by Neal Jones
( 2 )
Major Saveck pressed the door chime, then forced his expression into something neutral. This meeting was a burden, an unwelcome invitation, but one did not say no to a man of Vorik's title and position. The ambassador had asked Saveck to join him for a late lunch, and while the major said yes, he made it clear to Ommnor that he had a busy schedule, and that the visit could not last for more than an hour.
Waaris answered the door and smiled, motioning for Saveck to enter. "Major, welcome to our quarters. I'm very glad that you were able to make it. For several weeks now, my husband has been looking forward to meeting you in person."
"Has he? I hope that I don't disappoint him."
Waaris giggled softly as she led Saveck into the dining room where the table had been set for three. Vorik was standing behind his chair, talking quietly to Ommnor, but he ended the conversation as soon as Saveck and Waaris entered. The chief of staff disappeared through the rear door which led to the kitchen.
"Thank you for taking this time to visit with me, major," Vorik said, motioning to the chairs. Once they all were seated he raised his eyes to the ceiling and held out his hands, palms up. Waaris did the same, but Saveck kept his hands folded in his lap, his gaze fixed at a point on the far wall. "Varashok, we thank thee for this food which we are about to eat. May it bless us and nourish us, and may we always walk within thy light, upon the path which thou has laid for us. Amen."
"Amen," Waaris echoed.
Saveck returned his attention to the table and the others who were seated around it. The three of them began filling their plates from the various dishes which had been set in the center of the table. After a period of silence, Vorik said, "Major, do you disrespect my beliefs by not joining with me in the prayer of thanks?"
"Not at all, ambassador. But I do not share in your beliefs and, therefore, I thought it would be a greater mockery to pretend as if I did."
"You do not worship the Varashok?" Waaris asked, genuinely puzzled.
"No. I am an atheist. I do not believe in any of the religious mythologies to which our people subscribe. I prefer to view our existence as Ba'Nost did."
Vorik chuckled as he tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it in his soup. "That is a name that I have not heard since my days at the university." He paused, bringing to mind a quote. "'The endless, writhing mass of Chaos from which we have been born is all that exists. All else is no matter, for we live but a breath in this conundrum, a moment when we are here and animate, and the next, gone. The body remains, but only for another breath, another moment. When all is over, there is only the Chaos. The endless, eternal Chaos.'"
Saveck nodded, more than a little surprised that a man like Vorik, a traditionalist and a follower of Tor'Ahl, would have studied a radical philosopher like Ercht Ba'Nost. "From his fourth book, 'A Treatise on the State of Man', first published in the seventeenth dynasty, under the rule of King Turyph."
"Yes, yes," Vorik agreed enthusiastically. "I find that Ba'Nost himself is a conundrum, for there is some very clear hints in his writing that he believes we each possess a soul, or, at the very least, some form of spiritual power which gives us life."
"No, I'm afraid I disagree, ambassador. In that passage you just quoted, Ba'Nost is merely referring to the moment of death, when we cease to breathe, when our brain shuts down and the synapses fall silent. That is the end. There is nothing beyond that, and while our bodies remain for a little while, they, too, eventually return to the Chaos and the Void."
"And what exactly is that Chaos except some form of higher power that we cannot understand," Waaris chimed in. "Ba'Nost clearly states that we are born from the Chaos and we return to it when we die. That suggests to me that he believes in his own form of God, one that is not all that different from the Varashok."
"Well said, my dear," Vorik replied, raising his glass to her.
"True," Saveck said, "but unlike the Varashok, the Chaos does not demand my allegiance. I do not have to say prayers of thanks or contrition, or erect statues and idols in its name. In fact, the Chaos does not care whether I live or die. There is no point or purpose to it, nor to our existence as mortal creatures in this mortal realm. That is the thesis of Ba'Nost's writing, and the cornerstone of his philosophy."
A few moments of silence followed this, as all three ate some more of their meal. Saveck glanced at Vorik and saw that the ambassador was looking at him with an odd expression.
