by Neal Jones
"Good evening, lord emperor." Vuil'SN's voice was like the purr of a jungle cat, smooth and calming, yet hinting at a barely restrained power that one dared not defy. "I'm sorry if I startled you."
"Not at all." Erengaar finished pouring his drink and then offered it to Vuil.
"No, thank you."
The lord emperor took a sip as he pressed the command to close the wall panel. "It appears my messages were received after all."
"Yes, we apologize for taking so long to respond, but we were occupied with other matters."
"And what other matter could be more important than the security of my empire?"
"You must learn patience," Vuil chided. "All things in time."
Erengaar stepped close to the humanoid, and his expression turned surly. "I have run out of patience, Mister Vuil. If you continue to test me, I will order my battalion commander to take his fleet to that little planet we have allowed you to inhabit, and he will lay waste to it. Is that ultimatum clear enough for you, or do I need to arrange a demonstration?"
"No, lord emperor, I understand your frustration." Vuil'SN stood his ground but bowed his head.
Erengaar walked behind his desk but didn't sit. "Continue."
Vuil turned to face the Jha'Drok. "Your problem with the Drigald will soon be finished." The Collective representative reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small case. He set it on the desk and then pressed a button to open the lid. Nestled inside was a tiny, ebony thing that resembled a spider. It had one crimson eye that pulsed intermittently, and its "skin" writhed and oozed like oil. It appeared as if it would scurry from its berth at any moment and devour whatever was in its path.
Erengaar felt a chill creep along his spine but, as always, he kept his composure. "What is it?"
"A bio-implant. When placed at a specific spot in one's brainstem, it becomes one with its host. After only a few days, these implants are utterly undetectable by even the most advanced medical scan, unless one knows what one's looking for, of course. They allow for instantaneous communication between the host and anyone else who has one of these implants. With your permission, my colleagues are prepared to give your Talik'Jhor one thousand of these units. We can manufacture more, if necessary, but I think one thousand is plenty to start with."
"What do you mean by 'instantaneous communication'?"
"Telepathic. For example, if one of your Talik'Jhor field operatives is in a star system on one side of Emperium space, and his or her commander is in a star system on the other side, both will be able to instantly, telepathically communicate with one another in real time. This circumvents the need for scrambled communication channels, security protocols, and old fashioned coded communiqués."
"And this telepathic communication is undetectable?"
Vuil'SN nodded. "By even the most advanced security scans. Right now, the range is limited to only two dozen light years, but if you were to place enough of these in several Talik’Jhor operatives scattered throughout Emperium space, it would be enough to create a new and very advanced telepathic network."
Erengaar stared at the implant, watching its "tentacles" twitch and convulse, like the antennae of an insect; a very poisonous, very dangerous insect. He reached out and closed the case's lid, then handed it back to the representative. "This is a start, Vuil, but how is this going to help me conquer the Federation? If the range is as limited as you say, then this will not help the covert operatives that the Talik'Jhor already has in Federation space."
"We are working on other plans at the moment. There's a few...variables which must first be dealt with before I can give you the details. I understand your impatience, lord emperor, but you must trust the Ko'Mar. We will not fail you."
"Just as you did not fail me by preventing my assault legion from being destroyed?"
"It is not our matter if you can't police your own people." Vuil'SN pressed a button on his commlink. The transfield reappeared behind him. "Goodnight, lord emperor."
After the humanoid was gone, Erengaar sat in his chair, brooding. The brandy was taking effect, and his exhaustion was starting to catch up to him. All he wanted at that moment was to curl up in bed next to his wife and sleep for at least a standard year, maybe longer. But Vuil'SN's words haunted Erengaar, and he scowled as he remembered Ryomekk's last report on the Ko'Mar Collective, which hadn't been much. The only item on record was an agreement between Lord Emperor S'elrim – Erengaar's grandfather – and the Collective's first representative, Aun'DI. All that the Ko'Mar wanted was a single star system on the fringe of the Emperium's territories and, in exchange, they would aid the Jha'Drok in whatever endeavor they wished.
For the last hundred and thirty years that endeavor had been the conquering of the Interstellar Federation of Peace. And that was still the overall plan. But just as he had three months ago, Erengaar wondered yet again what it was the Collective wanted in return for their favors. If they could create the kind of microscopic technology that made the bio-implants possible, what could they want from a technologically inferior species such as the Jha'Drok?
The unanswered question and its myriad of possible answers only made Erengaar's head hurt, and the last thing he needed now was a headache. It was time to wake Doctor Rimshar. He was always able to come up with something that helped Erengaar sleep.
Tomorrow was another busy day.
Chapter 5
____________________
( 1 )
TAL'SHIL'RA KLER ERIMOS, THE current elected head of the Church of the Varashok, settled into his hand-carved chair at the head of the long table that occupied the center of his private study. The room wasn't so much a study as a large library, with tall, wide shelves that contained hundreds of religious tomes as well as other historical works that related to the church in one way or another. It was night on this side of homeworld, in D'Kor province, which was the seat of the mother church, in much the same way that the Vatican was home to the Roman Catholic Church of ancient Earth.
