by Neal Jones
He managed to avoid any more small talk for the rest of dinner, but when the dessert trays were brought out from the kitchen, and it was Garrett's turn to make his selection, he chose the same slice of something that Waaris did. She was delighted by this and asked Garrett about his choice. The engineer was reluctant to tell her that he had no idea what any of the desserts were – they were strangely colored and arranged so exotically on their individual plates - so he had just selected one at random. After a brief, uncomfortable silence, he said that he had tried this dessert once before.
"What did you like about it?" Grax queried. "I added a touch of tiaw flavoring to this one, instead of the usual mint spice. Tell me what you think."
This was exactly the conversation which Garrett had wanted to avoid, and while most everyone else had returned to their various conversations, Waaris' and Grax's attention was enough to make the chief engineer so anxious that he spilled his wine as he reached for the glass. The dark liquid doused Waaris' dessert, and had it not been for the tablecloth, her lap would have been stained with the runoff. Garrett paled and stuttered an apology as he used his napkin to help soak up the spots around the woman's plate.
Waaris laughed and laid a gentle hand on the engineer's arm. "It's all right, commander. There's plenty more dessert, and the wine might even improve the taste of this one."
She sunk her fork into the slice of what looked like German chocolate cake, and Garrett was further mortified to discover that all other conversations at the table had ceased. Waaris' expression changed as she chewed and she quickly swallowed.
"Well, perhaps not. But no matter." She selected another piece of cake from the dessert tray, and while one waiter removed the old slice, the other refilled Garrett's glass.
Whether Saveck felt sorry for Garrett, or because he had become bored with the conversations that had dominated the evening thus far, the engineer couldn't say. But he was grateful nonetheless when the major chose that moment to change the subject.
"Ambassador," he said to Zar. "Early in your career, you made a speech to your House of Lords in which you quoted the philosopher Arddan Sullburo. He stated in one of his treatises on war that there is no right or wrong, that neither side has the upper hand in morality or righteousness. There is only what each faction believes, and that both are willing to die for their beliefs. Do you truly subscribe to such a notion, or were you simply quoting one of your ancestors in an effort to appease those who would be appointing you to the position you desired?"
Taelon set down her wine glass and swallowed. "No, I truly believe that precept. History and current events have shown us that war is almost always fought over some form of religious ideology, and my own experience has taught me that all sides have at least one thing in common. Sometimes it takes awhile to find that common ground, but when I do, and when all parties are finally willing to sit around the table and discuss that which they have in common, then that is when peace can be forged."
"Yet sometimes you never find that one thing," Jerren observed. "In fact, there has been more than one occasion where you left the negotiating table because you either did not believe in that precept which Major Saveck just quoted, or you failed to find that which you had in common with all parties involved."
"Yes, that's true," his mother replied, casting the briefest of glances at her son. "I have never claimed a hundred percent success in all my endeavors. And, major, you failed to finish that quote. Sullboro goes on to say that not everyone is willing to die for their beliefs. There are always a few who desire to live for them as well, and those are the few who have the power to change the course of a war. That very fact is why all of us are seated here this evening."
"Yes," Saveck agreed, "there are always those unfortunate few. And as for Sullboro's precept, he was wrong. Religious belief and the politics of war are not nearly as simple as he – and you – claim. There are absolute standards of morality, principles of right and wrong which are universal to all species and civilizations of higher intelligence."
Gabriel made a sound of disgust. "This from the empire that brutally tortured and murdered its prisoners of war."
"I didn't say that all the individuals of a specific society believed those principles which that society has accepted as universal and absolute."
"So what you're saying, major," Rosenberg interjected, "is that all religions are the same. Chrisarii, Human, Orethian, Murdohn, DrayH'M – it doesn't matter. We're all worshiping the same God, and all our prayers are going to the same place."