"Have I offended you, ambassador? Would it have been better if I agreed with you and offered no challenge?"
Vorik chuckled and sipped his wine. "Not at all, major. I was just pondering your words." He paused and set down his glass. "I must admit that you've surprised me. I would not expect a man of your beliefs and your record to have survived the war."
Saveck nodded. "There are many who are surprised by that." In truth, the major wasn't sure what Vorik had meant by that statement so he sipped his wine and offered no further explanation. He waited to see if the ambassador would change the subject or persist in his interrogation, for Saveck was sure that was the reason behind this tête-à-tête. Vorik had examined Saveck's career, had listened to the rumors and the reports, and now he wanted to see for himself if the military council had made the right decision when they selected the newly demoted major for the position of liaison officer to Commodore Gabriel.
Vorik dunked another piece of bread in his soup and chewed thoughtfully, never taking his gaze off Saveck. He swallowed and then nodded, smiling, and picked up his glass. "You handle yourself well, major. You give no apologies or explanations. I like that."
Saveck didn't reply, but instead raised his glass to meet Vorik's. Waaris also raised hers, and Vorik said, "To the future."
"To the future," Saveck echoed.
Another period of silence followed as the trio finished their meal. Vorik pushed his plate away and sat back, crossing his arms over his stomach. "Waaris, would you give the major and myself some privacy?" It was not a question. Waaris obeyed, and Queyn leveled his gaze at Saveck, and this time his expression was as sharp as Manidoran steel. There was no humor in his eyes. "I spoke with General Losk."
Saveck's hand stiffened as he reached for his glass, and after a pause, he continued the action, taking a long sip of his wine before allowing his gaze to meet Vorik's. "How is the general?" There was bitter humor in his tone. "I haven't heard from him since my expulsion from the Academy."
"I'll be honest with you, major. I was quite surprised when I heard that the military council had selected you for the position of liaison officer on Exxar-One. And when I inquired as to the reasons behind their decision, I was politely – but firmly – rebuffed. They seem to think that it's none of my business."
"They're correct. The military council answers only to the Quorum of Elders and the High Chancellor."
Vorik leaned forward, and there was fresh anger in his dark eyes. "I know the details of the incident at the War Academy. I am fully aware of your discommendation, and I strongly suspect that the military council believes they are punishing you by assigning you to this starbase."
"By that logic, ambassador, it would seem that the council doesn't care for this project that you and Ambassador Zar have poured so much time and effort into. And, if I'm not mistaken, the High Chancellor himself was unwilling to sign his approval on your proposition for this project. It was only through the pressure of the Quorum of Elders that he finally consented."
"Do not change the subject, major. We are discussing your dishonor here."
"My dishonor? Ambassador, you surprise me. Most of our people consider you to be a traitor, for you have violated the warrior's code of honor by seeking peace with our enemies. That is not the way of Tor'Ahl and the Varashok."
"There are many kinds of honor, major. Not all of our people believe that I am a traitor, but all would certainly agree that your actions in the Academy incident were those of a coward, and as far as I am concerned, you have lost the privilege and the right to wear that
uniform."
Saveck sat back, casually rubbing the stem of his wineglass, showing no sign of fear or unease. "Is it your intention, ambassador, to expose me? That incident is a matter of public record – as long as one possesses the proper security clearance, of course. The military council, along with the Elders and the High Chancellor, are fully aware of the details of that incident, and they still saw fit to give me this assignment. I will serve my uniform and my empire until such time as I am physically and/or mentally unable to carry out my directive. Do you have a problem with that?"
Vorik exhaled as he sat back and folded his hands on the tabletop. A measure of anger had left his countenance. "No. I do not."
Saveck stood. "Thank you for lunch, ambassador, but it's time that I returned to my post. I have several tasks to complete before tonight's dinner."
Vorik also stood, though it took him a few seconds longer than Saveck to pull himself to his feet. "I look forward to it. Strength and valor be unto you, major."
