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  “There are three gates between us and our materials, and our ships are now telling us they cannot land on Devon without permission.” Az, the head of the company, was an older ex-military Leath. The second in command, Uleq, was a recent Torcellan recruit, and the third, Imon, ran their enforcement arm. He was Shrillexian and had somehow made it through four decades of mercenary service without losing a limb or incurring a serious wound that couldn’t be healed.

  “I’ve looked into it.” Uleq, his white skin reflecting a bit of pink in the light, looked at his partners. “Some being called ‘Baba Yaga’ has been on the planetary news net. She claims to own the planet.”

  Az snorted. “You can’t own a planet. It would be too expensive.”

  Uleq brushed back his white hair. “I am merely delivering the results of the research.” He looked at his tablet. “From what I can tell, she holds close to eighty-nine percent of most interplanetary companies based on-planet and is in the process of acquiring the last independent transportation company. Our efforts to pull the,” Uleq’s eyes flicked to his tablet, “products from Devon have now become much more difficult, as will be moving many of our more unique trade goods.”

  “This area,” Imon glared at Uleq, “is safe for speech. I have gone through it multiple times.”

  “I am always careful,” Uleq replied.

  “You are scared.” Imon waved a hand. “Call it what it is. We ship contraband, steal materials, and barter for slaves. It isn’t like we three don’t know this.”

  Uleq laid his tablet on the table and stared at Imon. “We can call what we choose to produce, acquire and move around with our ships whatever we like. There is no reason to put it in such crass terms.”

  “Enough.” Az’s growly voice interrupted the two. “Uleq, your Torcellan background predisposes you to whitewash what we do. To secure your future you will need to address your ambivalence and own your participation, or get out of our business.” He waited for a few moments. “Well?”

  “Now?” Uleq looked at the head of the company. “Why is this relevant?”

  “Because,” Imon explained, “I have run simulations. If we allow you to continue lying to yourself to preserve your sensitive Torcellan morals and desire to avoid conflict, you will likely do something inappropriate.”

  “Like what?” Uleq looked at Az. “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “Imon has convinced me that if you don’t acknowledge the truth about our business there is a high risk of you doing something irrational. It’s time you grow a spine—”

  “Or I can place one below you and kick it into place through your ass.” Imon chuckled. “Although that might be a bit messy, not to mention painful.”

  Uleq turned to Imon. “I’m sure it would be.” He didn’t bother trying to throw his weight around with him. The Shrillexian might take it as an opportunity to settle the answer with a physical challenge, and if that happened?

  Well, Uleq would get Imon’s foot up his ass with or without a new spine. He breathed out, looking down at the table.

  “I don’t come from a species as,” he glanced at his partners, “violent as either of yours. We are taught from the beginning what is appropriate. Gunrunning, slaving,” he nodded to Imon, “and drugs that addict users from the first hit are simply not in that category.” Imon started to interrupt, but Uleq stopped him with an upraised hand. “But I want more. You are right, Imon…I want to have my brishek while retaining my Torcellan ethics and morals.”

  He pursed his lips before slightly bowing in his seat. “I owe you both an apology and an acknowledgment. I will not run from what I am becoming. I chose this future, so I will accept it and move forward.”

  Az’s tusks bobbed as he chuckled. “Keep it up, Uleq, and you might just become a human.”

  “Please, no.” The Torcellan shook his head. “They have no understanding of beauty, and their bodies...so many colors, when white is enough.” He leaned forward and looked from Az to Imon and back. “Have you seen the humans that have red hair? Their skin can lean toward the Torcellan hue.” He leaned back, shaking his head. “It looks like fire erupting from the skull.” He shook all over. “Hideous.”

  Uleq blew out a breath and smiled at Imon. “Ok. So, we need to see what is going on with our products. When I checked into our slaving, drugs, and products acquired by illegitimate means—”

  “We stole them,” Imon growled with a smile playing on his lips.

  “No,” Uleq challenged. “I wasn’t being ambiguous, Imon. We acquire our products by many methods, not all of them smash-and-grab.”

  Imon shrugged. “Ok, you got me on that. ‘Illegitimate means’ sounds more impressive, anyway.”

  Az sat back in his chair, the squeaks it emitted under the burden of his bulk lost on the other two. Uleq’d had no idea that he would have been signing his own death warrant if he’d refused to own up to who they were and what they did.

  Quite simply, they were interstellar pirates who ran many legitimate companies…and quite a few that were not so legitimate.

  Some of those companies were based on Devon, and they were not going to allow the self-proclaimed owner of the planet to mess up their profit margin.

  It was time to ruin this Baba Yaga’s plans.

  High Tortuga, Hidden Space Fleet Base, Queen’s Personal Quarters, Meeting Table

  Bethany Anne wound down her pitch. “So when we return to Earth in the future after we find and kill the alien sonofabitches we’re hunting, we’ll fix whatever is there. Who’s with me?”

  Barnabas raised an eyebrow. “Do we have to live there?”

  Bethany Anne looked at her friend. “Well, no, but you have me curious.”

