by C. C. Ekeke
“Sir?” Faust asked, clearly puzzled.
Bogosian straightened up and resumed pacing. “Just thinking out loud. This new KIF seems to be gathering up Korvies, building an army. I want to know why and how are they getting past our security, especially with the work the Thulican technosmiths put into them recently.”
“The KIF obviously have access to a shrouded vessel, from where they got it is anyone’s guess. Add to the fact that they must have some ultra-modern scramblers to shrike our systems, which I thought were unbreakable.” Faust replied matter-of-factly. “The UIB and Homeworld Security are running reports and doing detailed analyses on these incidents. Given the number of internment camps all over Union Space, it’ll take some time…”
“Time is not on our side, Emorra!” Bogosian snapped, pointing again at the holoscreen with the KIF’s bloody autograph. “This cannot happen again. I want the KIF found and destroyed.” The finality in the Chouncilor’s tone resonated throughout the Diamond Room.
He sat as Minister Dihoss asked the question he feared answering. “Ari, what if it is Maelstrom?”
Bogosian was already shaking his head before Dihoss finished. “Can’t be. He was killed. The UComm raid at Cor Leonis saw to that.” The Chouncilor stated more for himself than for his ministers.
Minister Bengal-Uri’s black-striped fur rippled in alarm. “But his body was never found.”
Emorra Faust snorted. “That’s because there probably wasn’t enough left to salvage. Trust me, we checked. Did you see what UComm did to the former KIF stronghold?”
Dihoss opened his beaky mouth to protest. “I know. All I’m saying is that we shouldn’t discount—.”
The comm of the Chouncilor’s desk beeped. Bogosian was thankful for the distraction. “Yes?”
One of his numerous aides, a Rothorid, was on the comm. “Birosss Nor, Hulasss Xar, Jegrun Paal, and other memberss of the Imperial Domini have arrived for your 1400 orvs meeting.”
“Thank you, Hemaag. Escort them to the Rhomb. I’ll be there shortly.” Bogosian was already on his feet and his three ministers followed suit. The Chouncilor walked away from his desk, never taking his eyes off his ministers. “Deal with this problem. We cannot have this ruining all that we’ve worked for.”
With that, Bogosian exited the Diamond Room, trailed by his four Honor Guardsmen. A couple macroms later, he entered the Rhomb with a number of his advisors in tow. The Rhomb was the rectangular room in Union Hall where he met with officials from within or outside the Union. The Rhomb’s floor and walls boasted a shimmering, intricately carved sable metallic. Built into those walls were ultra-modern consoles, broadcasting the most current Union news streams and data at lightspeed. With the exception of the Chouncilor’s seat, all 20 seats surrounding the Rhomb’s center table had a greyish color and low-grade repulsorlifts keeping them off the floor. Twelve concentric rings hung from the ceiling circling a single golden disk, raining down soft circles of golden light.
Standing near the seats were Biros Nor and four other Kedri representing the Imperial Domini, the powerful advisory board overseeing the Domains of Authority that ruled the Imperium. Chosen by the major Kedri Castes based on achievements and inter-Caste voting, the thirteen-member Domini answered only to the Kedri Sovereign himself. Bogosian had many meetings with the Domini via TransNet, and quickly realized that these Kedri were merely emissaries for the Domains of Authority, not the Lords Imperial overseeing the Domains themselves.
Jegrun of House Paal looked similar to Biros Nor with his overarched brow and medium-sized kutaa on either cheek, though his head was clean-shaven. At near seven-feet, he carried his building-sized physique well in jagged copper armor bearing a ceremonial styling. It was clear to Ari that Jegrun was a Grand Warmaster from the Warrior Caste representing the Domain of War & Defense. Hulas Xar also stood tall and had a sleek sable mane falling past his shoulders, but in contrast to Jegrun, this blue-skinned Kedri had a wiry build. The association to the Mercantile Caste and the Domain of Commerce was evident by his grandiose robes. The tinier kutaa on either side of Hulas’ jaw bristled, matching the haughtiness on his face. He clearly had little interest in being there.
