“Greetings,” the alien said with a thick, raspy voice and a formal bow. “My name is Zan Kai-Ool. I am pralah, or commander as you say, of the Kurgorian vessel Vanxus—the ship your Commandant Masterson encountered in the Rynzer Expanse. I am also a sitting cusah on the Kurgorian high council. On behalf of my crew and our people, please allow me to express my sincerest gratitude for this chance to come before you.”
“We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Pralah Kai…Ool,” Zier said, fumbling over the pronunciation. “We are honored by your presence…as well as your generous gift.”
Kai-Ool stared back at the chancellor through deep, golden eyes. “Think nothing of the ship. As I’m certain you well know, allies—particularly those worth having—are a priceless commodity in this part of the galaxy. The ship, therefore, seemed a small price to pay for the chance to meet new ones.”
Zier rose from his throne to address the holographic stranger directly. “If I may cut to the point, Pralah, why Alystier? Given the range capability of your ships by way of their technology, you’ve no doubt encountered hundreds of other species in your travels, if not thousands. So why us?”
Kai-Ool dismissed the comment with a casual wave. “Your modesty is noted but unnecessary, Chancellor, I assure you. We found Commandant Masterson a quite hospitable guest during his stay on the Vanxus, not to mention an extremely capable envoy.”
Now it was Masterson who bowed.
“In any case,” Kai-Ool said. “Following an extensive dialogue—before and since his voyage home—the commandant and I are in firm agreement that our two peoples could benefit greatly, and very much mutually, from an alliance. This conclusion is now shared by the Kurgorian high council following my briefing with them yesterday morning.”
Zier felt his jaw go rigid. Never, in all of his years, had he ever trusted Masterson with a diplomatic assignment, and for good reason. The commandant was hot-headed, ill-tempered, and insanely quick to judge—case in point: the atrocity he’d committed against the AS Kanaan. Now, here he goes again, overstepping his bounds with a crucial third party.
“Very well.” Zier laced his fingers at his waist. “State your terms.”
“Our terms are simple,” Kai-Ool said. “We will supply your people with everything they require to replicate our C-100 platform, as well as the means to implement it throughout your fleet in a timely fashion. We will also provide specifications for our metasteel armor and a select few of our weapons.”
“Define ‘timely,’” Felling said.
Zier shot him a scowl for speaking out of turn.
“By our early estimates,” Kai-Ool said, “we can have 20 percent of your fleet fully upgraded and online within four of your months, 50 percent by the end of the year, with a targeted end-date for refit completion at sixteen to eighteen months.”
A series of gasps filled the hall, and Zier could all but hear the proverbial hook set. And why not? Even he had to admit that the prospect of having half his fleet up and operating under full caldrasite power in mere months instead of years was ridiculously tempting.
“And what do you expect in return?” Zier asked once the clamor had subsided. “Surely you don’t plan to give us this technology out of the kindness of your hearts. You must need something.”
Kai-Ool rose to his full height. “As you’ve no doubt discovered on your own, caldrasite, while wonderfully effective, is somewhat elusive in quantity. To date, we’ve been able to sustain our needs with that of the expanse. However, we fear that, long-term, even those sources may not be enough.”
“How long-term?” Zier asked.
“Several decades, I can assure you,” Kai-Ool said. “Nonetheless, we would prefer to solve this problem now rather than pass it on to future generations, and when Commandant Masterson told us of the Auran mine on Kendara, it caught our attention.”
“In other words,” Zier said, “you’ll help us defeat the ASC in exchange for a cut of their caldrasite.”
A thin flash of white creased the red alien’s mouth, and Zier caught sight of multiple rows of pointed teeth.
“I can see you are a man of few words,” Kai-Ool said. “That is good, very good. I too loathe wasting time with talk. You are correct. We would, in return for our tech and support, expect a share of the victory’s spoils—though I would tell you it’s a small share. In addition to honing our technology over the centuries for maximum yield, we’ve also refined our production methods and rationing techniques, all of which we will be willing to provide you as part of our arrangement. All in all, we would require no more than…” He paused in search of a figure. “Eleven percent for our needs.”
