The agents split up into two teams, one going with the Captain, the other with Mary, his Exec and mate. They spent about a half an hour poking into nooks and crannies, then moved back to the airlock.
“Good luck on getting a cargo, Captain,” said the Officer. “Maybe we’ll see you on the way out.”
I seriously doubt it, thought Jasper. “Could be. Have a great day.”
Jasper was still sweating as the shuttle left his ship and returned to the cutter. There was always the possibility that they had noted something and were just smart enough to get themselves to safety before signaling help.
He didn’t allow himself to feel safe until an hour after the cutter had moved off and nothing else moved toward him in that time.
“I think we are safe, my Lord,” he told the Cacada male as the bulkhead rose and the huge aliens stepped back onto the bridge, which was again configured as a high tech warship control center. “I suggest we keep the weapons on the other side of the wormhole for now.”
“I agree,” said the smiling male, looking at the plot. “We have made it through the final obstacle. The humans will now pay for their arrogance in challenging their betters.”
Jasper looked at the being for a moment, then looked away before the Cacada could read his emotions. He had to wonder if the Ca’cadasans actually were the superior species. He looked back at the plot, which showed the thriving system of the humans, and thought of the target the other ship was trying to strike, something he didn’t think the Ca’cadasans were capable of building.
He drove the thoughts from his mind before he did something to give himself away. He still had a mission to complete, one that would benefit his own small branch of humanity. But it would mean disaster for the species as a whole. Crap, he thought, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get the treasonous thoughts out of his mind. He took another look arund the bridge wondering who else might be having these thoughts, if anyone. And what they could do about it if the majority were against them.
* * *
CRAKISTA HOME WORLD, DECEMBER 29TH, 1002. D-3.
“Welcome to our homeworld, your Majesty,” said the reptilian being on the holo.
“Thank you, Madame Commissioner,” replied Sean, using the only human term that even came near to the actual meaning, depending on the translation program to make the proper interpretation.
The main viewer, still visible beyond the holo, showed the surface of the planet below. It was an arid world, the place where the Crakista, not really reptiles, had evolved. It was a harsh climate as a whole, though areas of luxurious green shone in large patches, the fruits of a technological civilization. That much of the world was still desert was due to the indigenous sentients wishing to preserve as much of the natural environment as possible, and the ability to sustain a large population without the need for using up the entire surface.
“The others have already arrived, your Majesty,” said the being with a facial expression that most closely imitated a smile in her people, if one could ignore the longish snout and sharp teeth. The Crakista were omnivores, much like humans, but they sure looked like obligate carnivores.
Sean looked around at the other holos that showed the ships of the other leaders. The Elysium battleship looked like something designed by the elves of legend, though he knew it to be a tough and efficient warship. The New Terran Republic ship appeared to be a variation of his own Empire’s vessels, which for all intents and purposes it was. The Klashak and Margravi ships also closely resembled Imperial ships, which made sense since they obtained most of their military tech from the humans. The Crakista ships, of which there were scores in orbit, were nothing like any of the other vessels. With even more graceful lines than the Elysium ship, the Crakista warship was of a size with the human vessels, but with a shimmering surface that showed a number of intricate designs. Of course those would disappear when the ship went into combat, but the showing of them was one sign that the Crakista were not contemplating action at the moment.
“I thought I was on time,” said Sean, wondering if he might have insulted his hosts by being unintentionally late.
“You are perfectly on time, Emperor Sean. The others arrived early, though we still do not see the utility of this.”
Always logical, thought the Emperor with a smile. The Crakista did not lack emotions. In fact, they had more empathy and kindness than most humans, and when angered they could go into a killing rage that would frighten the bravest enemy. But they had learned ages ago how to sublimate their emotions when making important decisions. They used logic, and only logic, when making life or death decisions. Which didn’t mean they didn’t feel the pain of their decision, and didn’t regret them sometimes. They just never let them influence what needed to be done.
“Your shuttle is clear for entry into our atmosphere,” continued the Crakista council leader. “We will be expecting you shortly.”
The shuttle waited in the mid-port hangar. An assault shuttle, used for delivering Marines on surface attacks, they were the most heavily protected small craft in the imperial inventory. Secret Service guards waited. Sean had ordered that his armored Marines were not to accompany him, much to the protest of his security. But he didn’t think a lack of thirty heavily armed Marines would affect his security much. Either the Crakista acted in good faith and protected him, or nothing mattered. If they decided they wanted to kill him, his battleship wouldn’t be enough to save him here in their space.
On the flight down he looked over the surface of the planet on the viewer. There were scattered cities, several in the multi-million range, though nothing near as large as those on Jewel. The capital came up over the horizon, no larger than many of the other cities. He zoomed in on the urban area, marveling at the many tall buildings that looked like gossamer threads reaching four or five kilometers into the sky. All were brilliantly colored, though the effect was anything but garish.
