by Neal Jones
"It is agreeable to be present for this momentous occasion."
"Thank you," Zar bowed once more. "Allow me to introduce Commodore Gabriel, commanding officer of Exxar-One."
Marc stepped forward and bowed. "It is agreeable to meet you, representor."
"Likewise."
The commodore introduced the rest of his staff, and, when the formalities were over, Gabriel, Zar, Lanoth, and Oryakk entered the PTL first. As soon as the door closed, Saveck ordered everyone to parade rest, and they waited for the next car to arrive.
"Fascinating," Rosenberg murmured. "I wonder how willing Oryakk would be if I asked him to submit to one of my bioscans."
Decev cracked a smile and nodded. "I'd fork over a month's paycheck to see those results."
"How do you know Oryakk is male?" Navarr quipped. "You can't go by the voice alone. I heard they use biotech translators. FCE has been begging them to share their technology for several years now."
"Speaking of which, anyone want to join me on deck ninety-two of the sec-hull?" Lieutenant Cadman suggested. "There's this spot in section twenty-eight where we can get a great view of their ship."
"I'm with you," Decev replied.
"Me too." Navarr glanced over her shoulder. "What about you, major?"
"No, thank you."
"I'm coming too," Ben said. "Ilkara?"
"Thank you, but no. I have some reports I need to finish."
Ilkara and Grynel joined Saveck near the crossway hatch as the others piled into the PTL and the door closed. The officers in the honor guard gathered at the end of the corridor to wait for the next lift.
"Have you seen a Tiralan starship?" Sikandra asked Kralin.
He shook his head. "I've read a little about them."
"And you're not the least bit curious to see one up close?"
He shrugged. "A starship is a starship."
Grynel stared at him, bemused and a little surprised, and then glanced at Ilkara. "You aren't curious, either?"
"Oh, on the contrary, I am very interested in getting a look at their ship. To be perfectly honest, I am quite surprised that a species as technologically advanced as the Tiralans have remained in this quadrant of your galaxy."
"Why do you say that?"
Ilkara shrugged as if the answer was obvious. "What reason is there for them to remain? All the other worlds and empires of this quadrant are vastly inferior in both technology and biological evolutionary development. From what little I gleaned from the Federation's library database, the Tiralans serve as nothing more than the occasional arbiters in petty disputes between empires."
"Petty disputes?" Sikandra echoed, surprised. "The Tiralans have acted as neutral parties in treaty negotiations that have ended major wars. And from what I've been told, they were instrumental in the founding of the Interstellar Federation, which has brought an enormous stability and peace to this quadrant."
"Yet, in the eyes of ones such as the Tiralans, your 'major wars' are nothing but petty disputes that do not concern – nor have any effect upon – the Tiralans. So why do they remain in this part of your galaxy?"
Grynel frowned, shaking her head in disagreement, and then glanced at Saveck. "What are you smiling about?"
"She makes an interesting point," he replied, watching the honor guard file into the PTL.
Grynel peered through the upper window of the tunnel hatch, but there wasn't much to see on the other side except an empty corridor. At the other end of it was the hatch that opened into the Tiralan ship. "I would give just about anything to see what's on the other side of this tunnel." She glanced over her shoulder. "How can you not be curious? No one has ever been aboard one of their ships."
"The universe is full of secrets and unknowns," the major replied, walking to the PTL. He pressed the com panel to summon another lift.
"I agree with your curiosity, lieutenant," Ilkara said. "Perhaps we will have the opportunity in these next few days to ask Oryakk a few questions."
"Yeah, but does that mean he's going to give us any answers?" Sikandra sighed as she followed the Erayan and the major into the lift.
Chapter 12
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( 1 )
THE DARKNESS WAS BEAUTIFUL. It was warm and comforting and endless. There was the sense of drifting, as if the darkness was an ocean, and the shore was hundreds of miles away. He had been to the sea many times. His mother would sometimes come with him, but it was usually his aunt and uncle that would take him. His favorite activity was to run along the sand with his cousins while throwing tiny pieces of coral or shell at one another in a game of tag. When he was older, his uncle taught them how to scuba dive in the Great Barrier Reef, and there was no silence so endless and deep as there was in the ocean.