Erimos' private quarters were on the sixth floor of a domed tower that was nestled behind the largest cathedral in the Chrisarii Empire. The cathedral itself was over a thousand years old, constructed in the aftermath of the Yashadrau Wars, one of the most devastating religious conflicts of the empire's history. The domed tower and its sprawling base had housed twenty-six tal'shil'ras in that same thousand year period, and Erimos was the twenty-seventh. He had presided over the empire's official religion for twelve years now, having been elected to the holiest of offices in the twilight months of the Beta Erendii War.
Tonight's meeting was with the Conclave of Thardane, the actual ruling body of the Church. After the Yashadrau Wars, Tal'Shil'Ra Thardane had established the Conclave in order to prevent future tal'shil'ras from gaining too much power over the Church. The Conclave consisted of twelve elders, all of them male of course, and elected by members of the faith. Unlike the tal'shil'ra, the elders served for only twenty years before a new body was elected, and an elder could only serve one term. The current Conclave had been elected right after the end of the war with the Federation, at the same time that Erimos had given his oath of office.
Erimos raised his stone gavel and hammered it twice to get the elders' attention. The murmured buzz of conversation quieted as all eyes turned to the tal'shil'ra. Erimos cleared his throat and leaned forward, folding his hands on the tabletop.
"Gentlemen, we are here to discuss Shil'Ra Generith. I assume all of you have been paying as close attention to this matter as I have, and I open the floor for your views and opinions."
Elder Thraisvor was the first to raise his hand. "I think the whole matter is preposterous and perhaps even blasphemous. Generith is little more than a con man who has preyed upon the blind hopes of the ignorant masses. At the very least he deserves censure and removal of office."
"I disagree," interrupted Elder Kinash. "He has done nothing but preach the faith. Who are we to dispute the words of Tor'Ahl? How do we know that we are not living in the End
of Time and Days?"
"Every generation in the last thousand years has believed that they're living in the End of Days." Elder Lerke was a small man who always sat hunched over, as if his spine was so curved that it didn't allow him to properly sit up. He was the oldest member of the Conclave. "While I do not agree with Thraisvor, I do believe that we must respond to this soon, and I also think it necessary that we bring Generith here to question him. I want to hear for myself exactly what happened that night."
"He claims that Oraeko appeared to him in his garden and prophesied of the eminent rebirth of Tor'Ahl," Thraisvor replied, his tone derisive. "Of course there were no other witnesses, so all we have is Generith's word."
Erimos held up his hand for forestall further debate. "Elder Thraisvor, I understand your skepticism, but the others are right. All that Shil'Ra Generith has done is preach the faith, and it's true that our generation is not the only one who has believed we are living in the End of Days. For all we know, the fulfillment of Tor'Ahl's first prophecy could occur within our lifetimes."
"But what happens to us once these prophecies come to pass?" Thraisvor challenged. "The masses will turn their eyes to the Daughter of Tor'Ahl, and we will lose our power over the Holy Church. That is what you're all thinking, but you're too afraid to say it aloud."
"It will be our responsibility to protect and nurture her," Erimos replied in a stern tone. "Our power comes only from the Varashok. It is Their word that we preach and Their commands that we obey."
"If anything, the fulfillment of this prophecy will only reaffirm the truth of our faith and the truth of the Varashok's existence," Kinash said. "We should embrace this possible future instead of fearing it. It is a time to rejoice, not to mourn."
The tal'shil'ra nodded his agreement. "We will summon Generith here and have him make a formal statement. I think three days from now will be sufficient time for him to prepare."
Thraisvor scowled but said nothing.
Erimos hammered his gavel once. "This council is adjourned, elders. Goodnight."
( 2 )
"Good morning, lieutenant commander."
Navarr nodded to the ensign as they passed in the corridor outside rec room seven. The security chief enjoyed a vigorous game of racquetball as a way of waking herself up every morning, but as she approached the entrance to the rec room she saw from the com panel readout that the room was already occupied.
"Damn." Navarr hesitated, but then saw that whoever was inside had only been using the room for a few minutes. Perhaps he or she wouldn't mind a partner. She pressed the command to open the door.
Doctor Eppler was in the middle of a match, moving lightly and assuredly on his feet, never missing the ball as it bounced back to him. Navarr watched, amused, for several minutes, waiting to see how long the doctor could hold out. The ball sailed wide, and as he lunged to swat it Sam caught sight of the security chief. Surprised, he missed the ball and barely stopped himself in time to avoid colliding with Navarr.
"Hello, doctor."
"Commander. Good morning."
"You look like you have some skills. Up for a match?"
He grinned. "Sure. Give me a minute to catch my breath."
"It'll take a couple minutes for me to get set up." Chris set down her racquet case and opened it. She watched Sam from the corner of her eye, taking note of the muscular physique beneath his workout shirt. She hadn't looked too close when they'd bumped into each other on the promenade a few days before, but on second glance he wasn't too bad looking. Good physique, nice face, boyish smile - all the usual traits that made one attractive to the opposite sex, or the same sex depending on one's orientation.
