“Protecting my wingman,” she said. She fired off a couple of shots, hitting an enemy fighter square in the wing. Orange and yellow flashes illuminated the fighter as debris separated from its wing and it spun out of control toward outer space.
“Nice shooting. Now turn around and hightail it,” Davi said, firing off two more blasts from his cannons and racing after her. “Open Shield,” he said, transmitting the code. He held his breath as he awaited the response.
“Open,” Joram said.
Davi followed his squadron through at the specified coordinates, and without a sound or any visible sign, the shield closed behind them, but not before three enemy fighters followed them through.
“We have company,” Nila said as she whirled around, attempting to target one of the enemies. The rest of the Squadron turned to engage them. Enemy lasers exploded off Nila’s wing.
“Watch it, Nila!” Brie warned as Nila fired, hitting an enemy fighter square in the blast shield. Smoke trailed from the fighter as the pilot dove, but the blast shield did its job and Davi watched him circle back around.
“Good shooting, Nila,” Dru said, as he targeted another enemy and sent it spiraling toward the planet below with two well-timed cannon blasts.
“You, too,” Nila said, angling her fighter for another shot at the enemy she’d targeted as he came back around.
“Two to go,” Brie said as Nila fired again, this time hitting the enemy on the wing.
At the same moment, Brie’s engine exploded behind her, an enemy soaring past as she struggled to maintain control.
Davi swooped down alongside to check on her. “You okay, Brie?”
“Yeah, blast him!” Brie yelled, with fire in her voice.
Virun came in from above and blasted the enemy with two laser shots on each wing. The fighter spiraled out of control toward the ground. Davi heard Virun’s rebel yell in the comm-channel.
“Way to go, Squadron!” Dru said.
“We almost failed the mission,” Brie said.
“Any mission where we make it home is a success,” Davi said as he led the Squadron back toward the base. But inside his cockpit he uttered a loud prayer of relief and thanks that they’d made it through.
What had the Battle Cruiser and its escort had been up to? They must be looking for a weakness in the energy shield. It would be a matter of time before the Alliance launched a major attack to try and break through the shield. The WFR had better be ready.
O O O
Tarkanius gathered with three other Lords in a small study off his office in the upper west corridor of the Council building. Except for Lords Niger and Simeon, they included the same group who had met with Miri in private several months before. The topic was the same: Xalivar.
Lord Hachim had also been invited, but Tarkanius noticed, as he glanced at his chrono for the fifth time in an hour, that Hachim was running late—very late. It was not typical of him, and it had Tarkanius worried. His thoughts were interrupted by someone saying his name.
He looked up to find the others staring at him. Kray and Niger sat on opposite ends of a divan Tarkanius had imported from Regallis—as nice as anything the resort planet was famous for. Simeon occupied a lounge chair with fabric of matching colors, though it was Xanthian in design.
After a moment, he realized Niger had spoken to him. “I’m sorry. I was wondering about Hachim.”
The office remained warm, despite the cold air outside. For some reason, the weather was unusually frigid for this time of year, but the climate controls in his office did their job well, and no one would have known it sitting inside.
“We wondered what you thought about the peace conference. Xalivar seems dead set against it, and he’s right—historically, we have never negotiated,” Niger said.
“But times have changed,” Kray interjected. “The citizens are no longer against such negotiations. People no longer see the workers in the same way as they once did.”
Tarkanius nodded. “This is true. What Xalivar always seems to forget is that we were elected to serve the people, not just our own concerns.”
The others grunted in agreement.
A moment later, the door slid open and a harried Hachim hurried in, his face anxious.
“What’s the matter, Hachim?” Simeon asked as soon as he saw him.
“One of my transports was intercepted by WFR fighters,” Hachim said, throwing himself into a chair next to Simeon. “If it weren’t for an assist by Alliance forces studying the Vertullian planetary shield, it might have been lost.”
Kray put her hand on his arm. “But they’re okay?”
Hachim smiled, looking at her. “The shipment is safe. The transport’s engines were damaged, but they can be repaired.”
Tarkanius had been running over the scenario in his mind. If the WFR were attacking their transports, it meant they were comfortable with the control they had over the planet. They also must have learned that the Boralians’ food reserves were running low. Such news wouldn’t be any surprise. The Vertullians were well aware of the role their planet played in the star system’s ecology. “What are the latest reports on the battles?” he asked.
“Our latest intelligence reports say Alliance resistance on Vertullis has been reduced to all but a few pockets of troops,” Niger said.
Tarkanius sighed. It was like he’d suspected. “That’s all the more reason for us to question Xalivar’s refusal to negotiate.”
“Xalivar is a stubborn fool,” Kray said with contempt, her face a scowl.
“You’d best keep such comments to yourself,” Niger warned.
“He wouldn’t dare spy on the Council,” Hachim said.
“I wouldn’t put anything past him at this point,” Kray said. “Remember Miri’s warnings and look what happened to her.”
The rest nodded, their expressions grave. Miri’s disappearance was wide knowledge now, and they all suspected Xalivar had been responsible.
