Surber must sense some unease. He recites a poem that I’m not familiar with. “Come, now, we can’t cry for those who die; for we must live while others lie.”
No one says anything, but I don’t think Surber wanted us to. Or that he cares.
“Now then, there isn’t much darkness left and we’ve got a good deal of work to do. All the non-zhee bodies have been pulled out of the temple. I need the koobs in this truck dumped off and spread throughout. Make sure you lay blaster rifles at their sides or nearby.”
I can’t believe I’m hearing this. After a day that started with hefting all these koobs in the sweltering heat, then standing guard for hours in the cold, and finally running through an assault… I just can’t believe Surber is telling us to now unload the bodies.
But this is the job. We get paid to do what we’re told.
I’m about to open my mouth to get my team moving when Surber speaks again.
“Mister Carter, I want you and Winters in my sled. We have things to discuss. The rest of your team can load up on the troop transport idling at the gate.”
I exchange a look with Hopper.
“You heard the man,” I tell Bravo Team. “And I know you don’t have to be told twice to get some chow and start rack ops.”
The men move on, though Lashley stays, examining the carnage of the compound one final time.
“Mister Hopper,” Surber says, “I’ll need you to stay behind to supervise. Our Kublaren allies will do the heavy lifting. You can do with your team as you like.”
“Yes, sir,” Hopper says. “Guys, catch up with Bravo and I’ll see you when I get in.”
Hopper’s boys look like they’re torn between sticking it out with their team leader and getting fed and sleep. In the end, hot chow and a pillow win out. They jog to catch up with Bravo.
“See you around, Hopper,” I say.
Surber has left with Errol for his luxury sled and Winters is following. That’s my cue to go home.
“You too, brother,” Hopper says before turning to face the koobs who are already bustling around him, pulling the dead off the truck. “Which one of you koobs speaks Standard?”
I turn and catch up with the team. Errol is holding the door with Surber and Winters already inside.
I nod at the guard, who doesn’t seem bothered at the loss of his counterpart, and then slide in, painfully aware of the amount of dust I’m spreading all over the luxurious interior seating and floors.
The internal temperature is perfect. I feel immediately comfortable. And the seats are so soft I feel as though I could fall asleep. The door closes and all the noise of the temple, the crackle of fires, the hurried croaks of the koobs, it all fades away.
There’s another whump of a door closing, and soon Errol is pulling the sled away from the temple, causing me to rock gently in the soft, warm seat opposite Surber and Nilo.
I yawn in spite of myself.
“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Nilo says, his helmet on the floor between his feet. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
I nod. “So those koobs we gathered—we’re going to make it look like they did all this?”
“That’s correct,” Surber says as Nilo smiles.
“That tribe—and the tribe you wiped out after them—they’re allied with the koobs running the Soob.”
I nod. Already seeing where this is going. The koobs of Subiyook City are the Republicized dominant tribe of the galaxy. They’re hated just for that. They’re despised because the other tribes see them as the ones who are harboring and allowing the zhee settlers to encroach on inland Kublar.
“So the idea is to get the koobs in the Soob fighting with the zhee?”
Nilo nods. “More or less.”
“Seems like they’d just disavow, doesn’t it? Like, call it an extremist group, make some reparations—let the zhee get their vengeance on the tribes out here?”
Nilo is resting his chin on his hand, index finger pressed against his cheek. He arches an eyebrow and points his finger, ceding the point. “Probably. But I have a man in the city who will make sure that’s not the way it happens.”
I nod. That’s good enough for me. Another yawn takes hold of me.
“You’re tired,” Nilo says, leaning forward. “And the particulars of this operation and its fallout aren’t what I wanted to talk with you about, Carter. Those are the details. And detail-oriented people are overseeing it.”
“What did you want to talk about, then?” I ask, killing another yawn.
“The big picture. What’s on the horizon.”
That’s a loaded topic. Legion Commander Chhun is rebuilding the Legion under a program designed to make it Savage-ready. The galaxy is trying to figure out what the Republic 2.0 should look like after Article Nineteen… like where the capital should be. A few of the old coalitions are talking about forming up from the pre-Savage Wars days. In short the galaxy is in not-quite turmoil. Only the lack of will and the fatigue of everything that happened seems to have kept things from going the way of open warfare. Except on Kublar, I guess.
I shake my head. “I don’t know where to begin when it comes to that.”
“I do.” Nilo leans forward, bridging the gap between our seats, inviting me to come closer.
Leaning forward so our heads are just a couple of feet apart, I can see something like excitement in Nilo’s eyes, though his voice is calm and quiet when he speaks.
“How much did you ever know about Goth Sullus?”
BOWIE
THE SOOB
17
Jack Bowie’s comm pulsed on a soft burble of a delicate chime. A soft alert so low most people would never notice it, even in a quiet room. Here, in this hotel room, a luxurious suite at the Grand Intergalactic, that soft burble of a chime almost went unnoticed. Bowie lay there in the darkness, the Tennar
