“You must think we’re crazy,” said Marca, out of the blue.
“Why would I ever think something like that?” joked Jinto.
A walking machine carried the group (except for Bill — after he dropped them off, he’d decided to use his delivery truck to make a few legitimate deliveries to avoid suspicion) up the side of a mountain.
Rickety and spiderlike, the machine precariously ambled up the mountain, relying on footholds that looked unstable at best. The closest thing to a path was the narrow section of craggy road that was not completely covered by slippery-looking plants.
Although the machine did its best to keep its occupants upright, at times, it could not cope with the severe angle of the slope, making the ride as jarring as a flight in a ship with no gravity control.
When the members of the Anti-Empire Clasbul Front started to get green in the face, Jinto prayed he wouldn’t have to see what they ate for lunch. Lafiel, accustomed to unusual motion, looked perfectly comfortable.
From time to time, Jinto felt a tad queasy, but manageably so.
“You must think we’re crazy,” Marca repeated, “because we’re keeping you as hostages, even though the Empire won’t grant us independence.”
“I didn’t realize you knew that,” said Lafiel.
“What we really want is a spaceship,” Marca explained.
“It’s a different approach.” Minh shrugged. “Not the avenue of choice, if you ask me.”
“No one asked you,” Marca rebuked Minh, before turning to Jinto. “Minh thinks we should put all our chips on the table and try to get independence all at once. I, on the other hand, am smart enough to know that the Frybar will never grant us independence in exchange for your lives. That’s ludicrous idealism.”
“Not entirely,” protested Minh.
“If you want to be on a spaceship, you should become a Lef,” suggested Lafiel, effectively extinguishing the argument.
Undertaker belched loudly, covered his mouth, and took a moment to quell his nausea. “We don’t just want to be on a spaceship. We want one. Our own ship — urp.’ — so we can be free. Not an intra-star system ship, either. We want the real deal — an intergalactic machine.”
“That’s impossible,” Lafiel responded truthfully. “The Frybar’s Menyu all belong to Spunej Erumita. Even high nobility don’t own personal interstellar ships.”
Marca’s eyes narrowed. “Nonsense! I see Gareur and Voda flying into the Bidaut all the time!”
“Loaners,” explained Lafiel. “The crew are all Rue Kasobeirlash. The size of the ship and terms of the lease are up to the renter, but the Kasobeirlash selects the crew.”
“That’s crazy talk! Listen, I’ve looked into the Rue Razem. There’s not one word in it forbidding the private ownership of Menyu.”
“It’s custom, not law.”
“You—urp!—don’t say! The Frybar’s secrecy baffles the mind!”
“It’s not a secret,” Lafiel said defensively. “And it’s not our fault if you don’t know it.”
“Then what about our dream?”
For a moment, the conveyer belt provided the only noise as the question hung in the air. Unable to stand it, Jinto broke the silence. “We understand if you want to, you know, release the hostages. It’s no trouble, really.”
“Shut up.” Marca tapped her cheek.
Jinto felt a twinge of conscience. “I didn’t think you guys were serious. I mean, you never properly explained your objective …”
“I thought I told you to shut up!”
“Essentially,” Minh began, his eyes boring a hole in Jinto, “you thought it would be easier for us to get total independence than obtain a spaceship.”
“I thought you were kidding about the spaceship,” he explained.
“Why would we be kidding? We are not funny!”
“Shut up, everyone!” Marca snapped. “No matter. There are exceptions to every rule.”
A circular building came into view, sharing glints of light from its position on the hillside.
“Ah,” sighed Minh, “there it is; my vacation home. Originally, we were going to imprison you, but it seems like it might just be a vacation instead.”
“I don’t care what you do,” said Lafiel.
“Jeez, you Abh sure are arrogant, huh? That’s not just a stereotype for no reason, is it?” Undertaker seemed to forget his queasiness for a moment.
“You see what I have to put up with?” whispered Jinto to Undertaker, who nodded empathetically.
“Look at that!” yelled Marca.
Following Marca’s direction, the group saw two objects emerge from the shadow of the mountain and float toward them.
“Minh, what are those?”
“Heck if I know,” answered Minh.
The two unidentified hovering objects came to a stop in front of the walking machine.
“They look like United Mankind aerial troop transports,” said Lafiel.
Doors opened, soldiers emerged — hypothesis confirmed.
“State your name and business,” said one of the officers, through an overly loud translation machine.
“You first,” shouted Minh.
“As you wish. I’m Major Aranga of the United Mankind Peace Preservation Force. Your turn.”
Minh pointed at his vacation home. “That’s my house. I’m throwing a party for my friends.”
“So you’re Citizen Minh Kursap of the Independence Party?”
Slightly taken aback, Minh hesitated for a moment, before he said, “Actually, I left the party three years ago.”
“Are you Citizen Minh?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be arresting you then,” announced Aranga.
“On what charges?” Minh paled considerably.
“We found a significant number of weapons in your home, there.”
“And?” Minh probed. “The Kairia and Ribwasia? Is that it? Those are practically toys.”
He looked to Marca for an explanation, but she just shrugged.
“We have reason to believe the Independence Party is actually just a front for a group that carries out resistance movements on behalf of the Frybar. We,” Aranga indicated his men and their ominous-looking guns, “appreciate your cooperation.”
“Unbelievable,” Undertaker mumbled.
It would definitely be hard to explain the presence of the Abh woman in their company. And of course, for Jinto and Lafiel, no amount of fast talking could get them out of this.
Jinto stole a look a Lafiel. In her right hand, she clenched two laser pistol light-source magazines (Yapeil). They began to make the ji-ji-ji noise indicating they were in their “grenade mode.”
Uh-oh, Jinto thought. She’s going to fight.
Jinto reached out his hand to stop her, but before he could, she dove forward, spreading her arms like a bird flapping its wings.