by CH Gideon
Would he manipulate the situation, using her as a sort of leverage against the AI and the other governments, or would he take affront to her presence and lash out, foregoing diplomacy altogether? Either was possible, and neither would be productive.
Still, she’d chosen her fate when she’d signed up with Reynolds and offered him her service. This was her future, no matter what happened on Lariest.
She’d made her bed, and now was the time to lie in it.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” she assured him. “But so you know, I think this is a double-decker shit sandwich we’re about to take a massive mouthful of.”
“Noted,” Reynolds told her, “and gross.”
She nodded. “Keep the image in mind when you meet my father. It might be the happiest thought you have.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I still don’t know how my father talked you into this,” Jiya complained. “We’re making a mistake by letting him play the magnanimous host.”
“Maybe,” Reynolds countered, “but he’ll have the eyes of his neighbors on him the entire time we’re here. He’ll find it hard to manipulate the dialogue despite the apparent home court advantage. Besides, your presence is the equalizer,” the AI said with a grin. “You said it yourself: he had to bury you in the public eye. Disown you, right?”
Jiya nodded.
“Then that puts him at a disadvantage,” Reynolds said. “He won’t be able to use your relationship as leverage against the others because he’s trashed it publicly, but they will be able to use it against him.”
She chuckled. “You don’t know my father. He won’t be bullied by you, me, or any of these diplomats. His ego is firmly in the driver’s seat, and anyone attempting to take control away from him will pay dearly.”
Reynolds shrugged. “Then we use that attitude to better our position with the others. We don’t need help from all of them. One or two advances our agenda, so regardless how many of the three sides are with us, we win.”
“I hope you’re right,” Jiya muttered, shaking her head. She didn’t believe it, but she was willing to put her faith in Reynolds. Besides, she could see the pair of them upstaging her father, and that alone was worth the discomfort of her being there.
“I am,” Reynolds replied. “But even if I’m not, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“Oh, tell me you did not just say that.” Jiya rolled her eyes and raised them to the ceiling. “Please, cruel fate, ignore him, for he knows not what he says.”
“We’re coming in for a landing now,” Comm reported. “Looks like you have a nice welcoming committee waiting for you down there.”
Jiya glanced at the viewscreen Comm triggered as they approached the private landing platform inside her father’s presidential compound. “I’m not seeing a bunch of guns. That’s a good sign.” The shuttle drifted downward, angling toward a landing.
“See, all that worrying for nothing,” Reynolds told her.
“I’ll reserve judgment.”
“Autodocking has control,” Comm reported. “You’re on your own now. Good luck.”
“We don’t need luck,” Reynolds countered. “We have the might of the Etheric Federation behind us.”
“You mean the SD’s massive firepower?” Jiya asked.
“Exactly.” The AI grinned, and despite herself, Jiya found herself returning it.
This shit is crazy, she thought, but Reynolds’ optimism was contagious.
Once the shuttle was settled on the tarmac, the door hissed open, and Reynolds marched out without hesitation. Jiya sucked in a deep breath and followed, doing her best to look like she belonged there.
Reynolds had provided her with a uniform, a castoff of the last crew, but it fit her nicely and, even better, made her look more professional than she’d ever looked in her life. Its crisp lines and sharp design spoke of confidence, and she couldn’t help but feel a transference between it and her.
Shoulders back, chest out, she strode from the ship and stared down the presidential escort her father had sent to greet them. She recognized the man at the head of the procession as her father’s personal assistant.
Older, and thin to the point of making Jiya think the man was crafted of matchsticks, he stepped forward with a regal air, sweeping ahead of the burly guards at his back. He seemed almost to float across the ground, purple robes flowing behind him, gold seams gleaming in sharp contrast. A sneer was stitched to his face.
He, of course, recognized her, too.
The only sign was the barest of twitches of his right eyelid, then his gaze slid over Jiya and landed on Reynolds. His cold distaste at realizing Reynolds was an android was immediately obvious.
