by S. H. Jucha
“Pardon the questioning of an old captain, Ser President, but whom were the Earthers warring with?” José Cordova asked.
“Other humans, Captain,” Tatia answered, shaking her head in disgust.
“From what we’ve gathered, Earth went to war with the human enclaves in Sol’s outer system,” Alex added. “We don’t have many details, except that Administrator Wombo referred to the process as ‘the pacification of the outer colonies.’”
“And such a ship was needed to pacify the colonies? Perhaps Earthers have a different definition of pacification than I do,” Captain Cordova said, his voice trailing off as he ruminated on his thoughts.
“Ser President, telemetry indicates there is considerable comm traffic between the two Earther ships,” Z said.
“What are they saying?” Alex asked.
“Unknown, Ser,” Z replied. “The ships are employing a type of direct-beam communication to prevent interception of their messages.”
“Another indication of a suspicious nature,” Tatia said to no one in particular.
“So what do we do?” Renée asked.
“Good question,” Alex admitted. “I think the first move belongs to whoever is in charge of that warship. In the meantime, Julien, we have some messages to prepare for our people and New Terra.” While Julien retired with Alex to his cabin, the others continued to stare at the images of the vessel Julien referred to as a battleship.
* * *
“Speaker García, I require an update on the status of your contact with the local government,” High Judge Patricio Bunaldi said perfunctorily. He was standing in camera view with Admiral Samara Theostin and Captain Dimitri Chofsky on the command bridge aboard the battleship Hand of Justice.
Aboard the Reunion’s much smaller bridge, Speaker García, Captain Lumley, and Major Barbas also stood in camera view, waiting on the pleasure of their masters. The moment the Hand of Justice entered the system, Admiral Theostin assumed command control over Captain Lumley and the Reunion. Also, Speaker García fell under the auspices of High Judge Bunaldi, but then every UE individual in this system reported directly or indirectly to the high judge. There were only three more levels of power above Bunaldi to reach United Earth’s Supreme Tribunal.
“The local people refer to themselves as Méridiens, Judge Bunaldi,” Speaker García replied. “When our conversation is concluded, we will send the imagery we have collected since arriving in system. At this time, I draw your attention to the incredible amount of FTL ship traffic, which you have probably already noticed. Most exciting, Judge Bunaldi, we have encountered several varieties of humans.”
“Varieties of humans?” Bunaldi said. “Explain.”
“You will see from the images, Judge Bunaldi,” García replied. “This world appears to be populated by a slender people. There is a second variety of individuals who must have developed on a heavy world through the centuries. Both the men and women have significant mass. Then there are other individuals who have proportions nearer our own.”
“Do any of these individuals appear subhuman or grotesque in any fashion?” Bunaldi asked. He suffered from nightmares that one day he would discover a lost human colony that transitioned so far from the norms of the human race that rather than choosing to bring them into the UE fold, he would feel compelled to obliterate the abominations.
“On the contrary, Judge Bunaldi,” García explained, “we have surmised that the Méridiens have mastered genetic modeling techniques. Their people are visually arresting … even compelling, one might say.” Images of Renée de Guirnon flitted through García’s mind.
“And your response to my original question, Speaker García,” Bunaldi reminded him.
“Of course, Judge,” García said, dipping his head contritely. “Although we have met some locals, we have not been able to arrange a meeting with Council Leader Mahima Ganesh. Supposedly this woman is head of what is termed the Confederation Council. We believe the term ‘Confederation’ applies to a conglomeration of multiple worlds, which agrees with the constant FTL traffic in multiple directions to and from this system.”
Admiral Theostin and High Judge Bunaldi exchanged the briefest of glances and the slightest of smiles. Their ship was on rotation outside the Sol system, an interminably boring tour of duty, when the orders came to respond to the Reunion’s call for support for a ‘significant find.’ The initial report they were receiving from Speaker García indicated that his discovery was much more than a significant find. Both the admiral and the high judge were driven by political aspirations, and subsuming a confederation of worlds would propel them up the UE political and military ladders.
