Star Chaser (Galactic Shield Book 2), page 7
“Where do you want to start?” Boomer asked. “Information would be helpful. You said you wanted a pair? Will any pair do?”
“No, they have to be special,” I said.
“That’s great.” Boomer proceeded through the intersection when the light changed.
I rolled down my window and listened to light voices speaking their musical language. The streets and buildings were clean. Pedestrians moved in well-ordered groups, yet it didn’t seem like they were restrained by law or custom. It just happened like a ballet of nature.
“Look at them. Moving like they have somewhere to be,” I said, going back to the same part of our past that Boomer was undoubtedly visiting in his head—Avian Prime and the days before it all went wrong.
One observer had compared groups of Avians to flocks of birds even though they were on the ground. The description wasn’t wrong.
“Why can’t they fly?” Faulkner asked. “Most of them have wings.”
He was right, though there was a lot of variability. Some had wings so large they stuck up above their heads and dragged on the ground. Others possessed wings that looked like afterthoughts on a costume. Most were in the middle and concealed their plumage with the flowing, many layered clothing that was always in style with Avians.
They didn’t really have beaks, but their faces presented a convincing illusion they did. I had a theory. “I’m not sure they evolved from birds.”
“How else could they be like this?” Faulkner asked.
Boomer answered with his own speculation that fit neatly with mine. “Could be they are evolving into birds.”
“Like from lizards or something?” Faulkner asked.
“Or something.” I pointed to an interesting group near a fountain. One man was speaking to a large group as the water made its music behind him. “Let’s park and walk up. There are non-Avians in the crowd. We should be accepted.”
“Of course we will be.” Faulkner acted like this was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. “Earthdale is a human world. This is a human city. What would they do, attack us?”
“No, but they might not be talkative if we stomp all over their customs and traditions,” I said.
“You lead.” Boomer hooked his thumbs through his belt. “Sergeant Faulkner and I will loiter in the crowd to watch and listen.”
I nodded and veered off on my own, careful to keep them in view as much as possible. As long as I kept memories of the misunderstanding at bay, spending time near the bird-like humanoids was relaxing. They were friendly and helpful, and they enjoyed music and art.
My impression of their culture showed a flaw when I noticed a large, angry Avian near the edge of the gathering. He reminded me of a hawk. His wings ruffled slightly, then flared several inches. My gut instinct was that this man could fly. That made me wonder if they all had that ability and just kept it from us for their own reasons.
I really should have stayed on the ship. My head hurt from considering all the ways this could go wrong. Was I glad to see amazing new things? Absolutely. But I was also human with all the weaknesses that entailed.
The speaker didn’t appear bothered by me or the hawkish observer watching the gathering. I focused on him and moved closer.
“Thank you for your polite attention,” he said to the crowd. “Stay or go, but I think a visitor has arrived worth speaking with.”
I checked around me and realized I was now the center of attention.
“Welcome, friend. We are well met,” he said. “I am Haylor, Mayor of the Avian Quarter. We were talking about music and food, two of my favorite things.”
I hadn’t realized there was a mayor of each quarter but kept my ignorance private. “Sounds like a wonderful conversation.”
He smiled, then sang a melody that drew in the crowd. Elsewhere in the square, people came and went from the fountain. Some joined the song. Others did not. I sensed no pressure either way.
“This isn’t as awkward as I thought it would be,” I said, only then realizing I hadn’t set up comms protocol for this mission. If something came up, I would need to beep Faulkner and hope he had his gear activated. I’d become too dependent on Sergeant Nova for operational details.
The oversight wouldn’t be much of a problem. Knowing tactical operators like I did, I suspected the man probably slept with the bud in his ear and orders in place to each of his team leaders to do the same.
Haylor invited me to join. I demurred. He shrugged and finished singing what seemed to be a parable.
“Was that an old song?”
“No, friend. It was this morning’s news. I find more people listen when I make it entertaining. The words, in this instance, tell of traffic congestion on the 117 and road construction in westbound lanes.”
I laughed. “We could learn a lot from Avians.”
“Agreed. But let’s not dwell on should or should not. That way leads to misunderstandings.”
We locked eyes for a moment. To my surprise, the connection felt natural. I strongly suspected he had been on his home world during the outbreak of war, short as it had been. He might even know who I was or what I was at least. There was a strong sensation of being held accountable but not blamed.
I stumbled between the subtle difference in the two terms and withdrew from the speculation. “I am Lieutenant Benjamin Wrath, APOP, Sentient Crimes Division. As lovely as my visit has been so far, I am here on a case.”
“How may I assist you?” He flourished one hand, and the crowd gave us privacy.
I hesitated long enough to think through the best way to ask my question. There were no case details I could share, but I didn’t see a way, or a reason, to explain my exact purpose. Still, there needed to be a bridge to what I was about to request.
“What do you know of the Ultar?”
