Talus

by S. H. Jucha

It gave Ude a sense of satisfaction to remain quiet. When he’d had enough of Artifice’s cajoling, he silently left the cavern, vowing never to return. Although, he reserved the singular option of revisiting the cavern to disconnect Artifice.

  When Ude returned to the traveler, he found Petra enjoying a meal and hot thé. She moved to recycle her meal, but Ude stopped her.

  “Please, Lieutenant, finish your meal,” Ude said. “I’m in no hurry.”

  Petra nodded her appreciation, sucked on her drink tube, and spooned some food into her mouth. “How did your conversation go?” she asked.

  “You called Artifice an ugly entity, Lieutenant,” Ude said. “I’ll let you in on a secret. You were wrong. Artifice is much worse than that.”

  The utensil froze halfway to Petra’s mouth. Then she set it down. “That bad?” she asked.

  “Worse,” Ude replied. “Artifice waits to be restored. To be housed in an avatar. In the entity’s words, ‘Stride across worlds.’”

  “We should have burned that thing out of its hole,” Petra groused.

  “I thought Méridiens were supposed be the more peaceful of the human colonists,” Ude teased.

  “I’m an Independent. So was my brother. We joined the fleet, and he was killed at the battle in the Chistorlan system,” Petra shot back. “I know danger when I see it, and Artifice personifies it. I don’t know what the Sisterhood is thinking.”

  Petra regarded her food. She’d lost her appetite and chose to recycle the tray and drink tube.

  “Sorry to ruin your meal, Lieutenant,” Ude said. “I’d appreciate being dropped at the Talusian administration building. After that, you’re free to return to your duties.”

  “Will do, Ser,” Petra replied. “Next time you need a lift, you call me,” she added, before she disappeared into the cockpit.

  “Will do,” Ude murmured to himself.

  The traveler landed outside the administration building. The rear ramp dropped, and Ude’s heavy footsteps echoed on the metal. He’d caught the five individuals in residence that he wanted ... Sargut, Suntred, Sunnamis, Miriamette, and Miriamelle.

  “Thank you for seeing me at short notice,” Ude said to the group. He stood at the end of the conference table that was in the room next to Sargut’s office.

  “Miriamette informed me that you’d visited Artifice,” Sargut said. “Can we assume that this has something to do with your conversation with the entity?”

  As a Toralian, Sargut had a means of communicating emotional content via a host of whistles, which Ude had yet to master. There was no mistaking the one that Sargut used when he spoke of Artifice. It was the equivalent of biting into rotten fruit.

  “How is the referendum about implants proceeding?” Ude asked, avoiding Sargut’s question.

  “The Sisterhood has queried nearly three-quarters of the population,” Miriamette reported. “We should be completed with the survey within another two days.”

  “And what’s the response?” Ude pursued.

  “Overwhelmingly positive,” Sargut replied, “and the fleet crews are nearly unanimous.”

  “Good,” Ude said with relief. If he’d possessed a capable body, he’d have slumped in a chair. The news was that encouraging.

  “Now, will you tell us what this is about, Ude?” Sargut asked patiently.

  “I think it’s imperative that Toralians adopt implants, and that the sisters help your race become proficient with them, President Sargut,” Ude replied.

  “Something about Artifice has worried you,” Suntred surmised.

  “I don’t want to influence your thinking,” Ude said. “I think it’s important that after the three of you have mastered your new implants that you visit Artifice. About once a week for a half hour should suffice. You should engage Artifice in conversation. Ask the entity questions. The goal is to get Artifice to speak while you listen.”

  “What do you expect us to hear?” Sunnamis asked.

  “Again, I don’t want to say,” Ude replied. “I’m one individual and a human at that. My opinion might be quite different from yours. I can tell you that I don’t expect you to come away from one session with an informed opinion. It might come to light over time.”

  “You think that the Sisterhood is wrong to preserve Artifice,” Miriamelle said bluntly.

  Ude schooled his face to prevent responding to the query.

