by Neal Jones
( 7 )
Csalix'113 swiveled to face the door just as its chime sounded, signaling the arrival of General Kaamin. The Taa'Vo administrator had set out a tray of appetizers on one corner of her desk, and she motioned to it as Kaamin took his seat.
"Would you like some fresh drike?"
He seemed mildly surprised by the offer. "Yes. Thank you."
"It's almost time for midday meal, so I thought you might like to eat while we talked."
Kaamin nodded. "It's been a busy morning."
"These last few weeks have been very busy." Csalix activated her desk's holo-imager and pulled up a star chart of Dominion space. "Our fleet strength in the Heradin system is at forty ships, and both the orbital station and the weapons depot will be on line and fully operational in two weeks. And since the Jha'Drok have not so much as batted an eye at our show of strength, I have decided it's time to launch our invasion." She rotated the starmap and magnified the Jha'Drok sector that was across the border from the Heradin system.
Kaamin leaned forward to examine the map. Next to the highlighted sector was a list of the star systems as well as a sub-list of the colonies and outposts within each system. "Their defenses appear minimal. Forty ships should be more than enough to conquer that sector. But if we succeed, will that be enough to hold it? Are you certain the Jha'Drok will not respond with an equal force to retake it?"
"No. But I have already initiated a transfer of fifteen Closk dreadnoughts to the Heradin system, in case the Jha'Drok do decide to retaliate." The Closk were one of the member worlds of the Khazar Dominion. "However, my statistical analysis based on the current strength and deployment of the Jha'Drok fleet show a low probability of a response. They don't have the manpower or the ships to re-conquer a sector of that size."
Kaamin nodded, grunting his approval. "If we can take it without too much damage to those industrial sites, we can turn them into munitions depots. Have our scouts obtained a mineralogical analysis?"
"Yes." Csalix accessed the report for him and displayed it next to the star map. "That's another reason I chose this sector instead of the other one. Though it does surprise me that with such an abundance of mineralogical resources the Jha'Drok haven't committed more of their fleet to guard this sector."
"Another indication of how decimated their fleet overall has become in the wake of the destruction of their invasion fleet five months ago," the general suggested.
Csalix nodded her agreement.
Kaamin shifted in his seat as he reached for another morsel of drike. "This invasion will at least provoke a response from the Federation. We are technically committing an act of war, after all."
"Not against the Federation, we aren't. And if the Jha'Drok don't respond with a retaliatory strike, the Federation will do little more than issue a public statement of censure against the Dominion. Beyond that, they're going to leave well enough alone. As long as the Dominion is not a direct threat, the Federation will have little recourse except to strengthen its fleet deployments along its side of the Dominion border."
Kaamin frowned, staring thoughtfully at the star map. "Bear with me, overseer. I don't mean to sound naïve, but once we capture the Graavis sector, what then? If I remember the timeline correctly, the whole of the Emperium will be under Dominion rule within three standard years, yes? Possibly sooner?"
"That's correct."
"The Federation will not stand by and allow us to conquer an empire as vast as the Jha'Drok's. That would upset the balance of power in this quadrant. Once they realize our plans, they will interfere."
"Don't worry about the Federation, general. By the time they realize our plans, it will be too late for them as well."
Kaamin nodded, but there was still doubt in his eyes. He turned to the viewport, beyond which the charcoal-and-cream atmosphere of Kha'Skel-A shimmered brightly. Csalix allowed him the silence of contemplation, for she knew what he was thinking. She munched on an appetizer as she watched the general and patiently waited for him to voice his reservations.
Kaamin stood at last and walked to the food dispenser where he requested a glass of slib juice. "At this time, only myself and a few key members our government and military congress know of the Protectorate's presence in Dominion space. I assume that the Federation, the Chrisarii, and the Jha'Drok are also unaware of your presence here?"
Csalix nodded.