Grey-skinned Miro of House Var lacked kutaa and her brow wasn’t as overarched, like all Kedri females. Her forehead still had the unique patterns natural to Kedri. Miro’s long mauve locks were in intricate braids, flattering her sparkling Erudition Caste robes. Despite being shorter than the males, the emissary for the Edification and Imperium Philosophy Domain still stood noticeably taller than Ari. Lastly was Toven Pax, massive like other Kedri with few larger kutaa. Despite representing the Domain of Technology, Toven hailed from the Engineer Caste. His scaly skin looked more reptilian, and by how he trailed behind the other Kedri, his caste clearly placed lower in a culture centered around its military. However, it was said a Kedri’s caste should never impede ascension up the Imperium ranks.
As the Chouncilor’s advisors sat around the Rhomb table, all four Kedri greeted Bogosian in typical Kedri fashion, slamming their fists together and bowing. Bogosian followed suit. Only Jegrun Paal and Biros vigorously shook his hand. Ari barely stifled a pained winced after each handclasp.
Jegrun Paal took in his surroundings with critical eyes, less than impressed. “The Halls of the Domini dwarf this miniscule scullery hollow,” his voice was an angry bark, despite not yelling.
“Clearly,” Hulas looked about in disgust, tossing back his long sable mane. “On Kedria, the Verdant Jewel of the Universe, the citadel of House Xar is bedecked with crystal from Kedria’s affluent soil. It doesn’t even have to try making this building appear insignificance.”
Typical Kedri, Bogosian frowned. Aggressive and boastful, always attempting to dominate even in a peaceful situation. Before Bogosian could open his mouth, Biros Nor snapped off something in Kedri High Imperial Tongue that sounded like a braying up-and-down snarl.
Whatever he said silenced the other Kedri. “We have business here,” he chided in Standard Speech. “Unionists care little about the size of our Houses. Brag about how big your spires are later.”
“Then, let’s get started, shall we?” Bogosian sat at his seat at the head of the Rhomb’s table.
The meeting, scheduled for two orvs, went on longer than four. Instead of ironing out the minutiae of the Union-Imperium Trade Route, the Kedri were gallingly belligerent on every issue. Whether it was to input commerce stations at major hubs on the Trade Route or build similar battle stations to the Amalgam Station, everything became an issue. Even the Convocation for the Union-Imperium Trade Merger caused controversy, chiefly the Kedri’s showcase of their ‘Imperium Age’. This involved a ceremony highlighting how they conquered every Imperial Dependency world, all six hundred plus of them, an utterly impractical venture which the Kedri couldn’t grasp.
Of course, another debated issue was the Korvenites and their absence from the Convocation. Ari seethed internally at the Kedri’s mentioning them. His advisors did so more openly. Keeping his cool, he steered the discourse back to the Trade Route before tempers spiraled out of hand.
The only part of the discussion to run smoothly was Toven Pax’s Amalgam presentation. The Kedri was directly involved with bringing the Amalgam from blueprint to creation. Toven punched into his datapad. In the middle of the Rhomb’s table, its TriTran brought up images of the Amalgam Station. It was dwarfed when scaled next to a regular-sized planet.
“The new features include better defense systems, flight maneuverability and planetary shield syncing. With this last feature,” Toven beamed, his ginger-hued eyes twinkling with pride. “The Amalgam can lock on the broadcasting signals from each individual shield generator around a planet, sync them up to also activate and increase their shield integrity by a multiple of five.” The display showed the Amalgam station orbit a world’s atmosphere, then a transparent yellow planetary shields that surrounded both thickening.
With a wave of Toven’s fingers the display disappeared. �
�I uploaded all relevant statistics and diagrams to your datapads. We hope to demonstrate this during the day of the Trade Merger.”
One of Bogosian’s technology advisors, a human named Jonah Drischoll, scanned his datapad and chuckled. “That shield syncing would work for other worlds, but it won’t do any good for Terra Sollus.”
A shadow flickered across Biros Nor’s face. “How so?”
Drischoll turned pink under Biros’ sharp gaze, but quickly regained his bearings. “For starters, the shield generator stationed above Corogña nation-state is also a commerce station and operates independently of the other shield generators. Plus, its used as an auxiliary while one of the shield generators is undergoing maintenance over the next few weeks. So syncing with the primary shields would have to be done from within the station.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Bogosian said, adding some last notes to his datapad. “I think we’ve covered every issue. Anything else?” He was greeted by silence, and couldn’t have been more thankful.