“While you have uncovered a great find, Speaker García, I’m disappointed that more progress hasn’t been made establishing relations with the local government,” Bunaldi admonished. “We will rendezvous with you in seven days. I expect progress by then.”
“Yes, Judge Bunaldi,” García replied, wanting to grind his teeth. Bunaldi knew it wasn’t a speaker’s place to force contact. The high judge, who stood there in his white, floor-length robe, with red collar and red buttons down the robe’s length, and a shaved head that added to his stern expression, was posturing. But García was well aware of the high judge’s reputation. He was a true believer — the UE way was the only salvation for the human race.
“Captain Lumley,” Admiral Samara Theostin said, “the original message made no mention of the extent of a military force in this system. Was that an omission?”
“As of this moment —” Barbas began to reply, but he was abruptly cut off.
“Major Barbas, I believe I was speaking to Captain Lumley,” Admiral Theostin replied, tilting up her sharp-nosed, dark-eyed face imperiously. “Have you been so long away from home that you’ve forgotten protocols?”
Major Barbas was grateful he stood in his usual military stance with his hands behind his back. His meaty hands were twisting together, and his thoughts dwelt on ringing the admiral’s slender neck.
The pecking order is being reestablished, Major. Get used to it, Antonio thought.
“In the entire time we have been here, Admiral Theostin,” Captain Lumley replied, “we’ve seen no indication of military power. None of the ships show a configuration that would suggest armament. We’ve seen no fighters, and in the few personal contacts we’ve had, we’ve not even seen personal weapons.”
“Admiral Theostin, if I may?” Major Barbas asked.
“Proceed, Major,” Theostin allowed.
“We did arrange a contest with some of the locals, Admiral. They are a group of people who exhibit the human varieties of which was spoken,” Barbas said. “We sought to engage the leader, one of the heavy worlders, but he volunteered his escort … I mean his security person, who is one of the slender variety.”
“What sort of contest?” Bunaldi asked.
“Hand-to-hand combat, Judge Bunaldi,” García replied. “Our meeting with this group aboard the orbital platform called Le Jardin uncovered too many oddities in their stories and presentation. The Major and I thought the heavy worlders might represent their military. So we arranged a contest to test our suspicions.”
“A clever ruse, Speaker,” Bunaldi said. “What did you discover?”
The Speaker nodded toward Major Barbas to continue. “I arranged for one of the leader’s security personnel, Ser de Long, to practice with Master Sergeant Hinsdale. He is our unarmed combat instructor. The contest escalated into a full-blown match and a prolonged one at that. Then suddenly it was over and the master sergeant was down.”
“So you learned that these escorts are highly trained security people and an even match for our trained personnel,” Theostin said. On a hand signal from the high judge, the admiral ceased her comments.
“I detect doubt in your tone, Major,” Bunaldi said.
“Yes, Judge Bunaldi,” Barbas replied. “I believe Ser de Long was stalling and could have defeated the master sergeant at any time. When the escort ende
d the match, he was incredibly fast. Master Sergeant Hinsdale reported never seeing an individual move so quickly after such a sustained level of combat, and he felt the escort was holding back the entire time.”
“So your locals were testing you, were they not, Major?” Bunaldi asked.
“We believe their participation in the contest was merely an excuse, Judge Bunaldi,” Barbas replied. “During the performance, if you will, our guide detected an internal foreign signal, local to the ship. Soon after the signal was transmitted, the contest ended.”
“Ah …” said Bunaldi, bringing his hand to his chin, the first movement he had allowed himself during the interview. He was a master of the art of utter stillness. It gave him the air of something other than human, which unsettled those he questioned before he passed judgment on them.
“I presume you discovered the source of the signal and arrested the perpetrators,” Theostin said.
