"I know that you're busy with your ship, so I'll come right to the point. Do you know anything about Milora?"
"Milora? I know that they're probably the ugliest sentient species that we've happened across since Terrans first moved off Earth, and that's saying something. Just looking at them makes my skin crawl. They're generally about the same height as Terrans, but covered with a dense, brown, stringy hair that completely covers their body. They have what pass for two arms, but their hands always remind me of crab claws, although the claws are reputed to be slightly flexible, like cartilage rather than bone. When the claws are wide open, two opposing digits, sort of like the thumb and forefinger on a Terran, are visible. I suppose that the digits provide the dexterity needed by all higher life forms. What probably upsets Terrans the most is that they have four tentacles, attached at their lower back. The long cloaks they wear completely conceal their tentacles when at rest. But the tentacles can reportedly dart out and coil around you, then crush you to death, as would a boa constrictor on Earth. Their four eyes offer them superior peripheral vision, but they make them look like some kind of enormous insect. It's the eyes, which make people refer to them as cockroaches, rather than any other similarity. Generally, they make a Tsgardi look attractive."
"It sounds like you've met some of them then?"
"In a manner of speaking. I saw four of them in a bar during my first visit to Scruscotto a while back. No one wanted to associate with them, and everybody was giving them a wide berth. They stayed in the bar for a while and then left. I was surprised to see them this far into Galactic Space, even if it is the Frontier."
"Would you recognize them again?"
"I really doubt it because they all look pretty similar. The ones that I saw were all about the same height and had the same shade of brown hair all over their bodies. I'd probably have to see a lot of them before I learned what differences to look for. Why do you ask?"
"We have three on board. They were the occupants of the three small escape pods that you saw leave the Tsgardi ship."
"Milora? In Tsgardi escape pods? Now that is unusual."
"Why so?" Captain Crosby asked.
"The Milori are a warrior civilization like the Tsgardi, but unlike the Tsgardi, they're reported to be quite intelligent. They'd never work for the Tsgardi, so they must have been passengers. But I can't see anyone trusting the Tsgardi enough to travel with them."
"Maybe they were prisoners?"
"No. If they were prisoners, they'd still be aboard the crashed ship. The Tsgardi wouldn't have taken the time to release prisoners from their brig in their scramble to get to the shuttles. Have you asked them what they were doing on board the ship?"
"Whenever I ask a question, they ask one also. I haven't gotten a single answer from them since they were brought aboard."
"What have you told them, Captain?"
"Nothing."
Vyx smiled. "Then that's your problem."
"What do you mean?"
"I've never spoken to one, but I've heard that if you want to get any information from a Milora, you must first tell him something that he doesn't know. Each thing that you tell them builds up a sort of credit account that they're obligated to balance out. They may not choose to answer your questions, but they legitimately cannot ask you any of their own until the account is balanced. If you haven't told them anything, the balance is equal and they can ask you anything that they wish."
"That's the strangest thing that I've ever heard."
"I didn't invent the system," Vyx said defensively, "I'm only telling you what I was told about dealing with them."
Captain Crosby smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that your information was inaccurate. I only meant that their system is extremely odd."
"That it is, Captain. Why not try it? You have nothing to lose. Just don't give them any vital information that they can use back on you. They're pretty tricky, I understand. Don't confuse them with the Tsgardi just because they're ugly as all get out."
"Would you like to sit in?"
"I'd better not. If they are the same Milori that I saw on Scruscotto, they might recognize me and blow my cover. It's bad enough that so many Space Command personnel and Space Marines have seen me aboard the Song, Thor, and Ottawa in recent years."
"Okay. I'll let you know if your information was correct after I question them this afternoon."
Later that day, Captain Crosby, Commander Upton, and Marine Captain Porter, the senior security officer on the ship, confronted the first of the Milora prisoners in the interrogation room next to the brig. Although the prisoner spoke Amer, he demanded a language translation device before he would even sit down.
"I'm Captain Crosby. You're on the GSC Ottawa. We're a Space Command destroyer assigned with patrolling this part of Galactic Alliance space. This is my first officer, Commander Upton. That's Marine Captain Porter." 'There, that's five pieces of information,' Captain Crosby thought to himself. 'Now let's see if Vyx is right?' "What's your name?"
The Milora hesitated for a moment and then answered. "I am Uthqulk, first deputy negotiator to Commander Acoxxuz." The Milora answered in his native tongue but each of the officers was wearing a translator device on his belt and heard the answers in Amer through his CT. Captain Crosby was pleased, and felt that the Milora still owed him at least three answers.
"What were you doing aboard the Tsgardi ship?" Crosby asked.
Uthqulk didn't answer, but he also didn't ask any questions.
Normally, Crosby would have said something like, "Did you understand the question?" but he didn't want to use up his credits with insignificant questions. Instead, he asked, "Why are you working for the Tsgardi?"
Uthqulk stirred. Crosby knew that he had reached him.
"Milora do not work for Tsgardi scum, who will work for anyone that will feed them. A Milora would rather starve than take orders from Tsgardi or Alyysian swine."