  “I’m enjoying myself with Shinigami, and I look forward to grabbing lots and lots of those who break laws so I can introduce them to justice.”

  Michael refrained from asking Barnabas if justice meant deadly force or just incarceration. Probably an equal chance either way, considering how rough he had been with some gang members who had offered him violence recently.

  Bethany Anne shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll assume you will work on the details of the legal system. You enjoyed harassing me so much for over-doing the justice back on Earth.”

  Barnabas made a face. He wasn’t going to live that down for hundreds of years…if they lived that long.

  Full of nanocytes, all of them could effectively regenerate their bodies through connectivity with the Etheric. Released from drinking blood through the proper updates on their nanocytes, they had all the physical enhancements without the nasty iron aftertaste of a neckful of blood.

  “Personally, I think we coddle too many people. I’m not a fan of one-strike-and-off-comes-your-hand, but we could do with parameters.”

  “Biggest issue,” Akio interjected, “with the Chinese legal system on Earth was the lack of objectivity in the judges. If the person was known, such as a relative or friend, they would receive preferential treatment.”

  “Yes, and how do you handle situations such as mental challenges?” Stephen thought for a moment. “Ok, assuming everyone is healthy that won’t be a problem. However, even we have issues with mental problems. The body, I understand, is much simpler.”

  TOM’s voice was heard through the speakers. “That is true, Stephen. While we can correct many issues in the tissues of the mind, it can and often does delete memories and knowledge at some level. The person might be okay from the time of healing into the future, but the missing data upsets their wellbeing at an unconscious level.”

  “That’s just law,” Michael interrupted. “You take care of the core functions including but not limited to food, water, clothes, and shelter. Once that is accomplished you make education and opportunity available, provide for defense and potentially offense, engage in trade, make communication planet-wide, build infrastructure such as energy and transportation, permit them to travel, and maybe start an entertainment industry.”

  “I sometimes wonder,” Betha
ny Anne pondered aloud, “if we would be better off without entertainment.”

  “There is no question,” Michael replied, “that humans will make sure they have entertainment. The only questions are how do they get it, and is it at someone else’s expense?”

  Stephen leaned forward in his seat, placing his elbows on the table. “I believe that you will have to look at beings’ core personality types and structure a society that offers each hope and responsibilities.”

  “We are sounding like some sort of think tank.” Bethany Anne blew out a breath.

  “Or,” ADAM said through the speakers, “like a bunch of science-fiction writers.”

  “What are you talking about?” Bethany Anne asked.

  “Well, some of the most creative writers did what-if analysis on the future, then wrapped their thoughts into an acceptable theory and released it as science-fiction. In fact, the United States military hired military science fiction writers such as David Weber to free-think the future of the military in space. The military was often accused of fighting the last war, but by using this strategy they were working with forward thinkers to consider how the military might need to prepare and change and what problems they might encounter.”

  “So.” Stephen rested his chin in his hands. “Are we saying that our MPPS homework is done?”

  “Hardly.” Bethany Anne sniffed. “Although I’m willing to listen. ADAM, what is the cornerstone of the effort?”

  “Education,” he replied. “And recognition that people take responsibility for themselves, and often for others.”

  “What do you mean?” Michael asked.

  “Without reliving that time in your life, Michael, your strictures were very cut and dried,” ADAM responded. “If someone dishonored you the response was sudden and brutal.”

  “I’d like to think of it as efficient,” Michael temporized.

  “I’m feeling you on this one,” Bethany Anne whispered to him. Her whispering confused Michael since everyone at the table could hear her whisper from three rooms away.

  “It was efficient,” ADAM responded, “if your intention was to limit those who were around you to only those who were willing to assume leadership or those who were willing to climb the ladder of political success, believing themselves smarter than others and therefore immune to the risk of upsetting you.”

  “I did relieve the world of quite a few assholes.” Michael looked at the two men across the table from him and nodded at Akio. “Just ask him. The asshole gene pool on Earth has been substantially reduced. I’d like to think of that as worthy of acclaim.”

  Akio chuckled. “We did kill with abandon, Michael. However, many were following the commands of their Alphas.”

  “Bad choice in following those jackasses,” Michael replied. “We saved a whole group of Weres when their Alpha recognized the danger.”

  “I imagine the sight of you calling down lightning helped.”

  Bethany Anne cut back in, halting the reminiscences of Michael’s return to Earth as the Dark Messiah. “Which brings us perversely back to education. We teach children not to grab hot pots on stoves. Why would we not teach practical ways to deal with bad characters?”

  Stephen noted. “That presumes the monsters aren’t proactive in scaring them to stay quiet.”

  “Then,” Barnabas answered, “we’ll be scarier.”

  “That leads to a totalitarian level of government,” Akio replied, “often tried in my corner of the world as well as others. It is easy enough to implement if your side is the scariest, but often the reasons the populace is scared are not acceptable, and eventually the government will be overthrown. If not by their own people, then by the countries around them.”

  “The real issue,” ADAM suggested, “is the rebels.”

  “Come again?” Bethany Anne furrowed her brow. “What rebels?”

