However, their host’s face, once ship pale, was now tanned to a darker Alysian tone, which deepened even further in the flickering firelight.
Andrew departed in search of drinks. Elija shifted in his chair, cleared his throat, and said, “If you’re here to chastise me for what happened to Elise, you may leave now. I’m sorry for what happened, but I didn’t plan our outing to end in disaster. I only wanted to show her this planet, so she could understand my appreciation of it.”
“You wanted to turn her to the Terran side and use her against me.” Richard tried to contain his anger, knowing that going down that path would endanger his current mission, but he just couldn’t help himself. He struggled to throttle his emotions. No good would result in throwing a tantrum now. He stamped down hard, determined to keep it civil, but it wasn’t easy for him.
Henry lifted a hand, palm out. “We are not here due to past actions, rather we need to discuss future events.” He glared at Richard.
“Go ahead, Henry.” Richard brushed the air with his hand. Captain needed to talk to captain if this was going to work, and he needed to practice restraint as difficult as it might be.
Henry leaned forward. “Look, Elija, you remember the engagement we had with hostile aliens that cost us five ships?”
Elija shifted uneasily in his chair and ran a hand through auburn locks. He brushed at a growing beard, obviously meant to add maturity to his boyish good looks. “Who could forget? Of course, I remember. Reardon, Dance, Trajan, all died in that bloody battle. Why do you ask? Why are you bringing that up?”
“We think some of their ships are headed our way.”
Elija frowned at the comment. “Hold on there. We jumped through a gate to escape them. How is it possible they found us?”
“It may not have been enough.” Henry slid a puzzled look at Richard. “Richard says he has proof they’re coming to Alysia. Worse, the Enjelise agrees.”
Elija’s former angry expression became pensive, then concerned. “Commander Fujeint described the alien she saw in the cockpit. Sounded like something out of a nightmare. She said he was all twisted and distorted but had the human form of two legs, two arms, and a head. He spoke an indecipherable language at her, which implies intelligence. At the same time, the creature killed his crew, so they wouldn’t be captured, and blew up his ship to keep the tech from us.”
Henry nodded. “She told me much the same before she died. Apparently, the world we flew past that contained a radiation-soaked atmosphere was their world … And they’re on the hunt for better. Can’t say I blame them, but…”
“Oh God! Alysia is the draw.”
Luckily, at that moment, Andrew returned with drinks, giving Elija time to absorb the revelation. After everyone received a drink, the android trundled out. With its departure, a heavy silence enveloped the room with only the crackle of fire audible.
After a brief pause to think things over, Elija asked, “Do you mean, not only must Terrans fight the Alysians for a home here, but now we have to contend with these newcomers as well?” He slumped back into his chair and picked up his coffee cup, carefully sipping from it.
Henry unconsciously rubbed his arm. “The Fallen. Angel calls them the Fallen and claims they are a mutation of his people.”
Elija choked in mid sip. Regaining his composure, he said, “Life on this planet just gets better and better.”
Richard put down his wine glass. “The only way we are going to survive this is through cooperation. The Fallen want this world, and we are willing to work with your people to prevent that.”
“You’re a dreamer. The Alysians are getting worse. They’ll never cooperate. Besides, we have little to offer.”
A smile tickled Richard’s lip. “That’s not what I heard.”
Elija stiffened in his chair; his brow furrowed.
Richard tapped his wine glass with an index finger. “Aren’t you manufacturing androids that are capable of a lot more than serving wine and whiskey?”
“Elise.” Elija raised his cup and took a sip. “You got that from Elise.”
Richard angled his head. “And other places.”
“That clone, Merek, opened his mouth.”
Startled, Richard felt a chill pass through him. “Merek, a clone?” He put his glass down, dumbfounded.
In an antagonistic tone, Elija said, “You didn’t know? Elise’s guard is Trajan Merek’s clone. Didn’t his name tip you off?”
“I didn’t have a clue.” Richard grabbed back his wine. He needed a drink. That was a chilling revelation. Goosebumps skittered along his arms as he thought it over.
“I suppose there are a few things Elise hasn’t gotten around to telling you yet.” A sly smile emerged on Elija lips.
Before Richard could press him further, Henry sat up and tapped his knee. “We’re here to find out what you need so you can finish building those robots. Alysians have agreed to join forces with Terrans to defeat what could be a world-ending event.”
Elija raised an eyebrow at Richard. “You would help us build better androids at the risk of us using them against you in the future?”
Richard ran a hand through his hair and heaved heavy breath out. “One step at a time. I’m willing to take that risk because I want to stay alive for now. I’ll worry about tomorrow later. Besides, there’s a few important strings attached.”
Elija’s lips pressed together. “Why am I not surprised?” He glanced at Henry for an indication but saw a blank face. His attention returned to Richard. “Lay it on me.”
“Earth2 needs fresh produce, and your gardens will soon start producing.”
Elija picked up his drink and tapped the rim before taking a sip. “And what does that wreck of a station have to offer us? Have you seen it lately?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Elliott Stratton tried to take the operation over while I was onboard, but we stopped him. Jacob Monroe’s running it now.”
