Trevod did not wait for any sign to start the race, darting off immediately, and Brooks spurred Rebel on to catch up. He leaned low and forward in the saddle, trying not to dig his heels in too hard.

Trevod was riding far better in his saddle now; perhaps his poor skill before had been feigned, but-

Brooks had raced on varnia for six months in Gleise 329.

“Faster,” Brooks said to the horse. “You don’t want him to win any more than I do!”

Rebel ate up the ground between them.

Nose to nose, Rebel began to pull ahead, and he saw the surprise on Trevod’s face.

“You win!” he cried, pulling back on the reins of his horse, forcing it to a quick stop. Brooks rode on a little further, letting Rebel bleed off his energy a slower, before looping back around to reach Trevod.

“You’re the first to beat me in a long time. I should hire better trainers,” Trevod said. Annoyance creased his face, making his jovial attitude come off as false.

“They’re afraid to beat you,” Brooks told him with candor.

“And you seem to relish it,” Trevod said distastefully.

“They work for you. I don’t.”

“You didn’t seem very comfortable in the saddle at first.”

“I’m used to riding other things,” Brooks said evasively.

“I’ll have to find out what and get better than you at riding them,” Trevod said with a laugh. “Just so I can beat you on those.”

Brooks could actually imagine him doing that.

“Let’s rest the horses,” Brooks said, deciding he could take more control here.

“A fine idea,” Trevod agreed.

They rode closer to a copse of trees, where Brooks now saw a pleasant stream gurgling.

They got off the horses, looping the reins over the limbs of a tree, and Trevod moved towards some of the plants, kneeling to peer at the leaves. They were a dark color, coming apart into a slimy mush as Trevod touched them.

“Tsk. I keep hiring the best gardeners in the galaxy, and they can’t keep the plants from dying.”

“You’ve got a desert plant next to tropical plants and a stream. The air is too humid, and it’s causing them to rot,” Brooks said.

Trevod looked up at him. “Oh, are you familiar with them from Earth?”

“No,” Brooks replied. “I just know basic biology and botany. The leaves are small and hairy, to preserve water. But they’re trapping it in the humidity, letting mold grow. You can give it all the chemicals and treatments you want, but you can’t change basic physics.”

“I wonder why they never told me,” Trevod wondered idly.

“Probably afraid to speak their minds,” Brooks said.

Trevod looked over at him and smiled. “Perhaps I should hire you, Brooks. You’d surely do better.”

Brooks’s return smile was thin. “You could not afford me.”

“Oh? Every man has a price – what is yours?”

“Everything,” Brooks replied, with no warmth in his voice.

Trevod still seemed amused. “And what would that leave me?”

“Your life,” Brooks told him.

Trevod looked less pleased. He stood up.

“I’d like you more, I think, if not for the political differences between us,” Trevod noted. “It’s a shame that it keeps coming up. You’re an interesting man, Brooks. Few people would speak so brazenly to me on my own station, in my system.”

“That way of thinking is part of the difference between us, and it’s too big to just get over,” Brooks replied.

“Which part?”

“The idea that Gohhi or this station are yours. There are people dying from a lack of basic needs in nearby stations, and here you are racing horses in green fields. Do you see the problem?”

“I earned everything I own,” Trevod replied quickly.

“I didn’t notice you working trillions of times harder than others as we raced,” Brooks replied.

Trevod shook his head. “You’ll just never understand. Or at least you’re trained to keep in your cage and be happy with little. Don’t you realize how much more a man as effective as you could have out here?”

“More than I could ever need, like you?” Brooks asked. There was not venom in his voice now, the question legitimate. “What would I do with more than I could use? At some point it’s just useless. A rigged game that traps you as much as it does the workers who create the wealth you hoard.”

“You say it like it means nothing to me,” Trevod replied. “Like personal and private property are different things. But I tell you, Captain, this is all personal to me. This horse, these trees, the land itself. I built it – why shouldn’t it be mine?”

“You’re confusing feelings with economic relationships,” Brooks told him. “You should know better – you’re not a child. You have a specific relationship to material reality, as does everything else.”

Trevod said nothing, but walked back over to his horse, stroking its face. His face was set in angry lines, and he was silent a long time.

Brooks was content to simply wait, watching the man and waiting for him.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Turn Jan Holdur over to my security service,” the man finally said. His hands in tight fists, he turned to face Brooks. “I’ll make sure he sees a proper punishment.”

Brooks went to Rebel and undid his reins as well, stroking the horse’s nose while it pushed its face against him.

“I can’t do that,” Brooks said. “His crime was committed on a Sapient Union ship.”

“Now you’re being naive, Captain. I’ll get Holdur brought back to where he belongs either way. You’re just being pedantic for the sake of making a point.”

Brooks looked to pit him with a glare. “Yes. The man committed his crime against a Union citizen, and he’s not going to get off because he has money and family connections.”

Trevod shrugged. “I’ll just go above you. I’ll raise a fuss and your superiors will order you to hand him over to me.”

“Maybe they will. Probably not,” Brooks replied.

A silence fell between them a moment, and Brooks welcomed the return of peace.

But Trevod spoke again eventually. “I heard about an incident near the boarding ramp to your ship.”

“Yes. It was unfortunate that a man had to die, but he threatened a security officer and moved towards them aggressively,” Brooks replied evenly.

He had hoped the man would not weaponize this. But he knew it had been a naive hope.

“It is a pity,” Trevod said. “He was an independent operator, not connected to me or the other Lord Executives, and was in the wrong. He crossed onto your side.”

“The same with Holdur,” Brooks added.