Kaamin returned to his seat and studied the star map again, sipping his juice. "Forgive my doubts, overseer, but there is so little that we know about your Protectorate. Until now, an operation of this scale has not been asked of us." He hesitated, scowling.
"You want some assurance on my part that the Krejj will protect the Dominion in the coming war."
"Yes."
"I understand you concerns, Kaamin, and you raise a valid point. Until now, the Krejj have operated in secret, and our only aid to your people has been in the way of ships, starbases, and other necessary technology. And yes, we in the Protectorate haven't given the Dominion much information about our past. You know that we have been in your space for over a standard century?"
Kaamin nodded.
"The treaty that was forged in secret between your government and mine states that we will protect and defend all Khazar territory and everything within it. That includes any territory that is conquered in the process of our ongoing operations with your empire." The overseer leaned forward, folding her hands on her desk and looking the general in the eye. "I wish that I could give you more than just my word, but right now that is all I have to offer. It's also my hope, Kaamin, that you and I have forged more than just a professional friendship with these meetings. I consider you not just an ally, but a friend as well." She motioned to the tray of drike. "That was part of the reason for these appetizers. I've felt in the past few weeks as if you've been wary of me, or perhaps even fearful. I want you to feel welcome on this station and in my presence."
Kaamin didn't quite smile, but he visibly relaxed, and he nodded again. "Thank you, overseer."
"Call me Csalix."
"Very well. I will convey your assurance to my superiors."
There were other, less important matters to discuss, and by the time Kaamin left Csalix's office the tray of appetizers was empty. The overseer stood at the viewport, sipping her tea, and contemplating Kaamin's demeanor. He seemed convinced by her little speech, and she hoped that she had come across as sincere and honest. She hadn't been lying when she'd said that she'd come to think of him as a friend. She felt some pity for him because of that, but it was part of the job. It wouldn't be long anyway before she would be transferred to another base, perhaps even the new station in the Heradin system.
A soft chime from her computer terminal interrupted her thoughts, and she returned to her desk to prepare for her next appointment.
Chapter 30
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( 1 )
The courtyard of the grand cathedral in Lar'A'Tol was overflowing. Thousands had turned out for Aliira's homecoming and the Day of Remembrance. The sanctuary inside, as well, was packed, and the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, wide windows, bathing the faces of the congregation in hazy, golden light. Tal'Shil'Ra Erimos waited solemnly in the anteroom behind the altar. With him were Messani and Aliira. Two conclave guards stood just outside the door, and another two dozen were scattered throughout the auditorium. Four dozen more were in the courtyard and the streets surrounding the cathedral. This time, every person entering the courtyard or the temple was personally searched by an officer of the guard, and, surprisingly, no one had objected. This was the first time in a thousand years that security in and around the cathedral had been this strict, and Erimos had expected some protesting, but none of the faithful seemed to have an issue with the new measures. They were willing to endure whatever it took to catch a glimpse of the Emissary.
A week had passed since the failed assassination attempt on Aliira, and, if the stories posted to the religious news sites were accur
ate, hundreds of thousands of Chrisarii had converted to the faith after hearing of Aliira's brush with death. It was hard to believe that the Emissary could become more famous than she already was, but the live coverage of the attempt on her life was still being replayed on all major news feeds throughout the Alliance. That, along with the coverage of Generith's funeral in Osth two days earlier, as well as televised debates between religious scholars and academic historians that had been airing periodically over the last two months since the rebirth, made it seem as if the Church of the Varashok was all anyone could talk about presently, believer and unbeliever alike.
His position as Tal'Shil'Ra required that Erimos issue public statements to the press when necessary, but beyond that he had kept his thoughts and feelings about all these events to himself. A part of him rejoiced at the fulfillment of prophecy, joyous beyond words that he had lived to witness the rebirth of the Emissary. But a part of him was also fearful, anxious about the future now that the End of Time and Days was truly at hand. Many of the doubts and frustrations that Messani had voiced in that room aboard the Lorzach immediately following the assassination attempt were the same doubts and anxieties that Erimos had been wrestling with ever since the Conclave had informed him of the rumors of extremists that were plotting to kill the Emissary.
