by S. H. Jucha
“If the Colony lands on our home world, every member will be exterminated,” the Usaanan boasted.
“At Pimbor, the Colony put four hundred transports through the ring that was built above the dome,” Renée retorted. “Each transport dumped two shuttles, carrying a total of forty insectoid adults. The Colony inundated the planet.”
“The Pims are like the Quall,” the sand serpent hissed. “The weak can’t defend their worlds.”
Images of the Pims riding their shadows and fighting the insectoids filled the display. In many cases, the encounters were close, and reds could be seen rising high above the tiny Pims and their mounts.
“Is this one of the weak races who you’re referencing, Usaanan?” Renée shot back.
The Sylian representative rose, and, without recognition, she growled, “The Pims ride shadows, which they acquire from the Omnians. They hunt the insectoids, and Sylian troops support them. Her Excellency Talsoma has been informed by her commanders that the fight is being won on that planet.”
“That’s correct. The Pims, with the help of Omnians and alliance individuals, are reclaiming their planet,” Renée said forcefully.
“Let me tell you the reason for our presentation,” Alex interjected. “We’re making an offer to the Tsargit membership. We’ll organize the alliance resistance against the Colony, but we need troops and resources. Those worlds that contribute to the resistance will receive our tech.”
“And, as such, they’ll become priorities for us in the event the Colony invades their home worlds,” Renée added.
“What resources are you expecting to receive?” the female Veklock demanded.
“We’ll be constructing a substantial station at Pyre,” Alex replied. “It’ll serve as the first base in alliance space. We’ll require engineers, techs, support staff, and material. We could accept those kinds of contributions in lieu of thousands of troops.”
“Our worlds could build you a hundred stations,” the Usaanan declared.
“True,” Alex replied. “Afterward, how do you expect us to deploy the troops and shadows to the number of Colony-tainted worlds that we showed you? Or are you expecting us to visit a few at a time?”
“Leader Racine,” Jarmonin interrupted. “What is your strategy?”
“We’ll use alliance resources to build starships that can transport troops and shadows between systems,” Alex replied.
“Who would own the starships?” Jarmonin inquired.
“This area of space,” Alex replied.
“The Tsargit?” asked Jarmonin to clarify.
“Alliance space,” Renée corrected. “The starships would serve all races, alliance or not. The services would be commanded by those races who wish to commit to an independent force dedicated to preserving peace.”
“Would starships only be available to this organization?” the Pyrean representative asked.
“No,” Alex replied. “Omnia ship technology is available to any race who supports the resistance. There’s a one-time license fee per starship and per traveler, which is our shuttle.”
There was a cessation of questions, but not conversations. Representatives spoke to their staff, who offered their advice. As a result, questions and comments poured toward the councilors.
“Leaders Racine and de Guirnon,” Jarmonin said. “While opinions about support for your intentions vary, those who are interested point out that they serve ruling bodies and aren’t authorized to commit to your plan.”
“That’s understood,” Alex replied. “We expect this membership to communicate by cubes to their leaders. Those individuals or bodies should make their best offers. We’ll evaluate them and respond accordingly.”
“You’re not providing us with sufficient guidelines,” the Hyronzy representative complained.
“That’s right! We’re not,” Renée declared. “Centuries ago, you had an opportunity to contribute to the Pyrean Resistance. Too many races chose not to participate. Now, the task is nearly overwhelming. It’s time to be generous until it hurts.”
“We’ll give your home worlds seven days to respond,” Alex said. “Communicate your offers via your station’s comm system. Address the offers to Julien.”
“Seven days! That’s insufficient time,” the Norsitchian representative claimed.
Jarmonin winced at the proclamation. He was intensely aware of the glacial slowness of his home world’s decision-makers. That was why, when his race’s dome was overrun, he’d assumed the responsibility to organize the brassards and fill them with Norsitchians trapped on other systems.
“What if you receive insufficient offers from our systems?” a male Veklock asked.
“Then there’ll be a limited action in this area of space,” Renée replied. “We’ll protect those few worlds who have already participated. They’re Pyre, Jatouche, Crocia, Pimbor, Sylia, Norsitchia, Quall, and the location of the fifth lost dome, which is yet to be investigated.”
“What is Pyre contributing?” the Usaanan asked, hoping to unmask the Omnians’ preference for a human colony.
The Pyrean representative rose, lifting a hand toward Alex and Renée. “First and foremost, President Finian and our Assembly have authorized the construction of the station in our system. A station that will not be under our control. We’ll contribute heavily to its operations, including resources and troops. Our commitment to alliance space is no different than it was when Envoy Harbour and Adviser Cinders led the Pyrean Resistance.”
The Pyrean intended to sit, but he quickly straightened. “There is another critical aspect of our contributions. In deference to our long association with Jatouche, we’ll be responsible for the installation and management of the station’s hydroponic system.”