  However, the Toralians stared in surprise from one sister to the other, then to Ude, and back. They waited for someone to speak, but no one did.

  “I detect finality in this conversation, Ude,” Miriamette said. “Are you preparing to leave us?”

  “Yes,” Ude admitted.

  “Permanently?” Sargut inquired.

  “Hard to say,” Ude replied. “I think it will be for a while.”

  “The messages from alliance space,” Miriamette offered.

  “Yes,” Ude said, displaying a hopeful smile.

  “We wish you good fortune,” Miriamette said. To the queries on the Toralians’ faces, she explained, “The information received from Alex’s fleet indicates an alliance race can completely repair bodies using the individual’s genomic data.”

  “Admiral Thompson has promised to see that I get to meet this race,” Ude said. His smile grew larger.

  “That’s excellent news,” Sargut said enthusiastically. His wings briefly fluttered.

  “After you’re repaired, Ude, what will you do?” Suntred asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Ude replied. “I’ve spent most of my youth hating one entity after another. If it wasn’t the minders, it was Faustus. Then it became Artifice. The Omnians were mixed in there somewhere for not fulfilling my expectations of revenge. It’s time to live without my anger.”

  “Will you leave with the Omnians?” Sunnamis asked.

  “Yes,” Ude replied. “I expect the fleet to return to Omnia. From there, I’ll need to find transport to alliance space.”

  “No, you won’t,” Miriamette said. “The admiral has given you her word. If she has to dedicate a Trident for your use, then, one way or the other, you’ll be sent there.”

  Tears formed in Ude’s eyes and threatened to spill down his cheeks. With his metal hands, it became a challenge to wipe them away.

  Suntred produced a small clean cloth. She pulled a chair in front of Ude, stood on it, and dabbed at the tears as they ran from the corners of his eyes.

  “You deserve some fortune in your life, Ude,” Suntred said gently. “We’re happy for you. Toralians will always want to see you visit us again, but you should be with your own kind.”

  29: Choose Sides

  Commander Quizra of the Podarla wedge stood at the front of the hall. He was flanked by the seven other members of the negotiating team.

  The Therathen detected Quizra’s anxiety. “I wouldn’t think a room full of envoys would be more daunting than facing a battleship wedge,” he whispered to the commander.

  “We all have our specialties, and one of mine isn’t diplomacy,” Quizra growled quietly.

  Quizra was accustomed to giving orders or, on occasion, receiving orders. It suited his personality to have an admiral in charge of the arbitration. However, in the hall, the clusters of envoys were arguing among themselves and with other clusters. It was chaos, and it had been that way ever since he’d relayed the admiral’s challenge.

  With time counting down, Quizra turned his head toward a SADE, one of the sisters who would manage translations. The sister produced a sensory-piercing whistle that brought the hall to order.

  “Take your seats, please,” Quizra called out. He tried to make it sound like a request, but by the sour expressions on the faces of several envoys near him, he’d failed.

  When everyone was in place, Quizra said, “We can’t continue to debate this subject forever. The majority of you voted for the inclusion of these items on the list. You asked the Talusians to take part in the creation of a federacy council.”

  The Boobaffle stood. When recog
nized, she said, “We should have annuals to debate the formation of a council to decide how it should operate and with what powers. The admiral is asking us to accept the concept and deploy battleships as if the council existed.”

  Quizra eyed the Boobaffle envoy, as her comments ignited another round of debate within and between the clusters.

  “We were foolish not to see the machinations of the three clusters,” the Foothreen said, pitching her voice to reach Quizra’s ears high above her. “The Kirmler left with two clusters, and we thought our troubles within the hall were over. However, it seems the plan was to leave one cluster to act as agitators.”

  “But for what purpose?” an envoy on the other side of the Foothreen asked.

  A Derterrick envoy, whose ears were each equal to the size of his head, picked up the envoy’s question. He stood at the end of the negotiating team and had locked his thick legs at the knees, while he calmly surveyed the arguing envoys.

  Once again, Quizra called on a sister to restore order.

  When the hall was quiet, the Boobaffle stood again. To her annoyance, Quizra requested she resume her seat.

