but resources are limited…”

He glanced over to the Zakkili next to him, the short man smoothing his velvet suit.

“Miss Jirri, the government acknowledges your concerns. Believe me, we hold this water purification plant as crucial to the city’s continued well-being,” the Zakkili said, a reassuring smile on his face. “We have taken every reasonable security measure, but you must understand — we need to consider the importance of every part of the capital’s infrastructure.”

The engineer tilted her head slightly, clearly not catching all of the man’s response. The woman’s command of the Zakkili language was a bit shaky, far less fluent than Tor’laen was from what he could tell. It was a complicated feeling.

Jirri’s eyes darted between the two men, her two tails lashing behind her back, clearly agitated. The woman was a Kelrana, or at least that was what he had been hurriedly told. She was about halfway between Zakkili men and women, heightwise, and thin, with wiry muscles visible around the mechanic’s apron she was wearing. She was covered in a fine layer of amber fur, which thickened on the top and sides of her head. Her face was bare, though, revealing skin of a light russet color. This Kelrana seemed quite animated, from Tor’laen’s point of view: large eyes, a wide mouth, and sizable fangs that peeked through her lips even when closed.

Her most notable feature had to be the pair of tails that grew on her backside, sticking out of a hole in her trousers. Each was about as long as she was tall, and full of wiry muscle like the rest of her. The previous time he had been in the capital, he had seen Kelrana doing work on the city’s comm lines, often hanging upside-down while they worked, one tail latched onto a beam or cable, the other often carrying a toolbox or extra parts.

“Them.” She thrust a finger toward the peacekeepers escorting Tor’laen’s entourage. “More of them. For here.” She pointed to the ground below her, narrowing her eyes.

More than a few of the other engineers, a mixture of the various races present on Orphila, were watching the argument, anxious looks on their faces.

Taken from NovelFire, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Tor’laen checked a sigh. This woman was being obstinate, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t understand her view. Morale around the city was shaky at best, far worse than he had expected before he came down from the Citadel. The peacekeepers were on high alert, doing their best to maintain order, but they were stretched thin, from what he had been told. There just weren’t enough soldiers to guard all of the critical targets. At least, not to a satisfactory level.

“Listen,” he said, pulling himself up to his full height. “You have two full squads of peacekeepers stationed here. That’s as many as can be spared, and as many as are guarding any of the other possible targets.” He let his tone soften a bit. “I know it’s unnerving, but they will do everything they can to keep you safe.”

Jirri glared up at him, her brown eyes meeting his golden one. She stomped her foot again. It was the part of her race Tor’laen found the strangest — rather than feet, they looked more like another set of hands, and seemed to be just as dexterous. She gave an angry huff and stormed off, muttering to herself in her native tongue.

“Well done,” the Zakkili man at his side said, looking up at Tor’laen.

“She’s still angry. Fuming.”

“That’s just how it is sometimes. Can’t please everyone.”

“I hate politics,” the Ydani grumbled under his breath, watching as Jirri scampered up the side of one of the massive purifiers, using all six of her limbs to climb, tails included.

“Indeed, that’s how it is,” the man chuckled.

His name was Nekiin, and he was the minister of…something. Upon reaching the city and exiting the shuttle, Tor’laen had been introduced to almost a dozen civil officers of the planet’s government, who would be accompanying his inspection. The Ydani had barely been able to retain most of their names, not even attempting to memorize their various positions and offices.

Nekiin seemed to be the most senior, or perhaps highest ranking of the bunch. He had been extremely useful in smoothing over some of Tor’laen’s interactions with the locals. The man was extremely eager to please, either out of a genuine desire to help, or pure self-interest. The Ydani couldn’t tell which, and didn’t much care, either.

The minister moved to confer with some of the other government officials, and Saia ambled over, taking his place next to the Ydani.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

Tor’laen simply gave her a look, and she grinned back at him.

“Gonna be a long day, I’ll bet,” she said, looking around idly.

Tor’laen couldn’t really disagree. The itinerary for the trip listed at least five more stops on their tour, and he had already been to half a dozen different facilities. Still, it needed to be done, that much he could already understand. The people needed reassurance.

A flicker of movement caught his attention, and he glanced back toward the large entrance of the facility. A small crowd had gathered, clustered behind some small plastic barricades that the peacekeepers used for crowd control. The civilians were gazing into the building with an obvious mix of interest and worry.

And one of them was climbing over the barricade.

“What in the Maker’s name is that idiot doing?” Saia muttered, eyes fixed on the same sight as Tor’laen.

A couple peacekeepers were already heading for the entrance, moving quickly but not urgently. The intruder was a Zakkili woman, with short brown hair. She was wearing a uniform of some kind, perhaps a courier or driver, it seemed to the Ydani. Heaving herself over the barricade, she stood, and looked up at him.

Tor’laen frowned. Her pale blue eyes seemed…wrong somehow. Empty. Like the eyes of a dead body, despite this woman clearly being alive.

He was about to mention the fact to Saia when she tensed.