“Greetings, traveler,” he said, officious and stiff, his words not belying his disgust. “I am Gal Dorant, head of security and personal aide to President Lemaire. And you, I assume, are Lance Reynolds, representative of the Etheric Federation, yes?”
“I am, and you can simply call me Reynolds,” the AI answered.
“I think not, Mister Reynolds,” Gal replied, offering a defiant shake of his head. “We abide by a strict decorum here in Marianas, and we will maintain that tradition regardless of the status of our guests.”
His gaze slithered to Jiya, and she shook off the chill that accompanied it. There was no mistaking the venom in the man’s eyes at seeing Jiya there with Reynolds. Official representatives of an unknown alien power. It grated on his very soul.
Gal Dorant had never been friendly to her, or even cordial, for that matter. He’d always been a cold-hearted bastard who’d treated Jiya and her sisters with disdain on the best of days.
Jiya had always been a bit cowed by the man since he had her father’s ear and had so much control over her life. But now, she met the man’s glare with a sneer of her own, realizing just how different the circumstances were compared to the last time she’d seen the man.
“Pleasure to see you again, Gal,” she told the aide, purposely ignoring protocol by using his first name only. “Now, if you’ll be so gracious to lead us to the meeting hall, we’d like to be about our business with the president,” she said, subtly reminding Gal of his position.
The man bristled but, to Jiya’s surprise, managed to restrain his hostility.
He spun on a heel, his robes whirling. “This way, then.” The man marched off in a huff, but his frailty made his efforts at stomping laughable. Jiya grinned.
Reynolds raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jiya.
She shrugged. He’s always been a prick, she commed to Reynolds.
Reynolds seemed okay with that answer, and he followed the aide. Jiya stayed at his side. She didn’t want to get separated. A rancid cesspool had been opened with their arrival and, as much as she wanted to see it stirred up and splattered all over the place, she felt it best to keep close to Reynolds.
While he was sure Jiya was the key to the negotiations, she was just as certain it was actually Reynolds. He was the one packing the big guns and the wisdom of his people. If they had any hope of accomplishing something, it would be his presence that secured it.
The guards flowed around them, and there was nothing subtle in their efforts to make it clear who was in charge. Jiya ignored them, letting the men have their moment of superiority. That’d end once the other countries joined the conversation and Reynolds stepped up.
For all the posturing, there was no one on Lariest who could compete with the superdreadnought.
After a few minutes of Gal leading them the long way toward the conference area—Jiya suspecting he’d done it to avoid anyone important in the compound seeing her—they came to one of the back rooms. The aide led them inside with an impatient shuffle of his hands. They followed, the guards stationing themselves outside.
Jiya bit back a sneer at seeing her father seated at the end of the conference table in the middle of the room, his entourage standing stoically around him.
Her father met Jiya’s eyes for less than an instant, and nothing showed in his expression
before he looked away, setting his gaze on Reynolds.
It was clear he had expected her, thanks to Gal. The aide had clearly informed him of Jiya’s presence through their private comm, and Jiya sighed. She’d been hoping for a gasp or sigh or something from her dad, but he’d managed to retain the upper hand, as he always did.
“Do all your people look like Jonny taxi androids?” the president asked.
Reynolds cast a glance Jiya’s way. We need to get Takal to finish his work on that new body, STAT, he sent before meeting the president’s gaze with a grin. “You’ll have to forgive my appearance, but don’t let it throw you off, Mister President.” He gestured to the android body. “This is simply a short-term solution to provide a frame for this.” He tapped the side of his skull. “I assure you, I’m far greater than the sum of my current parts.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that, it appears,” President Lemaire snipped, drawing his chin in toward his chest.
Jiya sighed. She’d seen that very expression a million times. Her father was unimpressed. Not that she’d expected him to be since that wasn’t in his nature, but she’d hoped he’d at least take the meeting seriously.
