Galen: Barbarian Mates

Galen

Barbarian Mates

Ashley West

Prequel One: Galen

So? What do you think?

It’s garbage.

It’s an opportunity.

It’s trash. That’s why it’s here in the trash heap, Galen said, voice dry. He folded his arms and looked over the hunk of rusted scrap that was trying to be sold as something they should take back with them to their base. Maybe there was something he was missing. But no, no matter how he looked at it, it was just garbage. We’ve got enough garbage, already, he added.

You have no imagination, Carro said, sighing as she propped one hand on her hip. Everything starts out as garbage and then we turn it into something better. That’s how this works.

That sounds like an Imperial sentiment, Galen told her.

She rolled her eyes in response. "It’s called good sense, farlak, she said, and he didn’t have to understand the language of her kind to know that it was an insult. Just help me carry it back to the pod."

Galen could have argued, and probably he would have if he’d been in a testier mood, but as it was, he was feeling pretty good, so he grabbed an end of the rusted hunk of denbar and helped her tow it back to their ride.

What do you want this for anyway? he asked as they carried it. Donlan’s not bringing you enough stuff to make due with?

You can never have too much stuff when you live like we live, Carro replied. I’m trying to rebuild the radio tower, anyway. Figure if we can get more information about what’s going on outside we can be better prepared for stuff that comes to find us.

Even though they lived on the outer limits of the quadrant and liked it that way, there were always those who managed to find them. Donlan had explained to them that some people just couldn’t leave well enough alone and took issue with the fact that they lived on the fringes and made their own rules. Of course, they showed those people the error of their ways easily enough, but it didn’t stop them from coming.

And then, of course, there were ravagers and the Edge Patrol, one government sanctioned and the other strictly not, who found their way to their little scrap heap in the sky and liked to start problems.

There was never a dull moment, living the lives they led.

Outsiders called them barbarians. Said they were uncouth and had no honor. It was supposed to be an insult, but Galen had seen how the ‘civilized’ people did honor, and it didn’t seem any better than what they were accusing them of.

Amongst themselves, they were called the Amakari—‘the free’, in the language of old Shothet. They played by their own rules, lived their own lives, fought and died at their own desire instead of the whims of some king or president or leader. Each of them was free to choose their own life to lead as they saw fit, and it inspired loyalty much stronger than anything forced in the colonies or Allied Planets.

It was a different life from the one he had anticipated living, back when he'd been a child growing up on one of the inner planets in the Allied territory. His parents had had lofty dreams for him, telling everyone that their son was going to grow up to be a Senator or a Lawmaker one day.

And Galen...Galen hadn't argued with them. Making his parents proud had been all he'd focused on as a child, which was pretty much the same story of everyone who lived in the Allied planets under Imperial rule.

How are your studies progressing, Galen? his father asked, stepping into the room. He was dressed in the all white uniform of a Keeper of the Peace, and he held his hat under his arm.

Fine, Father, Galen replied.

His father's mouth twisted into a smile. Your language studies? he asked in the words of the Goalan tribes.

Proceeding, Galen replied in the language of the Sannats.

His father smiled wider and Galen glowed with pride. Very good, he said. You make us proud, my son.

And that was all it took to make him double down on his work. It was a feedback loop of epic proportion, his father's praise making him work harder and his hard work making his father praise him more.

It looked like his future was set in stone.

And then his father had been killed.

No one knew how it had happened. Galen was sixteen cycles old, and was suddenly the man of his home. His mother was distraught, suddenly withdrawing from her social obligations and her charity work to lay in her bed and cry.

Galen was at a loss. His father had been killed doing his job, but no one would tell them how it had happened. Was it a criminal he was trying to bring to justice? Some sort of riot that he had been trying to calm down? A raid?

Keepers of the Peace were expected to do just what the name of their job implied. Whenever there was some manner of disturbance, they had to go out and calm it down before the people could work themselves into a frenzy. In the Allied Planets, there weren't very many crimes committed, just because of the nature of their laws, but there were riots from those who lived outside of the Imperial laws often, and those who wished they did.

The Keepers of the Peace put down these riots ruthlessly, using their superior weaponry and training. Protesters were thrown into prison, assuming, of course, that they survived the riot. Which they very rarely did.

It was a violent job, but their victims were killed far more often than Keepers of the Peace were. So it made very little sense that Galen's father had been killed. Especially since no violent attacks had been reported.

It was then that Galen started to see. He started to question. No one would answer his questions about what had happened, and aside from promising that his mother and he would want for nothing in honor of his father's service to the Imperials, they did nothing to help them.

His mother warned him not to ask too many questions, and Galen raged against her.

Don't you want to know what happened? he demanded to her. How Father was killed? What happened to him? We never even got his body.

Why would we have wanted his body? his mother asked, staring at him.

To lay him to rest! To know that he would be laid down safely. We have no idea what happened! He was furious, fuming. His hands were balled into fists. It had been a year since his father had passed on into the ether, his body left somewhere, and he was no closer to being alright with it.

His mother was timid, and didn't want to upset the powers that be, but Galen was fueled by his anger. He kept asking, he kept looking, and finally, the Keepers came for him.

We understand that you're upset, they said. Because his father had been one of theirs, and they were upset too. But you need to stop.

Why? Galen demanded. Why do I need to stop?

Because the Imperials are getting agitated. You don't want them to decide that you're dangerous.

How is finding out what happened to my father dangerous? Galen wanted to know. I just want answers.

We can't give them to you. No one can.

You mean no one will.

They narrowed their eyes at him. Let it go. It was their final warning.

Galen told himself it was for love of his father that he kept looking. But if he was being honest, it was because his trust in his government was starting to fail. Nothing added up, no one wanted to ask any questions, and the safety and stability that he had banked on as a child was starting to feel stifling and suffocating. He didn't trust them anymore, and he didn't trust that his mother was going to keep him safe.

