Doom Star: Book 06 - Star Fortress by Vaughn Heppner

severe cut of jacket and slacks. Everyone looked undernourished. They weren’t as thin as Martians, but they were much too thin for people living in the capital of Social Unity. Most of the passing crowd glanced sidelong at Nadia and frowned at Marten.
    He wore a gun and leather jacket, and there was something feral about Marten Kluge. The card-holding people of Social Unity must have sensed the difference, realizing that he wasn’t tame like them. He had bristly blond hair and gaunt cheeks, and there was something compelling about the way he held his shoulders. Nadia wore a cap, with long hair spilling out of it. Her slacks showed her trim figure and the cut of her blouse heightened the fullness of her breasts.
    Behind them followed two peacekeepers in helmet and dark visor. The peacekeepers wore body-armor but lacked combat weapons. Shock-rods dangled from their belts.
    “I wish they’d leave us alone,” Nadia said.
    Marten glanced back and grunted. Hawthorne hadn’t returned from orbit. It made his—Marten’s—standing on Earth more problematic. He needed to get his space marines back, tell Omi to hurry here and then find passage back up to space to the patrol boats. He never should have let the marines go to Athens. His Jovians were crazy interested about ancient Greek ruins.
    Marten scowled. He didn’t like the feel of the crowds. The two peacekeepers paced them. There was something going on. He—
    “There he is!” a woman shouted.
    Marten almost drew his gun, but he hesitated.
    “You!” the woman shouted. She was hidden but nearby. “Push those people back. You, make sure to use zoom. I want close-ups of his face.”
    Police whistles began to blast.
    “What’s going on?” Nadia whispered.
    Before Marten could answer, several dozen new peacekeepers in red riot-control uniforms stepped through the crowd. They wielded shock-rods as the weapons sizzled with electric power. People screamed, shoving and pushing one another to get away from the red-suited thugs.
    “Stand back!” a peacekeeper shouted through his voice amplifier. “Make room for the Information Advisor.”
    As the red-uniformed peacekeepers drove the crowd apart, a woman with glossy lips and a stylish pantsuit approached Marten and Nadia.
    Nadia sidled closer to Marten, gripping his left arm with both of hers.
    Behind the woman—Nancy Vance by the crowd’s whispers—came several men with video devices, followed by thick-limbed security personnel wearing black armor.
    “I’m speaking today with Jovian Representative, Marten Kluge,” Nancy said toward the cameras. She smiled. It was a radiant thing. She had sparkles in her hair and wore a shimmering blouse.
    Marten pried his fingers from the butt of his holstered gun.
    “Hello, Marten Kluge,” Nancy said, turning to him.
    “Try to smile,” Nadia whispered.
    Marten did try. The hundreds of people staring at him, however, made his scalp prickle. The curious knot of humanity pressed toward the guarding peacekeepers and the busy cameramen.
    “Have you enjoyed your stay on Earth?” Nancy asked.
    Marten nodded.
    “The Jovians are a taciturn people,” Nancy explained to the cameras. “They ponder philosophic insights as they struggle to engage themselves with the regular world.”
    “You think I’m a philosopher?” Marten asked, bemused.
    Nancy made an elaborate bow. “I do not wish to presume, sir. On Earth, social justice and a fair distribution of the wealth supersede airy notions of archetype and forms.”
    “Both political systems are useless these days,” he said.
    Nancy Vance’s eyebrows rose. “You do not believe in an equal distribution of wealth?”
    “Be careful, Marten,” Nadia whispered.
    Marten scanned the crowd, noticing how people listened for his answer. Years ago, he had endured the hall leaders prattling about their empty slogans. How he’d longed to speak his mind then.
    “You should ask yourself a question,” Marten said.
    Nancy nodded