The room remained silent for several moments, as they all sat lost in thought. Tarkanius wondered if Xalivar had listening devices in his chambers. He’d always maintained a good relationship with Xalivar and found it hard to believe the High Lord Councilor would have regarded him as a threat. Then again, the mere suggestion of a peace conference had made Xalivar quite angry, and none of them had any idea what Miri’s interrogators might have drawn out of her since her capture. Perhaps Xalivar knew about their private meeting.
“I think the Council has no choice but to force the conference to occur,” Simeon said, breaking the silence.
“Force the conference? How?” Niger asked.
“What if we put out a press release announcing the Council has sent an envoy to arrange it?” Tarkanius said. “Once it’s announced to the public, it would be very hard for Xalivar to interfere.”
Simeon nodded. “We can send our own representative to ensure negotiations occur, even if Xalivar is reluctant.”
“It’s the High Lord Councilor’s place to negotiate, according to law, even if the law’s never been used,” Tarkanius said, wondering how they would pull it off.
“Our representative can act as an observer and mediate if required,” Kray said.
They others grunted their consent. The idea became more and more appealing by the moment.
“Xalivar’s not going to like it,” Hachim commented. For Tarkanius, that would be a plus.
“Xalivar’s not going to have a choice,” Kray said. “How much longer should we wait? Until half our systems are starving and demanding peace?”
They exchanged knowing looks. That time was fast approaching.
“The Council does have the authority to arrange conferences with other governmental bodies,” Niger said.
“Yes. And even though Xalivar must be the one to negotiate, if we set the agenda, he’ll have little choice,” Kray said. The others smiled and nodded, knowing what had to be done.
“Simeon and I will prepare the official release,” Tarkanius said, feeling a su
dden lightness coming over him now that they were finally doing something. “Say nothing of this meeting to anyone until we’re ready. We need to hold a secret vote to approve it. Xalivar must not get wind of it before it’s released.”
The others’ faces told him they all understood.
O O O
Two neat rows of reflector pads in the center of the ceiling reflected light off the white walls with a strength that would have been blinding if Miri weren’t used to it by now. She spent endless hours pacing in an attempt to loosen up her rigid muscles, but within a few moments of relaxing, they hardened again, no matter how many times she tried. Except for daily trips to the sanitation room, she’d been imprisoned now for over a month—at the high security prison Centauri Two on the opposite side of Legallis from Legon.
Located on an island in the middle of a large sea with no land around for miles, it was approachable through a few select mine-free channels via water or air—its location and approach channels so secret, Miri only knew about them from discussions she’d overheard between Xalivar and others in the past. She wasn’t supposed to have known the place existed until she arrived there.
She’d even grown accustomed to the bright red prison issue jumpsuit she had been forced to wear day in, day out since her arrival. A far cry from the usual wardrobe of a princess, at least it was comfortable and she didn’t have to wear it out in public. It made her feel like a giant red Vertullian cherry.
As she ran a hand through her hair and flipped through channels on her vidscreen—her sole connection with the outside world—for the fifth time that day, she stopped at Orson Sterling’s newscast.
Ah, yes, Orson. I could sure use your help about now. She used the remote to turn up the volume.
The words “Breaking Story” flashed on the screen as she heard: “The Peace Conference is scheduled to take place at the end of the week at Presimion Academy, the Borali Alliance’s leading school for future military leaders. Depending, of course, on whether the leaders of the workers agree to it in their talks with the envoy sent by the Council.”
What? Peace Conference?
“High Lord Councilor Xalivar has yet to comment on the idea of negotiations with the workers. But it’s unprecedented in Boralian history. Perhaps since Worker’s Freedom Resistance fighters today attacked an Alliance transport on its way to deliver food to Xanthis, times have changed. Most citizens of the Alliance seem unopposed to peace with the workers, and with food supplies dwindling, time is running out for military successes. Soon, it will be a matter of survival for our people. Xalivar himself is expected to lead the negotiations at the Conference.”
Miri shook her head. Xalivar negotiating at a peace conference? How had anyone convinced him to do that? He would be dead set against it. The Council must have forced the issue. Xalivar would never have agreed to it on his own.
A message indicator flashed on the vidscreen—she had an e-post. She couldn’t send e-posts out but could still receive them. Since he was the only person who knew her location, she knew it must be from Xalivar. She leaned forward with her stiff neck and used the remote to flick over and read the message.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Status of Xander Rhii
Hello dear sister,
I hope this finds you well. You’ll be delighted to know the Council, in their infinite wisdom or ignorance, has declared a peace conference which I must attend. It won’t surprise you to know I have special plans for Davi and his friends at this conference. They may soon be joining you in your lovely new home. Unless, of course, I decide to execute them on the spot.
Enjoy using your wonderful imagination to ponder what will happen to your son and his friends, my dear sister.
Your loving brother,
Xalivar
Miri couldn’t believe her eyes. Would Xalivar really openly defy the Council? Of course he would! What could they do about it after it was all over? And if he were successful at squelching the workers’ Resistance in the process…?
Alarms set off in her mind. How can I get a message to Kray? I have to warn her! Council members must attend the Conference. Farien! She ran to the door of the cell and hit the buzzer to call one of the guards.