The change of scenery from starscrapers to rolling grasslands snapped the Chouncilor back to reality. The meeting with the Domini members had so absorbed his focus that Bogosian barely recalled stepping inside his hoverlimo or leaving Sheffield. Usually, Ari would stay in his Executive Suite in the heart of Conuropolis’ Diktat District, but with his jam-packed schedule during the next few weeks, he wanted at least one night with his family at the Bogosian Estate. Rhyne was setting over the hills of the approaching Oklorada Basin in central Vesspuccia, painting the wispy-feathered sky with ruby fire.
His home was surrounded by acres of undisturbed plains, all topped by verdant tsarina grass typical of the Oklorada Basin. Five white spires surrounded the central dome-like inhabitance, all with viewports that looked like parallel stretches of black lines from a distance. Built by Thulican technosmiths, this home was one of the most sophisticated and luxurious on any Union memberworld or colony.
Unlike most politicians who lived in Conuropolis’s affluent Westport District, Bogosian separated his political and personal lives as much as he could. The Basin grassland region remained mostly untouched by industry, but was also a renowned tourist attraction and vacation spot. This was thanks to the Industrial Restriction Act of 2201 that protected similar designated areas all over Terra Sollus. No one on this world had wanted to repeat the ecological blunders that ultimately doomed Earth.
As the Chouncilor’s hoverlimo approached the lofty gates of his abode, he spied two yosk in the distance, grazing on tsarina grass. A shadow sweeping overhead drew his attention skyward; an avian myrypose soaring toward the hills. He whistled in quiet awe.
Upon entering his home, Ari strode briskly through the grandiose marble hallways. As usual, several Honor Guardsmen flanked him. The Chouncilor mindlessly went through his usual motions when at the Bogosian Estate; greeting the T-88 servantmech that attended his immediate needs, greeting his wife and three children, briefly reporting the sugarcoated version of his day, eating dinner with the family, then off to his office to get some work in before bed. This all seemed so pre-programmed, the Chouncilor felt numb. After entering his home office, he told his T-88. “Refuse all calls tonight.” Ari felt satisfied to exert some control over the remainder of his day.
His office had multiple communication viewscreens on one side of the soft grey parasteel walls, and a wide viewport that captured the twinkling night on the other side. Bogosian made sure he could hear the Basin’s teeming wildlife outside, even with the soundproof filters in his office. A long table sat in the middle of the large suite, cluttered with datapads and consoles. The other walls were crowded with accolades from his lengthy political career and pictures of his family.
There were a million things that the Chouncilor had to accomplish; yet none of them seemed to matter. In his sable silk robe, Bogosian lounged in a floating recliner and scanned again over the Amalgam Station blueprint. The detail put into it amazed him, a perfect fusion of Kedri and Union technology. After about 20 macroms, the Chouncilor decided to turn on his 72-inch holoview.
The holoview hummed briefly before turning on to the ‘IPNN: Galaxy Watch’ news stream with Fwoe Fwoemda, Edmund Halley-Award winning anchor for this show. The Xyobian’s four arms were neatly tucked under her desk, the four hearing fronds above her eyebrows twitching in sync as she spoke.
“Gawk Fogy Loki Desk fug…”
Bogosian quickly adjusted the remote cube. “Forgot it was programmed in Xyobic.” He had Xyobic uploaded into the linguistic NeuroNano microbes in his brain years ago to learn many Union member languages without a Union translator. Bogosian now had a working knowledge of over two dozen Union dialects. But tonight his head hurt too much to make sense of anything other than Standard.
“…another day of violence on Faroor, breaking up yet another truce between the planet’s native species; the Farooqua and the Farooqua-Ttaunz,” Fwoemda continued now in Standard. “Its two races have been involved in countless skirmishes over the past four years regarding border expansion by the Ttaunz onto the lands of the more rural Farooqua. The death toll has steadily climbed since 2400. Terra Sollus has vowed for a peaceful resolution to the ongoing conflict and will be sending in more PLADECO TerraTroopers and mediators to speed up the peace process.”
Bogosian frowned. He’d been trying to resolve the Faroor interspecies conflict during his two terms as Chouncilor Each memberworld’s day-to-day governing was run by an elected Viceroy with their Executive Ministry, a Planetary Congress and a Supreme World Court; a microcosm of the Galactic Union’s arrangement. Nonetheless, per the Articles of Unification, all memberworlds ultimately answered to the Union’s authority. My authority. Once this Trade Route business was finished, Faroor would get Ari’s full attention. A sharp spasm shot up Bogosian’s arm. Damn, Biros and Jegrun really squished my hand. Shifting uncomfortably in his floating recliner, he focused on the news stream.
