The Regent stands before his Primes, and without any delay begins, “I am planning on refitting a second vessel on this world while the main fleet moves to the next. Comments?”
The Primes glance back and forth, and mumble briefly amongst themselves. After a few moments, Glarth shares their thoughts, “We appear to be safe from an Atlan attack this far out, and the indigenous do not have the technological skills to be a threat. We all agree that the sooner all of our fleet is refitted, the better.”
“Then with the exception of those on the ground, and Prime Glarth, we will depart immediately.”
Glarth is perplexed, and asks, “Is my vessel to be refitted next?”
“Yes! As the eldest Prime, it is time you were rewarded!” Voknor replies.
The Primes cheer heartily for Glarth; he is still well-liked and respected, with many still feeling that he would have been a great Regent. The meeting continues as minor issues are raised, then dealt with.
Skylow reluctantly interrupts the Primes, and reports, “Regent, Blanfil seeks an audience with you!”
Voknor tilts his head in curiosity, “See if Prytec is available to transport him to me.” He gazes at the room filled Primes, grins, then adds, “Bring him here, to the meeting room.”
“Immediately!” Skylow replies, then leaves to find Prytec.
The Primes continue to discuss a variety of minor issues, until Prytec arrives with Blanfil. The local stops and stares fearfully at the group of robe wearing Gamin; they are obviously important.
Regent Voknor motions as he says, “Approach.”
Blanfil walks forward unsteadily, then holds his hand out. Prytec swings his weapon up faster than most can blink, causing Blanfil to freeze, fearful for his life. His voice is shaky as he says, “I volunteered to bring you this offering of harmony.” Sweat beads on his large forehead as he stands as still as he can.
Voknor strides forward, then looks at a small shiny gem which rests in his palm. Its deep red hues are striated with thin black lines.
Blanfil glances from the gem to the Regent then proudly states, “These fire-gems are only found at the bottom of our deepest oceans, where the extreme pressure causes floating lava globes to compress into natural orbs, just like this one.”
“I am impressed that your civilization has the ability to collect these!” Voknor states, genuinely surprised.
Blanfil offers the gem as he continues, “This particular fire-gem was discovered in our deepest ocean trench, where automated survey craft spend months searching, just to find one. They are only formed when lava flows upward, and breaks up into globs, allowing the water pressure to fully encase them.”
Voknor takes the offered gem then ponders what to do with it. He notices that Blanfil’s fingers are adorned with a variety of rings, then says, “I shall have this fashioned into a ring, and wear it out of respect for you and your culture.”
“I am honored,” Blanfil replies, relaxing a little.
Behind him, Prytec lowers his weapon and shakes his head. He disagrees with Voknor’s decision to allow aliens to meet him, and adds additional guards, sometimes resorting to disguising them as standard crew to bypass his Regent’s instructions not to fill the bridge with armed forces. He recalls the first time he did this, and the steady gaze that Voknor gave him, followed by a slight shake of his head along with a thin smile. Until he is specifically ordered not to do something, he will continue to do whatever he feels is necessary to protect his Regent.
Blanfil glances around, then says, “I wish to thank you for the rail technology; it will help us develop, and perhaps one day, we shall meet you in the stars.”
“Perhaps you shall,” Voknor replies, then glancing to Prytec, states, “Return Blanfil to the planet.”
As soon as the pair leaves, Kardoil mutters, “This is just like the last planet, only after meeting with us do they fully understand that we could level their cities.”
Algathor adds his thoughts, “Remember that idiot who sent his steam powered artillery to face us? He had no idea what he was getting into.”
Kardoil responds excitedly, “Exactly; it’s as though our show of force scares them, but not enough to make them immediately compliant.”
Voknor addresses his Primes, “Is there something else we should do when we first contact a world? Something to add to their distress, causing them to want to be cooperative.”
The debate rages for some time, then Prime Devril interrupts the talks, “Drum beats!”
Voknor grins, thinking he is joking, then as he considers the idea his eyes light up, “YES!”
“Worlds with communication networks can be sent a message stating that you will be contacting them soon! That should add to their fear!” Devril continues.
Other Primes share their thoughts, but in general, it is clearly an idea they support. The talks continue for a lengthy time.
Eventually Voknor lifts a hand, then with a grin says, “We shall send these drum beats with an image of my form, followed by a message stating that they will be contacted soon. This should cause most species to become concerned, as they will not know what we desire from them. Most will fear the worst, as is the way when faced with the unknown. Once we state that our demands are merely for resources, and that we have no desire to kill them, enslave them, or,” he chuckles, “eat them! They should capitulate to our demands.”
The Primes agree, then decide to try this method at the next world that has the appropriate technology. They also press Voknor to wait until the entire fleet has been upgraded before contacting more advanced civilizations, to which he reluctantly agrees. Voknor is curious about the effect the drum beats will have, and wants to test them! The meeting breaks up, allowing the Primes to return to their own vessels.
Regent Voknor strides on to his bridge, then orders, “Frazik, find another world, one with similar technology to these last two.
Frazik has been expecting this order and replies immediately, “The closest is not exactly in the right direction, but is still closer to our assigned region than we currently are.”