“Unfortunately, the signal was both quick and faint. Our guide indicated it originated below our flight deck between a missile room and our fuselage,” García replied. “We instigated an exhaustive search for three days and never located the signal source. Also, it is only our conjecture that the signal was meant for these individuals. They displayed no comm equipment at any time while they were on our ship, and they were brought to the ship by our shuttle.”
“So while you were shopping the locals, they were shopping you,” Bunaldi said, and allowed himself a brief chuckle. “So these people are not without an element of deviousness, and obviously they have some unique tech that can observe, transmit, and remain hidden. Tech that will be our pleasure to acquire.” Bunaldi resumed his stance, tucking his hands behind him again. “I expect results with the local government, Speaker García. Make it happen. Send your data immediately.” Before the speaker was allowed to reply, the Hand of Justice comms officer cut the transmission. It was the manner in which the high judge preferred to end communications — having the last word.
* * *
Seated in a comfortable chair in Bunaldi’s well-decorated state room, Samara Theostin sipped a cup of fine wine from the high judge’s special store. Her jacket was off and her bare feet were resting on a covered footstool. The admiral and the high judge were celebrating. They spent hours reviewing the Reunion’s images and associated data and could not believe their good fortune — not a single struggling colony, but a conglomeration of worlds — not a low-tech society, but one exploding with advanced technology. The two sat and threw the points of discovery back and forth, celebrating each item, as if they were in some sort of sporting match, tossing the ball back and forth. By now the bottle of wine was nearing the end, and, despite the alcoholic glow, thoughts were sobering.
“And no military force, Patricio” Theostin said. “What a pity! We brought all this armament, and we might not have an opportunity to use any of it.”
“You get ahead of yourself, Samara,” Bunaldi said. “What was relayed to us was that no military or overt weaponry were yet discovered. There is no proof that none exists, and, with their tech, it could be in plain sight and we might not even be aware of it.”
Theostin acknowledged Bunaldi’s point with a nod. She took a long sip of the delicious wine and flexed her long, slender, bare feet, partially in enjoyment of the wine and partially for Bunaldi’s benefit. Although they had been together for years and both were middle-aged, Bunaldi had never invited her to his bed, not that she would have been delighted to go, but she would have made the effort. Her preferences tended more toward young female lieutenants. It was only been through pure circumstances one evening while relaxing with the high judge that she discovered his preference. She had removed her boots and socks to massage sore feet, and he had offered to help. Then the high judge spent the better part of an hour, massaging her feet with soothing oil. Initially, she was concerned for his intentions, but once she accepted that he was focused on his ministrations and intended nothing else, she found herself on the receiving end of an exquisite foot massage. Since then they often celebrated their successes in Bunaldi’s stateroom with wine and bare feet.
-17-
Standing on the Reunion’s bridge beside Captain Lumley, Speaker García and Major Barbas came to the conclusion that any action to further contact with the locals was better than no action, even if the results were less than auspicious. Captain Lumley held no such belief but wisely kept his mouth shut. The Reunion’s guide had tracked the Rêveur’s exit from the Le Jardin platform as it took up a position in orbit around the next planet outward.
“We’re ready, Captain,” García said.
Captain Lumley nodded to the comms officer, who activated a request to the guide. Shortly, the monitor revealed the image of Captain Cordova, his face and shoulders filling the screen.
“Captain Cordova, we would speak with Ser Racine, please,” García requested.
“One moment, Speaker García. I will see if Ser is available,” Captain Cordova replied and blanked the comm signal, but kept the connection. “Are you available, Ser President?” José asked Alex, who stood next to him with Tatia. They were examining the newest telemetry data of the UE battleship on the holo-vid.
Alex cocked an eyebrow at Tatia. Both of them were in standard Haraken dress as president and admiral.
“Maybe it’s time to stop playing games, Mr. President,” Tatia said. “With the arrival of this battleship, they’re definitely displaying their intent. Besides, who knows what we might find out?”
