by K A Carter
Jericho took a step back. She was right about that. “That very reason is why we have to keep moving forward. We have to follow this.” Jericho didn’t know why he was so convinced; it was as if he was a bystander to his own thoughts.
The crew had landed the Icarus closer to the proximity of where Anda had put down the jumper so gracefully. Prior to doing so, a transmission had been broadcasted in the same area to notify that they were coming down. The queen as she seemed she was, greeted them; the entourage stiffly at her back, waiting attentively.
“I did not have a chance to introduce myself before.” She attempted to relax her royal stance but did terrible at it. “I am Petra, Queen of Vennok”
“I am Captain Alfred Jericho of the Icarus. This is my crew.” The whole crew stood around him, Zen and the two other marines included. Zen’s eyes looked at him from the corners, Jericho could feel it, and he had a sort of sense of things without out particularly needing to see them.
“We have a great deal to talk about, Jericho of the Icarus. Quite a lot to talk about.”
The palace was hard to see and blended well within the landscape, but the inside resembled nothing Jericho had ever seen before. He never got the opportunity to see inside any of the wealthy establishments on Titan or anywhere else for that matter, but he imagined this looked far better than any of them. The halls, the dining area, the structure itself gleamed with a beauty. Jericho looked at his crew’s faces, all of them reveling in such a wonder. He felt uneasy. Such beauty, could only come with a price. There was some sort of central atmospheric control center. The queen had assured that it was okay to take off the helmets and gear. Her palace techs had leveled out the conditions to make the air as breathable as possible. Jericho couldn’t tell the difference. He had grown up in Titan air that was thick and humid almost always. Only to get his own ship and have to adjust to a thin artificially monitored source of air aboard a ship.
“What is this place?” Jericho asked. He sat next to the queen at a dining table that stretched half the length of the room.
“It is the palace of Vennok,” she said. “From here I oversee the city of Venmot. It is just on the horizon.
“You are human? I am sorry,” he stuttered. “I’m having some trouble grasping this,”
“As I said, you have questions, all questions that deserve answers. You may ask.”
“How did you get here? Is this some sort of unauthorized human colony?”
She sat back almost innately letting her posture go, but it was a result of confusion. “I am not quite sure whom this species you speak of is, we are Vennokian.”
“That can’t be possible.”
“I know every Vennokian in existence now,” she appeared pained at the idea. “there are not many of us left. You are not Vennokian. Tell me. What has brought you here?”
Jericho stalled his intrigue and tried to compile his thoughts into complete ones. “Our ship, it took us here.”
“Well, you are the first of your kind to journey here. However, that is not the first time I have seen ship you travel in. I surmise that your arrival is a peaceful one.”
Jericho nodded affirmatively. “Yes,” he shook his head and looked around. “Wait, that ship has been here before? How?”
Jericho looked around the room, his crew were interacting with the palace workers. It all felt too surreal. Staring into the face of what clearly looked human. She insisted she wasn’t. Through an ocean of questions, he tried to find one important one to ask as to not agitate. “I need to know how we got here. Is there anything you can tell me that may shed some light?”
Petra was emotionless. “I only know the being that traveled in that ship by the name of Malis. How you got here? I cannot be certain,” she paused. “Malis spoke your language. It is how we recognized what you were speaking. That is truly the best of my knowledge. Malis was secretive, and only stayed with us for a brief period of time.”
“So, that’s how you know English.” Jericho sat back in his seat.
“We’ve learned many languages of this realm. Transmissions have bounced this way over the centuries. Most of which Malis had told us to search for.”
“You’ve been here for that long?”
“Longer,” she said.
Chapter 13: Nario
The rush back to being a politician seemed like being thrown out of an airlock. A wind of sucked air, and a vacuum. An extended leave somehow shrunk itself in Nario’s memory. What was weeks, seemed like days. He didn’t quarrel with it. There was no escape from such a job.