He felt himself floating now, drifting on a sea of darkness, but the warmth was fading, being replaced by a thread of cold that wrapped itself around his whole body, like the tentacle of a dark and unknown creature. There were sounds intruding on the silence as well – distant, murmuring, whispering – and he could now feel something pulling him away from the darkness, pulling him to the surface, and he resisted. But the more he fought, the more exhausted he felt, and the murmurs were becoming louder and clearer, coalescing into one voice.
"Mister Garrett?"
Kiran stirred, squeezing his eyes shut, longing for the darkness. But the voice persisted, and now there was a light overhead, something directly above him, and, even with his eyes closed, there was no more darkness. No more ocean. The brightness hurt.
"It's all right, Mister Garrett." The light shifted, and the pain lessened. "I need you to wake up. I apologize for your discomfort."
The voice was male, rough, with an authoritative undertone, and Kiran struggled to remember. He didn't want to open his eyes, but now instead of feeling cold, his entire body ached, and the pain only seemed to increase the more his conscious mind became aware. He could feel something hard beneath him, could hear the scrape of clothing and the exhale of someone's breath, and other sounds beneath those. A deep thrum seemed to be emanating from all around, but especially beneath him, and somewhere in the depths of his memory, he recalled what that sound meant.
He was on a ship that was moving at full stardrive.
"Lieutenant commander," the voice repeated, more forceful this time. It wasn't as near to him as Garrett had thought at first. "If you do not open your eyes and look at me, I will have one of my men come in there and do it for you. It will be far more painful that way."
Kiran finally, reluctantly, forced his eyes to open. The overhead lighting, even though it was dim, made him wince, and he sucked in a sharp breath. The ache in his chest increased, spreading throughout his extremities, and his entire body felt as if it had been crushed in the vacuum of an atmospheric chamber. He struggled to move his arms, and then his legs, but nothing happened at first. He finally lifted his head, looking towards the direction of the voice.
"Yes, that's it. Look at me please." It came from the shadows beyond the doorway that was blocked by a forcefield. "Release the field," the voice commanded.
There was a pop and, moments later, hands were lifting him, rolling him onto his back. The murmured hum of a medical scanner.
"Yes, very good."
Garrett had closed his eyes again, squeezing out the brilliance of the overhead lighting. The man was lifting him into a sitting position against the wall.
"Open your eyes, please. Look at me."
Kiran reluctantly obeyed. He inhaled sharply as he recognized the face of one of the men who had attacked him in the corridor outside the herbal shop. A croaked cry burst from his parched throat, and he scrabbled backwards into the corner, flailing with his arms in an effort to throw off his abductor's hands.
"Calm down, Mister Garrett," the Xaric ordered, seizing Kiran's arms and pinning them down. "If you don't want to be sedated again, you must control yourself." The engineer was too weak to fight, and he gasped for breath as he sagged against the
wall. "I need some water in here!" the man barked over his shoulder.
Moments later, a cup was thrust against Garrett's cracked lips, and he leaned forward to gulp the cool sweetness, dribbling it on his chin and shirt. When the cup was empty, he sagged against the wall once more. The medical scanner hummed again, and then there was a sharp, brief poke at his elbow.
"My apologies," his captor said, withdrawing the hypo. "This is will help clear the aftereffects of your sedation."
"Who are you?" Garrett coughed.
"I'm not the one you need to ask. My mission was to bring you safely to the border. Just lay back and rest. I will have one of my men bring you food. I'm afraid all we have are stored rations, but it's better than nothing, and it will help you regain your strength. It's been two days since we left Exxar-One."
He left before Kiran could formulate another reply. His mouth was still parched, and his throat burned for more water. He coughed again and tried to stand.