Alex nodded his agreement and faced the forward vid pickup. Tatia took a position beside him, straightening her uniform jacket. When they were ready, Alex cued the controller to resume broadcast of the Rêveur’s signal.
“Ah … Sers Racine and Tachenko, there you are. Is this another costume change or should I address you in some other fashion?” García asked.
“I remain Ser Racine, Speaker García, but allow me to introduce Admiral Tachenko,” Alex replied.
“If I may inquire?” Barbas interjected. “Admiral of what?”
“How may I help you, Speaker García?” Alex answered instead.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the entry of our compatriots’ ship into this system, Ser Racine —”
“Interesting that you bring a battleship to a supposed diplomatic first contact,” Alex said, interrupting the speaker.
“Ah, yes … I also appreciate the elimination of pretense, Ser Racine. I myself am a blunt man and prefer a frank conversation. So now you understand the power that the UE can bring to bear to enforce its wishes.” García replied. “If you wish to preserve the diplomatic process, you must arrange a meeting for me with this so-called Confederation Council.”
“Unfortunately, Speaker García, I have no leverage with the Council Leader. In fact, I am not in her favor, at all,” Alex replied.
“Imagine that, Ser Racine. Someone else dislikes you,” Major Barbas shot back. “We are quite aware of the deception you perpetrated when you came aboard our ship.”
“And we dislike people pretending to hold out a welcoming hand while holding a weapon behind their back. It makes us extremely distrustful … and nervous,” Alex said, his body tensing and his hands slowly curling into fists.
“Well, Ser Racine, if you are of no value to us, then I must go knock on the door myself,” García replied.
“That would be quite imprudent of you, Speaker García,” Tatia said. “You might start something that you can’t finish.”
“This from an admiral of an invisible force,” Barbas retorted.
“You appear to be imaginative individuals if you believe your tech can match the Méridiens on any subject,” Alex said, hoping to bluff the Earthers.
“What we lack in sophistication, Ser Racine, we make up for in sheer power. The Hand of Justice has enough armament to bring any world to its knees,” Speaker García replied. Both he and the major had visibly straightened at the mention of the UE’s power.
“You named that battleship the Hand of Ju
stice?” Tatia asked, working hard to restrain her laughter. “You don’t find that ironic, Speaker García?”
“It’s foolish of you, Admiral, to doubt our power,” Barbas fired back. His anger was growing by the minute, and he ached to teach the admiral a lesson.
“Are you so certain of this, Speaker García, that you would risk the annihilation of your people?” Alex asked.
“Annihilation of whom, Ser Racine?” García replied. “We’ve seen no evidence of your military other than that costume worn by your associate.”
Alex quickly signaled Tatia to maintain control, but he needn’t have worried. A slight smile was permanently fixed to her face.
“I should warn you, Ser Racine, in the event that you are able to communicate with the Confederation Council or the Council Leader. High Judge Bunaldi aboard the Hand of Justice will not be as patient as I have been,” García replied. Then he signaled with his hand to the comms officer to cut the transmission.
* * *
Speaker García and Major Barbas boarded a UE tactical assault shuttle along with twenty, fully armed militia. The high judge’s firm request for contact with the local government was taken as a warning and not a request. UE underlings were often demoted or dismissed for failing to follow the wishes of their superiors.
“Time for diplomacy is over, Major,” García announced when Ser Racine failed to assist them with brokering a meeting. “It’s time to break down some doors. Find me a target, Major.”
Major Barbas consulted Captain Lumley, who with the assistance of his officers and guide, located the source of the Council’s broadcast signals, which emanated from a collection of buildings surrounded by extensive gardens, one of the few building complexes that was built low to the ground.
“It is my officers’ conjecture that this complex is one of the older constructions on Méridien, and they suppose it to be the Council’s meeting location. About 4.6 kilometers away is a terminal that can accommodate our tactical shuttles,” Lumley said.