  Barnabas nodded. “The freethinkers. The iconoclasts. Those who wish to push boundaries because their minds are wired differently. Sometimes it is to a good effect, but sometimes they do it because of a miswiring in their brains, and they sway a few others. With the level of destruction available to the few, it wouldn’t take many to pull down a portion of civilization.”

  “And minds are the one area we cannot just fix,” TOM reminded them.

  “They have tells,” Michael interjected. “If we create classes everyone must join, we can grab the cream of the crop and offer them challenging tasks.”

  “And ‘challenging tasks’ are euphemisms for what?” Bethany Anne eyed her bloodthirsty mate.

  “Challenging tasks?” Michael returned her look. “Not a euphemism for killing them. The reason society moves ahead has little to do with safety and everything to do with taking risks if needed, like in times of war. Think about the advances during the Second World War on Earth. However, if you study wars in general you will see that the invention and production of destructive technology were always heightened just before or during wars.”

  “Before?” Bethany Anne thought about it. “So, someone came up with a new weapon and figured now was the time to take advantage of their tactical superiority? I get it.”

  “And what would happen to an MPPS society if it was attacked from off-planet?” Akio asked. “Would it have the rough and ready people to protect those who don’t have the mindset to do whatever it takes?”

  “Those who value the skills and talents necessary to deal death without getting lost in it.” Barnabas nodded. “Another reason to grab the cream of the crop. Same concept, but we look into how to pull those who can handle the strain of war apart as well and see if they are willing to become part of the defense of the planet, assuming they are capable.”

  Bethany Anne thought for a second. “It feels like you guys are pulling the wolves apart from the sheep.”

  The men all looked at each other, then back at her. “Wasn’t that what we did on Earth before we left? Pulled out the cream of the crop who wanted a better future?”

  “Yes.” Bethany Anne sighed and put a hand over her eyes. “In a way, are we admitting we were the cause of the Apocalypse back on Earth?”

  Akio shook his head. “No, a high ranking official in the Chinese army disaffected by the results of his wife and son dying wanted to retaliate without his leadership’s permission. His daughter dying was due to greedy individuals in the United States, who tried to fire a nuclear weapon at one of our ships. We protected ourselves, as was proper. There is no way to know whether that man would have snapped for other reasons.”

  “Still,” Bethany Anne’s voice was a touch softer, “we were in the middle of it.” She squared her shoulders. “Even more of a reason to figure out how to crack this fucking nut related to a government that is by the people and for the people and yet handles those who need to stretch their wings by giving them room to fly.”

  She looked around the table. “Not by clipping them.”

  Chapter Two

  High Tortuga, Hidden Space Fleet Base, Prime Building, One Week Later

  Michael Nacht looked at the screen in his office, which currently reflected his image. Although he was fairly tall for a human, his European heritage didn’t let him tower over some aliens, he had found out.

  The screen was easily double the size of most windows and had a resolution so fine he couldn’t tell it wasn’t a window to the outside.

  Except that he knew he was at least eight stories underground.

  When Bethany Anne, his wife-to-be, had said she was going to wrap him in a cocoon, he hadn’t realized that would mean having four hundred tons of rock above him.

  Good thing he wasn’t claustrophobic.

  “Screen,” he called.

  “Yes?”

  “Play scene of the surface of High Tortuga, random,” Michael requested.

  The small computer inside the screen changed the view to a jungle setting. The massive purple plants that soared twenty feet into the air prevented Michael from mistaking this jungle for one he’d ever seen before.
>
  He sighed. Being on another planet was taking some getting used to.

  “ADAM?”

  “Yes, Michael?” the AI replied through the overhead speakers. ADAM, who was far more evolved now than he had been when he’d begun his existence as a human-programmed AI over a hundred and sixty years ago on Earth, waited patiently for Michael’s response.

  “I am going to need a technical support resource. Which would be better, organic or artificial?”

  “Should I ask Tabitha if she would like to resume her old position?” ADAM asked.

  Michael gave the speakers an annoyed glance.

  “Nice try.” He thought for a moment. “However, in one way that isn’t a bad solution. Would you please ask Tabitha to contact me for a discussion about my resource needs?”

  “I am fully capable of advising you, Michael.”

  “Not sure about that, ADAM.” Michael allowed a small grin to play at the corners of his lips. ADAM might have an IQ number larger than the diameter of a small planet, but he hadn’t been playing with egos that ranged from peanut- to elephant-sized for over a thousand years. “Please ask Tabitha to—”

  “Tabitha has asked you give her half an hour to finish her present project and shower.”

  “Very good, and thank you,” Michael replied. He was watching a snake-like creature moving through the jungle foliage near the ground.

  “Screen?” he called.

  “Yes?”

  “Is this a recording or a virtual video?”

  “Neither,” the screen replied. “This is real-time footage of the Y’ehntel Jungle on the South Continent.”

  “Can you zoom in?”

  “Affirmative. Area?”

  “How are they designated?” Michael asked. He now wished he had allowed the two aliens who had set up the screen to give him instructions.

  Six lines appeared, three horizontal and three vertical, splitting the screen into nine areas. “Zoom is by designation such as R1C3 R2C2 R3C1.”