“Fruit juices,” the Jatouche representative could be heard to happily say.
“Seven days,” Alex said flatly, ending conversation.
Then the Omnians swiftly left the stage, with Miranda carrying the massive holo-vid. Behind them, they could hear the noise, as the members competed for the council’s attention.
A couple of hours later and comfortably ensconced in suite nine’s salon, Z announced, “The assembly has disbanded.”
“Conclusions?” Tatia inquired. She’d been happy to watch the presentation through a link with Julien. She had no appetite for politics.
“None,” Z replied. “They attempted to reach a consensus whereby every member would contribute to the resistance, but they failed. Comm traffic to the station is at an intense level.”
“I wonder if the poor dears in the dome have enough cubes,” Miranda mused.
“Alex, Renée, are you serious about your intentions to pull back to the eight worlds that Ser mentioned?” Tatia asked.
“Yes and no,” Alex replied. He’d slumped into an oversized chair when he returned to the suite. The frown on his face said that he wasn’t pleased with the assembly’s reception of the presentation and offer.
“According to our accountants,” Alex continued, swirling a finger at the SADEs, “we can’t afford to take on the Colony by ourselves. So, what’s our choice if the alliance worlds don’t support our efforts?”
Tatia silently accepted the answer, although it didn’t settle well with her. When she saw aggression against peaceful individuals or communities, it was in her nature to step in and blunt it. In this case, the problem was simply too great for Omnia Ships to handle by itself.
“Alex, do we stay here or return to the Rêveur?” Renée asked.
“I was thinking about that,” Alex replied. “I think we stay here and make our presence known. We get some sleep, and tomorrow we separate and chat with the representatives or anyone who’s interested in talking to us.”
“I can’t wait,” Z muttered.
Renée laughed and gently patted Z’s prodigious metal arm. “You’ll be surprised who’ll want to
speak to you, Z,” she said. “Mesmerize them with your mental prowess. That will entice them about Omnian tech. Remember, the great prize for the races are the travelers and the starships.”
“Personally, I look forward to the exercise,” Miranda replied.
“Why’s that?” Renée queried.
“It’s for the same reason intended by Alex and Julien,” Miranda replied, with a wink.
“Let me in on the secret,” Renée urged.
“The home world leaders send representatives to the Tsargit because they believe those individuals epitomize their races’ social interests,” Julien replied. “Conversing with them will give us an idea which races we should pursue for resources.”
“Should we grade them?” Renée asked. Immediately, she received an app that contained the Tsargit’s list of representatives with columns for entries.
One look at the notes requested and Renée knew Julien created the app, but it was Alex who supplied the characteristics to track.
* * * * *
For three cycles, the Omnians spoke with representatives, committee members, councilors, staff, and techs. They did their best to make their presence known within the station.
Renée was speaking with the Norsitchian representative, as they walked a corridor. She was trying to gauge whether the race’s deliberative body, called a collective, would be interested in contributing resources and responding within the deadline. The answers weren’t encouraging.
The corridor intersected a rotunda, which was furnished with small tables and chairs. The chairs were the versatile versions, allowing individuals to select their race from a panel. Then small motors would reconfigure the seat to match the selection.
Renée spotted Miranda. The SADE was holding court, as she’d been doing for days. Facile in languages and possessing an engaging wit, Miranda kept her audiences enthralled.
On the fourth day after the presentation and as midday meal ended, suite nine’s door chimed.
At a nod from Alex, Julien triggered the door aside, and a Jatouche stepped through it.
“My pardon for disturbing your meal. I’m Jastitock, mate and emissary of the present ruler, Tockitak, who is a descendant of Her Excellency Tacticnok and her mate, Jaktook, a master advisor,” the Jatouche said, delivering a slight bow of his head.
“We’re honored by the presence of such a distinguished visitor,” Renée replied. “You’ll pardon that we’re unable to offer you a fruit juice.”
Jastitock chittered delightedly at Renée’s smooth transition from her welcome to the mention of a simple pleasure enjoyed at Jatouche and Pyre.
“I bring you a message from Her Excellency Tockitak,” Jastitock continued. “She welcomes your intention to lead the new resistance, and she extends free medical services to the new organization.”
“Where would you offer these services?” Alex inquired.
“Wherever you wish, Leader Racine,” Jastitock replied. “On the new station, at Jatouche, aboard your ships ... anywhere and everywhere you desire.”
“An extremely gracious offer,” Alex said.
Jastitock flashed his teeth. He’d enjoy returning the Omnian’s words to his mate. Continuing, he said, “In addition, you need only request of the Jatouche what you will. If it’s possible, it will be provided.”
Alex rose, and the others followed. “We’re honored by Her Excellency’s commitment to the ongoing relationship begun with the Pyreans. Now, I better understand the close tie between Jess Cinders and Tacnock.”
