by Neal Jones
According to the material which Saveck had provided, there was certain rituals and traditions which one was expected to follow and present when receiving a guest of Kroth's status and importance. A lot of it involved recitations in native Chrisarii, and one of the best conveniences of modern technology was the linguistic translation bio-probes which all military officers were injected with upon their arrival at the academy. LTBs were a specially designed nanotechnology which allowed for instantaneous understanding between two species who didn't speak the same language. The microscopic computers, which could be programmed with multiple language databases, rested in specific areas of the host's brain and were completely harmless. This was Gabriel's first attempt at speaking Chrisarii, and while he was having trouble with some of the accents, his usage and pronunciation were flawless. The only side effect from the LTBs was a slight headache, especially in situations like this where the host was actually speaking the language for the first time.
The commodore's concentration was interrupted by his door chime, and he welcomed the intrusion. "Come in."
A Ralorian woman in a military uniform entered. She thrust out her hand, and Gabriel stood to shake it.
"Brantar J'Soran Varis."
"Commodore Gabriel." He motioned for her to sit and she complied.
Varis consulted the compad in her left hand and offered neither an apology nor an explanation for her tardiness. "I've been reviewing the events of the last two months, and it's clear that I should have reported for duty as soon as this station became operational." She looked up, and there was no humor in her expression. Her dark eyes revealed only cool professionalism, and her lithe frame was stiff, perching on the edge of her seat as though comfort was an anathema to her. "That said, you and Major Saveck have done an admirable job of handling the situation, and I'm sure I'll have more suggestions for you as I review this data further." Varis stood. "I've requested office space on deck four, 21C. I look forward to working with you and your crew, commodore." The Ralorian offered the barest hint of a smile before walking out of Gabriel's office.
The commodore cocked his head, honestly not sure if he had just been disrespected. A brantar was the rank equivalent of a naval lieutenant, and Varis was assigned to Gabriel's senior command staff. That meant that he was her superior officer, not vice versa, nor was she just an attaché or an independent observer. Yet she had strode into his office as though she was the one who had arranged the meeting, and then proceeded to tell Gabriel her office hours and that she was looking forward to working with him!
The commodore jerked to his feet and charged around his desk, barreling for the door at top speed. The command deck was buzzing with its usual hum of murmured activity, and Varis was at the PTL door, waiting for a pod to arrive. Commander Decev looked up, startled, as Gabriel nearly collided with the ops console. His gaze was focused squarely on the Ralorian woman in the gray uniform.
"Brantar Varis!" Gabriel's tone caused all heads to turn, not just that of the SO officer.
"Yes, commodore?"
"Please return to my office. I have a few questions for you."
"Certainly."
She followed Gabriel and sat in the chair that she had vacated only moments earlier. The office door closed, and the commodore sat, then took a sip of his coffee before leveling his gaze at his new strategic operations officer. She waited calmly, her expression almost robotic in its blankness, as though she was truly unaware of her indiscretion, and Gabriel took a moment longer to examine Varis' eyes, searching for some kind of spark. But the mask was flawless, with not a single crack or window. That, in itself, spoke volumes to the commodore, and he logged the observation for something to think about later. He also noticed that she was perched on the edge of her seat just as before, and it irked him more than he cared to admit. He'd only known this woman ten minutes, and she had already stepped on half his nerves. With everything that had happened in the last couple weeks, Gabriel didn't have many left.
"First of all, brantar, you're part of my senior command staff. We adhere to the standard alpha shift protocols, and that includes the staff briefing at oh-eight-hundred every morning. I will admit to a certain naïveté regarding your position, but that will change in the next couple days. However, I do know enough to know that you probably have access to certain sources of information and resources that I don't, and one of your first assignments is to get me some new information about the Haal'Chai." He motioned to her compad. "As you can see, I've got my plate full, but I'd really like to know where the hell their miracle technology came from. Until further notice, that is your only assignment; your only priority. Understood?"
"Yes. Anything else?"
"That's all for now. Dismissed."
When the door closed behind Varis, Gabriel sat and reached for his coffee. He sipped it slowly, wondering for the hundredth time since his arrival on Exxar-One how many more surprises lay in store. After placing his empty cup in the dispenser, he returned to his Chrisarii language lesson.
( 3 )
Navarr stirred, lifting her head despite the throbbing ache in the back of her skull. She forced her eyes open and tried to stretch her arms, but her hands were tied behind her. Her ankles, too, were bound, and all that the EarthCorps officer could see was a plain gray wall. With some effort, she twisted onto her side, then surveyed the room from her corner. Sikandra was close by, still unconscious, and trussed up in the same manner as Navarr. The room was small, probably twelve by twelve feet, and there was no windows. The only entrance was a single door which looked to be composed of the same stainless steel alloy that made up the walls, ceiling and floor. Navarr blinked some more, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the harsh glare from the pair of lighting strips which ran the length of the ceiling.