Zier stroked the whiskers on his chin and considered the offer. “Per our law, parliament must call for a preliminary vote before the commandant’s proposed treaty with you can be put to the floor in a formal motion. You should know, however, that if at least sixty percent of the ministers in this room do not support that proposal in its current form, then the motion will be tabled for further discussion, which could take some time.”
“Take all the time you require,” Kai-Ool said. “Until then, my ship will hold position at the edge of the expanse to await your answer.”
“Thank you for your understanding,” Zier concluded. “You shall have it soon.”
“Very well,” Kai-Ool said. “Vanxus out.”
The holo-emitter flickered once before going dark. The chamber lights came up, and Masterson returned to Zier’s side. Unlike before, though, when the commandant had made it a point to face the crowd, now he had his back to them—free of the microphone—and stared at Zier through narrowed eyes.
“Your move, Chancellor.”
* * * * *
Chapter 20: Little Talks
Tying up the last of their loose ends the next morning, Danny moved gingerly to the door—his ribcage freshly taped for the trip—and placed his and Madisyn’s bags on the street-side for the transport driver to load.
“All right, you should be all set,” Madisyn said to Katie, handing her the keys along with a piece of paper containing her and Danny’s identification codes and a list of local attractions around Retaun. “Should you need anything, Misty down the hall is always around, or you can reach us via subspace using these IDCs.”
“Thanks, guys.” Katie tucked the paper into the back pocket of her jeans. “I appreciate everything.”
“You gonna be okay?” Danny asked over Madisyn’s shoulder.
“Sure, I’ll be fine,” Katie said. “Believe it or not, I’ve already got a dinner date for tonight.”
“Oh really?” Danny asked. “Do tell.”
“Relax,” Katie said. “It’s just Hamish. He’s coming down from the Praetorian to take me out to some place that serves…” She searched for the word. “Trila-vera? Trina-valda? I don’t know. Something like that.”
“Trinavella,” Danny corrected. “Ever had paella?”
Katie nodded.
“It’s kinda like that. Seasoned meat, vegetables, and beans served over a bed of shagree, which is pretty close to rice. Careful, though—it might be a little pungent for your liking.”
“I’d expect nothing less from our favorite Scot,” Katie said. “Lee told me about the Haggis incident in college.”
Danny pretended to gag. “Ugh. Talk about a rough day.”
“Just go with the veggie Trinavella and you’ll be fine.” Madisyn nudged Danny’s arm. “Now if you’ll excuse us, King Kachuro and I have a 1530 shuttle to catch back to the Larrin.”
“Go, get outta here.” Katie shooed them off. “Have fun and drink some umbrella drinks for me, okay? That is, if you guys do umbrella drinks out here.”
“Copy that,” Danny said with a laugh. Opening the car door for Madisyn, he looked back to Katie. “Listen, you sure you’re all right here?”
Katie shot an annoyed glance skyward. “Seriously, Danny. I appreciate the concern and all, but this isn’t high school. I’m a big girl now, remember? I’ll be fine.�
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“Yeah, yeah,” Danny said. “I hear ya, Scraggly.”
Katie put a hand on her hip. “MMA rock star or not, Champ, we both know I kicked your ass back in high school when you called me that, and I can totally do it again. Only now ‘Dr. Adult’ me can turn it into an anatomy lesson while I do it.”
Madisyn leaned out of the car and tugged on Danny’s coat. “Just so you know, she has an open invitation to visit anytime she wants. Now can we please go?”
* * *
Back aboard the Larrin two hours later, Danny tossed the last of their bags into an overhead bin and collapsed onto a bunk to wait for Madisyn’s return from a meeting. “Seven hours,” he muttered past a yawn, lamenting the fact that even a C-100 like this vessel couldn’t get him to Kellen 3 any faster. Were he traveling by land, a nap might’ve been a great option to pass the time. But not here on a starship. Not unless he wanted to pop one of Doc Stanzic’s sleeping pills, in which case he’d spend the first four hours after waking stumbling around the ship like a hung-over zombie fresh off a weeklong bender on Bourbon Street.