"Not at all. In fact, there is no scientific evidence that any God of any religion actually exists. My reason for bringing up this subject is to say this: Ambassador, you have continually sounded your own horn regarding your and Vorik's success in forging a peace between Chrisarii and Federation. You have drooled over every inch of this station since you came aboard. Yet – and I say this with all due respect – you both have failed. Our conflict has not ended. You have merely created a lull, a brief respite which both sides are using to re-arm themselves and return to the front lines. Sooner or later, the fighting will resume and you will see the error of your ways. Sullboro was wrong in that respect. All sides are willing to die for their beliefs. That will never change."
"And what about you, major?" Gabriel demanded, his tone slicing with an edge so sharp that it jolted the others at the table, and even Ambassador Zar blinked as she laid down her fork. "You were obviously not willing to die for your beliefs, else you wouldn't have been captured at Rigana-seven."
"You're right." Saveck pushed away his dessert which had remained untouched. "I am one of the few which the ambassador mentioned earlier. I would rather live for my beliefs than commit suicide for them."
"You're a coward, and you lack even the courage to admit that."
All eyes were now glued to the end of the table where Gabriel and Saveck sat across from each other. Garrett had been about to reach for his water glass when Gabriel had thrown down the proverbial gauntlet, but now the engineer was afraid to move. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally spill his glass a second time.
"What you perceive as my cowardice is, in fact, my desire to lay down my life for something worthwhile. Thus far, I have found no cause for which I am willing to die."
"How noble of you," Gabriel sneered. "You sit at this table as an intellectual, debating philosophy and religion as though you know something of those subjects, and yet we all know the truth about your people."
"Commodore," Vorik interrupted. "Perhaps we should call it an evening. Tomorrow is a long day, and –"
"It's all right, ambassador," Saveck cut in. "I'd like to hear what the commodore has to say."
"As would I," Taelon said.
This drew a startled glance from Jerren, and Garrett used this opportunity to seize his water glass.
"The truth about the Chrisarii is that all you care about is fire and blood. You raise your children to be warriors, and the ones who are too weak to fight on the battlefield are disgraced and outcast, destined to spend their lives in the roles of servants, workers, or slaves. Glory, applause, and adoration are given to those with the most blood on their hands. I have studied Chrisarii 'religion', and it all boils down to one simple precept: you believe that you are destined to rule all that is within your field of vision, and anyone who is not born with red skin and forehead ridges is considered to be a lesser species. But you did speak some truth when you said that the ambassadors have failed." Gabriel turned to Zar. "This whole charade will end, and we'll all be back on the battlefield soon enough. This whole situation with the Haal'Chai is proof of that. Exxar-One is a fine military outpost, and I hope that its armament is all that Mister Garrett has told me it is." He glanced at Vorik as he stood. "You're right, Queyn. Perhaps it's time to call it a night." Gabriel grabbed his wine glass and raised it high. "Cheers." He downed the last of his drink, and then walked out the door.
Vorik cleared his throat and stood as well. "This is only the first step of a
very long journey. Tomorrow is another day."
Taelon rose and nodded. "I agree. Thank you, everyone, for being my guests tonight, and thank you again, Grax, for the wonderful meal which you provided. Goodnight." She turned and walked into the kitchen.
Jerren was the only one who remained while the others moved to the door. Garrett breathed a sigh of great relief as he walked into the corridor, and he didn’t wait until entering the PTL to unsnap the collar of his dress uniform.
"That was...interesting," Decev remarked.
"I can't wait for tomorrow," Rosenberg quipped.
"I can't believe I almost spilled wine on Mrs. Vorik," Garrett muttered.
( 4 )
Jerren knew he wouldn't have to wait long. When his mother returned from the kitchen she displayed no surprise at seeing him in his seat at the table. He scooped up the last of his raspberry Sherbert and waited for the esteemed ambassador to sit. At first, she made a show of helping the waiters to clear the table, but she finally dismissed them and told them to come back in an hour. As she sat, she reached for the bottle of wine and refilled her glass.