Sikandra coughed, then slowly opened her eyes. She went through the same process of discovery as Navarr did, and, after several minutes, the two women managed to work themselves into sitting positions against the wall. They both knew better than to say anything which might give away their cover, for though there wasn't any visible evidence of surveillance, it was a good possibility that they were being monitored somehow. They were also hoping that their captivity was merely a precaution, to give the Haal'Chai a chance to investigate their backgrounds, and both were silently praying that the Central Intelligence Ministry had done its job. If not, this mission was going to end very soon.
The door slid open with only a breath of sound, and Arrul entered, accompanied by the tall, slender man who had been with him in the bar the night before. The man walked quickly to Sikandra and Navarr and removed their bonds with a few swift strokes of his laser knife. He then left the room, and Arrul motioned for the women to follow him.
"I apologize for your captivity," he said as he led them down a short corridor and through another door. "But it was necessary so that we might confirm your identities." This room was larger than the last, with an oblong table and a handful of chairs grouped around it. In the center of the table was Navarr and Sikandra's IDs and travel papers. "You may have your things back. When we're finished here, I'll show you to your quarters."
Arrul sat at one end of the table, where an array of food had been arranged on a trio of silver platters. Navarr and Sikandra followed suit, and they ate slowly and cautiously. Arrul also dined, but his was more of a snack. Navarr suddenly realized how long she must have been unconscious, because as soon as she began eating, she felt ravenous. Arrul poured them some juice from a pitcher, and when he felt the moment was right, he began his briefing.
"As I said before, my name is Arrul. We use only first names here. Our cell is a small one, and we are charged with the security of this base. Right now, we are at level three. This is our security center. There's a total of nine levels, all underground. We're directly beneath the colony, almost two hundred kilometers, and the purpose of this base is to provide support and maintenance to the damaged raiders."
Sikandra nodded as she sipped her juice. "You're responsibl
e for those attacks on Exxar-One."
"We're one of the cells responsible, though we don't actually fly the raiders. We merely repair them, fuel them, and provide other means of support as necessary. Every so often we're asked to smuggle supplies to one of the other cells in Chrisarii space."
"Where do those supplies come from?" Navarr asked. "The Kauramide?"
"Some, yes. The rest, I don't know. I'm only in command of this base. I know very little of what happens outside it. I only follow orders."
"A reasonable and necessary security precaution," Sikandra observed. "What will our jobs be?"
"I've decided to put both of you in the primary maintenance bay. You'll learn how to service and repair the raiders. For these first several days you'll be observing and learning. You'll understand what I mean when you see the raiders up close."
"Are we allowed to return to the surface?" Navarr pushed aside her empty plate and reached for her glass.
"No. Not without my authorization. Everything you need is here, and I'm sure you understood that there would be certain sacrifices made on your part in exchange for your service to the Empire."
"Of course," Sikandra replied, and then wiped her mouth with her napkin. "All that we need is clothing, shelter and food. As long as those needs are met, we are yours to command."
"Good. Are you finished with your meal?" Both women nodded, and Arrul stood. "I'll show you to your quarters and then to the primary maintenance bay."
( 4 )
Commander Decev trudged along the third level of the promenade, lost in her own maze of thoughts as she headed home. She had diverted the PTL to the promenade because she didn't feel like cooking tonight, and there was a nice Italian place on this level which had become her and Josh's favorite. Not that Josh would ever say so out loud, of course, but he always came to the table a little quicker when he heard his mom say that she had stopped at George's Pizzeria to get dinner.
Joshua was actually the reason for Mariah's reverie just now. His teacher had called her earlier that day to schedule an appointment with Mariah for the following morning, and Mariah was certain that this wasn't a good thing. Only twice in the last couple years had she been called into the principal's office because Josh had done something which merited praise and/or an award of some kind. The rest of the time he had either cut class, been in a fight, or failed an assignment. If Mariah was taking bets, she'd lay money that today's call was about a fight. That was the other reason for stopping at George's for take-out. Mariah wanted something that was sure to lure her son out of his room and catch him off guard.
"Good evening, Commander Decev."
At first, the soft, soprano tone went unheard by Mariah, but after a moment she stopped and turned. The Delphic priestess was standing at the entrance to the Cassandran temple, and she was looking at the science officer with an expression of calm and curiosity.
"Good evening," Mariah replied. She turned to continue her trek, but the priestess' next words stopped her.
"Would you like to spend a few moments in meditation? The temple is empty just now, and it's been awhile since you've sat alone with the Gods."
Decev wanted to keep going, to stick to her schedule. Her stomach was rumbling, she needed to talk to Josh, and it had been a long day. An hour of meditation sounded tempting, but so did a long soak in a bubble bath. After a few moments of silent deliberation, Mariah chose the latter.
"Thank you, sister, but no. Perhaps some other time."
"Perhaps," the sister replied, her tone and expression bearing no hint of malice or bitterness at being rejected. She merely turned to the next passer-by, extending the invitation once more.
Decev hurried on her way, shaking off the momentary intrusion, and she felt her mouth water at the scent of the pizzeria which was just around the next bend. It was thirty minutes later when she finally stepped into her own quarters, and she immediately called out her son's name.
