Beyond the Sky: Chapter 9
State Visit
Commander Udan was clearly unsettled by the loss of the JNF’s secret project in the Burrower city, so much so he’d let slip to Velli his cold feet about the attack on the Princess. Regardless, a day was set, and soon arrived.
Velli actually saw the royal plane coming in, as they headed for a warehouse on the outskirts of Trez Yafan. It was a shiny object, with yellow streamlines and an annular intake around its rear third. A thing that took a Yune to fully appreciate. They parked their car in a trash-strewn alley, removed the number plates, and did the last mile on foot.
A secret knock got them inside, whereupon Velli received a view of their full plan: “A submarine!”
A pipe-like cylinder with a rounded nose and finned conning tower, it sat in a flooded drydock amid old tree-fronds. The old civilian from the meeting stood on a gangplank leading to its topside, now wearing an old-style Jepsei naval uniform.
“Master Rennik, are you ready?”
“Been so for three cursed days,” he grunted, then walked off to make one last inspection.
“Take these.” Udan passed Teliv and Velli Burrower-style air flasks. “It won’t be pleasant, but it’ll work.”
“Is this even possible?” Velli asked, trying not to look down as she crossed the gangplank. “I thought the Deep Ones destroy submarines.”
“That only applies at sea, out of sight of land,” Udan replied. “We’ll be safe, in our coastal waters.”
She still felt nervous, reaching the little hatch to the submarine’s dimly-lit interior. A Cepic going underwater, this was madness of the sort which reigned when airplanes were invented.
Inside was horribly cramped, she had to sit on a narrow bench with her legs drawn up so others could pass. Towards the front were racks with three torpedoes, flanking a pair of tubes. The air already smelled hot and foul, she took a copper-tinged breath from the flask and plugged her ears as the engine started.
Rennik’s last crewman battened the hatch. Then, the sub gave a lurch and motored out, puttering along for some minutes before he gave the order: “Submerge!”
The city was nothing Takji hadn’t seen before. She talked to the Governor, listening to him drone on about civic engagement and public safety while he showed her around the new university. Toras, meanwhile, was presumably off at an Occupation base asking pointed questions.
Her two Nevi maidservants, Ipi and Gilp, followed behind, walking on their long spindly limbs or swinging from bars installed on the ceilings of ritzy buildings like this. The hallway ended in a balcony from which she gave a short speech from behind bulletproof glass, to a crowd in the square outside.
Then it was time to free a slave.
This was an old Jepsei tradition, abolished with slavery before the Occupation and now brought back after it. Various groups of slaves (she wasn’t sure exactly how it worked) would choose who among them they considered most deserving of freedom, and submit them before the Governor and King’s representative.
They had them outside the building’s entryway, atop a flight of steps: three people. One, a weaselly-looking Cepic whom Takji suspected probably bribed or threatened someone to get here, beside him an old Trinn, probably a construction worker or miner past his prime. The third was a woman, nearing middle age, a domestic worker. Each bore the mark of a different slaving company.
She would free them all, if she could. But that was not how things worked. The Governor had a wire-frame tumbler on a table, like those used in lotteries, spun it, and removed a ball from within. Takji took it from him, and read the number:
“One.”
The weaselly Cepic’s ears perked up. Before she left this building, he’d be a free man.
The state car took her to the dock, and a waiting hydroskimmer. The craft floated at rest, resembling the offspring of a jet and a boat: elongated, seagoing hull with stubby wings and four jets forward of them. She climbed through the hatch into a well-appointed interior.
Ipi brought her a glass of brew once they were moving, the ‘skimmer riding its cushion of air over the harbor waves. She took it, and looked to the Governor across the table. “And what of the rebels?”
He replied, “They’ve been quiet, since we hit them in Pars Jassek.”
“But then there was that fight, the Companies lost a man?”
The Governor raised his thin Fesk ears. “Aye. Grej High Ranger—fine man, and a good friend.”
“Spirits guide him.” Takji lowered her ears, more out of expectation than sorrow. Slaves would always fight back, and against men like that she found them hard to blame.
“They found him in the road, neck broken—surprised the Shadowstalkers didn’t carve into him first.” He sipped from his glass. “There were Black Triangle sightings that night.”
“Oh?” she replied, then tested the waters. “You put stock in that?”
“I’ve not seen it myself, but I know those who have. My mailman, for instance, said he found it off his wing one morning, before sunrise. A right scare, that! What of yourself, Highness?”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
The hydroskimmer slowed, nearing an island.
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