Voknor stares at the moons on the main viewer, then asks, “How far away?”
“Three thousand six hundred light years.” He replies.
After a moments consideration Voknor orders, “Inform the fleet to depart. Cushkull, Plot three.”
“Yes Regent!” His bridge crew intones.
Chapter Eight – The Good Clan
Voknor stares at the three rings on his fingers, gifts from various cultures, then lifts his gaze as the last of the Primes strides into the meeting room. With the exception of the flagship, all ships of the fleet have been refitted, and now that they are back in their assigned region of space, they are all keen to get into the fight. It has taken years for them to return, for some races it would have been an entire lifetime, but not for the long-lived Gamin.
He casts his gaze over his twenty-one Primes, then states, “You have exceeded all expectations, even the Emperor is pleased with our new shield-armor combination, and plans to begin refitting his own craft. The dock concept has also been well received, and adopted fleet wide. According to the reports I have read, it is allowing many clans to repair craft that historically would have been abandoned and destroyed.”
The Primes cheer as Voknor pauses; many had voiced their concerns about angering the Emperor for taking too long to return to their assigned area. Some mutter this very thought, then quickly stop.
Voknor narrows his eyes and firmly states, “The sharing of the shield and armor technology more than compensated for our long departure. Additionally, I pressed the Emperor about allowing his clans more freedom of movement.”
A low murmuring fills the room. The Primes find it difficult to believe that Voknor would dare suggest anything to the Emperor; no other lesser Regent has. Only the Archons of old were permitted to question the Emperor, and he never reinstated them after their demise.
Voknor lifts his hand and states, “You do realize that we are o
nly stationed where we are so as to protect the core clans, inside which is the Emperor’s own forces. Smaller clans such as ours should not be used as an early warning system, or cannon fodder, to Atlan aggression. We have the right to self-determination. I would have our clan relocate to safer territories, where we could rebuild and grow, not struggle and die as we are!”
The room erupts into cheering; they agree whole heartedly with Voknor.
Once the room quiets down, he continues, “However we can’t do that! Instead, we will remain in our assigned area, for now, to do otherwise would be a direct challenge to the Emperor.” Voknor lowers his tone and says, “What I tell you now must remain in this room.”
The hushed whispers stop as all attention turns to their Regent.
Voknor hesitantly continues, “I have reason to believe that Regent Gordok’s clan did just that, challenge the Emperor! One of our keen, younger, clansmen was going through clan history, to identify all the Regents. What he found disturbed me so much I have spent a long time debating if I should even share the discovery. But, in the event of my death, I want this clan to be aware of a new danger, an internal peril to us all.”
Roggard is restless, and during another pause calls out, “Just tell us will you! The suspense is killing me.” He half chuckles, his nerves getting the best of him.
Voknor takes a deep breath and then says, “We found records of six clans that are now lost; five of which could be due to the Atlans, but the sixth, well, that is a mystery. The records show that a Regent Gordok was attacked by Atlans while some of his forces were on a planet. The Regent, and the bulk of his fleet, escaped however, that is where the archives ended. There is no record of his existence in the Empiric database, and we only found that reference under a maintenance and damage record, which has since been purged of his name!”
“Okay, and that’s important how?” Roggard presses.
“If these clans were simply lost to Atlan attacks why have their names been removed, and more importantly, how is it that after discovering the existence of Gordok’s clan in an old maintenance log, it is now gone too?”
Roggard shrugs, “Perhaps the Emperor does not wish for us to appear weak?”
Voknor nods, then says, “I thought that too, until I was shown a rather interesting series of communiques, messages which have since been removed from the archives, I might add! You see, Regent Gordok never went back to rescue the clansmen he left behind. In fact, his fleet was mercilessly pursued by the Atlans, until they were all killed. Emperor Dosec specifically ordered all clans to stay out of the fight. Coincidently, Gordok never agreed to the concept of staying within an assigned area of space, and voted for the clans to find new territories!”
The atmosphere in the room becomes deathly quiet.
Voknor leans forward and says, “I do not know Emperor Yoolon’s stance on this, but I do know that all traces of these incidents have been recently deleted from the archives.”
“You mean since you discovered them?” Roggard presses.
“Yes! Which is why we must not do anything to draw any more attention to us, or we may be abandoned to our fate.” Voknor replies.
Glarth is perplexed, and asks, “What difference would it make? It’s not like any other clans help us anyway.”
Voknor nods in agreement, then says, “My concern is this; how did the Atlans know where to attack Gordok’s clan? The Atlan forces were few in number, and yet managed to repeatedly find his clan, just his clan, over and over!”
Roggard feels a chill run up his spine, “You don’t think Emperor Dosec gave the Atlans information on his whereabouts?”
Regent Voknor counters, “We are required to operate Navicon units at all times, so as to be able to locate one another, and yet how often do clans actually go to each other’s assistance? I found no record of either Emperor directing forces to assist any. Indeed, our own attack on the Atlan construction hub should not have been a surprise to the Emperor!”
Voknor strides closer to his Primes and says, “You decide what you think. In the meantime, we shall remain in our assigned region of space.”