"I brought George's home," Mariah said, heading for the kitchen. "I got your favorite: stuffed ravioli with that sauce you like." She unloaded the bags, opened the containers, and set the table. Josh still had not appeared, and Mariah turned to leave the kitchen to holler his name one more time –
- and Josh was standing in the doorway, his left eye bruised and discolored, and a matching raspberry on his right cheek.
"Joshua! What the hell happened?"
"I'm fine," he said, sullen, and slumped into his chair, reaching for his fork. "The school nurse said I couldn't use a wound regenerator until I got permission from you. What she really meant was that she and Principal Warmver wanted you to see me like this."
"You're damn right that's the reason! What happened?"
"I got in a fight, mom. Duh! But if you think this is bad, you should have seen the other kid. He won't be picking on me ever again."
"Picking on you?? What –" But the rest of Mariah's sentence was cut off by the door chime. She looked up, frustrated by the interruption, but decided to answer it anyway. A Murdohn woman was standing on the other side of the threshold, and a boy who looked to be Josh's age was next to her, presumably her son. Mariah spoke up before the woman could open her mouth. "If this is about my son, Josh, then we will deal with it tomorrow morning, ten hundred hours, in the principal's office. I assume that you received the same call I did?" The woman nodded. "Good. I'll see you then. Nice to meet you."
The door closed and Mariah marched back into the kitchen. Josh refused to meet her gaze, and she didn't know where to start. But the longer she stared down at him, and the longer he kept silent, the more faded her anger became, until it dissipated altogether, and she slumped into her chair to eat her pasta.
"It wasn't something stupid, you know," Josh said quietly, after several minutes had passed.
Mariah bit back a sarcastic retort, scolding herself for being so juvenile. This was, after all, what she'd been waiting for, so she scooped up another forkful of linguini and chewed slowly as she listened.
"Tjase's been picking on me since the first day. He always gets me at recess, when the ground teacher's too busy with the other kids to pay attention, and he does stupid things, like mess up my hair, knock me down, steal my backpack – dumb shit like that."
Mariah frowned at her son's use of an expletive, but she still said nothing.
"I finally had it, and I fought back. I wasn't the only one he's been picking on, so I had some help from the other kids."
This appeared to be the end of the explanation, so Mariah swallowed her bite and sipped her Pepsi before choosing her reply. "Why haven't you said anything to me before now? We could have met with your teachers, with Tjase's parents, and worked this out."
Josh scowled. "It wouldn't work and you know it, mom. He would have just waited until the next time when he could get me, and then make fun of me for crying to my mommy and not standing up for myself. You just don't get it! Bullies like Tjase won't leave you alone unless you stand up to them, and that's what I did!" He shoved his plate away. "I'm not hungry anymore. Can I go to my room now?"
Mariah sighed. "Yes. I'll write a note to the school nurse so you can get your bruises fixed tomorrow."
"Thanks," Josh mumbled before he scurried out of the kitchen.
Mariah sighed and gathered another forkful of pasta, but she was no longer hungry. She tossed the food into the fridge and decided it was time for the bubble bath. Two hours later, when she went to check on her son, he was asleep. As usual, he hadn't changed out of his day clothes, and he was sprawled on his bed, his earphones slightly askew. Mariah removed them, shut off the music, drew a blanket over Josh, and then shut off the light on her way out. She collapsed into her own bed, and it was only a few minutes before she was unconscious.
( 5 )
Brantar Varis entered her quarters and hung her uniform jacket on the back of her desk chair. She activated her computer terminal, then connected her compad to her keyboard. While the updates to her schedule downloaded, she walked into the kitchen and ordered
a cup of Murdohn cake tea from the food dispenser. The thick, chocolaty liquid warmed her chest, and she reclined in her desk chair, taking a few moments to survey her new quarters. She liked the neutral gray and blue tones with which the EarthCorps navy painted and decorated the interiors of their ships and starbases. Two small crates rested near the door, and they held all of Varis' possessions. Most of it was clothing. Varis had no need for the extravagant, useless trinkets with which everyone else deemed it necessary to drag around with them from home to home. Her shelves and walls would remain empty. She had no photographs of friends or family, no family heirlooms, all her favorite books were on her computer, and since most of her time was spent with work, she had no need to entertain friends and/or co-workers with dinner parties and other such useless social formalities.
The download was complete, and Varis encrypted her compad before shutting it off. She trusted nothing and no one, and so she made multiple backups of her data, storing various bits and pieces here and there in the nooks and crannies of the local interweb network. All of it remained aboard Exxar-One, and no encryption protocols were as secure as those of Federation Central Intelligence. It was time to report to her superior officer, and she keyed the command into her terminal which would open a comm link. After a matter of moments, Special Agent Aaron Connor appeared on screen.
"Report."
"I have arrived aboard Exxar-One. My first assignment from Commodore Gabriel is to find new information on the Haal'Chai. I was actually hoping that you could help me in that regard."
Connor shook his head. "This Jha'Drok situation is still at the center of my attention. Our second strike team has gone missing, and I fear we have left ourselves too vulnerable in this sector."
