by Neal Jones
This is a work of fiction. The characters and events described in this story are imaginary and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
©2012 by Neal Jones
"EMISSARY"
www.exxar1.com
Other books by Neal Jones:
The Exxar Chronicles:
Book One: "The Erayan"
Synopsis
It's been three months (ESC) since the attack on Exxar-One by the Haal'Chai fleet. Commodore Gabriel is still grappling with the aftermath of his torture at the hands of the renegade Chrisarii, General Serehl. It doesn't help that his ex-fiancée shows up on Exxar-One after twenty-three years with the daughter that he never knew he had.
It's a time of religious upheaval in the Chrisarii Alliance. Ancient prophecy is fulfilled, and, while many view this as a cause to celebrate, for others it is a sign that compels them to act against a deadly threat. Major Saveck receives disturbing news from his father, and he reluctantly returns home to break twenty years of silence.
In the wake of its failed invasion of the Federation, the Jha'Drok Emperium struggles to retain its status as a galactic power while fighting enemies both within and without. In the royal court, Vatra Inehl finds her position – as well as her son's – ever more precarious as she combats the machinations of the new lady empress and her mother.
As the Federation eagerly awaits the results of a presidential election, sinister forces within the Khazar Dominion set their sights upon the vulnerable Jha'Drok Emperium.
On starbase Exxar-One, old lovers are reunited, new relationships ignited, and new friendships are born. Amid the chaos and turmoil of the cold war around them, the station's crew continues their mission of providing a neutral ground for the flag of peace.
This one is for Grandma
Historical Note:
Emissary takes place approximately three months (ESC) after the events of The Erayan
Table of Contents
Prologue 10
Part One 19
Chapter 1 20
Chapter 2 39
Chapter 3 57
Chapter 4 76
Chapter 5 97
Chapter 6 114
Part Two 136
Chapter 7 137
Chapter 8 149
Chapter 9 164
Chapter 10 182
Chapter 11 199
Chapter 12 217
Chapter 13 236
Part Three 257
Chapter 14 258
Chapter 15 275
Chapter 16 297
Chapter 17 315
Chapter 18 334
Chapter 19 351
Chapter 20 369
Part Four 385
Chapter 21 386
Chapter 22 403
Chapter 23 420
Chapter 24 436
Chapter 25 456
Chapter 26 474
Chapter 27 492
Chapter 28 517
Chapter 29 541
Chapter 30 561
Epilogue 585
APPENDICES 597
Foreword
As always, thank you for purchasing this book. I hope you like it.
I recommend that you skip to the appendices and read those first. It will help you better understand the Chrisarii religions that are referenced heavily in the story, as well as give you a good overview of the cast of characters. One of the joys of writing sci-fi is the ability to create new worlds and cultures, and painting in the details of the Chrisarii canvas for this book was a pleasure for me.
I would like to acknowledge all the usual suspects:
My family – Grandpa and Grandma Birkey, Mom, Dad, Jeremy, Em, Chad, Rochelle, Caleb, and all my nieces and nephews. You all keep me moving forward in one way or another, and for that I am always grateful.
For my Friday night gals: Christy, Jeni, and Pat.
I would also like to give an acknowledgement to the teachers and staff at Oregon Trail Elementary, the ones who I work with week in and week out as part of my day job. No matter what you hear and read in the news media about public school teachers, these people really are the most underpaid, underappreciated and overworked public employees in our society. They don't get nearly enough credit – or compensation - for what they do, so here's my shout out: you folks rock!
The darkness drops again, but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle;
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?
-- W. B. Yeats
"Second Coming"
Prologue
____________________
( 1 )
MESSANI N'LYN PRESSED THE accelerator, willing the antique tractor to let her finish just five more rows. The motor whined and rattled with such a racket that Messani was sure it was going to explode, taking her and the plow with it. The mechanical beast was at least forty years old, and there wasn't enough money to buy a new one; not even enough for the few spare parts that could make the engine run a little more smoothly.
There was little money for much of anything these days. Messani's husband, Faero, had bought the farm with the inheritance from his ansaj-dar's – his father's father - estate. He had imagined a future where his wife and children were well cared for by his labor and sacrifice. They wouldn't be rich, but they would always have just enough. He was a man who loved to work with his hands, and he had cultivated many good harvests from his small plot of land. For three years, his dream had come true.
But then came that day at the market in Osth, where a demonstration had been arranged by one of the many radical groups who were against the war with the Interstellar Federation. The situation got out of hand very quickly, and Faero was killed in the ensuing riot. His death had been an accident, but it wasn't the only fatality. By the time the police arrived, the market was destroyed and fourteen were dead. Faero hadn't drawn up a will or made funeral arrangements, and the expenses cost Messani everything that was in their savings. Aliira was barely a year old at the time, and Faero hadn't been able to afford field workers. Even worse, his death came in the midst of the harvest season, and without help from the neighboring farmers, Messani would have surely lost everything. As it was, she had just managed to break even that year.