“They are dangerous and far away.” His tone was cooler though not hostile or defensive. A normal conversationalist might not have noticed. I was looking for clues. Every nuance received attention.
“They have no embassy on Earthdale,” I said.
“True. The Ultar have very few embassies. Those that exist were not created by them. Alliance of Planets functionaries set them up as they do for all sentient races. They never ask if anyone wants these institutions.”
I thought about it. “You’re not wrong.” I chuckled. “Maybe I will send up a memo pointing that out.”
He laughed. “I like you, Lieutenant.”
“My friends call me Breaker.”
“Ahhh. So you are the man I thought you were.”
Every investigation, every interview, and every fight had a tipping point. I'd been here before, in the general sense, and was keenly aware of what was at stake. This very distinct moment, as I often thought of it, could be seen as an obstacle or an opportunity. From deep in my subconscious, an idea swam weakly toward the surface.
I thought I knew what intuition was trying to tell me. Transit navigation also had such a point, and it was perhaps more important than the beginning or the end of the journey. Was there a place in every journey where things could go wrong—or right?
I made a note for later consideration and hoped I would remember the revelation. Right now, I had more immediate concerns.
“I would give anything to go back and start over.” I meant every word and worried he would doubt my sincerity. “Maybe there is a way forward. Only time will tell.”
“Wise sentiments, Breaker. I've long hoped someone would come to see them truthfully.” He ruffled his wings, which stunned me. I had never seen anything so beautiful. Every avian in the vicinity bowed and backed away, then went on to other activities, granting us complete privacy. “Be specific. I will hold this conversation in confidence.”
I steadied my breathing and went for it. “I had been investigating the abduction and murders of aliens. Some of my leads took me across the explored regions of Andromeda, all the way to Perseus station.”
“That habitation is at the very edge of Ultar space,” he said. “I see now where your questions may be going.”
“I encountered many things, learned much, and met individuals who guided my path. Something is happening that could make the misunderstanding on Avian Prime look like a minor catastrophe.”
He bristled at that but didn't interrupt.
“I learned that I need a pair of Avians who can talk to the Ultar,” I said. “Can you help me? Who am I looking for, and where can I find them?”
He considered the question for a long time. The moment stretched until it became uncomfortable, but I knew from experience not to break the silence. That was a rookie mistake.
“There are few who can endure the presence of an Ultar for long,” he said. “Fewer still can maintain a meaningful conversation. None but those cursed with kaunis can go beyond that.”
“I don’t understand that word,” I confessed.
“You might call it dark empathy.” He shifted his body for the first time. It seemed a remedy for general discomfort but could also relate to the confidential nature of our discussion.
“Do you know anyone able to do this?” I asked.
“Sadly, not everyone appreciates those with an innate sensitivity to darkness.” He stared into my eyes, almost like he could see my nightmares. “Be warned, Breaker Wrath, this is no remedy for your own struggles. Guilt comes from you, not the cosmos.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll deal with my own demons or ignore them. Right now, I’m only interested in finding the right people to stop a galactic war,” I said.
“Is that what you’re doing?”
There was no good answer, so I didn’t offer one. His question felt like a trick, despite his forthrightness thus far. “Can you help me?”
“Perhaps.” He stood from the edge of the fountain. “Shall we walk?”
“Sure.” I glanced across the plaza and saw that both Boomer and Faulkner were actively tailing me and my new friend. So far, so good. They were paying attention.
“You will need to travel to Avian Prime,” Haylor said. “If you did your research, then you will know my people won’t allow you access to the planet no matter what type of authorization your superiors grant you. Violate the will of my elders at your peril.”
“How do I get permission?” I asked.
“No one travels to our home without a reason. What purpose do you have for a visit?”
“I want to stop a galactic war, or something equally as dangerous.”
He frowned, studied banners flowing in a light breeze, and continued. “Too vague. Permission will not be granted to a non-Avian for something like that. I may have an option.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I love the way humans speak.” He gathered his thoughts. “A community member in good standing approached me with a problem. His niece is nearly past the age to marry, and has but one proposal. The suitor lives on Avian Prime. He lacks the means to travel to Earthdale. If you were to escort her to his estate, the local officials could not obstruct your journey.”
“I'm not in the matchmaking business.” I weighed the pros and cons. No better option had presented itself thus far and my imagination wasn't coming up with much that was useful. “The more detail you can provide about the situation, the better results you can expect. Why doesn't she have other prospects? If this suitor has an estate, why can't he pay for her transport?”
“You ask good questions,” he said. “Are we speaking in confidence?”
“Of course.”
“She has a difficult and adventurous personality. Her mother is at her wits end and I have heard her father works overtime to avoid the drama in the household. Out of sight out of mind, they say.” He glanced around at the crowd but continued walking. “I never fathered children. These stories are a mystery to me.”
“I see a smile. Don't kid me, Haylor, you know more than you are telling me.” I liked the mayor. With time and more conversation, I suspected we would be good friends. My squad would enjoy his cheerful demeanor.