  “Despite the Boobaffle’s recent comments, the admiral isn’t requesting you form a council or act as one,” Quizra said.

  While Quizra searched for the words to guide the quibbling envoys, the Derterrick envoy, who had rarely spoken, said, “You’re being asked to declare your intentions. That’s what you voted for when you chose the subject of a council as an item to negotiate. The Boobaffle’s arguments lead you astray, as she and the members of her cluster continually attempt to inflame you.”

  Several members of the accused cluster voiced their ire, and the Derterrick envoy merely waited out their outbursts.

  A sister intervened, and the Derterrick continued. “This entire hall knows what I said is truth. It would behoove the envoys to take notice of that and act accordingly. In which case, we should ignore this cluster’s comments, when they’re allowed to speak.”

  This time the Derterrick’s words didn’t raise a sound. The hall of envoys had turned as one to eye the Boobaffle’s cluster. Their stares were a mix of annoyance, distrust, and hatred.

  “Your captains have reported to you the attempt by nine envoys to position their battleships next to the ships of Talusians and the Podarlas,” the Therathen said, picking up the thread of the argument. “Yet, you argue their purpose. You debate their intent. How can you? Which of your captains would allow another battleship to close on them without protest? Should we ask them?”

  The Therathen’s question was meant to be rhetorical, but the Foothreen extended several limbs from her furry covering, and she waved them toward a sister.

  Surmising the request, the sister contacted a captain at random and repeated the question to gain a comment for the envoys. One after another, captains declared that the Kirmler and his cohorts had violated warships protocols. None of the eleven captains contacted were unequivocal in their summations. A few went so far as to state they might have loosed a warning salvo against the encroaching vessel to underscore their message.

  “There you have it,” the Therathen announced. “Now, ask yourselves why the Kirmler and the other envoys of the two clusters that stalked out haven’t left the system.”

  An envoy from the Boobaffle cluster called out, “Why don’t you tell us what they intend?”

  The deep chest of the Derterrick rumbled heartily. He replied, “Do you intentionally ask foolish questions or is that your nature?”

  The crown of feathers on the insulted envoy fluttered in agitation, but the hall’s laughter kept his beak closed.

  “One individual in this hall, other than the sisters, has taken part in a battle of warships,” the Derterrick continued in his unflappable manner. As he spoke, his thin, broad ears waved gently. “He’s tried to get you to listen to the admiral’s point, and she, by the way, is a commander of notable repute, or have you forgotten her role in taking this system from Artifice? Each of these individuals warns you that the nine envoys have a plan, and that it’s a dangerous one.”

  “Perhaps, we should ask the Boobaffle envoy about the plan?” the Therathen challenged. “It must be a menacing one. Otherwise, why would every envoy in her cluster have requested a shuttle to return to their ship tomorrow morning?”

  This time, the hall of envoys didn’t stare. They stood and poured out their animosity at the Boobaffle’s cluster. In reply, the five envoys stood and left the hall.

  Immediately, a sister contacted Miriamette, who relayed the event to Sargut and Ellie.

  “Need you any more proof of the warnings of the admiral and the commander?” the Derterrick asked. “There is trouble brewing within the ring, and you’re failing to make critical decisions.”

  “At this time, I’m calling for a vote,” Quizra announced forcefully, using his command voice. “The question is whether you’ll instruct your captains to interdict any actions by renegade envoys to disrupt the negotiations. This doesn’t require you to commit to the formation of a council or any aspect of it. You’re merely stating your intention to operate in a cohesive fashion, an amalgam of races against those who would see the federacy founder. I would ask those standing with me to indicate their assent by stepping forward. For the hall, please rise to indicate your approval. Now.”

  Immediately, Quizra took two steps, and he was followed by the remaining negotiators.

  Several envoy clusters were quick to stand. Thereafter, individuals stood one by one, regardless of whether their cluster participated.

  When slightly more than half of the hall had assented, a tipping point was reached. Then more and more envoys rose rather than be left in the minority.