There were times since when Messani wished bitterly that she and Aliira had gone with Faero to town that day.
The tractor coughed, sputtered, coughed again, and then died. Messani cursed it with fevered vehemence as she pressed the starter button and pumped the accelerator. The motor whined and growled, but refused to turn over, and Messani finally gave up. She hurled one last expletive at the rusted beast and climbed down from the driver's seat. She took off her wide-brimmed hat and wiped her brow with a weathered hand. Her skin was as hard and firm as tanned leather and two shades darker than the usual crimson tones that colored all Chrisarii. Messani reached for the satchel that was slung across the back of the driver's seat. She pulled out her canteen and drank deep, then tipped back her head and poured some of the water on her face and hair. It was almost midday, and it was a long walk to the house. Messani sighed as she put away her canteen and slung her satchel over her head, draping it across her torso. She fixed her hat back on her head and started walking.
Messani supposed she should be thankful that she got as far as she did. She glanced back to survey the large field and nodded with approval. All but five rows was enough to get a full harvest, and she could probably borrow Praskk's tractor next week. He could also help her bring in hers tomorrow. She'd store it in the
garage next to the barn until she could decide what to do with the damn thing. That thought reminded Messani to give penance for the foul words that she had hurled at it earlier, and she made the symbol with her right hand, putting it over heart for a moment and whispering a prayer of forgiveness to the Varashok. As an afterthought, she prayed for a new tractor as well.
Aliira was stirring the pot on a stove that was as old as the tractor. Messani lay her hat and satchel on the end of the kitchen table, and then bent to kiss her daughter's hair. It smelled of sun and soap. She'd been working in the garden that morning.
"You're early, mother. What happened?"
Messani plopped into a chair and reached for the bowl of biscuits. "The tractor has finally given up its soul. It will serve us no longer." Her face was as weathered as her hands, and her weak smile made fresh cracks at the corners of her eyes and mouth.
Aliira had always found her mother's wrinkles endearing. "We'll find another. Something always comes along just when we need it." She brought the butter plate and the jar of spiced honey to the table. "I'll go to Osth this afternoon and talk to Grann." She began ladling the stew into a pair of bowls.
"I appreciate the offer, but you're only twelve. We'll go this afternoon after my nap."
"If you insist." Aliira sat, and they bowed their heads while Messani said a prayer.
Her daughter was right. The Varashok had always provided.
( 2 )
Osth was becoming more of a city than a town, and its borders threatened to push into the rural land that surrounded it, the land on which sat the N'Lyn farm and a few others. Even in this modern era of the empire, where industrialization and corporations dominated almost every market, there were still small pockets of land and communities that seemed to remain untouched by the outside world. Osth was situated on Chrisarii's second largest continent, in the southwestern region where at least four sils of rain fell monthly during the planting and harvest seasons. Of course, no matter where on the planet one chose to plant one's crops, the weather and atmospheric processor controllers ensured that no region of homeworld suffered extreme conditions such as drought, flooding, hurricanes, and so forth. That was one of the few aspects of modern technology that Messani appreciated.
"I'll go talk to Grann," she said as they stepped out of the car. "You can pick something out at Ixsal's." Chey'Und Ixsal owned a dessert parlor, and she didn't mind slipping Aliira a piece of spice chocolate or some iced nait. Messani watched her daughter scamper away, and then turned to cross the street. She would talk to Grann, but there was another stop she wanted to make first, and it was the reason she had sent Aliira to Ixsal's.
Osth had only four depositories, and the oldest of them was two blocks away from the public parking lot. The lobby was pleasantly cool, and Messani scanned the desks for Aysid Druhn. He was an old friend, and he'd given Messani a loan eight years ago when she wanted to purchase more land for the farm and hire some help. Messani was praying that Druhn would have mercy on her a second time. She crossed the lobby and stood in front of his desk, waiting for him to acknowledge her.
"Messani! This is a pleasant surprise. Take a seat." He motioned to one of the two chairs in front of his desk and then reached into a drawer to offer her a piece of cream candy. "How are you?"
"I'm doing well, thank you." She took a piece but only used it to occupy her nervous fingers as she set her hands in her lap. "I need another favor, Aysid." She hesitated, and then pushed out the words before she could lose her resolve. "I need another loan." Druhn didn't immediately reply. She could see in his eyes what the answer would be, and she hurried forward with a speech that she'd been preparing during the ride into town. "I know that the balance on the existing loan is larger than what it should be by now, but the tractor finally broke down completely today, and I doubt that it can be fixed this time. It's just too old, and I need a new one. Or even a decently used one that's not too old. There's also some repairs to the house that I haven't been able to finish since Co'bbe left." Co'bbe had been one of the hired hands, and he'd done excellent work with home repairs and keeping the farm equipment running. "Aysid, please! I just need a little more kril and a little more time." Messani stopped, suddenly realizing how unprofessional and childlike she sounded, and she finally unwrapped the candy and shoved it into her mouth, clamping it in her right cheek.