Farien had arrived there two weeks before as Assistant to the Head of prison security, an assignment arranged by his father, who had several friends on the Council. The move was a slight demotion but still not the fall to disgrace he might have expected. Farien’s work on Vertullis had gotten him high marks, despite his run in with Bordox, and he seemed grateful to still have an important job. Farien had always been fond of her, Miri knew, and they’d had some pleasant conversations since his arrival there. He’d told her about his encounter with Bordox, guilt ridden over his betrayal of Davi, feeling even worse because he had been more concerned about his own career than their friendship.
Hearing the facts, Miri had assured him Davi wouldn’t blame him. She knew it would be wrong to exploit his guilt, but people’s lives were at stake. Miri would beg him to break protocol this once and send a message for her. He was loyal to Davi, and when she explained the situation, he would be sympathetic. She hoped so. If not, she would make him realize the opportunity this provided for him to make amends.
She focused, preparing herself, and checked her hair and appearance in the mirror. She needed to be at her best for this meeting. As the lock clicked, she took a deep breath and hurried over. Gods give me strength, she prayed as Farien entered her cell.
His face was full of concern as he looked her over. She knew she looked harried, as her sleep had been intermittent for weeks and she’d lost weight, too, either from stress or from skipping meals. Farien was too polite to comment but all of it registered in his eyes as he spoke, “I got an urgent message saying you needed to see me, Princess. Is everything okay?”
Miri smiled, wrapping her arm around his and turning on the charm. “Yes, I’m fine, but I need your help with something.”
“I’ll do what I can, of course,” he said with a nod.
“I need you to get a message out for me,” she said, pressing a folded slip of paper into his open hand.
Farien looked down at his hand a moment, shifting uncomfortably. “You know I’d do anything for you, but there are strict protocols here …”
“It’s urgent,” she pleaded, her blue eyes locking onto his. “Davi might be in danger.”
Farien looked at her a moment and she held his gaze. “I wouldn’t know where to send him a message these days. Besides, after the way I betrayed him, why would he trust me?”
“The message is for Lord Kray,” Miri said.
“Of the High Council?” Farien looked at her, puzzled.
Miri nodded. “Xalivar is planning to betray Davi and his friends at the peace conference.” She grabbed the remote off her bed and pulled the e-post up on her vidscreen. “The Council must be warned.”
Farien read the e-post off the screen, his face changing as he finished.
“You’ve been his lifelong friend, Farien,” Miri said. “He needs us now more than ever. Please help me help him.”
Farien’s face filled with anger as he moved toward the door, offering only a curt nod.
Miri smiled, running over to embrace him. “Thank you, dear Farien!”
He nodded and rapped urgently on the door with the back of his hand.
O O O
Davi’s stomach clinched and his skin tingled as Aron repeated it for the third time.
“An envoy from the Alliance is seeking to arrange a peace conference.”
The WFR leaders sat around the table in the command center conference room in numb silence as they pondered it.
“It’s totally unprecedented,” Joram said. “The Borali Alliance has never asked for peace before, let alone agreed to sit down across the table with workers.”
Davi could hardly believe it himself. The Xalivar he knew would never want this. “Xalivar wouldn’t
agree to this unless he had no choice.” He’d been immediately suspicious and even after thinking about it, he remained unsettled. He glanced around, the room was in disarray resulting from constant use: full waste bins, discarded datacards on the floor, fingerprints on the surface of the table amidst the stain rings left by beverages.
“The announcement came from the Council, not the Palace,” Uzah said. “They did, however, say the High Lord Councilor would attend.”
“He has to, by law,” Aron said. “It’s his place to lead any negotiations. They’ve just never done it before.”
“It’s not the kind of precedent you’d expect Xalivar to set,” Uzah said.
“So it’s a trap?” Joram wondered.
“Of course it is!” Matheu said. “We must not allow ourselves to be easily lulled.” Davi had to agree.
“I agree,” Uzah said. “A trap would be very much like Xalivar.”
Grumbles of agreement came from others around the table. Several nodded, including Davi.
“At the same time, we can’t afford to ignore it,” Aron said. “Not if there’s even the slightest chance that they’re serious.”
They all paused, eyes meeting across the table. Clearly Davi wasn’t alone in having a hard time believing it. Still, he wanted to. Like everyone else, he wanted the fighting to end as soon as possible.
“The question then is, who do we risk having captured?” Matheu said sternly.
Davi leaned back in his chair as the eyes of the others fell on him. “He’ll want me to be there,” he said, “as a matter of personal pride.” He dreaded the encounter, but knew he had to go. Xalivar would refuse to negotiate without him.
“We need you to lead the fighters. You can’t be risked,” Matheu said.
“We can’t afford to risk any of our leadership, but we have no choice,” Aron said. “Davi’s right. Xalivar may well refuse to meet if he’s not there.”
“This war is not some personal family vendetta,” Matheu said.
“Xalivar won’t see it that way. To him, our Resistance and my rebellion are synonymous,” Davi said.
“We can’t afford to blow the conference by holding him back,” Joram said.
The Worker Prince Page 28