As Sean walked from the shuttle onto the landing field he was struck by the dry heat, before his attention was totally captured by the multitude of small beings that stood on the tarmac in organized ranks, wearing the uniforms of the Crakista military. Several beings stood at the bottom of the stairs that had been rolled up to the side of the shuttle, these in sheer and colorful clothing. There were three dominant colors of skin on the aliens, brown, yellow and red, the three races of the dominant species of this Empire. The beings at the base of the stairs exhibited all of these colors, and Sean remembered that the Crakista were a very egalitarian people. Not all sentients were, just as humankind hadn’t been at times in its history.
A band started playing as the Emperor moved down the stairs. The instruments sounded like water tinkling over rocks, counterpointed with braying. He was sure it was a stirring rendition of something that moved the Crakista, but doubted it would be much in demand in the Empire. The military personnel all brought a right fist into the air, then thumped them on their chests, their version of the formal salute. They held their hands in place until an officer shouted a command to drop them to their sides.
There were other aliens out there as well, not in uniform, performing tasks around the landing field. The Crakista granted all of their sentients citizenship in the Empire, much like the humans. But they didn’t allow them in their military or top government positions. Their view was they had founded the organization that protected all, and shouldn’t be expected to give up their power.
“Welcome, your Majesty,” said one of the Crakista in heavily accented Terranglo, holding out a small hand.
Sean was always struck by how small and delicate the reptilians were. They really weren’t reptiles, after all, closer to dinosaurs, though not quite those either. They moved with an economic grace that few other beings could match, only the Avian Brakakak coming close.
“Thank you, Commissioner,” replied Sean, taking the hand gently, then bending to kiss it in the way of his people. “It is a true pleasure to meet you in person.”
“I hope th
at this summit will be productive for all of our peoples,” she said, looking up at Sean’s small security detail coming down the stairs.
Sean glanced back. He was sure that all of his agents were sighted in by snipers. His military would have done the same with any security in proximity to himself, just in case. He looked back at the five Commissioners, all now looking expectantly at him.
“Let me introduce my fellow servants of the people,” announced the Commissioner, gesturing to each leader in turn while saying some unpronounceable names.
“I am sure that we will find a way to work through our differences,” said Sean, nodding to the other leaders. At least I hope so.
An hour later the Emperor was sitting in the conference room with the other leaders of the alliance. To his right sat President Julia Graham of the New Terran Republic. She wore a worried expression, and Sean was sure many of the same things were going through her mind as his. The Republic was dependent on the Empire to help shore up their military. That included wormholes, and any of that tech that made its way to the other allies probably wouldn’t end up with her people.
To his left sat the Czar of New Moscow, Sergie Baryshnikov. His was the most junior member of the alliance, due to the hit they had taken from the Cacas, turning them from a respectable power into what amounted to a beggar state. That monarch also looked stressed, for good reason. The fleets that had pulled out of the alliance had been helping to garrison his kingdom, and now his people were more at risk due to their absence.
On either end of the table sat the representatives of Klashak and Margrav, both looking like they felt out of place being in a conference with the big boys. The Klashakian representative was a squat being with gray skin, looking for all the world like a rock with tendrils. His people were as bright as any, but with limited physical abilities that had made them easy prey for the Lasharans. They could still run a warship as well as anyone, but contributed very little to the ground effort. The Margav representative looked like a large insect, and his seat was set on grav plates to reproduce the light gravity of his homeworld, while he wore a breathing mask to give him the proper higher oxygen atmosphere his people needed.
Across the table sat the representatives of the Elysium and Crakista Empires. Originally the conference had been planned so that the allies could discuss the strategies they would use to defeat the Ca’cadasans. Now it had changed into a discussion on how the New Terran Empire could keep the alliance together, how much they had to give the other powers in order to convince them to remain in the fold. Not what Sean had been planning on.
“I think it comes down to how much we can trust the human governments,” said Lord Grarakakak, looking pointedly at Sean. “We never really wanted you to build that station in the first place. There are so many risks, so many unknowns. But since you have built it, the station has proven a benefit to your Empire’s military. So much so, that should you happen to win this war, you will become the supreme military power in this arm, if not the Galaxy itself. Which leaves us with a problem.”
“Actually two of them,” said the Crakista representative, looking over at the Brakakak and receiving a nod to proceed. “First off, your hording this tech makes our militaries little more than junior partners, to be used as you wish. We can be used to blunt enemy attacks, at a high cost to our ships and people.”
“And we don’t use your people in such a way,” complained Sean. “I can guarantee that we only send your forces into battle when they are necessary for victory, or at least avoiding disaster. Our own forces are still our primary resource, and we are very cognizant of the lives of our allies.”
The two representatives of the two smaller allies, Klashak and Margav, both gave their versions of acknowledgement. Both had been human allies for centuries, and had seen the sacrifices the New Terran Empire had made in protecting them from the Lasharans. Both had paid the price in later wars with that Empire, and neither had regretted standing with the humans.