It was clear he didn’t plan to.
Reynolds, however, wasn’t put off. “Indeed you will, Mister President. It’s in no one’s best interest if I’m forced to prove myself out of turn,” he answered. “I’m happy to offer up my capabilities, as my comm officer already has while setting up our meet, but I stand here as a representative of the Etheric Federation by order of Queen Bethany Anne. I’m hoping that’s more than sufficient credentials to prove me worthy of you meeting me.”
“Yet you bring my daughter with you,” he countered. “A recalcitrant child exiled from my home and no longer welcome here within its halls.” He snorted, shaking his head. “You’ll have to forgive me if I doubt your bargaining power if you must resort to such base attempts at twisting the narrative in your direction, alien.”
President Lemaire rose to his feet, his entourage shuffling back a step behind him to offer room. He jabbed a sharp finger in Reynolds’ direction.
“Know this, android. Holding my daughter against me will not gain you any sympathy or leverage from my government. We will not bow or scrape to your demands. She is worthless as a hostage or negotiating tool.”
Reynolds chuckled. “It’s impressive how right you were,” he commed to Jiya. “I’d high five you right now, but that’d be awkward.”
Jiya nodded, taking a step forward to face her father. “For the record, Mister President,” she said, purposely avoiding any familial relationship with her father, “I’m not a hostage or a victim or even a tool. I’m here of my own free will as the Etheric Federation attempts to expand their mission, and my being here has absolutely nothing to do with our relationship, such as it is.”
She coughed to clear her throat, cutting off her father as he opened his mouth to argue.
“More importantly, as a representative of the Federation, you will speak to me with the respect accorded me as such, for to do otherwise will impact our willingness to negotiate with you.”
Well said,” Reynolds told her privately.
Thank you, she replied, but she knew she’d just stirred the pot, no matter how good it felt.
President Lemaire sneered, matching the expression on Gal’s face as the aide came over to stand beside him.
“All grown up now, are you, Jiya?” her father asked, letting loose a quiet chuckle. “I entertained this meeting because it’s rare an entity wants to speak with all three nations of Lariest, let alone at the same time, but don’t lose sight of the fact that this is my compound and my country, and you will not storm in here and press your demands.” He thumped a fist on the table. “I am in charge here, not you, not this Jonny taxi boy, and certainly not that superdreadnought circling our planet. Do I make myself clear?” His reddish face grew darker with his anger.
“Getting off on the right foot, I see,” Comm mumbled over the communicator, clearly having been listening in. “How about you threaten to eat his porridge and sleep in his bed next. Maybe huff and puff and blow his house down.”
“I can make that last one happen,” Tactical inserted.
“Clear as mud,” Reynolds answered. “Now that we have an understanding, how about we start this meeting so we can all be on our way? The sooner, the better works for all parties, I’m guessing. It’d be best if you sat your ass down. You’re starting to piss me off, and that’s not a place you want to go.”
President Lemaire stood without moving for several moments, clearly forcing his alpha-ness upon his guests, before finally signaling to Gal to get underway.
The aide triggered two massive viewscreens on the side wall. The image of two people resolved on the screens, neither looking much more pleased about being there than President Lemaire did.
“Greetings, Presidents Alac Sumor of the Melowi and Corrh V’ariat of the Toller,” Gal said, pointing to each monitor in turn, although everyone in the room already knew who they were. “We, the people of Marianas, are pleased to host such a historic meeting between the three of our nations and the visiting dignitary of the Etheric Federation.”
“Get on with it, worm,” President V’ariat said, motioning with her hand. “I’m not here for your grandstanding.” She pointed a withered hand in Jiya’s direction. “You’re clearly only hosting due to the fact that Lemaire’s daughter is part of the alien entourage.” She grinne”d, easing back into her seat. “That must have stuffed a gurlot’s burr up your bottom, huh, Lemaire?” The woman turned her cold, dark stare on Jiya. “I hope you took after your mother, dearie. You look like her, fortunately.”