"I thought that your race was friendly with the Tsgardi?"
"They left us to die aboard their crippled ship. They refused to allow us into their shuttles. They threatened to shoot us with their lattice pistols if we tried to force our way onboard."
Crosby could see that Uthqulk was raging. His hair, matted down originally, now bristled all over his body.
"What were you doing aboard the Tsgardi ship?" Crosby asked again.
Uthqulk still didn't answer.
Captain Crosby decided that he had used up his credits. It was time to provide more information. "You're being held in our brig for attacking a Space Command outpost and supply ship. The sentence for those crimes should keep you tucked safely away for the rest of my career in Space Command. You'll be a very old Milora by the time you're released."
"We had nothing to do with attacking your base or ship. We were merely passengers on the Tsgardi ship."
"Where were you when this ship picked you up?"
"We were on Bajurrsko, a mining colony."
"I'm familiar with it, but I'd never heard of any Milori visiting it before. I was told that you were on Scruscotto."
"We visited there briefly, an annual ago. We came to negotiate a sale with an arms merchant and thought that we might find him there. We returned to Bajurrsko when we discovered that he wasn't there. It's perfectly legal, according to your Galactic Alliance laws. We represent a sovereign government engaged in fair trade."
"Why have you traveled more than two hundred light-years into Galactic Alliance space to buy arms? Your home planet is what, more than a thousand light-years from Bajurrsko?"
Uthqulk didn't respond right away, and Crosby had begun reviewing the exchange to calculate if his allotted questions now exceeded his answers, when the Milora began to speak again. "We are always on the lookout for new weapons that are superior to our own. An Alyysian dealer named Shev Rivemwilth said he had weapons that we'd be interested in."
"Rivemwilth hardly had anything worth traveling from your home planet for. You were tricked into traveling a v
ery long ways for nothing."
"We only traveled a fraction of that distance, for weapons. We were already within this sector, looking to establish possible trade agreements with mining consortiums. This trip was merely a side activity. Shev Rivemwilth wouldn't give us the location of his base, and insisted that he provide us with transport."
"Sorry. I'm not buying your story. You'll stay in our brig until I learn the truth."
Uthqulk looked at Crosby for a few seconds. "I demand to speak to my three companions."
"You only have two companions left. One died inside the Tsgardi ship when it crashed. His escape pod got stuck in the tube. Tsgardi don't make very good ship's engineers because they don't maintain their equipment."
The Milora bristled anew. "You lie," he shouted. "All my companions live."
"I have no reason to lie," Crosby said calmly. "Actually, you and your two companions got off luckier than the Tsgardi. They all died as a result of the attack on the small transport that was supplying our Frontier Zone outpost."
Uthqulk stirred again. "They told us that the ship they were attacking was leaving their base."
"They told you that our outpost was their base? That's very curious. I wonder exactly what they had intended for you? Did they intend to offer you to us? There's no bounty on Milora."
Perhaps the Milora felt that he had already given too much information away, and he refused to answer further questions. He didn't ask any either, so Crosby felt that the credit was still to his side.
Over the next few hours, the interrogation team interviewed each of the other Milori. To keep the question and answer equation straight, Crosby was the only one to talk with the prisoners. He didn't get any new information from the others, but the information that he did get seemed to verify what they had already learned. Since separate cells were always used to house prisoners, he had to assume that either the information was correct, or the Milori had some sort of telepathic capability. But if they had telepathic ability, they should have known that one of their number was missing.
Several days after the interrogations were completed, Captain Crosby sent for Vyx again, to relate what he had learned.
"Thanks for your tip. Without it I wouldn't have gotten anything. I've added it to the files so that other Space Command officers will be better prepared to deal with this species in the future."
"You're welcome, Captain."
"I've been in communication with Captain Carver and she's approved the altering of our patrol route, so we're currently headed for Bajurrsko. She'd like you to go to the colony while we hold position outside the solar system. Our Milori claim that they visited Scruscotto only briefly, before returning to Bajurrsko. Your mission will be to learn everything that you can about visits by the Milori and then report back to the ship. She's already sent a message to Captain Kanes requesting that you be allowed to perform the special assignment."
"That wasn't necessary. As Supreme Military Commander in this sector, she doesn't need permission to reassign me or the others."
"Your ship will be repaired long before we reach Bajurrsko. Is there anything else that you'll need, Trader?"
"Nope. We'll deploy and get you the information that you need, Captain. Bajurrsko is quite a ways into the Frontier Zone."
"Yes, almost a hundred twenty light-years. That's double the distance from the border to the outpost, and we'll have to watch our own backs from here on. There are no other Space Command ships this far inside Stewart's Frontier Zone sectors."
The repairs to the Scorpion moved along well. With all of the engineering talent available, Vyx was able to get a number of other things taken care of that had needed attention for some time, such as instrumentation calibrations and exterior sensor replacements.
With his ship repaired, Vyx was able to relax and spend time reading. Of course, Brenda was always by his side, also reading. They didn't use their time together just for reading though. There were also showers, and other activities that happened naturally when two people who had developed a deep interest in one another, spent so much time in close proximity.