The forcefield popped back into existence over the doorway, and this was soon followed by the sound of another door cycling open and then closed. From the sounds and the echoes, it seemed to Kiran that he was surrounded by metal and iron – a cargo vessel, probably, or, at the very least, a frigate of some kind. His stomach cramped, and he doubled over, gritting his teeth. He curled up on the bare floor, shivering, and closed his eyes. He longed for the warmth of the darkness and the ocean, but all he could see and feel was the glare of the overhead lights against his eyelids and the kiss of cold, dirty metal against his bare cheek.
( 2 )
Saan V'Ruk switched off his terminal screen and leaned back, closing his eyes. It had been a long day. Ever since the lord emperor had left on his progress, the corridors and the offices of the Hall of State had been frantic with the daily activity of putting Erengaar's new legislative reforms into action. The Imperial Senate had, of course, voted yes to every measure he had requested, and now he was out among the people, touring the empire, handing out gusitt as if his pockets were endless. On the wall screen opposite V'Ruk's desk, a news reporter was giving a summary of the progress thus far, while, behind her, a screen displayed video montage of the lord emperor waving to a cheering crowd. The sound was muted, and Saan didn't need it to know what the woman was saying. The Jha'Drok people – for the most part – were starting to love their lord emperor again.
V'Ruk sighed, shutting off the screen by remote, and then stood to request a mug of dabe tea from the nearby wall dispenser. The holoscreen behind his desk gave him a view of the spires and skyscrapers that surrounded the Hall of State. Hovercars and shuttles zipped in and out among the buildings like mechanical insects. Sometimes, watching this view calmed V'Ruk, but today he find no rest in it. His mind was far too preoccupied with matters of state – among other things.
He had just returned to his chair when the door opened and a young boy bounded into the room. "Grandpa!"
"Tyriqq!" a woman scolded, following close behind. "I told you not to run! And do not be so loud!"
Saan laughed, setting down his tea just in time. "It's all right, Jedzaia," he said, embracing his grandson. He looked up at his daughter. "How are you today?"
"Good. We're doing some shopping later with mother, so we decided to surprise you since we were close by."
"Are you surprised, grandpa?"
Saan laughed again, pulling the boy onto his lap. "Of course I am! How was school?"
Tyriqq gave an exaggerated sigh. "It's so boring! I don't like math – or history. Mama says if I don't study harder, she's going to take away my play time."
"She's right, you know. Little boys must learn their lessons first. Play time is for later. What are you studying in history?"
Tyriqq's face brightened. "We're learning about you, grandpa! Well, I mean, the senate. It's history and stuff."
Saan smiled. "Yes, it's very important stuff."
The boy's brow wrinkled. "Grandpa, how come there's not five hundred senators like there was a long time ago? My teacher said that there used to be five hundred people like you in the State Hall, and now there's only one hundred. How come?"
"Didn't your teacher explain it?"
"Yeah. She said that Lord Emperor..." Tyriqq trailed off, thinking, "D'Gol! Lord Emperor D'Gol had a big fight with the senate, and he fired a whole bunch of them."
"It wasn't quite as simple as that," Saan chuckled, "but essentially that is correct. It was a very big fight," he continued soberly. "In fact, it was a great war that nearly tore this empire apart. Lord Emperor D'Gol was very selfish and very mean. He thought that he could do whatever he wanted, and that he didn't have to answer to anyone – not even the senate. You what the word 'executed' means, right?"
Tyriqq nodded. "It means you kill somebody."
"That's right. Lord Emperor D'Gol executed a hundred and four senators, and many of the others resigned and fled homeworld. Only two hundred chose to remain and declare their allegiance to him. They passed a new law saying that the senate could only have two hundred elected members instead of five hundred."
The boy pondered this for a moment, and then asked, "But mama told me there's only a hundred now."