“Down!”

The corporal noticed the gun a heartbeat before he did, the weapon emerging from the woman’s bag, and Saia half-tackled him, pulling the Ydani to the floor behind one of the nearby consoles for the plant.

Gunshots rang out, echoing in the massive room.

“Fuck!” Saia swore, pulling out her sidearm. “Those eyes…she’s been fucking Taken!” She yanked an earpiece out of her pocket and slammed the thing into her large ear. “Active shooter! She’s been Taken, non-lethal takedowns only!”

Tor’laen slid to the edge of the console, trying to ignore all the screams sounding around the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some of the engineers scrambling for cover, getting behind the large pieces of machinery. Cautiously, Tor’laen peered out around the edge of the console.

The peacekeepers had moved to cover, trying to close in on the shooter. One of them had been hit in the opening shots, clutching her shoulder, bright red blood welling between her fingers.

The shooter herself was moving unsteadily, swaying as she stumbled forward. With no living targets in sight, she turned her handgun onto the machinery, firing wildly. It was a low-caliber weapon, and most of the shots simply ricocheted off the steel equipment, but a few found their mark. Tor’laen winced as a nearby monitor exploded with a shower of sparks, and a console on his other side had a hole blown into it.

“C’mon, get into position, ladies…take her down…” He heard Saia mutter, as she leaned around the opposite side of the console. She drew back in a blur, as a round bounced off the edge of the metal where she had been peeking. “Fuck!”

The peacekeepers had moved into position, still not exposing themselves to the shooter. The moment the woman stopped to reload, one of them made their move. The closest peacekeeper lobbed a small cylinder through the air from behind one of the desks. It bounced twice, landing just a couple feet in front of the shooter. She didn’t react, but Tor’laen did, pulling himself back behind the console, and covering his ears. He knew a flashbang when he saw one.

A second later, an ear-splitting crack sounded out, filling the room with a flash of white light for the briefest moment.

The Ydani leaned around the console again, checking the aftermath. The shooter had borne the brunt of the device, having made no attempt to look away or plug her ears, and was now writhing on the ground, clawing at her eyelids.

The peacekeepers were upon her in a heartbeat, rolling her face down and snatching the weapon away, one of the soldiers pulling out a pair of restraints. Saia was already in motion, up and jogging over to the site, and Tor’laen moved to follow her.

The shooter had been forced to sit up, and even now was trying to get to her confiscated weapon, as if nothing else existed in the world for her. Saia crouched down to get a closer look, only to scoot backwards when the woman snapped at her, trying to catch the corporal with her teeth.

“Maker’s ire, someone did a real fucking number on her.” She swore, the surrounding peacekeepers muttering in agreement.

“So what now?” Tor’laen asked, glancing around. The government officials and engineers were cautiously leaving their hiding spots, looking around nervously.

“We need to get this Taking out of her head.” Saia crossed her arms, a thunderous look on her face. “Damnit, if the Crown Daughter or Admiral were here, they could do it in a heartbeat.” She glanced over at the head of the squad of peacekeepers. “Sergeant, do you have anyone who can undo this shit?”

The woman shook her head.

“If it was a Still or Press, Ketti could do something, maybe.” She jerked her thumb at one of her troops, currently kneeling next to the prisoner. He noticed that her mindthreads were a little longer than the other Zakkili women present.

“Nah, this is fucked up, Sarge,” Ketti said after a moment, opening her eyes and standing up. “I dunno who got in this girl’s head, but I can’t even budge it. You probably need a Noble to have a chance.”

“And we don’t exactly have many of those hanging around on Orphila,” the sergeant concluded grimly.

“Damnit.” Saia shook her head. “No way I’m asking either the Crown Daughter or the Admiral to come down here at the moment. Not after this.”

“Are there any others aboard the Citadel who could do something about this?” Tor’laen asked, looking down at the corporal.

“Let’s see…” Saia closed her eyes for a second, thinking. “The Royal Hand and the Admiral of course…some of the bridge crew might be able to, but I doubt it. Blood is too distant. Other than that…oh, the High Priestess is Farblood, if I remember correctly.”

“The High Priestess?” Tor’laen perked up at that. “She should be planetside right now. At the capital’s main church, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Really, man?” Saia jolted with surprise. “Thank the Maker. Sergeant, can you arrange a ride for a High Priestess? I need to contact the Aegis.”

“Will do, Corporal.” The sergeant gave a crisp salute, despite technically outranking the woman. It seemed that being part of a Citadel’s troops put one in another level compared to peacekeeping forces.

As the peacekeepers started to move, Tor’laen turned back to the inside of the plant. Now that the threat had passed, a crowd of frightened engineers and government officials had gathered, most of their gazes fixed on the Ydani. Jirri was there as well, the woman’s expression a mix of outrage and fear. Tor’laen had told her things would be fine, and now one of the peacekeepers was being treated for a damn gunshot wound, with an unknown amount of damage to the water purification plant.

He resisted the urge to sigh.

Time to give another reassurance.