Algathor questions, “Do you really think that Yoolon would hand us over to the Atlans?”
“I would hope not,” Voknor replies, “but we have drawn a lot of attention to ourselves with the shields, armor, and construction docks. This could potentially weaken his position amongst the major clans. I did not know this until recently, but the Emperor’s engineers have never shared any new technology. They had the heavy pounder, yet kept that weapon to themselves, and their most trusted clans. None of the outer clans had been given that technology, until we shared ours!”
Roggard’s jaw drops, “You’ve only shared our findings with the Emperor, but he feared you would share with all, so he had to counter with something!”
“Correct!” Voknor confirms, then says, “In addition, it seems the Emperor’s engineers have been working on a number of technical improvements, which are now being shared fleet-wide.”
Glarth leans back in his chair and says, “Oh my! You made the Emperor lose prestige. You are quite right; we need to be the good little clan for a while!”
Voknor paces back and forth, then says, “So we shall be. We will continue the technical development of the construction ships, but will not build them, not yet anyway. In the meantime, we will focus on replacing our losses; if we ever stand before the Emperor, we will do so with as large a fleet as possible, no matter how few crew, it is fleet numbers that dictate influence.”
The Primes agree, then discuss several technical and political issues. The trial is raised once more, and once again, they all agree to continue doing what they have been. The Primes are not aware of Prytec’s watch over the younglings, or they choose to ignore it. Regardless, crew numbers are slowly increasing, only slightly, but growth none-the-less.
Shortly thereafter the meeting breaks up and the Primes return to their ships.
The construction of new ships is delayed time and time again. Worlds with radiologics technology are rare, and when one is detected, it is too close to known Atlan forces to be of any use. Fortunately, all ships of the fleet are under manned, thus the increasing crew numbers is not an issue. The search continues vainly, as the fleet travels back and forth in their assigned area.
Girl Power
Skylow shakes his head as he enters the bridge, mumbling, “That damn female is tenacious!”
Voknor misunderstands the context and replies teasingly, “Well, if you need more time?”
Skylow frowns in confusion, then snickers, “Oh hell no. It’s that Lilpax, I swear she wants my job!”
“Oh, what did she do this time?” Voknor presses, his curiosity mounting.
Skylow sighs, then begins, “Well, I went down to the main storage area to visually check the inventory. There have been some, ah, discrepancies since we let the young ones take over its management.”
Voknor vividly recalls the kind of mistakes that he made when he was learning, then motions for Skylow to continue.
“Well, I get down there, and she has everything inventoried, and she updated MY database!” Skylow comments indignantly. “She should not be updating anything outside her permissions.”
“Did she explain how she got access to your information?” Voknor questions.
“Yes! It was that Sharz!” Skylow replies admonishingly, “He’s another go getter who wants to make a name for himself.”
“Was the information they entered correct?” Voknor asks, curious of the answer.
Skylow sighs deeply, then admits, “Their information was more accurate than mine.”
“Good.” Voknor states, then as a thought comes to mind, he enquires, “Do you think they’re ready for more responsibly?”
“Well, Lilpax did mention that she turns one hundred soon, hinting at that very fact. Like I said, she is tenacious.” He pauses, considers their skills, then replies, “Both are ready!”
Regent Voknor taps the ends o
f his chair with his clawed fingers for a moment, then activates his ship wide communications icon and states firmly, “Attention: Sharz and Lilpax. Report to the bridge immediately!”
The flagship is vast in size, and the order is unexpected, thus it takes them a while to get to the bridge. Sharz arrives first, then being unsure what to do, nervously approaches the impressive command chair, and the seated Regent. He gazes around the bridge in awe, this is his first time on any bridge, and he is captivated. Lilpax arrives moments later, and is equally overwhelmed.
Regent Voknor lets them stand before him for a while, before he states, “I understand you pair are responsible for meddling with command level data.”
Both blanch at the accusation, but neither replies.
“Speak, Sharz and Lilpax, your words shall dictate your fate!” Voknor states resolutely.
The pair glances at each other, then Lilpax says, “I have been learning the tasks and responsibilities of one of your bridge officers.”
Sharz quickly adds his voice, “I have been learning command operations procedures and protocols.”
Voknor motions to Skylow and states, “My officer here has been performing double duty for a long time, and I believe that it is time to see what you two can do.”
Neither the young Gamin, nor the bridge officers, are sure what to expect as they all wait. Sharz and Lilpax glance around the bridge at the many empty consoles, both clearly hoping for what is considered the loftiest assignment in the fleet. Bridge duty aboard the flagship!
Regent Voknor finally ends their nervous waiting, “Sharz, you are to be the ships Supplies Officer. Skylow will instruct you in your new duties.”
“My Regent!” Sharz replies in shock, he had expected that Lilpax would get that position.
Lilpax attempts to hide her disappointment, but feels slighted. She is the best supplies trainee, and all who see her work know it.
Voknor stands, then strides to a side console, He motions to it as he announces, “Lilpax, you shall be the first female bridge officer in countless generations. This is your station, Skylow will also be your instructor.”
Initiation Series: Series One Compilation (Terran Chronicles) Page 152