"How long are you planning to stay on the station?" the security chief asked.
"To be honest, I don't know. I have requested an extended leave of absence from the Diplomatic Corps." She took a long sip of her wine and then set down her glass. "Is that really what you stayed behind to ask me?"
"Major Saveck was right. You blinded yourself to the Gorebron situation. You couldn't see that the summit was a ruse, that neither side was willing to sit at the same table unless one could use it as a tactic to wipe out the other."
For the first time since her arrival that morning, Taelon allowed her mask to slip. "Oh, for Lords' sake, Jerren, I didn't come here to be lectured by you about my mistakes!" She seized her glass and walked to the viewport, taking another long drink.
Jerren didn't move. "Why did you come here? Besides the change of command ceremony. Why the extended leave of absence from the Corps?"
Taelon sighed. "Why does it matter to you? This is a big station. I doubt we'll run into each other that often, unless I have a security issue which requires your attention." She downed the last of her wine. "I'm tired. Could we continue this interrogation some other time?"
Jerren straightened the front of his uniform as he stood. He walked out of his mother's quarters and quickened his pace as he neared the PTL. He needed something stronger than Orethian summer wine, and there was a bottle of embb that he'd been saving for a special occasion. This wasn't special, but he had nothing else, and his headache had returned with reinforcements. His temples were throbbing, and the back of his skull felt like someone was hammering at it with a Thorian ice drill.
After stepping into his quarters, Jerren tossed his uniform jacket and sash on the easy chair, grabbed the bottle from the cupboard above the kitchen sink, and filled a tumbler halfway. But just as he was about to take a sip, he paused.
( 5 )
Jerren pressed the door chime again, hoping that Gabriel had not decided to call it a night. Still no answer. It wasn't too late in the evening, so perhaps the commodore was down at Grax's or one of the many other bars which were behind every other door on the promenade. Just as the DrayH'M was about to walk away, the door opened, and Gabriel appeared.
"Commodore. I...Am I disturbing you?"
Gabriel glanced at the bottle in Jerren's hand. "No. Come in."
The security chief followed him, throwing his uniform jacket next to Gabriel's on the back of the couch. The commodore motioned to a pair of easy chairs which faced the viewport. The lights were turned down low, as was the stereo volume. The music was a form of Murdohn heavy metal.
"Computer, halt playback," Gabriel commanded, then held out his empty tumbler.
Zar filled the glass only a quarter, then filled his own halfway. "There's an old proverb that says one should never drink embb alone. If you'd rather I leave, then tell me. I don't mean to disturb you."
Gabriel waved his hand dismissively. "Nonsense. What did you call this?" He downed the liquid with one gulp, then winced.
"Embb. It's quite...potent."
"Yes, it is." He held out his tumbler, and this time Jerren filled it halfway.
"To the memory of our fathers." Zar raised his glass, and, after a moment, Gabriel did likewise.
"Our fathers."
The men drank, then shared the silence for a time, each lost within his own musings.
"When my father was home on leave, I would play cribbage with him," Gabriel said. "No matter how many rounds we played, I could never beat him. There was a few times when I would come close, but I could never peg those last four or six points." He laughed as he took another swig of the embb. "One time, I got so frustrated at losing that told him I would never play again. I expected him to scold me, or tell me that I was too old to throw such a tantrum, but all he said was that strategy only counted for so much. The rest was up to luck of the draw."
Jerren refilled both glasses, and they drank another round.
"I could never beat him," Gabriel murmured.
The commodore became lost in thought again, gazing at the stars with that muddled expression that always comes when alcohol throws its comforting veil over the mind and eyes. Jerren could feel his own veil descending, but he had enough clarity yet to observe his commanding officer. Before Gabriel's arrival, when Zar had his hands full trying to keep peace among the Chrisarii and Federation populations, the krael had held out some hope that when Exxar-One's new commanding officer arrived he/she would assume the position with firm authority and clear vision. Sadly, that was not the case.