Danny rubbed his eyes with his fists. “Man, this sucks.”
After a cursory glance through the portholes at the two ASC outcutters next to the Larrin—Madisyn’s usual presidential escort—Danny slumped deeper into his seat and pulled the black-felt box from his coat’s breast pocket. Flipping it open, he studied the classic but modest round-cut diamond ring inside. It was funny, the way it made him feel to picture himself giving it to Madisyn…the excitement, the anticipation, the rush of it. Danny had already done this twice before, but neither time had it ever felt like this—one of the many reasons why he knew it to be right.
For the briefest of moments, he’d actually considered proposing at center-ring in the Bombshell, when he’d had the energy of the crowd and the heat of the spotlight to set off the moment. But that wasn’t his style, and it certainly wasn’t Madisyn’s. For her it was all about the moment. Not the Hallmark cliché with the candles, the wine, and the best of Otis Redding, but a quiet, simple moment alone between two people. That might’ve seemed mundane or even boring to some, but to Danny and Madisyn it was everything because of what it symbolized—priority, commitment, devotion, and above all, the conscious, adult choice to put another’s wants and needs over his own.
As for the speech, Danny had that down pat, too…in the mirror, anyway. No matter what happens, he’d tell her, or what life throws at us, I will always be here—through better or worse, sickness or health, sunshine or shadow—because I choose to be. Not out of the wild, youthful emotion that ebbs and flows with time or some dogmatic obligation to a vow that most people break anyway. But because having made every possible mistake there is to make on this, I now finally get it, and appreciate that my life—that my happiness—is a far more complete thing when yours is at its center.
The wall terminal across the room chimed.
“All crews please report to your stations for departure,” Captain Weldon announced.
Danny snapped the box shut and tucked it into his side pocket just as the door to his cabin slid open, and Madisyn appeared. “How’d it go with Shana?” he asked. “She amped for the conference?”
“Stressed beyond measure, but yeah, I think so.” Madisyn glanced across the room toward him. “She’s been up half the night rerunning assay sims for a talk she’s giving tomorrow in one of the early sessions. I told her not to freak out, that she’d be fine, but that’s a new graduate for you.”
Danny made a face. “Dude, that girl needs to find a man…like, stat.”
“Nice medical term there, Hawkeye.” Madisyn slugged his arm. “Now are you gonna break out our takeout, or what?”
Shortly thereafter, having enjoyed their fill of escanza-herb soup and toasted sandwiches on rye from Hessler’s Deli, the two slumped back together on the common area’s lounger and bellowed unison sighs of contentment.
“Okay, so I’ll admit it,” Madisyn said, her head cradled on Danny’s shoulder. “Right about now, I’m totally hating the fact that I’ll be in a conference room tomorrow and not on a beach.”
“Funny you should mention that,” Danny said, “because there’s this little word called ‘no’ that might’ve made that possible.”
Madisyn shot him a look. “Smart-ass.”
“Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”
“Listen, stud, I’m really trying to have a tender moment here, all right? So will you please just let me? Besides, it’s not like you didn’t get your Kachuro bout out of this, so stow the guilt trip.”
Danny gave her his “Mua-ha-ha” face, but then he sobered. “Seriously, Madisyn, for what it’s worth, I hate that you have to work tomorrow, too, but I get it. Really. It’s like you and Katie said—this is a huge deal for a lot of people, and nobody knows this stuff like you do. So you’ve gotta be there to answer their questions.”
Madisyn smiled, and Danny felt the box in his pocket press deeper into his side. For a second, he thought of giving it to her right then and there, but that was just his excitement trying to get the best of him. He’d put far too much time and energy into planning the perfect scene in Finley Springs, and he wasn’t about to blow that now for a cramped passenger cabin aboard a starship. No way.