  The Foothreen, watching the envoys make up their minds, chuckled. It came out like a burble, a youngling blowing watery bubbles. “The minority doesn’t wish to be excluded from the benefits of successful negotiations,” she whispered to Quizra, and she burbled again.

  Quizra waited, with his heart in his throat. This moment was a make-or-break point for the negotiations, and he desperately needed the majority of envoys to back his request. When it ended, he’d received the approval of the entire hall, minus three envoys, who stomped out.

  The exit of three more envoys was added to the count for Miriamette, Sargut, and Hector. The number of envoys occupying battleships now stood at seventeen.

  After the three envoys exited the hall, Quizra said, with relief, “Please be seated. Understand that you can’t say you’ll support the negotiations with your ships’ firepower and then refuse to do that. If you fail to follow through, you’ll end the negotiations, and we’ll sail home to report our failures. And you can be sure that the Omnians won’t let this happen again. Our battleships will be barred from entering the Talus system ever again.”

  Quizra added, “I’m sure the president and the admiral have been informed of your support.” He’d regarded a sister as he’d spoken, who nodded. “We’ll continue the negotiations tomorrow. On the table will be our primary requests. May I suggest that you return to your ships, the next few cycles should prove more eventful than we would like to experience.”

  Coming from a wedge commander, Quizra’s last remark caused a great deal of consternation. The envoys rose, whispered among themselves, and then streamed toward their rooms. They were intent on requesting transport to their ships.

  * * * * *

  “As of now, seventeen envoys have walked out of the hall,” Hector said to Ellie. Lydia and he were sitting in the owner’s suite with the admirals.

  “Two wedges, if that’s their intention,” Adrianna commented.

  “That’s what I would do,” Alphons added, “and I’d station the wedges on opposite sides of the planet.”

  “Splitting the wedges provides the envoys with valuable leverage,” Ellie said, “but exactly where to station them?”

  “Admiral,” Lydia said, “may I suggest that we consider the envoys’ demands to determine what they might choo
se to threaten.”

  “Artifice,” Adrianna and Alphons echoed simultaneously.

  “That’s the SADEs’ consensus,” Lydia replied. “We believe the polar region will be one of the targets of the Kirmler envoy’s ire.”

  “We don’t have to wonder if their weapons can reach the entity’s bunker,” Alphons commented. “I can’t say I’d be upset if they were successful.”

  “Except there are two reasons that must not happen,” Hector pointed out.

  “Damage to the planet,” Alphons replied.

  “That’s one, Admiral,” Hector agreed. “The other is the response of the Sisterhood. Many of the sisters command Talusian Tridents.”

  “What would they do?” Ellie asked.

  “In my estimation, Admiral,” Hector replied, “the envoys’ actions would be considered by the Talusians as an affront to their sovereignty. In addition, it must be remembered that the sisters have dedicated themselves to maintaining Artifice.”

  “And the sisters came to being as the fleet’s protectors,” Ellie added.

  “Just so,” Hector replied. “I think we’d see a shift in the nature of Talusian society. The Sisterhood would take a greater hand directing the system’s future.”

  “To the exclusion of the other races,” Lydia interjected. “In a word, isolation.”

  “The seventeen envoys?” Ellie requested.

  Hector activated the holo-vid on the small table in the middle of the seating area. It was in wire mode, displaying the planet and the battleship ring. The admirals received Hector’s color code, which identified the Talusians, Quizra’s ship, and the seventeen envoy-occupied battleships.

  “Our potential troublemakers are fairly spread out around the ring,” Alphons commented. “When they move, we’ll have a little time before they can organize their wedges.”

  “Which won’t do us any good unless we’ve made preparations to defend the planet,” Adrianna noted.

  “We could warn the ships not to group into wedges, or we would use our NNEMP weapons,” Alphons said.

  “Launching weapons first would create a political nightmare,” Ellie said. “No, we have to let the seventeen battleships make the first move. There’s always the chance that some or most of the captains will refuse their envoys’ orders. However, we have to put both of your concepts into play.”