“Which doesn’t answer the second problem,” said the Crakista. “You are already moving ahead of us in technological leaps and bounds. By the time the war is over, even with the sharing of electronics and ship weapons, your wormhole tech will make you the most powerful species since the Ancients. And that is something we cannot tolerate. If you have this tech, so must we.”
“We given you some wormholes already,” said Sean, rubbing his temples. They were asking for more than his Empire was willing to give. He looked down at the table for a moment, thinking about what they asked. Plans, schematics, maybe even engineering aid to build their own wormhole generators. But really, what can they do with them. They don’t have a suitable black hole to build a station like ours. They still might be able to adapt a smaller hole for the process, or brute force it with large ice planet stations. The first would take decades, maybe even a half century or more. The second would mean they could make their own wormholes, but never on the scale of the human race. He turned back to the Crakista leader.
“I thought you had said you were willing to throw in with us, seeing that we were a better choice than the Ca’cadasans.”
“And we still believe that, but we would rather be your partners than your subjects.” The Crakista raised a hand before Sean could open his mouth. “I know. You will guarantee that it will not happen, in your lifetime. But you will not live forever, and the next Emperor might have other priorities.”
All I have to do is say yes, and they will send their ships back to the front. But without the permission of Parliament, I would just be telling a lie. And if I forced the measure through without their approval, I would end up paying for it in the future. But I have to make a decision.
“I…”
“Your Majesty,” came a voice over his com. “We’re receiving a message through the wormhole. The Cacas have gone on the offensive in the kingdom of New Moscow.”
Sean looked over at President Graham, then at the Czar. Both had looks of concentration on their faces, receiving messages on their coms. He could tell by the aspects of the other leaders that they were also getting information from their own staffs.
“We’re under attack,” said Sean, seeing the understanding in their faces. “Will you come to our aid?”
“Until you meet our demands, we will not be committing our forces to your war,” said the Crakista leader, glancing over at Grarakakak, who was giving forth a very human nod.
“Then the hell with both of your governments and people,” cursed Sean, jumping to his feet and gesturing to his Agents. “We’re going.”
The Emperor stormed from the room, passing the Crakista soldiers who hurredly got out of the way. He had just insulted their leader, and he wondered for a moment if they might try to stop him from getting to his shuttle. But they had to know that doing so would lead to war.
“Send the ambassadorial staff down,” he said into his com. They had been brought along to meet with the staffs of the other leaders, once they had hammered out some of their talking points. Now he had to hope that they could keep a dialogue open. The one thing he did know, the one thing he believed, was he had to be on the flag deck of a ship when the battle was joined.
“How fast can I get to the front?” he asked his Chief of Staff when he had boarded the battleship.
“We can get you to the Augustine in about three hours, your Majesty,” answered the Captain who was serving as his aide this trip. “She’s starting to move out to the hyper barrier, but we can slow her down for the moment.”
“Then do so,” said the Emperor, pulling up the information that they had on his implant. So far the Cacas had been spotted in three forces, the largest heading directly for New Moscow, ETA five days. Augustine’s force was in another system, but could be vectored to intercept either of two of the Caca fleets, though not the main one. And it wasn’t vital that she get into hyper for another twelve hours, and in fact she needed to pace her approach with her task group so that the others could arrive at the same time. Which would give
him plenty of time to get to her before she was at too high a velocity for the wormhole portal to handle the difference in inertia.
“Let’s get going. But put me on the com to Lord Grarakakak before we transit the wormhole.”
A moment later the face of the Brakakak noble appeared on a holo, and from the expression on his face Sean thought he was both troubled and embarrassed. But then he wasn’t an expert on the facial expressions of that species of sentient.
“I wish to tell you that I hope you can defeat the Ca’cadasans, your Majesty,” said the Brakakak before Sean could speak.
“I hope we can too, Lord Grarakakak. But if we can’t, the Kingdom of the Czar will again be overrun, and we will lose what little military power they have laboriously rebuilt.”
“I am sorry, your Majesty. I am not the sole ruler of my Empire, and I have to get others to agree with me before I can get my people to commit to action.”
“You might want to work on that agreement, High Lord. Because I have a feeling that things are about to get really tense out on the frontier, and if they don’t go our way, the action will be moving closer to your Empire every day.”
Sean cut off the transmission, then pulled up the tactical plot again, trying to memorize what was going on while his agile mind worked through the possibilities. Right now it looked like his force was larger than the Cacas in total tonnage, and he had the advantage of wormhole weapons. Of course, he couldn’t be sure that was all that was heading his way. Thank God for the wormhole weapons, he thought. They had given him an advantage in several fights in the past, and he wasn’t sure what he would do without them now.
Chapter Nine
Gentlemen, when the enemy is committed to a mistake we must not interrupt him too soon. Horatio Nelson
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 11: Day of Infamy (Exodus: Empires at War.) Page 10