“Tacnock is well?” Jastitock asked. His concern was evident.
“He’s a fierce fighter,” Renée replied, “and he was well when we left him at Pimbor. Do you know him?”
“He’s my elder sibling and the fiercest one of the lot,” Jastitock said, with obvious relief.
“Please thank Her Excellency for her generous offer of support,” Alex said. “We accept and look forward to a long association.”
“I will deliver the words that I’ve heard,” Jastitock said. He bowed his head and slipped out. In the corridor, he paused briefly to evade another individual.
Julien hesitated to close the door, which was fortunate, as a Sylian walked through the doorway.
“Leaders Racine and de Guirnon, I’m the Sylian representative, Sonistoma. Her Excellency Talsoma has received your proposal. She wishes you to note the troops who have been committed to the fight.”
“We have,” Renée replied.
“Her Excellency is prepared to send more,” Sonistoma continued, “but she’d prefer to provide administrators and staff for the station and officers and crews for the starships.”
“That Sylia hopes to build,” Tatia supplied.
“That’s correct,” Sonistoma replied. She nodded politely to Tatia, complimenting her perceptivity. “Does Her Excellency request too much?” she inquired.
“No,” Alex replied. “We’ll continue our growing relationship with Sylia.”
“Thank you, Leaders,” Sonistoma said and departed.
“Omnians,” a Crocian roared, throwing his arms wide, after he’d waddled through the doorway.
“Greetings,” Alex bellowed in return. He’d jumped up and extended his arms in imitation of the new visitor. His grin was wide, but it couldn’t compete with the open maw of the huge Crocian.
“I’m Gorsatha of the Hagar, Omnians, and I bring news. The Norloth extends its wishes to be included in the resistance. The race’s engineers are at your disposal to construct the Pyrean station. If you find my credentials acceptable, I would be the senior project manager for Crocian engineers.”
“I don’t know, Gorsatha. Couldn’t the Norloth have sent anyone ... I don’t know ... bigger?” Alex asked, as if he was undecided whether to accept.
Gorsatha’s eyes blinked twice. Then he caught the joke, and his roar of amusement shook the salon’s walls.
“Decades ago, Leader Racine, that might have been true, but not anymore,” Gorsatha replied, smacking a clawed hand against his heavily muscled chest.
Alex smiled. “Crocian engineers are valuable associates,” he replied. “We welcome the Norloth’s involvement in the resistance, and we accept you as the project’s liaison to the Crocian engineers. You’ll work in concert with our SADEs.”
Gorsatha rumbled in contentment, and the humans felt the deep resonance compete with their heartbeats. “Your station promises to be the crowning of my career. Bortoth and Daktora speak highly of you and your companions, and I welcome the opportunity to work with the SADEs.”
As Gorsatha delivered his last remarks, Miranda detected subtle shifts in tone and mannerisms. She sought to understand the reasons for the changes, concerned for the Crocian’s ability to deliver on the project.
“Gorsatha, you speak as if the station will be your final project,” Miranda said.
Gorsatha’s jaw closed with an audible click. Despite Miranda’s imposing height and breadth, the engineer tipped his long snout down to eye the SADE. “Your sensory capability is extraordinary,” he said. “Soon after the station is complete, I’ll retire. I’ve stayed active longer than most. My retirement will be short. Then it will be my turn at the Dorgatha lifecycle.”
Alex could sense emotions welling in Renée.
“Then, Gorsatha, I expect you to build the finest station in the alliance, as befitting your long career,” Alex said, projecting a powerful command voice.
Accepting the challenge, Gorsatha straightened, bellowed his approval, thumped his chest, and departed.
The Omnians waited, but no one else came through the doorway, and Julien signaled it closed.
“The expected responses,” Julien said. He didn’t need to mention that only three days remained.
The fifth day brought an unexpected message from the Veklock home world. It was received by the triu
mvirate representatives. Following their instructions, the message was forwarded to the entire Tsargit body and Julien.
The Veklock message read: The Triumvirate of Governors hereby reverses our race’s ill-fated decision, which was made centuries ago. Now, we choose to support the new resistance, and we extend an offer to every alliance race. Our world isn’t suited to contribute the specific resources requested by the Omnian leaders. Instead, we offer financial remuneration for the contributions of others. Contact the Triumvirate of Governors for consideration. Furthermore, as Veklocks have a long history of financial management, we offer the Tsargit council our services to design and implement a monetary exchange system with Omnia Ships.
Julien sent in reply.
Z added,
The links filled with laughter at what it had taken to make one of the eldest races finally see the dangers the Colony represented.
14: Starships
The Freedom exited its long transit to Sol and appeared beyond the system’s far belt.
Cordelia received hundreds of welcome messages. Some came from mining outposts, Trident commanders, and the section’s rim governor, but many of them originated from Idona Station.