Guiding the faithful through these uncertain and troubled times was going to require great strength and great faith on Erimos' part, and he realized ruefully how complacent and lazy the church as a whole had become in the last thousand years. The Children of the Varashok was the oldest religion, and, thus, the most established and prevalent faith of the modern age. It had even weathered the Yashadrau Wars at the end of the Second Age, a time when many religions and their followers had come under severe persecution from the governments of the nation-states who were fighting one another over natural resources, blood feuds, politics, and any number of other matters that a thousand years of history now deemed petty and trivial.
It was in the aftermath of those wars that the exploration of space had begun, and that was quickly followed by the colonization of other worlds. This, in turn, brought about the Third Age of the empire, and with it came a new peace and prosperity for all Chrisarii. The Children of the Varashok, by extension, had also enjoyed a thousand years of relative peace and prosperity, but in that time its followers had also become complacent in their faith. Tor'Ahl's second, fourth and fifth prophecies spoke of darkness, and war, and death, which meant that the next few years before His Second Coming would be violent, turbulent times for His followers. There were many who had believed that the Yashadrau Wars had been the fulfillment of those prophecies, and the church had experienced a fresh surge in converts. But sixty years into the Third Age, when it became clear that the Second Coming was not going to occur anytime soon, the tide of new believers ebbed, and, for the most part, the church became what it had always been: a great and historic icon of the past, a weekly ritual of service and tithe, but little more than that. In other words, it was taken for granted by both its congregation and the members of the Conclave who enjoyed the power and prestige that came with their position.
Now, in the wake of Tor'Ahl's rebirth and the failed assassination of Aliira, the church was undergoing another surge of new converts. And this time, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that the fulfillment of the first prophecy had occurred at long last. Even members of the Conclave like Elder Thraisvor had grudgingly accepted that End of Time and Days was finally here, and that their power would shift to the Emissary as the believers would look to her and not them for direction and strength in these turbulent times.
And that, in turn, had raised an interesting – if awkward – question for the Conclave. Who was the new head of the church – Aliira or Erimos? The Holy Covenant made no mention of details such as this, so the Conclave had voted to keep Erimos as the tal'shil'ra and Aliira would be free to do…well, whatever it was that she would do in her role as Emissary and the fulfillment of prophecy. Today, that meant presiding over one final service, and then her tour of the Alliance would officially be over. After the service, a private feast was scheduled in the banquet hall of the first floor of the residential tower behind the cathedral. The entire conclave would be present, as well as the prime councilor of D'Kor Province, but, despite rumors among Erimos' congregation to the contrary, High Chancellor Kroth would not be dining with the tal'shil'ra and the Emissary. Aliira had already met Kroth the day before, during a brief visit to the Quorum Chambers.
The door to the anteroom opened, and Elder Kinash appeared. He bowed to Aliira and then turned to Erimos. "Tal'Shil'Ra, it's almost time."
"Thank you, elder. Emissary, are you ready?"
The girl smiled up at him and nodded, adjusting the heavy sleeves of her ceremonial robe. "Yes, tal'shil'ra."
Erimos glanced at Messani and she nodded as well, smiling, but her eyes betrayed the weariness behind her smile. He motioned for Aliira to go first, and then Messani. As he followed her he leaned forward to whisper, "This service is the end. After today you will have time to rest."
No, Messani thought ruefully, I think you are wrong, tal'shil'ra. I don't think I will ever truly rest until I am in El'Sha'Lor.