“That doesn’t comfort me.”
“The Union, Ching T’Karre, and other countries have guaranteed materials and skilled labor for the station. We’re going to rebuild it.”
“In return for …” Elija leaned forward.
“Ships.” He paused to study Elija’s face. “Or at least, a microgravity facility where we can build ships fast, using the 3-d printers there. The station will produce ships, but it’ll need food for the workers who will construct them.”
Elija’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward.
Richard smiled to himself. He had Elija’s interest at last.
His host’s eyes narrowed. “We aren’t the garden paradise you might think we are here. Weather is still iffy with short seasons. But we’re making progress and might be able to squeeze out extra supplies for a good cause.” He paused to return the glass to the table. Leaning back, he crossed his arms. “What do we get in return for all these wonderful provisions we promise to supply?”
Richard glanced over at Henry who nodded. “A spaceship for Terrans,” he said. He tapped the table. “A ship that will be part of a fleet of six or more, smaller than the New Found Hope but well-armed. However, we would still need one more thing from you for the cost of such a ship.”
Elija eyes sparkled. “A ship? You’d give us a ship? One that’s armed? You’re that desperate?” He stopped and stared at Richard. He breathed in and held his breath. Richard saw his mind running through the possibilities. Saw him suddenly realize the price.
Elija’s jaw worked as he gritted his teeth. “And just what is that one more thing you want, Richard?”
A slow smile curved Richard lips as he answered, “A pilot and captain. Your ship will need a captain who is fully trained on up-to-date equipment, who has actually engaged the Fallen in battle, and who understands how they fight.”
Next to Richard, Henry leaned forward. “Elija, we need you.”
Chapter 33
Committee Meetings are Hell
“Frag, I’m going to be late.” Richard burst through the gold
ornate doors and strode down the hall where two very fit palace guards fell in on either side of him.
His plane from the Diechwrathe had run late. I.N.Sys agents had grabbed him at the gate and hustled him into a limousine, complete with sirens and flashing lights, nearly killing him as it dodged traffic enroute to the palace.
Once inside, they marched him past the closed doors of a now empty ballroom and handed him off. He eyed his two palace guards. “Trace will be mad if I’m late. President Courtland won’t be happy, either.”
The two peered across him, nodded at each other, and picked up the pace. The one on his left said, “He said to get you there on time, sir. We’re doing our best."
Upon arrival at the express elevator, the taller guard checked his comm while the shorter, dark-haired one punched the elevator button. “We can do this,” he muttered.
Entering the elevator, they shot upward as fast as machinery was capable, ignoring protesting stomachs and dizzy heads.
The elevator stopped with a jolt, and its doors slid open, revealing a gold-carpeted hall. On pale walls, portraits of long dead rulers glowered, watching them as they raced past.
At their approach, two ornate gold doors swung open and behind Richard, a voice grunted, “Mission accomplished.”
“With not a second to spare,” he heard the other say, as the guards spun around and marched back to wherever they had come from.
Richard paused at the threshold, his gaze traveling around the conference room. The voices quit talking, and a hush settled over the room. All eyes swiveled to target him. At that moment, his comm clicked to the hour. He raised his head with the urgent hope of slinking into place unnoticed, trying for inconspicuous, but failing.
On his right, Trace groused, “Cutting it close, aren’t we?” The head of I.N.Sys patted the only empty chair around the oval heartwood table and said, “Sit, Richard.”
From his place at the head of the table, President Sean Courtland glared down past a line of delegates at him. Next to him, Shenji T’Kai leaned forward to whisper something into the ear of his young protégé, J’ai Jen D’Jang.
Interesting. Richard’s gaze roved over to the person seated next to J’ai Jen. And please, not her… Madame DeGuiole sat at their left. That buxom pain-in-the-ass just had to attend to make his day complete. She despised tech so much, she probably scratched all her communications on cave walls.
He noticed Umbra DeBarre was missing. In his place for the Equatorial Provinces, sat a skinny, sharp-faced unknown whose politics he hadn’t calculated yet. Skipping over several younger faces with open tablets and serious demeanors, Richard figured them for assistants ince they were burdened down by data and recording devices.
Who else? He spied two surprising faces. What were Kane DeGrace and Landon Snow doing here? I don’t remember their names in the agenda or any notes sent to me mentioning their attendance.
Those two sat next to highly decorated military brass, Air Force Commander Jack Underhill and General Terrance Forte, whose stars sparkled with importance atop their shoulder tabs. Further down the table, Captain Sam Spencer tapped unconsciously on the table, looking very uncomfortable among this elite gathering, and most likely wishing he was somewhere else--on board a ship, perhaps.
Last, but not least, he noted Lily Santine, who represented the United Republic. That sly, dark-haired, woman would bear watching.
“I’m glad to see you could join us, Director Steele,” said the President. A bit of sarcasm wove through the words. “We were about to begin without you.”
Richard glanced down at additional notes sliding toward him from Trace’s aide. The agenda and visual of the table layout appeared in front of him. Madame DeGuiole still insisted on a hard copy even in this age of computers.