“Yes, but he’s-” Trevod stopped himself, then rephrased. “It’s different and you know it.”

Brooks smiled to Trevod now. “It was nice riding again. I think I had best go.”

He moved to remount the horse, but saw now that a wheeled vehicle was approaching. He glanced to Trevod.

“The driver will take you back to your shuttle,” Trevod said. “Think on what I said, Brooks. I’ll have Jan Holdur back. His family won’t let you crucify him for his wealth.”

The vehicle rolled up and Brooks gave Rebel one more pat before heading over. A few of the stablehands got out, ignoring him and moving over to their master.

“We’ll crucify him for being an attempted murderer,” Brooks said to Trevod as he got in the vehicle.

----------------------------------------

As the vehicle began to roll away, Trevod watched it with disdain.

For all he’d given that little man, Brooks had talked to him like he was an inferior.

He could not say he’d ever experienced that from someone so much lower than him, and he felt the urge to tell his men to put the Captain out the airlock without a suit.

Ah, but as much as he would like that, it would not be worth the trouble.

He told himself that, at least, while his insides squirmed. Because he knew, ultimately, that if he did that, he would be signing his own death warrant.

Money did not stop bullets, did it? And that was all he truly feared. Someone actually coming for him who could not be bought off.

Here, he was a god. In the Sapient Union he was just a person, and it terrified him to think how close he could skirt to his own destruction just with a whim.

A stablehand approached.

“Would you like to ride back, sir, or shall I have a car brought for you?”

“I’ll ride,” he snapped, seizing the reins the man offered. “I may ride all day,” he said.

The man bowed deeply, but said nothing. Trevod wanted to lash out at him, but took some deep breaths.

“And what of Rebel, sir?” he asked.

Trevod looked at the horse. He was beautiful, perfectly trained for guests, but he did not think he’d even want guests over again for some time.

“Get rid of it. Sell it for food, I don’t care. It’s been sullied and I want it out of my sight.”

----------------------------------------

On a cold winter day, fires roar in Ussa’s hall to keep the chill of winter at bay.

The doors to the crowded hall burst open and a mighty man enters, flanked by an entourage of strong and sturdy men and women, dressed as equals.

Herald:

Who is it who enters the hall of Ussa the Proud and Free?

Who trods in as if an equal to the one who has no equal?

In the name of Queen Ussa,

Strong of limb, fair of face, who can be held by no chains,

I demand an answer.

Usser:

From a far-off land I have come to bring greetings and solidarity

to Ussa and her people proud.

Even in our distant land we have heard of her and her deeds

Of her bravery in overthrowing the tyrant Breon.

My people, too, have thrown off the shackles of slavery and taken their fate

into their own hands.

Ussa:

Who are you, cousin?

We have not yet heard your name, though you stand in the warmth of my fire.

Usser:

I am Usser, leader chosen by my people, who have seized all that produces and proclaimed it for the common good.

We come in friendliness to your people and bear gifts of hope that the red fires of change will bring us all good futures.

Ussa:

You are welcome then, cousin, to my hall.

May the people throw up great cheers in your name, for you are clearly a brave people.

As for King Breon, he yet lives.

In my mercy I did not slay him, but he serves me now.

Ussa gestures to an old, confused man, dressed in rags and chains, serving as court jester. He sits on a mockery of a throne, attended by children whom he thinks are his subjects.

Ussa:

You see how he pretends to still be a king when he is my pet?

It amuses us to keep him, and is rightful justice for all that he has done that he should now sink so low.

Usser and his people seem bothered by this, but do not say anything.

Usser:

Perhaps such a fate is fitting for a failed king.

Our own and his line met as quick an end as could be found,

For we see no need to keep them alive as trophies.

But come, cousin, let our people meet and mingle and spread joy amongst each other!

Usser’s people move to mix with Ussa’s. Soon, there is drinking and singing and merrymaking. Usser seems quite pleased, but Ussa soon grows more and more angry. She beckons her advisor and speaks to him quietly.

Ussa:

Usser and his people are beloved by my people.

Could it be that they would come to love him more than they do me?

Would my people forsake me and send me to a fate like I have sent Breon to?

A mere pet, a puppet of flesh that serves my interests.

Advisor:

They are nothing compared to your grandeur, my Queen.

You see how their clothes are plain?

Their hair unadorned?

Their hands stiff with callouses from work?

Ussa:

You speak to compare them to me, and it is true – they are not as grand as I!

Yet my people’s clothes are plain.

Their hair is unadorned.

Their hands are stiff with callouses from their labor.

Perhaps in time they will come to see Usser as their kin more than I.

For they have more in common with each other than they do with me!

The Advisor had no wisdom to give.

Ussa:

Your silence speaks volumes!

You disgust me with your ineptitude.

But I know what I shall do.

We must not let Usser’s voice be heard.

Advisor:

How will we do that, my queen?

He speaks the language of the toiling man.

As you say, he too works and so they have this in common.

Ussa:

We will spread poison.

Spread lies of his misdeeds.

Tell of his follies.

Tell my people of their grandeur, convince them that Usser is not like them.

But a bumbling caricature that they should be shamed to be like.

And then, even when there are similarities they will not see them.

They will look upon their brother and hate him.

Advisor:

My Queen, you wish to manipulate your people with lies and poison?

Is that not dangerous?

Will our people not become fools, unable to see their own noses in the confusion this will bring?

What will we do when we do not have one man among us who can see or think straight?

Ussa’s face, cold and beautiful, beheld the advisor like an enemy.

Ussa:

They will have no god but me.

They will love none but me.

I am Ussa and they are mine.

Now and forever.