( 2 )
Later that afternoon, after the feast was done, after the elders of the conclave had returned to their respective quarters in the tower, and after the prime councilor and his staff had departed as well, Messani sighed with relief and exhaustion while unfastening the collar and waist of her ceremonial robe. She flung the heavy garment onto the large bed and paced to the far side of her chamber to examine her weary reflection in a holoscreen. Her bedroom alone was twice the size of the old farmhouse in Osth. The tall, stone walls were bare, waiting for Messani's orders to decorate them. The only pieces of furniture were the bed and her old writing desk, a family heirloom that she had inherited from her ansaj-dar when she was little girl. A door next to the bed opened into a walk-in closet that would hold more clothes than Messani would ever need space for, and a pair of double doors next to her desk opened onto a balcony that overlooked the city.
Messani's quarters were on the tenth floor of the domed tower, the second to last level. Aliira's were on the eleventh, and their serving staff – led by an elderly, stern woman with a wide face and a mop of thick, silver hair – resided on the ninth floor. There were twelve servants, separated into two shifts, one for morning and one for evening. Messani no longer needed to worry about mundane chores such as laundry, cooking, or cleaning, and she had learned from Aliira the day before that all twelve had been hired specifically to serve the two of them. They considered it a high honor, and, with the exception of the headservant, they were all relatively young, three of them not much older than Aliira even.
The headservant - a plump, matronly woman named Kravis - had seemed stern and overbearing to Messani at first, but that was merely her exterior. She had confided to Messani on the first evening that the only way to effectively run a household was with a firm manner and a strict schedule.
"Whatever you need, you let me know, and I'll see that it's attended to immediately," she said crisply. "You're the Mother of the Emissary, and I'll not have you scrubbing floors or washing linen like a common maid."
"But really, there's no need – " Messani had started to protest.
Kravis held up her hand. "Nonsense. You're not a farmer anymore, Miss N'Lyn." The corners of her mouth twitched into a half-smile. "Besides," she added, "if you do all the work, there's nothing for the rest of us to do."
"That's just it!" Messani had blurted. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now!"
Kravis patted her hand and nodded sympathetically. "Give it some time. Get some rest, let me and my staff attend you, and pray. Maybe the gods gave you this time to relax because they knew you needed it. In the meantime, decide what you want for dinner so Athnal can get started on it. Will you be eating with Aliira in her quarters, or is she coming to you?"
That had been four days ago, and
Messani had tried to follow the headservant's advice, but it was hard at first to get used to the silence and the solitude. After two months of nonstop traveling, being yanked from one colony to the next like a galactic pinball, being surrounded day and night by guards, attendants, and crowds of worshipers, spending all day sitting alone in empty rooms that could have easily housed a family of six was maddening, almost the point of insanity. Messani had tried to pray and meditate, but the silence finally drove her out of the tower and into the stately gardens behind it. She sat for a long while, listening to the sounds of the city beyond the high walls play counterpoint to the beautiful melody of the nightbird that was perched in its nest in the nearby snaif tree.
Now, in the quiet aftermath of the Day of Remembrance festivities, Messani wanted nothing more than a hot bath and her warm bed. She walked to the com panel beside her desk and summoned Mirril, one of the younger servant girls who was only a few years older than Aliira. She appeared at the door moments later and bowed.
"It's all right, Mirril, I told you you don't have to bow every time you come to me. I just wanted a cup of tea, please. I'll take it on the balcony."
"Yes, Holy Mother," the child replied and quickly scurried away to fulfill the request.
Messani sighed. That was another thing, the new title that had been bestowed upon her by the believers. She had complained about it privately to Erimos earlier that afternoon after the feast was done, and he explained that the believers needed to call her something. Like it or not, she was the Mother of the Emissary, and she was now regarded as a holy figure in the church. He advised her to simply accept it as part of her new role, and she had grudgingly nodded. He didn't understand, however, that a poor farmer's wife who had spent her entire adult life eking out a living from the land and barely able to make ends meet at the end of each year's meager harvest found it hard to adjust to suddenly being called "Holy Mother" and being attended by one servant, let alone twelve!