Geneva’s skyscape bustled constantly. Ships lifted off and landed in a constant exchange in the sky. The reminder of the many lives bringing goods in and shipping out to the edges of known space. Work was plentiful in the Cooperative planets. No one person needed to starve or die of thirst. Sanctioned system wide rationings had created a surplus of grains, and seeds for stocks. Thora Yung, the agricultural treasurer of the CPF had domain over that. Nario was just shipping out as a cadet when it had been voted on. Beyond the asteroid belt however, the corporate colonies didn’t adhere to the laws. Nario had no clue how food got to the edges of the solar system or how fuel and resources stockpiled. One thing was certain, even the CPF in some way were in the pockets of the corporate giants. Those such as Orcus. For decades, they had been a military contractor. It made no sense that it would stop now. But it was clear from news in the Brink that the shady corporation kept the best for themselves.
Nario wasn’t carrying anything this time. He had formulated that he’d be on another jolt to a star system and the next in soon enough time. He hadn’t gotten his orders yet. He didn’t even know which chartered ship was the next safeguard to a boring meeting between governments. A walk out on the dock area brought a calm wind and more skyscraping views. The ship in the distance looked familiar, but with the engine and outer hull lights turned off he couldn’t see the side panel that displayed the name. The hatch opened through the back and lights brought shadows of two bodies.
“Nario, it’s good to see you again,” said Korisnov. “Venture three-five-one is at your disposal once again.” Korisnov tapped at his bulge of a belly while shaking his hand. Halle stood next to him smiling at Nario as if it were the first time meeting him. She had been promoted. Her right arm carried a vivid yellow band on it. She was no longer co-pilot; she was pilot now. Korisnov likely welcomed the retirement, but the Venture was his baby. There was no flying without him on board. For the time being, he would part ways with it. Maybe in some years it would be retired itself and he could see more of the cloud cities on Venus or the subterranean helodromes on Mercury. Though treacherous, helodromes were a popular sport to watch in the inner planets networks. If he was still up for it in his old age, he could even travel to the reaches. But those were thoughts for another day. Nario remembered the old man telling him that there was too much to see of the galaxy. Even places yet to be explored by anyone. That sounded good to Nario. Maybe when he got his chance to put the uniform away.
“What is this about?” said Nario. “Do you know?”
Korisnov gave a shrug and a tightening of the lower lip. “Mr. Rhion is on board now, I believe he has the information you need to hear.”
Aboard the Venture, the main deck had been reorganized, the safety seats that lined the cabin and made the ship look like a cargo freighter had been stripped. It was now an interesting set up of bolted down tables and new installed instruments. The ship had been turned into an extended mission ship. Why? Nario figured the answer was about to hit him. He made his way through newly fashioned décor but tried not to pay any mine while doing so.
Rhion had snagged a nice quarter bunk, He slacked against a wall with a hand in a uniform pocket, the other gripping a thermos held up to thinly crisp lips.
“So where are we going exactly?” said Nario.
“Mars, you’ll get to see Cydonia City,” said Rhion, setting his thermos on the table next to the bed. “Well, we’ll be in the city but w
ere just there for the council hearing and vote.”
“Council vote?”
“Erusha called a council vote, after are stint in Lanx Proxima. All department heads are on their way to the Citadel.”
Nario sat at a bunk and pondered the haste in going to war. That was of course, if it passed in the council. “Why the rush?” he said.
“Well they couldn’t exactly wait to deliberate. Soon as we made it official, Lanx requested aide three separate quadrants.”
Nario began walking to the mess room; Rhion followed. Engines vibrated on a slow churn; a pleasant hum came from all around them.
“Erusha was bound to call one,” Rhion continued. “The wheels have been set in motion so to speak. You know how legacies are. Always trying to leave a footprint.”