So he left.

It was the only answer. The only thing that made sense. The Allied planets and those who ruled them were only out for themselves and keeping their secrets, and he couldn't live with that. He just couldn't.

He left a note for his mother, and he went away.

It was some time later before he found the Amakari, before Alinsoth, before he settled into the person he was now.

He'd traveled aimlessly for a while, wanting to see what life was like outside of the planets he'd been stuck in for most of his life. What he found was...grim to say the least.

People were living in poverty, working themselves ragged to make ends meet. They didn't receive any assistance, and the message couldn't have been clearer. If you wanted to live a good life, you had to live in the Allied planets.

Galen had to widen his search to find people thriving. And even then, thriving wasn't the best word for it. They were struggling, but they had set up homes and communities for themselves. They were doing the best they could, often with limited success, but they were happy.

Many of them were happy to talk to him about how they'd struck out on their own. How they'd made their lives into what they were now. It sounded like a dream.

Are you listening to me?

Galen was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of fingers snapping in his face, and when he looked up, Carro was standing there, one hand propped on her hip.

Sorry, what were you saying? he asked her.

She rolled her eyes at him. I don't know why I bring you with me on these things. You're never any help.

Except when you need something heavy lifted, right? he asked, arching an eyebrow and feeling superior.

There are others who can lift heavy things for me, Carro pointed out. And there were, she was right about that, but she never asked them to go on salvage runs with her. For some reason, she preferred Galen's company for that, which he didn't understand because it wasn't like he was particularly helpful. All he really did was tell her he thought she was wasting her time and then carry something old and busted to their ship for her.

Carro made a face, but didn't deign to explain more, so Galen shrugged a shoulder.

The Amakari were his family. They were like him, in that somehow, somewhere, they had lost their faith in the systems that governed them.

Not all of them were from the Allied planets, either, though they made up the majority of their number. Some were from further out than even the Imperials' reach, and had come here looking for a better life.

Some had crashed nearby on their journeys to other places, and had ended up finding a haven on Alinsoth. Some had heard of them and wanted to see if they could prove they could keep up with the Amakari.

They were quite an odd bunch, all different races and different ideals, but somehow they made their community work. It was nice to know that it was possible to live with what they had, and sometimes, when he allowed himself to be, Galen felt proud to be a part of it. Proud to be this instead of what he had been before.

He didn't let it show very often. It would ruin his image.

Any work on the radar? Carro asked, and he looked to her again.

Not really, but we haven't been looking much. We need money?

She made a face and then nodded. Infirmary's understocked. And it would be nice to be able to do more fortifications.

Galen nodded. Yeah that sounds like we need money. I can look, see what's out there on the boards. Mercenary work's never going out of style.

That's true enough, Carro agreed. Make sure it's with someone agreeable this time. I think Donlan will have a fit if he has to talk to more smugglers.

Hey, how was I supposed to know they were smuggling people? Galen asked.

Carro fixed him with a look. You ask questions, Galen. Preferably before you pledge our labor to someone looking to get into the trafficking business.

Safe to say he was already in the trafficking business, Galen muttered under his breath.

Galen.

I hear you. No more trafficking. We'll find something simple. Bodyguarding or running bandits off someone's property. Easy work. We'll have what we need. In the meantime, you keep making do.

All I do is make do, Carro pointed out. Should be my official job description.

I was going to go with garbage hoarder myself.

That apparently didn't rate a response, and Carro went back to scavenging, leaving Galen to his thoughts. The Amakari weren't mercenaries, strictly speaking. They were often in need of funds, though, as most people who were living different lives were, so they offered up their services.

Every single one of them could fight and fight well, whether that had been trained into them or they had been born into it. They could defend themselves, their home, and anyone else who needed protecting and was willing to pay for it.

Those who lived outside of the reach of the Imperials were happy to offer what little coin they had to others who were on the outside, making it so that no one needed to go back to a life they didn't want to lead in order to be safe or to survive.

There were boards posted on various communication channels where people would offer their time or their services for various jobs. People also posted when they needed help with something, and interested parties could reach out.

While he was waiting for Carro, Galen pulled out his comm device and started looking through the options. He pulled a face at most of the jobs posted, noting that they seemed like scams or like they would be much more trouble than they were worth.

A farm that needed defending from raiders seemed like a good lead, especially since they were offering coin and grain and vegetables as payment. They could do with some more food in their stores. He sent the stock response to them, including the symbol that stood for all the outliers, so they would know he was safe to trust.

If they were interested in pursuing something further, they would respond.

The Imperials of the Allied planets liked to pretend like they were lawless savages, but the truth was, there was a system out here in the nowheres. People did what they could and got by on their own skills and merit, and that meant more than falling in line with the way the Imperials wanted things to be.

At this point, Galen didn’t know any other way to live, and the life he led now seemed like the one he was destined to live, no matter who he had been before.

Prequel Two: Nora

Nora Henderson was always told that she could be whatever she wanted to be as long as she put effort into it.

Even when she was a little girl and all she wanted to be was a princess, her father would pull her into his arms, hold her close, and tell her that if she wanted to be a princess, she could do it.

Dream big, baby, he'd say. The world needs more princesses.

When she came to him and told him she wanted to be a pirate, he'd laughed, leaned down, and ruffled her hair. What kind of pirate?

What do you mean? she'd asked, head tilted to one side.

Well, most pirates are bad, you know? They go around stealing things that don't belong to them and they keep all the profits for themselves. They aren't very nice.

And little Nora had screwed up her face and thought about that. She didn't want to be mean to people, and she knew stealing was wrong. So instead she nodded her head and declared I'll be a pirate pirate!

A pirate pirate?