Saveck turned and walked out of the dining room without giving the traditional response to that phrase. For a man of Vorik's esteem, the abrupt exit was a sign of great disrespect, but the ambassador didn't appear offended.
( 3 )
Lieutenant Commander Kiran Garrett stepped out of the PTL and tried not to appear anxious as he walked to Ambassador Zar's door. He was the youngest member of the senior command staff and still unused to these diplomatic functions. Before accepting the post to Exxar-One as Chief of Engineering and Station Operations, the half human, half Mykahrian officer had never served as chief of anything. The last time he had worn his dress uniform was three years ago, just after he had been promoted to Lieutenant on the ECS Queen Mary. Captain Lambert had invited the junior officer to dine with him, and, according to military protocol, one wore one's dress uniform when eating at the captain's table.
The engineer took one last pause before he pressed the door chime, praying that he wasn't too early. It would be really embarrassing if he was the first to arrive. Or even the second, for that matter. Just as long as I'm here after Ambassador Vorik and Commodore Gabriel, Garrett mused silently. The door opened to reveal Idran on the other side.
"Come in, lieutenant commander," the woman invited as she stepped aside.
Gabriel was talking with Vorik and Waaris in the far corner, near the buffet table. The long dining table, which had been set up in the center of the room, was covered in a black linen tablecloth, upon which sat table settings of silver and crystal. Ambassador Zar was talking to her son near the head of the table, out of earshot of the commodore and the Chrisarii, and by the security chief's expression the conversation did not appear to be a comfortable one. Nor did it look like Gabriel was enjoying his small talk with Vorik. Another quick glance revealed that no other guests had arrived.
Correction, Garrett thought. Being the sixth or seventh person to arrive would have been better. He decided to peruse the buffet and was surprised by the variety of entrées and appetizers which Zar's staff had assembled. Rumor was that she had enlisted the help of Grax and his cooking staff to create some of the dishes. Garrett had yet to visit the Orethian's establishment, but if the selections here were any indication of Grax's culinary skills, perhaps the engineer should eat out more often. His stomach growled, and he wondered if anyone would notice a couple stuffed mushrooms missing. He could easily arrange the others on the platter so it would look normal, and the other four occupants were engrossed in their dialogues with each other –
"Lieutenant Commander!"
The voice boomed with such intensity that Garrett's elbow jerked and bumped the gravy boat. He reacted quickly enough to catch it before it doused a platter of DrayH'M scallops, and when he turned he found Ambassador Vorik standing next to him, a beefy hand thrust out. Garrett shook it and stifled a yelp of pain.
"Your commodore was just telling me that you've got a Haal'Chai raider in pieces in your main shuttledock."
"Uh...yes, yes sir, we do."
The ambassador made a noise of disgust. "Please call me Queyn. I hate to stand on ceremony except where absolutely necessary." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "If I had my way, we all wouldn't be stuffed into our dress uniforms and fancy suits like holiday kor. It's Taelon. She loves all this pomp and circumstance."
Garrett joined Vorik in a hearty laugh and eyed the mushrooms once more.
"So what have you found so far? About the raider, I mean. If possible, I'd like to take a look at it myself."
Gabriel and Waaris had joined the two of them by now, and Garrett glanced at his superior officer as he answered. "Actually, we were able to complete our analyses this afternoon. We have discovered some very interesting aspects of the raider's engineering and computer control setup." He turned to Gabriel. "I have a detailed report, sir, that I was going to deliver to you tomorrow morning. I can go into it now, if you like, but it would be easier to explain if I could show you what I'm talking about."
The commodore nodded. "Let's meet in main shuttledock at oh-seven-thirty. Queyn, you're welcome to join us."
"Thank you, Marc, but my staff has already filled my schedule with meetings and appointments for the whole morning. I have several last minute details that must be taken care of before President Enkaro arrives." He scowled as he continued, and the expression turned his wide forehead into a crinkled mountain range. "This whole business with the Haal'Chai has been very distressing for my government, and I would very much hate to see all of Taelon's and my work destroyed because of it."