“So, we may actually end up sending fleets?” Nario knew the answer, but it angered him knowing that he wasn’t in control at this point. Rhion just as well probably knew that he was stating the obvious in telling him. “We just might be going to war,”
The notion of being sidelined for Nario, was an unspoken churn of the governmental gears. The war council would consist of the Federation Chancellor, not so much a governor of the people of the Federation, but a sound diplomatic politician that frankly, had no time on his hands. Nario had noticed the importance of his job when had first taken it. The chancellor and his elected Commonwealth department heads were lifetime politicians. Too many struggles with the interplanetary back and forth between worlds had created an impalpable divide. The most arguments spent between Mars and Earth. Venus and Mercury often stood aside refraining from taking up an opinion. It was a grapple between the UE and the Mars Alliance. A smidge of sympathy came over Nario for the outer planets and dwarf planets that seemed to take a backseat. Though the corporate snakes surely had their disagreements, The Brink seemed to coagulate autonomously by appearance; rather steadily at that. Even with the mercenary groups and splinter cells that were constantly in operation.
The warp jump was short and glib, compiled of mini conversations between Nario and Rhion about their roles in essentially agreeing to war. Nario had half a mind to interrupt the war council and display his dismay but figured an obstruction arrest wouldn’t get the point across and no one wanted to spend time on a labor moon. Rhion urged him to take a more patient approach.
The war council took place in a spiral skyscraper, the ride up the lift displayed an outlay of smaller buildings that connected to the largest one. It was a glorified pretty tower. That’s how Nario saw it. For what it really was. A building that essentially gave an “Important meetings happen here” impression to anyone who was looking. Maybe not to the average civilian, but those that knew that Mars had become the subscribed root of all binding government in the solar system. With the exclusion of most of the Brink worlds and moons. In the great leap forward, it was now the hub for xeno-politics. Thanks to Nario; not that he did anything extraordinary.
The room was a shined. Timberwolf walls that consisted of lights that cascaded down them lined the inside. It was a quintessential council room filled with seats that smelled as fresh as if they had just been installed. More likely the seats had never been used; many of the navy and government buildings were new. Nario looked around from a side spot on the right end. He scanned the room to see who was there already. Only about six including himself and Rhion. Some of them renowned names. His eyes focused at a seat perpendicular to his. It was Chief Federation Colonel Keiko Čapek. Nario had recognized her. He had served under her nearly a decade ago. She was seasoned. Riots on Titan had come to a brutal boiling point. Dispatched ships blockaded trading routes that were essential for exports of methane deposits that hadn’t been terraformed away. With no way to export one of their only sources of income, the companies folded on behalf of the people. Better working conditions and pay. The subsequent resolution resulted in a bailout of credits that wasn’t worth the shipments. That was once upon a time when the corporations were more skittish at the idea of interplanetary confrontation.
Čapek was a sympathizer, which didn’t explain why she was there. She was still active service. That surprised Nario the most. Secondly, her ship had been the escort of interplanetary diplomats that journeyed through Sol space. By assumption, she had probably been reassigned for whatever reason.
A few seats down, sat Orin Sinclair, Admiral of the federal fleet. The others were department heads and by the look of it, a few more military leaders that weren’t familiar. Not that Nario didn’t pay attention, but there were even people he wouldn’t know were running things.
After minutes passed with only whispers between the majority of empty seats, the council room doors opened. More neatly uniformed people walked in following the Chancellor himself. He wore a white and cadet blue sashed uniform. The colors hung over his shoulder like he was lugging them around constantly. There was haste in his steps. He stood at a podium that centered him directly in the middle of everyone.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Chancellor Erusha started, he skidded his eyes across the room. “As most of you know we have entered a coalition with the respected government body known as the Lanx Republic. With the help of Ambassdor Dios-Lobin, and Vice Ambassador Rhion, we are on the cusp of tremendous accomplishment. For the first time in history, mankind is a recognized power in the galaxy…”
The speech to the nearly empty council room started to dissipate in Nario’s ears. He only heard the sounds of a dream. A recollected dream he had about Corrinne, he could hear her voice but the words jumbled up into something he couldn’t understand. He had seen her only once on leave. I miss her, he thought. He played with the idea ever so often. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t as if he could snap his fingers and they’d be able to pursue each other; not with everything that was going on.