“Privately, I believe that she is, how would you say it, out of most of her suitors’ leagues. The prestige and financial veracity of her family is nothing out of the ordinary, but she is simply larger-than-life.” He stopped. “Perhaps you should meet her before you make your decision.”
I shook my head and matched his stance by putting my hands on my hips. “Unless there's another way, I'll say yes to your proposal. Time is of the essence.”
“As it always is.” He relaxed and nodded approvingly. For the first time, his mannerisms were unclear. There was little to do but wait for him to continue. “Her name roughly translates to Little Strongwing. Call her what you will, but she may insist you call her Cissi.”
My thoughts went back to the warship I'd been assigned to right before finally arriving in the Andromeda galaxy. This girl's name reminded me of the ship AI of the Longreach—Sissi. Some memories were both good and bad. I focused on the present with some effort.
“Are you well, Breaker?” Haylor asked.
“I'm fine. You're a lifesaver.”
He smiled. “This is good to hear. I will arrange for Cissi’s transportation. When next we meet, it will be at your spaceport.”
I held up one hand. “Hold on. No offense, but I need to do some due diligence. As much as I trust you, I need to know she's not being kidnapped for some sort of quasi-legal marital custom.”
“Does this happen among humans?” He asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. Other sentients do it as well. Any time a juvenile leaves their parents’ custody, I have to follow our procedures.”
“She is seventeen years old, legally an adult for three years in our society,” Haylor said. “We use Avian Prime standard years, which makes her almost twenty-three by your reckoning.”
“I want to talk to her parents.” I wished Nova was here. This was strange territory, and I trusted her judgment and legal expertise.
He shrugged, which had a unique look with his wings and multilayered robes. “You must ask her if that is what she wishes, but it should not be a problem. When I said I would arrange for transport, I mostly meant that I would pay her driver. She will make her own way to the spaceport and introduce herself. Her parents may or may not be with her.”
I liked the arrangement less and less but decided I still had time to make sure everything was legal and ethical. Would I use a sentient child to gain access to secrets that could stop a galactic war and save millions of lives? At first glance, it seemed like an easy decision, but I knew it wouldn't be. My job was to protect everyone involved, especially this young bride-to-be, and avoid any compromises.
I just really wanted things to be easier.
“Thanks for the help. Do you shake hands?”
He reached forward. We pressed our palms together and shook on the deal.
“I'd like to come back and visit when all of this is over, Haylor.”
He bowed his head slightly. At the same time, his wings flared and held the position for a full second before slowly collapsing. “We are well met, and well parted. I look forward to many conversations about food and music and all manner of things.”
I returned the gesture as best I could, then rejoined Boomer and Faulkner. “Did you get any of that?”
Boomer grinned. “I caught most of it, but I don't think your technical guy did. He was following in position to defend you from a violent attack, nowhere near close enough to eavesdrop. I guess that's not wrong.”
Faulkner gave him a dirty look but offered no defense.
“You're giving a young Avian woman a ride to her home world so she can get married,” Boomer said. “I'm not sure if I should laugh or cry.”
I chuckled. “I'm pretty sure I'll be the one crying. Please tell me if there's another way, then I'll transfer this responsibility to the Earthdale City Police Department.”
My old friend spread his hands defensively. “Definitely not in my job description.”
“What, you don't investigate child abuse or sentient welfare? She's seventeen.”
“Wrong. She's twenty-three. Get your planetary orbits straight.” He held back another critical piece of information for as long as he could, then shared the rest. “I thought you knew more about their culture. A marriage proposal isn't a marriage. If everything goes perfectly, and they're compatible, they won't hold the ceremony for another ten years and that's only if they both prove they can support a family.”
“I feel like you suspected this would happen,” I said. “Normally I hustle you, not the other way around.”
“No way. I don't play slider pool anymore, mostly because of your sandbagging trickery.” He faced Faulkner. “Don't let this guy convince you he doesn't run the table whenever he plays. “
“I'm not really a slider pool player,” Faulkner said.
Boomer didn't appear amused. “Of course you're not. Maybe you should have a push-up contest.”
Faulkner crossed his arms and lifted his chin slightly. “I win.”
I brushed off the conversation like it had never happened. “Take us back to the spaceport. I owe you one, Boomer.”
“Hey, I'm not counting.”
My old friend shoved me. We exchanged a flurry of light punches and attempted takedowns. At the car, we climbed in and told stories and inside jokes Faulkner couldn't possibly understand even if he had been doing his homework on our Breaker unit.
10
Cissi arrived with neither parent nor escort. She appeared to be a young Avian woman—tall, thin, and graceful. She wore layers of silk as did most of her people, but the colors were muted as though she were attempting to blend with other sentient races. Her long, black hair glowed like liquid mystery, and she stood with confidence near our boarding ramp.
I stepped into the threshold.
Fathers, who had been on guard duty, spoke. “You said she'd be here hours ago. What took her so long?”