President Courtland cleared his throat. “First, I’d like to welcome everyone and thank you for taking time from your very busy schedules to come here. Before we embark on this vital initiative, I hope you’ve had a chance to read the background materials. I want to hear some suggestions and encourage your participation.”
“You plan to set up an international space program?”
Every head turned to the speaker, a gray-haired burly Commander Underhill, who was used to dominating conversations with his blunt straightforward style.
“Yes, Commander, I do.”
The Commander drew his eyebrows together. “Our current program is overburdened and underfunded. To add another expensive service is out of the question.” He slid a glance at General Forte who glared him into silence. Underhill jumped with a surprised expression on his face. Richard suspected some shin rubbing might be in order.
Trace fluttered a hand for attention.
The President nodded at the I.N.Sys Director. Trace began, “That’s why we are proposing a section separate from your service, Commander, which would involve participation from other counties. All of you are here with an invitation to be a part of this new endeavor.”
“Hold on…” General Forte roused up like a giant bear from his feigned indifference. “All Democratic Union military matters should be under Democratic Union Military Command.”
Richard interjected, “You mean you.”
“Yes, I’m in charge of national defense.”
“With all due respect, General, I challenge your ability to manage such a program when you have no deep space experience, no helm flight time on board a starship, or experience dealing with navigating at the extreme speeds and distances needed in that environment. Nor do you have any personnel who has such experience.”
A haughty expression flitted across the General’s face. “That’s why we have training programs, Director.”
“But who sets up those training programs and decides what skills or abilities are necessary?”
Commander Underhill leaned forward, taking over the conversation. “We do. We have simulators and anti-gravity pools. By the Lady, we trained your brother well enough.” He sat back and thumped his fist on the table.
This time the General smiled at him.
Trace shifted next to him, and President Courtland signaled him. The Director said, “Braden and crew were simply explorers who happened to get caught in a skirmish on highly advanced, artificially intelligent, alien ships. Our ships will be smaller, lighter, extremely maneuverable and armed, but may have as advanced a technology as they had.”
“You mean to build these ships with artificial intelligence onboard?” Madame DeGuiole’s voice rose in volume. “You put intelligent computers in those ships, and before you know it, they’ll take over and destroy the human race. We can’t let that happen.”
“I also object.” Lily Santino slapped a palm down on the table. “You’re talking about warships. And when you start building warships, the next thing you’ll go looking for is a war.” Her eyes cut over to Captain Spencer, the obvious Terran at the table. He lifted his head from studying his notes as all eyes from the table laser-focused on him.
Richard scrambled to defend his program. “If we’d had a space fleet, we might have deflected the comet …”
“Or engaged the Terran fleet?” Madame DeGuiole shook her head. “That would have escalated an already precarious situation into dangerous violence.”
President Courtland protested, “People, get permission to talk, please. One at a time and not all once so we can hear your argument and respond.”
Shenji asked politely for the floor. He said, “We were not adequately prepared for the Terrans, but luckily, they did not open fire and destroy our already damaged planet. Next time might be different. With the billions of stars out there, there’s bound to be more alien intelligent life. Meanwhile, instead of sitting around waiting for what might drop in from the outside, we should prepare and do our own exploring. No individual country should feel threatened if each provides funds for at least one ship and crew.”
“We did it with the space station,” Richard interrupted, getting a nod from Courtland.
“Yes, and
that has stretched our coffers to the max,” complained the skinny newcomer from the Equatorial.
Richard traced a finger in his notes and came to the name Kumar DeBarre. A son or nephew, most likely.
Kane DeGrace signaled for the floor. “The Diechwrathe will willingly fund up to a spaceship and crew for any government who needs it.”
Landon Snow added, “Islia makes the same offer.”
“You’re part of the Democratic Union,” President Courtland exclaimed. “That might be construed as acting as an independent government.”
“We don’t intend that. We just want to help out fellow Alysians,” Landon added.
Hidden agendas lurked beneath their broad smiles.
"Right now, the only spaceship available is Terran,” Major Underhill pointed out. “We would be wise to build our own ships even if to provide a deterrent to that threat.”
Madame DeGuiole bounced in her seat, her full, heavyset breasts attracting attention from every male in the room. “Mr. President, that fleet may decide to return. They have twenty-eight ships searching for a livable planet. They may change their minds and decide Alysia isn’t so bad after all.”
Captain Spencer protested, “Those ships are generational ships, not warships.”
“However, they’re armed. They were retrofitted with weapons before they left,” said Major Underhill, revealing information that wasn’t included in the notes.
“Okay, then.” President Courtland peered around the table. “I brought you here to invite you to be a part of our new endeavor. Contribute funds for a ship or build your own, and you will receive the protection of the fleet. If you choose not to do either, the Democratic Union still plans to put a space fleet together. You received our proposal earlier. Talk to your decision makers tonight and we’ll vote tomorrow.
Lily’s hand shot up. “After I put this forward to my Congressional House, there’s a good chance they may veto it.”
Weight of Gravity Page 24