"Messani," Druhn began gently, "I know how hard things have been for you these past couple years. And, if I had a choice, I would give you the money you need. But you don’t have anything else to put up as collateral." The house was already being used for the first loan, the one whose balance was five times more than what it should be by now. Messani was already late with this month's payment. "I have some authority regarding our lending policy, but for loans that are larger than a thousand kril, we have to have collateral. And you're already in danger of defaulting on the current loan. If you'd like, I can move a few things around and possibly refinance it to lower the monthly payment, but that means extending it for another two years. After you get that paid off, then we can talk."
Messani nodded numbly, chewing up the last bits of the candy and swallowing them. She stood. "Thank you, Aysid. I know that you do what you can for Aliira and I, and we're grateful."
Druhn stood also, nodding, and his expression was genuinely sympathetic. It made Messani want to cry. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do," he said.
Messani returned to the afternoon heat, holding her head up and keeping her shoulders back. She refused to be beaten by this setback. The Varashok had something else in mind for her, and she would seek out Grann to discuss other options. Perhaps he had an old tractor that he could loan her for a few days, or maybe he'd be willing to sell it to her at a discount.
"I'm sorry," Grann said when she presented him with her problem. "All I've got in the back are a couple junk heaps. You know how it is these days with those damn factory farms. Nobody's manufacturing parts for these models anymore. They're obsolete. I could call some associates in Delech, or maybe even on one of the spice colonies and see if someone wants to get rid of theirs. But it'll probably be a couple weeks, at least, before I could get it shipped here, and you know what that's gonna cost. I'd give you a discount, though."
"Thank you, Grann. But that's all right. I'll find something else."
"I know how you feel about this, Messani, but I'm going to say it again. You should sell that land. Move into Osth and set up a shop. Or maybe even help out Ixsal by partnering with her. You know how old she's getting, and her mind isn't as sharp as it used to be."
Messani couldn't help a smile. "I'm still thinking about it, Grann. I'll see you later." When she returned to the street she was so lost in thought that she didn't hear Shil'Ra Generith calling her name. Only when he was in her path did she stop and look up, and had he not reached out to steady her, she would have collided with him.
"Oh! Shil'Ra, I'm sorry! I didn't see you."
"It's all right, Messani. And you can call me Tah'Mor. I won't take offense, I promise."
"Yes, Tah'Mor," she replied, somewhat sheepish. It had always felt wrong to her to address a servant of the Varashok in such an informal manner.
Generith took a closer look at her. "What's the matter?"
"It's nothing. I'm just having some trouble with the tractor. It finally gave out on me, and I'm already behind with this month's kril-tor payment, and I got most of the field plowed, but I don't know what I'm going to do when the harvest season arrives because there's no money to hire help, and -" She suddenly choked back a sob, unable to continue, and what she hadn't told the shil'ra was that the anniversary of Faero's death was coming up soon, and with each year seeming harder and more unbearable than the last, she was starting to wonder if the Varashok were truly listening to her prayers.
"Oh, child." Generith drew her into him, embracing her. "I was just about to have a late lunch. Why don't you join me? Is Aliira with you?"
"Yes." Messani wiped her eyes, and she
stepped back. "And thank you, Tah'Mor, for your invitation, but I must be going. I'll be all right. I simply must abide with the Varashok and follow their will. They will provide my needs."
"Yes, they will," Generith echoed. He wanted to say more, but he was sure that Messani had already had more than one person telling her that she should sell the farm and move into Osth. Hearing it from him wouldn't help matters, so he settled for clasping her on the shoulder in a fatherly gesture. "If you need anything - and I mean anything - you know where to find me."
"Thank you, shil'ra. I'll see you tomorrow at service."
Generith watched her walk away, his gaze troubled. Messani was one of his most devoted followers, yet sometimes he felt that her devotion blinded her to opportunities that the Varashok had placed right in her path.
( 3 )
Shil'Ra Generith walked through the auditorium, performing a final check of the sanctuary before turning out the lights. He paused at the altar to bow his head and say his twilight prayers before ascending the stairs to his private rooms above the chapel. His church was small, even rustic when compared to the cathedrals of Lar'A'Tol and D'Kor province. But the Varashok did not measure the faith of their believers by the size of their churches, and Generith preferred a rural parish anyway. He knew each member of his congregation well, had served them for almost forty years now, and he appreciated the relaxed pace of an agricultural community. Life was simpler out here, away from the congestion of the cities and the frantic pace of a corporate life.
