by T. R. Harris
“So this could be a delaying tactic, maybe something to give the Kracori time to prepare for our assault?”
“But that would mean the Kracori know we’ve learned the location of Elision,” Kate Arnold pointed out before the General could reply to the previous question.
General Blake nodded and pursed his lips. “There has always been a very real suspicion that we didn’t purge all the Klin spies from the planet; however we never had a way of knowing for sure. This could be the proof we seek … proof that spies are still operating within the Human community and obviously within highly-placed positions.”
David Charlton had heard enough. If he let the discussion go on, more questions about who would benefit from a Human-Jusepi war might be asked.
“General, as well as my fellow Councilmembers and Representatives, we now have a decision to make,” he said forcefully. “I think we all know what’s happening here. The Jusepi Situation must be dealt with, whether they are being assisted by the Klin or not. Whoever their allies may be, they appear to have ambitions beyond simply removing all Humans from their space. It’s my belief that they will continue to advance into other parts of the Solar Alliance until they’re stopped.
“In addition, if this revolt has been a concoction of the K’s to delay our attack upon Elision, then the Kracori must believe they can build a sufficient defense to ward off our attack while we address the Jusepi crisis.”
“Then we can’t delay,” stated Eric Benson, the other representative of the World Governing Bodies. “We can’t let the Kracori have the time they need to mount an effective defense. We must attack Elision now.”
“But what about the Jusepi?” Aaron Johnson asked. “We can’t let them continue to spread from system to system doing whatever they please.”
So he finally admits the Jusepi are a danger, Charlton thought. Progress is being made.
“They must be dealt with first, before we launch against the Kracori,” Charlton said decisively.
“I say split our forces,” Ted Hill offered. “Send an adequate force against the Jusepi and the rest to Elision. That way we can deal with both situations simultaneously.”
Charlton looked to General Blake for a reply. The General slowly shook his head. “That would not be a wise move, Mr. Hill. The Jusepi may be small in number yet their forces are spreading out in multiple directions within the Alliance. There’ll be no major decisive battle for victory. Each of the individual alien units will have to be tracked down and destroyed, requiring more ships than would normally be required against an enemy of this strength. And we surely cannot launch against the Kracori unless we are at maximum strength – and more. If the location of Elision is verified, then our fleet and all support vessels will be required to travel nine thousand light-years from the Earth and strike an enemy on their home ground – and who’ve had time to prepare for our assault. The force we send against Elision must be overwhelming, that much is certain. It will be better to have too much strength in the region than not enough.”
“So what do you suggest, General?” Charlton asked. Here it comes!
Without hesitation the General answered. “I recommend we send everything we can muster against the Jusepi now and end this revolt in the shortest time possible. This will also serve as a live-fire training exercise for the fleet for when we go against the Kracori. At that time, we will already have a substantial force assembled and battle-ready. After the Jusepi are contained, then the fleet can launch against the Kracori in short order, and supplemented by additional units we currently have under construction. If the K’s are expecting a more drawn-out campaign against the Jusepi, then we just may catch them before they can complete their defenses.”
“Would that include the Earth defenses, General?” Kate Arnold inquired.
“Everything, Madam Representative. Eventually we would pull these forces to add to the fleet going to Elision. All we’re doing now is assembling the Elision fleet early and then diverting it to the Jusepi crisis first. Any reduction in fleet strength would only delay our victory against the Jusepi and allow the Kracori more time to mount a defense.”
“So the Earth would be left defenseless?”
“We would still have the land-based defenses, as well as local police forces. But according to our latest threat-assessment, the Jusepi are the only ones on the list, and they will be dealt with long before they reach the Earth.”
There were murmurs around the room, as advisors moved up to their clients and the internal debate began. After ten minutes of chaotic conversation in the echoing chamber, David Charlton gaveled for silence.
“It’s time for a vote,” he announced. “To debate further will only give our enemies more time to prepare. The vote will be on whether or not to follow General Blake’s recommendation that we assemble our fleet now and send it against the Jusepi. Once that campaign is complete, it will then be deployed to Elision … assuming the location of the planet can be verified by then. I will start the voting; I vote yes.”
The final tally was four to one, with only Aaron Johnson dissenting. No surprise there.
********
Later that day, David Charlton eventually shrugged off all his advisors and escorts and returned to his office on the ninetieth-floor of the Administration Building. He closed the door, poured a whiskey neat and then reclined on the soft leather sofa across the vast room from his desk. He downed the drink in two deep gulps and then rested the empty glass on his stomach.
He’d done it! And the discussion he’d had earlier with General Blake had convinced the senior military officer as to the logic of his argument. After that, the General had played his part perfectly.
But more than that, the plan also made sense – which was the strangest part of it all. Could this be revenge on the Kracori for the revolt they staged against the Klin over ten years ago? Is that why his handlers had recommended this course of action? When all was said and done, it seemed as though only the Kracori would suffer the most from today’s vote, which was fine by him. Using the Jusepi Situation as a delaying tactic obviously meant that the Kracori were ill-prepared for an assault on their homeworld, at least at this time. It made sense then to deal with the Jusepi quickly … and then send the fleet to Elision.