Jiya bit back a laugh but said nothing, although she nodded slowly.
Reynolds acknowledged her restraint.
“Yes, Lemaire, let’s get on with this,” President Sumor agreed, and Jiya was surprised to note that the man looked a little like Ka’nak, although she knew the two weren’t related. “There are far more interesting things to discuss than who gets credit for arranging the meeting.”
Lemaire grunted and dropped back into his seat with a barely vocal growl. Jiya noted his veneer had cracked the tiniest bit, but she didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. It was what Reynolds had wanted, but how it would play out was still a mystery.
“Yes, yes, let’s get on with it, then,” Lemaire said, appearing to compose himself. He turned his icy gaze on Reynolds. “We still have no clue what you want from us, so please, tell us.”
Reynolds deferred to Jiya, much to her father’s disgust.
She strolled to the center of the room, taking a page out of Gal’s book of showmanship. “The offer is simple,” she told the assemblage. “The Superdreadnought Reynolds is on a mission to seek out Kurtherians wherever they might be since they are the enemy of the Federation. As such, we seek any information your governments might have regarding these creatures.” She glanced at each of the presidents, lingering a moment on her father before returning her gaze to the screens. “As well as food, supplies, an offer of safe harbor both now and in the future, and the okay to seek a crew among the various peoples of Lariest.”
She waved a hand, gesturing toward Reynolds. “In return for these things, the Etheric Federation is willing to provide knowledge on how to advance your societies and make life better for your peoples.”
President V’ariat straightened in her seat, leaning forward so her face swelled onscreen. “So, you’re willing to offer us advanced tech in exchange for these things?”
Reynolds nodded, but not without adding a caveat. “Within reason. We will not offer our advanced military technology since we’d prefer to return to find Lariest in one piece and not some smoking hole. That’d be awkward.”
“Then if not military advancements, what are you offering?” Sumor asked with a grunt, going straight for the throat.
“The means to better cure yourselves of diseases, wound care and better health in genera
l, as well as the means to take advantage of the resources you have available on Lariest. We can work out the specifics of each option in private once arrangements have been made between us, but suffice it to say, given what we’re asking of you, we’re offering far more in return.”
“And how can we believe any of what you say?” Lemaire barked from his seat. “You could be charlatans, offering us snake oil in exchange for our goods and services.”
“We could be,” Reynolds replied, “but, honestly, given our means of arrival, the superdreadnought settled in space above your heads, we could have gone about acquiring our needs in a much simpler way. We chose instead to bargain with you, help advance your nations for a pittance in return.”
“Are you threatening us?” Lemaire shouted, leaping to his feet. The guards at the door shuffled forward.
“Most certainly not,” Jiya answered, raising her hands to calm everyone. “What Reynolds is saying is, we’re here on a mission of goodwill, not violence. Despite the superdreadnought’s destructive capabilities, we came to you in person and put ourselves in a position where we are vulnerable to show that we are serious in our intent.”
She turned to address the two viewscreens.
“You both know my status with President Lemaire,” she said. “Would I have come here if I didn’t believe in the mission I’m part of? What is there to gain from my returning here otherwise?”
President V’ariat nodded, offering Jiya a tight-lipped grin. “I believe you, dearie. I wouldn’t want to spend a minute longer with your father than was absolutely necessary.”
Sumor grunted noncommittally, but Jiya saw the slight sway to his head—the hint of a nod.
Jiya turned back to face the entire gathering. She raised her hand and twisted it slowly. “Yesterday, my hand was injured, scorched by blaster fire and unusable. Now, as you can see, there is no hint that it’s been injured. No redness, no scarring, nothing,” she explained. “And while I don’t expect you to take me at my word, we can provide evidence of my situation and the results.” She wiggled her hand again. “This is but a small portion of the knowledge we’ll pass on in exchange for our request.”