It would be easy to condemn Gabriel for his lack of self-control and for his inability to stop himself from drowning in self-pity and allowing his hatred of the Chrisarii to consume him. Fuck it, Jerren thought. I know exactly how he feels. And he's right. It's only a matter of time before this "truce" falls apart. "It just wasn't meant to be," he said aloud.
"What?" Gabriel stirred, pulling himself upright and holding out his empty tumbler.
"Nothing," Jerren said as he downed his own drink.
He refilled both glasses, and the men drank until the bottle was empty.
Chapter 7
____________________
( 1 )
Lieutenant Commander Garrett was startled by Gabriel's appearance when the commodore entered the maintenance bay. Exxar-One's commanding officer had obviously had a long night. He looked haggard and pale, and he was rubbing his eyes as he navigated the maze of conduit, consoles, hosing, hull plating and other bits and pieces of the disassembled raider which had been carefully laid out on the bay floor. His knee slammed into the corner of an engine housing.
"Fuck!" Gabriel opened his eyes and stubbornly continued his journey to Garrett's position in the center of the maze. "Report, commander." He massaged his knee, then crossed his arms and waited.
The engineer pointed to the small, square box that sat at his feet. It was the same box that he had highlighted in his presentation to the senior staff six days earlier. "As I said before, this is the heart of the raider's stardrive assembly. These two ports on this side" – he bent down and pointed – "are entrance and exit points for a circulatory system that is, well, damned amazing, sir."
"Circulatory system?" Gabriel echoed.
"That's right." Garrett activated the holo-imager in his scanner, and a 3-D schematic of the complete assembly appeared in the air between him and Gabriel. "This square box is the reactor. It pumps energy into the central processor where it's dispersed to all the necessary systems and sub-systems. Now, here's why its offensive capabilities were able to generate a level twelve force rating. These ships were designed specifically for combat. Most standard warships – no matter their design or manufacturer – use phase pulse disruptors as their primary weapons. When a disruptor barrage is fired at these raiders, all energy from that barrage is absorbed through the deflectors and channeled directly into the stardrive assembly. I
t's recycled in the reactor and dispersed to the rest of the systems, and the whole process continually repeats itself."
"So the entire ship is one giant collector and recycler," Gabriel said. "No matter how much you throw at it, it just absorbs everything."
"Yes. Now, theoretically, one should be able to overload the entire assembly by pummeling it with a sustained barrage. However, if our analyses of this assembly are correct, then we'll need, at minimum, a forty-five second burst at a force rating of level ten. Assuming, of course, that only one ship and one raider are involved in the attack. Two ships giving off a combined force rating of level sixteen would only need a ten second burst."
"But these raiders travel in packs, and they’re not going to sit still long enough for us to pummel them with that kind of power." Gabriel massaged his right temple. "Nor would an entire fleet of hornets be able to expel a burst of that magnitude."
"Exactly. Commodore, I still don't know what these ships are made of, but this technology is way beyond anything we currently have at our disposal. The techs at the Federation Corps of Engineers would sell their grandmothers to the Rykon League to get their hands on this." He motioned to the parts and pieces that took up half of the bay floor.
Gabriel frowned. "If all this is true, how did we get so lucky in our capture of this one? The deflector frequency should have repelled the tractor beam, and the Dauntless' weapons assault was not a long enough burst to overload the system."
Garrett nodded as he walked a short distance and then picked up a thirteen-inch length of hose and wiring which was connected to a sphere the size of a baseball. "We got lucky. This particular raider was defective. This is the shield generator." He held the ball up to the light and pointed to a section of the wiring where the protective coating had been stripped away. "There was a short in this wiring, which led to a power failure one of the defense batteries. The deflector bubble wasn't able to sustain itself at the required frequency, so it collapsed under the slightest provocation. We only needed a ten second burst at level ten to overload the system."