When all the facts were taken into consideration, he probably would have recommended the same plan on his own. So why the bribe? Of course, Charlton wasn’t going to delve too deeply into the motivations of his handlers. He stood to make out quite nicely for taking a line-of-action he probably would have taken anyway. It was a no-lose proposition.
Even so, whiskey helped to calm his nerves.
For a moment in the meeting, David Charlton had been genuinely scared. Besides the potential loss of such a huge fortune if the vote had gone the other way, his own paranoia made him believe that everyone in the room knew of his subterfuge. He had never taken a bribe before, which he knew was unusual for a politician. But for this he blamed the system. Nowhere in the lower offices did term-limits apply. Yet for him, it was one-and-out. As a consequence, he didn’t even have the opportunity to solicit contributions from donors for reelection, money which could easily be diverted to enhance his future living arrangements. And even to corporate lobbyists, he was a lame-duck from the first day in office, so even they couldn’t lavish him with money for his support in the disguise of campaign contributions. Any large sums of money showing up by traditional means in the accounts of a Councilmember would be a clear red-flag of wrong doing.
Yet these funds were coming from off-shore – really off-shore – which had been one of the reasons for his depressing tour of the three alien worlds. Special banks on one of them would retain his two-hundred million dollars-worth of gold bullion, hidden away from all prying Human eyes or efforts to trace. And the source of the commodity did not come from the Earth, or at least that’s what he was told. That made the gold doubly-blind and secure. He had even briefly contemplated retiring to one of these exotic lands – until he wen
t on his recently tour. The thought now only made him shudder.
He had to face it; David Charlton was a Human through and through, and as such he would find some peaceful corner of the planet Earth to call his retirement home. He still had to figure out how he’d keep the money sheltered as he spent it, but that was just a detail now, something he would devote more thought to later.
Right now he thought about another whiskey. After all, today was a day to celebrate!
Chapter 11
Present Day Aboard the Ifrit…
Even though the deal with the two aliens had been struck, Ruszel still insisted that their cover story be fully played out which required Riyad to land on the surface of Lucon-Por and dispose of all his monitoring devices. He had been informed that the trade convoy would only be at Lucon-Por for a day before heading back out, and once they were detached from the rest of the ships, the journey to the Dysion Void would take about nine days … a fact Ruszel quickly amended to only four when considering the capabilities of Riyad’s ship.
Although Riyad was on a deadline to accomplish his mission, the timeline still fit, even with the stopover on Lucon-Por. He was actually thrilled at the turn of events. He had guides now who would help him learn the truth behind the McCarthy Coordinates.
********
Of the sixty ships in the convoy, only three were small enough to make landfall, with the Ifrit being the smallest by far. As they began their descent, young Canos had filled him in about the planet.
Lucon-Por was a standard-sized world with a surface gravity rated at 1.08 that of Juirean-standard. With the Nebulites – Riyad’s term, not theirs – animosity for anything Expansion-related, he was surprised they would even use standard Juirean gravity ratings. The other odd thing about Lucon-Por was that it had a single landmass, and one not much larger than Australia on Earth. On this large island, lived over two billion people, making for very crowded conditions. What this also meant was that there was no extra space left for mining, farming or other common endeavors necessary for a population this large to sustain itself. Therefore, the natives of Lucon-Por relied almost solely on outside trade to provide them with the necessities of life.
The Ifrit landed at the island’s main spaceport, already crowded with vessels because of its relatively small size for the number of craft that were coming and going. Even though the vast bulk of the trade ships were too large to land, they all sent shuttles, and in many cases, several at a time, bringing with them the items they carried for sale. On Convoy Day, the place was packed.
Outside the landing field was what appeared to be a permanent flea-market, vast in scope and containing thousands of open-air booths and trade stations designed to process the constant flood of merchandise coming onto the planet. Riyad wondered how the Lucon-Pors got the money to pay for all these goods, since no one had mentioned what the natives sold back to the Guild. Since his role as a merchant-trader was only a cover, he didn’t have enough interest to inquire any further. Obviously, the natives did produce something of value otherwise all these traders wouldn’t be here all hocking their goods.
Once the Ifrit had settled to the surface and the engines cooled, another alien – this one rather short and stocky with skin of a faint purplish color – arrived at the ship and immediately proceeded to enter into a heated argument with Ruszel. From the few words Riyad could pick out this was the permanent pilot and he was very upset that he was not to receive his commission. However, once Ruszel convinced him that his assignment would be for only a short return trip to Tel’or, the purple alien finally stopped protesting and eventually stalked off, dragging his long duffle bag behind him.