* * *
Chapter Twelve
~ December 16th, 2275 ~
"Captain, my people are demanding to know what's happening with the hearing," Minister Thulrys, the chief delegate from Arrosa, said obstreperously in Jenetta's office. "It's been more than two months since the recess was called."
With his first words, Jenetta's cats had jumped to their feet. They were eyeing the minister keenly. If he made any move toward Jenetta, they'd be on him in a second. Their quick movement and intense interest hadn't been lost on the minister, but it was several seconds before the implications of their actions dawned on him.
"We're still examining the tens of thousands of documents that your delegation submitted. It takes time to translate them, ensure that our translation is completely accurate, and then fit them into the picture that we're attempting to build. I understand that the terrorist acts have all but ceased on your planet?"
"Uh, yes, that's true," he said, lowering his voice. "There haven't been any acts that we could attribute to the Selaxians in more than a month."
"I was under the impression that none of the acts could be attributed to the Selaxians? My information is that you don't have a clue as to who is really behind them."
"Uh, I misspoke. I meant that no acts had occurred in more than a month."
Jenetta nodded. Senior ministers and ambassadors don't make such mistakes. It was just another attempt to sway her judgment against the Selaxians. "The process will take as long as it takes, Mr. Chief Delegate. As soon as the process is complete, I'll reconvene the hearing."
"Very well, Captain," he said calmly, eyeing one of the cats. "Good day."
"Good day, Minister Thulrys."
Jenetta turned to the SimWindow in her office as the Arrosian delegate left and the cats resumed their relaxed positions. Changing the image from a picturesque view of Niagara Falls to a live image of the port, she sipped her coffee and looked out at the activity. During the past month, three more Space Command warships had arrived in support of the new base and the territorial expansion. Space Command had been assigning as many ships as possible to the outer sectors since the expansion. Since this part of the border faced the center of the galaxy, it was receiving the most attention. And having a base in such close proximity to the Frontier Zone made it a prime location for homeport assignments.
Slightly more than half of Galactic Alliance space bordered nations whose own internal conflicts or attitudes presently kept their attention focused inward. Since there was little threat from outside forces there, the older ships still being retrofit were destined for service in those sectors. A number of re-commissioned ships were already handling patrols, freeing the newer ships for reassignment to areas that were potentially more lawless and hostile.
The five Space Command warships presently sitting in the port were the most since the failed Raider attack aimed at retaking the base. A dozen of Space Command's largest and fastest quartermaster supply ships were presently unloading their cargos. The Ottawa, Chiron, Asuncion, and Song were all out on patrol activities, with the Geneva and Thor scheduled to leave soon to begin their patrol routes. That would leave the most recently arrived warships, the cruisers Romanov and Plantaganet, and the destroyer Beijing, as security protection for the base while their crews rested and relaxed from their year and a half journey to Stewart. The convoy bringing the new diplomatic corps was still months away.
SC assigned personnel now filled most positions on the base, so personnel on loan from ships since the establishment of the base were returning to their ships. The concourse work was now complete, and with more than half of all available retail space leased by operating businesses. The living quarters had been completely redecorated, and furnished with repaired or new furniture. Freight hub operations were now running non-stop, and the 'cargo farms', huge floating assembly points in orbit around the base, were always filled with
cargo link sections awaiting pickup by freighters either headed towards the heart of Galactic Alliance space, or into the Frontier Zone. The base never slept, and rarely even seemed to slow down during the third watch. Jenetta's duties had shifted from refurbishing the base and creating a command and control structure, to maintenance and control. Her days were busy, but never very satisfying. At least she was now able to sleep through the night. Problems that required her immediate attention during the early hours had become rare.
* * *
Jenetta was working on her weekly report to Space Command when Lt. Commander Ashraf notified her that a Merchant officer, a Commander Michaels from a newly arrived freighter named Attar, was requesting an audience.
"Send him in, Lori," Jenetta spoke at her com. The message instantly appeared on Lt. Commander Ashraf's com screen.
As Commander Michaels entered the office, Jenetta smiled, stood up, and came out from behind her desk. "Hugh, it's great to see you again."
"Hello, Captain," he said smiling. "You look wonderful. You seem to be a lot taller now, but you're still the prettiest GSC captain in the galaxy."
Jenetta's cats watched the stranger and their mistress embrace lightly, but didn't stand up. They recognized that his voice and movements weren't signaling hostility. At six-foot two-inches, Hugh was almost three inches taller than Jenetta.
"Thank you, Hugh. At least my rank is official now."
"I've never thought of you as anything but a captain, not since the day we met."
"That's not what you said in court, under oath," Jenetta teased.
"Well— well—" Hugh stammered, embarrassed slightly as he remembered the testimony that he gave during Jenetta's court-martial. "It was only because of your apparent age when we first met, but I followed all your orders without question, despite my initial uncertainty. Even later on, when you told me that you were only an ensign in Space Command, I continued to think of you as my captain."
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