"Well, that's because D'Gol's war with the senate was almost four hundred years ago. About two hundred years ago, Lady Empress En'Gresta and the senate decided that two hundred members was too many. Our empire was so vast that the regional governors and planetary rulers were able to rule their worlds and colonies on their own, and they didn't need as much representation in the Imperial Senate as they did hundreds of years ago. As long as they pass local laws that don't contradict the empire's laws, then everything is fine. Only once every twelve years do all the colonies and worlds send representatives to homeworld for a large conference with the Imperial Senate."
"Oh, I know! That's called..." Tyriqq frowned, thinking deeply, and then blurted, "It's called the Kresst Conference!"
"That's right! In between those years, the Imperial Senate mostly governs the citizens here on homeworld, and that's why we only need a hundred."
The boy nodded. "I see. You should teach history, grandpa. Miss Seela makes it soooo boring!"
Saan laughed as he moved his grandson off his lap and stood. "That's part of school, Ty. Sometimes you have to make it interesting on your own." He reached out to ruffle the boy's hair. "But that's what I'm here for too."
Jedzaia stood and held out her hand. "Come, Ty. We must leave grandfather to his work. Is your day almost done?"
"No," he sighed, glancing at the chrono display on his wall. "In fact, I'm already late already for a meeting with the education minister."
"Very well, then. Dinner tonight? I was thinking of making aneesto."
"I'm sorry, I can't. Your mother and I have an engagement at R'Mot's estate."
"Another dinner party? I thought he just had one a week ago."
"He did. Tonight is his granddaughter's birthday. She insisted on a large celebration. Tell Lizella I'll be home by six."
"Okay. Don't overwork yourself."
He smiled. "I never do."
After they left, Saan returned to his desk to gather his notes for his meeting with the education minister, but his mind was now preoccupied with the conversation he'd just had with his grandson. He sat and switched on the wall screen. He rewound the feed to the story about the latest stop on Erengaar's progress. As he watched, the senator folded his hands, thinking, and then stabbed a key on his terminal's pad.
"Carif, please cancel my meeting with Neltom. In fact, cancel everything for this afternoon. See if Senator Y'Shaya – or maybe Kephas – can take those appointments."
"Yes, sir," the aid responded. "Anything else?"
"No, that will be all for now."
Saan rewound the news feed once more and then stopped it on the image of the lord emperor, standing in his skimmer, attired in full court regalia, waving to the cheering crowds as he passed overhead.
( 3 )
The attendant opened the double doors
, ushering Senator V'Ruk into the parlor.
"Saan!" Ossias greeted him warmly. "Welcome, again."
The attendant closed the doors, and R'Mot handed his friend a glass of wine.
"You look about as exhausted as I feel," Ossias observed, motioning to the high-backed chairs near the tall windows. The sun had already set, and the jeweled cityscape of Gtheldron glittered in the darkness beyond the fields of R'Mot's estate.
"Yes, the last several days have been rather busy, haven't they?" Saan replied distractedly as he sat. He sipped his wine, gazing out the windows.
It wasn't hard for R'Mot to guess what was weighing on his friend's mind, but instead of prompting him, he waited, mildly curious.
"I'm sorry," V'Ruk said at last. "I've been trying to decide all afternoon how best to approach this with you, and I see no other way except to simply say it right out." He turned to R'Mot. "The last time we were in this room, you told me that it was unwise to call for a special tribunal to bring charges against the lord emperor. And I think now that you were right, but not for the reasons that you stated to me."
"Oh?" Now Ossias' interest was genuinely piqued.
"My grandson paid me a surprise visit at my office today. Seems he's having a bit of trouble with his history lessons, and I had to explain to him about the war between Lord Emperor D'Gol and the Senate four hundred years ago. It's funny, isn't it, how quickly we have forgotten our recent history."
"By 'we', you mean –"
"Us. You and I. The rest of the senate."
"You think that if we convene a tribunal and bring charges against the Erengaar it will lead to another war like the one that cost D'Gol his life?"