“In other news, representatives from the Kedri Imperium met with Union officials and the Chouncilor on Terra Sollus today to further discuss the creation of the Union-Imperium Trade Route. Ever since it was announced, this trade merger with the Kedri Imperium has been a hotbed of controversy among Union citizens. But despite that, Terra Sollus has moved forward with it and plans to build—.”
Bogosian had heard enough, “HV off.” The holoview winked out. The Chouncilor sunk his head in the headrest of his recliner, staring at the ceiling while rubbing the stiffness from his arm. The bloodied mark of the Korvenite Independence Front still stood out in his mind, as did one name.
Maelstrom. Bogosian hadn’t heard that name since the Korvenite Rebellion in 2397.
Memories and emotions rushed back to him at an unnatural pace. His shock and revulsion when watching on holoview the horrors of the Earth Holocaust. The pride in his heart as a young senatorial aide in helping onetime boss Senator Ursa Haddad craft the bill that created the Korvenite internment camps. The order he made in his first term as Chouncilor to track down the burgeoning Korvenite Independence Front, and the relief he felt once hearing of Maelstrom’s death.
Now it seemed as though there was some resurgence in the entrapped Korvenite population. Some hidden force was spawning a new Korvenite insurrection, a new KIF. A new threat he had to deal with. The Chouncilor ran a shaking hand through his curly black hair, shutting his eyes tightly.
“What if Maelstrom is alive?” he asked himself out loud.
“I am, Chouncilor.”
Startled, Bogosian spun in the voice’s direction…and nearly had a heart attack. Before him stood Maelstrom, in the flesh. Clad in royal purple-enameled armor to match his hair, the black cloak adorning his shoulders billowed around him unnaturally. The llyriac’s violet locks hung longer than Bogosian remembered, framing his pallid features. “May I call you Aristotle?” the Korvenite llyriac calmly asked in accented Standard Speech. “I feel our long history puts us far past the formality of titles.”
“SECURITY!” Ari shouted, voic
e cracking. How was he still alive? Maelstrom was dead!
“No one can hear you, Aristotle,” the Korvenite replied with casual contempt. Bogosian’s eyes were glued on Maelstrom as he fearfully backed away—nearly falling over. “Now pull yourself together and show some semblance of a spine, human,” Maelstrom snarked, sounding like a strict parent.
“You died,” Bogosian was trembling so much he could barely stay upright. “Years ago! How—?”
“Yes, the attack on Cor Leonis where I was ‘killed’ by your AeroFleet assassins.” Maelstrom waved his hand lazily. “I was wounded, near death even.” The llyriac strode closer, his amber eyes boring into Bogosian. “But I survived.” The Korvenite was now mere centimetrids from the Chouncilor, standing five inches taller. Maelstrom turned toward the Chouncilor’s proud stand of accolades. “In fact, because of my alleged death, Korvan has enlightened me to a level of power even I had never dreamed of.”
Ari righted himself wildly. But he had regained some composure. “You’ll never leave here alive.”
“I got in didn’t I?” the Korvenite countered, half-turning toward Bogosian. His gaze swept over the Chouncilor’s accolades, Maelstrom smirked when one trophy caught his eye. “Your Draconis Society Philanthropist of 2401 Award. Fitting, isn’t it Aristotle? All my dead brethren would agree.”
“Why are you here?” Bogosian fumed, drained of patience. “If it’s to get my attention, you have it.”
This prompted Maelstrom to turn and fully focus on the Chouncilor; clearly showing that Bogosian was beneath his notice until the Korvenite deemed it important to address him again. A strange luminous glow pulsated off Maelstrom, splashing the room in a dreamlike neon-violet. “I have come for my species Aristotle. I demand that Terra Sollus to be returned to its rightful denizens. I demand that your ‘Union’ release my race from their unjustified detention. Do this and the attacks on your citizens will cease.”
Bogosian rose to his full height, completely forgetting his fear and shock. “You have the gall to come threaten ME? The Chouncilor of the Galactic Union? You self-righteous mindraper!”
