Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode 9: Asha-Tanga #20

The hot African sun beat down on Jake as he climbed out of the cab of the truck and headed for the village. It was just north of the Nigerian Border. "Still closed," the quartermaster had informed them when they had returned to base after their trip to Saras. "Some internal trouble. Captain Ganaka is seeing the general later today. He'll sort something out."

Most people back home in America hated Captain Ganaka, remembering the first few blustery days of contact with the Consortium. And the short conflict a week later. They couldn't understand why Princess Sarasvat hadn't removed him from command. But in Africa, he was something of a hero.

Their new route skirted the border, a long stretch of semi-arid and arid landscapes dotted with small villages. Villages that were now home to agricultural domes, built by the Consortium. Jake and his crew brought them seeds and seedlings, fertilizers, and other tools. Areas that once relied on Western food aid or environmentally destructive growing practices were slowly becoming sustainable land.

Jake saw Chatura standing near the edge of the village and headed that way. His civil service jacket was open, and he felt two pendants bounce against his chest as he walked. It made him smile, thinking of his last day on Saras. He'd met Shanesha again for lunch. She'd inspected his new necklace, leaning so close he could smell her hair. Her eyes had sparkled. "I don't think I should be seeing you no more," she joked. "You're a dangerous man, Jake."

She had gotten her own fortune, dangling down between her breasts. He had no clue what it meant, but couldn't help looking nonetheless. "'Chattering monkeys,'" she said, blowing a strand of hair from her face. "Story of my life."

After a leisurely lunch, they had walked to one of the markets. Shanesha had found a couple of beautiful starburst pendants. "They match, no?" she had said. They had each bought one and traded. Jake's now hung with his fortune as a memento of the trip.

"Our contact person is Abadom. He should be here," Chatura was saying as Jake approached. "But no one is." He gave Jake a worried look. "You don't think . . .?"

"Boko Haram is gone, scattered," Jake said. It was Abioya who had told them that, but Jake trusted his information more than the official word, which was that the terror organization was again active in Northern Nigeria.

Abioya had talked to several locals on base. In his home country of Benin, there was talk of embracing Consortium membership as well as humanitarian aid. The first step along that path was to let Consortium officials monitor the upcoming election.

Benin, Nigeria, and many of the other states around the region were democracies, sort of. They had elections but long histories of corruption, and no one truly believed the elections were fair. Consortium oversight filled many with a new hope—and made many more uneasy.

Abioya had been right from the beginning. The general was scared that his people were turning toward the Consortium, not just for food and aid, but for reform. If the Consortium started to oversee elections, how would the corrupt remain in power?

Abioya joined them from the truck. "The people are gone," Chatura told him. The three walked deeper into the village.

"Are they Hausa? Or Yoruba? Or Igbo?" Jake asked Abioya. He was starting to learn his way around the multitude of tribes and ethnic groups in the region. "Could they have been called back across the border?" It was the only thing that made sense to Jake—that tribal leaders had told them to return to Nigeria.

"Hausa," Abioya confirmed, pointing at a mosque at one end of the village. His brow scrunched as he walked in that direction.

"Now what do we do?" Chatura asked.

"Contact the quartermaster, I guess," Jake said. "If they just went back for a while, we can leave their supplies." He shrugged. "Maybe a chieftain died or something. They'll be back in a day or two."

"Guys," Abioya called out, "come look at this."

"What is it?" Jake asked.

Abioya was standing by a small, rectangular mud-brick building. "Remember what that guy said at Asha-Tanga? The cultural message? But he didn't know what. I think I figured it out."

Jake stopped and followed Abioya's gaze. Someone had drawn a crude arm in red on the wall, with a jagged cut and blood dripping. Writing in the local language was beneath it.

"What does it say?" Chatura asked.

"She bleeds for us," Abioya answered.

Jake knew instantly who she was. He stared up as though he expected a Consortium ship with the Princess herself to come crashing out of the sky. But to do what? The wide, blue heavens held no answers.

The End

The good news: There is a lot more to this story. I know where it's going and I've planned out the entire next "season."

The bad news: <falls sobbing to the floor at your feet.> It's not ready. A lot of writing has been done, but a lot remains to be done. I'm not really sure when it will be read to go. Here are two questions. You can answer in the comments and I really do want feedback. 

The next season contains three main, mostly separate storylines that take place at the same time. I can't decide between sticking to the episode format or turning them into three novellas. Which would you prefer.

I have no idea when this project will get on my production calendar or go to my editor. Do you prefer to wait for a clean manuscript. Or would rather see some beta versions of the scenes earlier? I will self edit in either case, of course. But I know my spelling and grammar aren't perfect.