Canos joined Riyad in the small cargo hold and surveyed his supply of medical monitors. Again, the young alien expressed his disbelief that all he had were these three hundred units. “Yes, they do appear to be very nice models. I will direct you to the proper section of the clearinghouse where I’m sure you will find a ready buyer. You do realize that if you had more of these units – and could complete the entire circuit – you could leave with almost half a million ruiens.”
“No shit?”
“You seem to use that phrase a lot in your native language, and although I have heard you explain the meaning to Ruszel, I fail to understand the origins of the saying.”
Riyad smiled. “I, too, Canos; it’s just something that evolved over time.”
Ruszel joined them in the hold. “The pilot is convinced we are returning to Tel’or, although he is not happy. He had been planning on the larger commission for the circuit. Now he will help guide local mining operations in the asteroids, an assignment that does not pay nearly as much as a trade circuit.”
“So mining is how the natives make their money – their credits? I was beginning to wonder.”
The aliens turned to each with expressions of confusion. Finally Canos responded. “Mining … no. That is simply a minor part of the economy, and traditionally carried out by larger, out-system firms.”
“So how the hell do they make their credits?” Riyad was growing frustrated. He really didn’t care, but now he was determined to find out.
“Slaves, Riyad. They sell slaves.”
“No sh … I mean, is that true? And there’s a market for it within the nebula?”
“Of course; Lucon slaves are much sought after, especially the females. They are compatible with over half the races in the Nebula, not for procreation, but for pleasure.”
“They sell their own kind!”
“Why are you so shocked? The planet is very overcrowded. Selling slaves helps reduce the population and keeps the economy active. And those sold as slaves are very pleased with the arrangement. They are usually treated as prized-possessions and provided with better living conditions than on their homeworld. There are long waiting lists to be considered for the slave trade.”
Riyad shook his head, trying to imagine how any people would voluntarily offer themselves up as slaves. Yet he knew next to nothing regarding the planet Lucon-Por. Maybe it was a decision based on the lesser of two evils. He tried to shake off the feeling of disgust that had settled over him, as if he was somehow guilty just for discussing the issue. He turned back to the stack of medical monitors.
“Should I take only a few with me or all at the same time?”
Canos smiled. “Take them all. You will sell the lot at the first stop.”
“Maybe not,” Ruszel countered. “Unless he can provide thousands more, the buyers may not want to commit to so few, not without the promise of more.”
“So I’ll promise them more. How will they know if I’ll keep my promise or not?”
Ruszel cast him a hard, steady glare. “Deception comes easy for you Klingons, does it not?”
Klingons? Oh, yeah, that’s right. I am still using them as my cover race.
“We are creatures of commerce, and as such, we usually say what is necessary to make a sale.”
“You lie then.”
“Just as you are doing about our return to Tel’or.” He watched the embarrassed looks on the faces of the two aliens. “Relax,” he said with a grin, “intelligent races will usually improvise the truth to fit the situation. It’s a survival trait. Now, let’s get this show on the road. I want to get going for the Void as soon as possible.”
Again, Riyad saw the confusion, as the aliens wondered about the show that was to be taken on the road and how that applied to their current situation. Finally they gave up and let it pass. They were already having a hard enough time understanding Riyad and his ways. Language was just one of the hurdles they struggled with. There would be others.
Chapter 12
Aboard the Pegasus…
Sherri felt Adam’s hand tense as he stroked her hair. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re losing well-integrity,” Adam’s voice was as tense as his hand.
“The generators?”
“No … it’s being overloaded. This is not good.”
The two of them ran ou
t of the lounge and toward the pilothouse. Adam knew that an overloaded gravity-well was extremely dangerous, especially the wells produced by the concentrated-array employed by the Pegasus.
He slipped into the pilot’s seat while Sherri took up a position at the navigator’s station. Already his telepathy device was feeding him data from the ship’s monitors, and actually faster than he could take it in. The device imbedded under his right armpit was in constant communication with all the ship’s electronics; it could weed out the everyday and commonplace from the critical and only report to him those that were the most-urgent. However, at this particular moment, it seemed as though all the ship’s systems were screaming in his brain, Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!
The input into his brain soon became such a jumble of overlapping alerts and warnings that he couldn’t take it anymore. He reached behind his back and turned off the telepathy device using the pressure switch located just under the skin at the pit of his back.
The sensation of breaking the connection was always a jolt, feeling as if his senses had suddenly switched from high-definition 3-D to 1950’s black and white. It was like he just lost a vital part of his awareness and vision, which in reality is just what happened. Even as he began to manually monitor the well-integrity from his station, he was amazed at how quickly he’d adapted to the added senses the device provided and knowing eventually he’d have to find a way of screening the incoming data down to a more manageable level. After all, it didn’t make sense to turn off the device in a time of crisis, not when it was needed the most.
However, as he scanned the data on his screen, it didn’t take a super high-tech device to tell him what the problem was: the gravity-well was taking in too much material … yet according to the charts, this shouldn’t be happening. The Pegasus was currently transiting a region of space near the star Adenion, and it should have been clear of any superfluous matter. At least that’s what the charts showed.