Nario was snapped out of his thoughts by one of the attendees. The gentleman was quite decorated but Nario didn’t recognize him.
“Chancellor, what of the other diplomatic communications,” said the stiff man, he wore holospec glasses that tapered to the back of his head, it rested on dark graying hair that lead up to a receding hairline. “Surely, there is something to be said about, the Irinans,” he continued. He pronounced it wrong, Nario nearly suppressed the urge but missed it. “Irinans” said Nario. “Their name is Irinans.” He tried to make the correction seem less aggressive than it came across.
“Excuse me, Irinans,” said the man. “Isn’t this is why you really called us here Chancellor?”
“That you are correct, yes,” said Erusha. “I called a war council because it has come to my attention that we have been asked to aid in a war effort. In return, we would receive established connections for trade in the Omicron Traverse. Among other things.” The room gave out silent gasps, Nario looked around at expressions that would otherwise come off as surprised. He wasn’t in the slightest. He juggled on whether he was proud for being the one to account for both political stances. He hadn’t decided whether he thought they were good ideas.
Along his row, Rhion sat one seat over, and four seats down a woman who was clearly a captain kept keen eyes on the chancellor. “I on behalf of the Commonwealth am accepting both agreements,” continued Erusha.
Erusha was charismatic chancellor, always leading with the hard-hitting emotional statements first, but one of his best qualities was his ambition. He was the eighth in a short line of Chancellors. Those before him were the first to make the Federation truly acknowledged as a power among the solar system. It took a while for people to adjust to that sort of unification. He himself, the son of the prior, Chancellor Oris Erusha. No one batted an eye when family ties got him the election. It was a generational line of leaders. For that reason, he had commanded the trust of most of the people in the council room. All except Nario. Nario was wasn’t known for a blind follow, no matter how long he had been in the Navy. Now that he had the position to say something about it, he was adamant on taking full advantage of it.
“I think
it would be wise if I continue communication with both parties, and oversee future negotiations with the Irinans,” said Nario.
The glass fixtures above Erusha had a dark crystallized form, it was the same color as the room. Nario couldn’t help but stray his eyes toward it. It glistened with a entrancing refraction.
“The dispatch of ships and troops is a job reserved for the Staff of Common Generals,” said a heavy-set man with a voice that rattled. His brown beard tangled at the end. Nario didn’t recognize him either, but he was almost certainly another war hero. Most likely a General on the Staff of the Common. Veterans appointed to the positions by a vote of the common people. Nario wondered why an opportunity like the Staff of Common Generals surpassed him; not that he was upset at is current employment.
“I’ve spent days, valuable time with the Lanx Proxima civilizations. Thoram is the connect for keeping things affable between us,” said Nario. “And I have a feeling he would be unpleased to know I wouldn’t continue as an Ambassador.”
“Of course, Ambassador,” said Chancellor Erusha. He exhaled with a hard sigh and stepped off the podium. The politician persona had seemed to take a backseat to what was his casual nature.
“General Gantry, you are to be commanding officer for any forces aided to the Irinan Republic,” Erusha now stood in between both sides of seats. He turned his attention to Nario; Rhion slouched next to him, trying to clean it up as the Chancellor walked toward them. “Ambassador. I would like you to continue relations with the Lanx Republic. More importantly, I would like you to keep an eye on Thoram Chal, since you two seem to be acquaintances.”
Nario pulled back the urge to speak out once again, he didn’t like the Chancellor’s tone. He didn’t particularly like Chancellor Diviak Erusha, or his father. He nodded like the good politician he needed to be. “Very well, Chancellor.”