The door chime played it's short tune just then, cutting off Gabriel's reply. The commodore looked relieved and wasted no time in walking towards the door, helping Taelon to greet Doctor Rosenberg, Commander Decev and Major Saveck. Jerren, too, looked as though he welcomed the interruption, and he joined Garrett at the buffet. Kiran didn't know the security chief very well, but apparently the rumors which told of a falling out between Jerren and his mother some years ago were true. After being introduced to Rosenberg, Taelon made her way to Garrett.
"My apologies, lieutenant commander. I should have introduced myself as soon as you arrived."
"It's all right, ambassador. Thank you for this dinner."
Taelon smiled in a demure manner. "I did nothing. The thanks should go to Grax and his staff. These dishes are their creations. Speaking of which –"
The door chime sounded once more, as if all this was a rehearsed play. Thalor Grax was on the other side of the threshold, and with him were two waiters. "Are we late?" the Orethian asked.
"Not at all," Taelon replied. "Come in. We were just about to have drinks."
Grax nodded to the waiters and they began to pour the wine. Once everyone had a glass in hand, Taelon tapped a spoon against hers. "I want to thank all of you for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend my humble event. I wanted this to be an occasion for all of us to get to know one another better, as well as a celebration of the peace accords which have been forged between the Chrisarii Alliance and the Federation." She looked directly at Gabriel, Vorik and Saveck as she said this, then raised her glass. "To the future. To the undiscovered country."
A murmured chorus of agreement answered her as all raised their glasses and drank. Zar motioned to the buffet. "We've waited long enough," she said. "I'm sure you're all as eager to taste these dishes as I am."
Vorik and his wife were first in line, and Gabriel fell in behind them. Garrett and Krael Zar were next, then Decev, Rosenberg, Saveck, and Taelon brought up the rear. As they all took their places around the table – there were place cards with everyone's names embossed in calligraphic gold lettering – various conversations renewed themselves, and Garrett found himself sitting next to Vorik's wife. Waaris was a lovely woman with a pleasant demeanor, and the engineer was surprised by her knowledge of stardrive mechanics. She, too, wanted to get a look at the Haal'Chai raider but then laughed at the notion.
"Queyn hates it when I intrude onto his turf. Besides, I'll have more f
un taking advantage of the recreational facilities here. Mister Grax, is it true that there is a complete Orethian spa on the promenade?"
Grax was seated to Garrett's left, and he smiled as he replied, "Yes, it's true. A very good friend of mine designed and built it. You will not find another facility like it in this sector. If you desire, I can set up an appointment for you tonight. I'm sure that Yriso – he's the owner and a good friend of mine - could clear his schedule for someone of your...prestige."
Waaris chuckled at the flattery, enjoying the attention, but she refused the offer. "My schedule tomorrow is very busy. I will only have an hour or two to myself, certainly not enough time for the full range of treatments. But thank you anyway."
Grax raised his glass to her and drank. When she turned to answer a question from her husband, the Orethian winked at Garrett, then returned his attention to his pasta. Kiran smiled and shook his head, feeling a twinge of envy for Grax's apparent comfort with these types of social situations. The chief engineer felt intensely anxious, afraid to initiate a conversation because he could never think of what to say. It had been Waaris who had noticed the service division patch on Garrett's right shoulder and begun questioning him about stardrive operations. Now she was engaged in a mild debate with her husband about some ceremony which they had attended several years earlier. Grax was telling Ambassador Zar about his recipe for the DrayH'M scallops, but no matter how many times she asked, he refused to give away the secret ingredient. Doctor Rosenberg and Commander Decev were discussing a recent article which had appeared in the Tasord Journal of Medicine, and even Saveck appeared at ease as he spoke with Jerren. Garrett was too far away to hear the topic, but he was sure it had something to do with station operations. The engineer sliced another bite of pot roast and chewed slowly, wishing that he had poured some gravy on the meat. But he'd been afraid that he would spill it on his uniform, and the meat had looked tender enough – which it was, but it still would taste better with gravy.