“I love you, Madisyn.” He lifted her chin to meet her eyes. “I always have, and just so we’re clear, I’m very, very proud of you on this.”
Madisyn’s entire demeanor warmed in the blue glow of hyperspace. “I love you, too, Danny. Thanks so much for—”
A violent collision rocked the Larrin’s starboard nacelle like a thunderbolt.
Leaping to their feet amid the yelping alarm and crimson light of the ship’s red alert, Danny and Madisyn raced to the nearest porthole in time to see both of the Larrin’s escorts vanish in matching plumes of orange—each ship obliterated in a single explosive shot that never in a million years could’ve been absorbed by conventional armor.
“What the hell?” Danny blurted in shock—Madisyn white-faced beside him.
“All hands!” Captain Weldon yelled through the comm. “Battle stations!”
* * *
“You have got to be kidding me!” Mac groaned into her pillow. “We’re only on our frickin’ honeymoon, here!”
Startled awake by the buzzing communicator on his nightstand, Lee rolled over in bed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and reached a groggy hand for the device. “Go for Summerston.”
* * * * *
Part Two
Chapter 21: Fortunes of the Divine
Furious beyond words, Alec Masterson stormed out of the Chamber of Ministers and ducked out of sight into the first empty alcove he could find.
Idiots!
For the life of him, Masterson still couldn’t fathom how it’d happened…how Zier had managed to dig out the last eighteen votes he needed for a temporary stay on the Kurgorian treaty motion. But the old man had done exactly that with his “open-source revolution” speech. And for what—an in-depth vetting process that could take weeks, even months to finish? And where would the empire stand in the war then?
Masterson thought of the eighty-four men who’d voted against him. Fools, the entire lot of you. If they only knew what the Kurgorians were offering—the sheer power of it—they’d fall on their faces and praise them like the very gods themselves.
No matter. Soon enough parliament, too, would succumb to the change that was coming. They all would, and nothing could stop that.
Feeling a vibration on his left forearm, Masterson pulled the communicator from his pocket and found a message waiting for him in the display.
“Incoming communiqué from Scorpion; authentication required.”
After he entered his passcode, the screen flashed “Channel Secure” then the next line of text: “Mission complete. Sedation protocol enacted; transfer set for 0915. Eurial ETA: 1330.”
“Nicely done, Captain Briggs,” Masterson murmured, having expected this news for the last ha
lf hour. He started to respond, but was cut short when another line of text appeared on the screen, accompanied by an image.
Masterson froze, his jaw falling open as he gaped at the picture in stunned disbelief. Is this even possible? Could it be that the gods favor me this much? It took him a solid five seconds to collect himself for a response. “Identification?”
Another five seconds.
“Identity confirmed.”
Nearly overwhelmed, Masterson closed his eyes and meditated for a moment on what this meant. He’d long believed that the gods had been with him on his quest to return Alystier to its former glory. But this was validation of that, plain and simple. Thank you, my lords. Thank you for bestowing upon me this most gracious of blessings. You have my solemn vow as a defender of this great empire that I will not fail you.
Masterson returned to his communicator. “Scorpion, upon atmo breach, redirect your shuttle to my personal platform and await further instruction.” The commandant’s private bay would give them their best option for cover and crowd control. From there, however, he’d need to get Briggs and his cargo off the grid and out of sight. But where to do that? Detron City came to mind, but Masterson dismissed it. Marlon 3 was entirely too far from the captain’s current location. And besides, depending on how things went with parliament later, they might need access to the prisoner on the premises.
Masterson snapped his fingers. The ground-ops training facility at Fort Donner. They were between classes, which meant crews would be light, plus the base’s CO was a trusted friend. “Correction, Scorpion. Post-touchdown, take arranged transport to secure location; additional aid will be standing by. Next contact: 1345.”
Red Sky Dawning Page 17