"All right, I'm ready." Sam was balanced on his toes, racquet held at the ready.
Navarr smiled coyly as she lowered her sweat band into place and reached for her racquet. "Not only was I on the gravball squad at the academy, but I was also champion of the racquetball court."
"Yes, I know. I looked up your service record."
This caught Navarr by surprise, but she recovered quickly and stepped forward. "Your serve."
The first match didn't last long. Chris got the upper hand early and kept it for most of the match. By the time Sam was able to execute a triple score, it was too late. The security chief won the second match as well, but by the third match Sam was learning his opponent's tricks, and he was able to execute a double score at the last minute to take the match.
"Shall we do best three out of five?" Sam asked, reaching for a towel.
"Oh, I'd love to, but look at the time. My shift starts in an hour."
"So go on a date with me. Tomorrow night. Nineteen hundred."
"No thanks."
"Just like that? You didn't even take a breath."
"I'm very busy. I don't have time for a social life."
"Liar. Are you that afraid of me?"
"I never said I was afraid. I said I was busy." Chris zipped her racquet case shut and slung the strap over her shoulder. "But I will meet you here again tomorrow morning for a rematch. Have a good day, doctor."
"All right. See you then."
Navarr smiled to herself as she walked away, wondering what it was about men that made them so easy to manipulate. Especially the human ones.
( 3 )
"This is a severe breach of protocol and regulations!" The scowling visage of Vice Admiral Drumhold floated above the table in the wardroom. Even though his upper torso was also visible, the whole appearance still reminded Gabriel of the giant floating head from The Wizard Of Oz. Especially since Drumhold was bald. "You should have informed us of Ilkara's presence as soon as she - it - was brought back to Exxar-One." He didn't pause to wait for an explanation but continued lecturing, and all that Gabriel, Ilkara and Rosenberg could do was wait for him to finish. "I have reviewed your reasons for this violation, and I disagree with them. Ilkara should have been transferred to a special facility on Galadreon three months ago. Neither of you had the authority to quarantine her there. What would you have done if Ilkara's physiology had unleashed a virus that your quarantine procedures were ill-equipped to detect and contain?" Drumhold paused to gather his thoughts, and Gabriel couldn't resist the opening.
"Then we wouldn't be having this conversation, admiral."
Drumhold ignored the quip. "I have already placed a permanent reprimand in both of your records for a type one violation of first contact procedures." For the first time since starting the conference, the admiral looked at the Erayan. "Ilkara, I have read your reports as well. The commodore should have informed you of correct first contact procedures. You need to be inducted as a citizen of the Federation, and I'm relieved to see that Gabriel and Rosenberg at least had the good sense to begin that process three months ago. You'll complete it when you arrive on Galadreon next week."
This drew exclamations of surprise and protest from the commodore and the doctor, but Ilkara kept silent. S/he'd been expecting this.
"Admiral," Gabriel replied, struggling to control his tone, "we need Ilkara here. Now that it's out of quarantine, we need its expertise in our ongoing analysis of the hypergate. Doctor Rosenberg's research is -"
" - incomplete. Sparse, in fact, compared to the technology and resources that we have here. Once our research is complete, then she will be free to return to Exxar-One."
"It."
"Excuse me?"
"The correct pronoun is 'it'. Ilkara's right here. Stop discussing it as if it's not in the room."
"Ilkara, there will be a transport arriving in three days. I'll be expecting you on Galadreon in six. Commodore, I have already forwarded the details to your communications officer. I expect no further discussion on this, so don't waste your time trying to appeal my decision. I am the only authority in this matter. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, admiral." That came from Ilkara.
"Good. Drumhold out." The holo-image vanished as soon as the connection was terminated.
"Commodore," Rosenberg began, "Admiral Drumhold is exaggerating when he says my research is incomplete. My labs here are state-of-the-art, as is the technology in them. He was right when he brought up the possibility of an infection from something that our quarantine procedures and bio-filters might not have been able to detect, but we took extreme precautions when transferring Ilkara here from the Dauntless. That kind of risk is always present in any first contact situation."
"I agree, doctor. Drumhold and his associates are just reacting to being kept in the dark. They don't like it, and all that posturing we just witnessed was their way of reminding us who's in really in charge." He turned to Ilkara to include he/r in the conversation. That explanation had been more for he/r benefit than Rosenberg's. "I'm sorry, Ilkara, but we don't have a choice. Orders are orders."
"It's all right, commodore. I understand. I suspect that my time on Galadreon will be short because, as Doctor Rosenberg has pointed out, his analyses have been very thorough and his methods are sound. The team that will be examining me will arrive at the same results. I also have no doubt that there will be a team from – what did you call that office again?"
"The Office of First Contact and Interspecies Relations."
"Yes. I'm sure they'll be sending a team to debrief me on the Erayan empire. I'll tell them the same information that I told you."
