The Exxar Chronicles: Book 03 - Acts of Peace and War

by Neal Jones

  "And...?"

  "And I just nodded, said it was great, and if he could please pass me the salt. What else could I say?"

  "Do you want to meet his parents?"

  "Of course! I guess. I don't know. I didn't think it was a big deal until everyone else started making a big deal out of it."

  Decev nodded. "It is a big step."

  "Yes, I know it's a big step! Everyone keeps telling me what a big step this is!"

  "All right, sorry."

  "It's okay. I just wish the whole damn station didn't have to know every detail of my private life."

  Decev nodded, chuckling, and Ilkara – who had not heard their conversation – asked Navarr to pass the salt. The security chief stared at her. "Is that a joke?"

  "What?" Ilkara asked, puzzled.

  "I'm the one who wanted the salt," Rosenberg said from Ilkara's left.

  "Never mind," Navarr muttered as she passed it down.

  The doctor glanced at Ilkara's plate as she handed him the shaker. "What is that?"

  "I'm not sure, but Major Saveck and the Chrisarii councilors took some, so I'm assuming it's one of their native dishes."

  "How does it taste?"

  "A little spicy, but otherwise good."

  Ben glanced at the end of the table where the pair of councilors were seated opposite the trio of senators from the Draathma Parliament, the official name of the governing body of the Interstellar Federation. One of the senators was not so much sitting as he was hovering. The medium-sized tank that held his biofluid was suspended above the floor by anti-grav stabilizers. Inside the tank, the senator floated in place, munching happily on a school of fish that had been inserted into the fluid via a small opening at the top of the tank.

  "I am impressed with the number of exotic alien species that populate your Federation," Ilkara murmured to Rosenberg. "That one, for example, would be fascinating to commune with on their homeworld."

  "Yes," Ben agreed. "I tried getting a posting there some years ago, but it wasn't approved. I have been able to get samples of that biofluid, though, and it has some very rare and unusual properties."

  Lieutenant Cadman, seated across from Rosenberg, smirked and shook his head.

  "Did I say something funny?" the doctor asked.

  "No, sorry, it's just that you two sound like a couple of scientists observing a lab specimen."

  "I am genuinely curious about many of the races that are member worlds of the Federation," Ilkara replied. "Is there something else you would prefer to discuss?"

  The engineer shrugged. "Do you like sports? There was a good hoverball tournament on last night."

  "Actually, yes. I am finding some of your sporting events to be quite...interesting. Which match last night are you referring to?"

  "Collegiate level – the one between Yale and Prakton."

  Ilkara thought for a moment and then nodded. "Yes. That was a good one. I was curious about several things, however. I have read some of the official rules of the game, but there were several clearly legal calls made by the refs in that game that many fans seemed very upset with."

  "Are you kidding?" Cadman interrupted. "Those refs were obviously making calls in favor of the home team! What about you, doctor? Did you see the game?"

  "No, sorry. I'm a baseball fan."

  "To which calls are you referring?" Ilkara asked the engineer. "It seemed to me that Prakton's team was making more than one attempt to cheat in two of their plays. According to the rules –"

  The rest of the meal proceeded without incident, and, seven courses and two hours later, everyone dispersed for the evening. The catering staff began to clear the table, while Gabriel and Saveck remained behind to bid goodnight to the pair of ambassadors. Soon it was only the commodore and the DrayH'M left on the expansive quarterdeck.

  "Is there something on your mind?" the commodore asked, seating himself on the back of the stage beside Zar. She was staring out the rear wall at the jeweled starscape, her expression distant and pensive.

  "Hmmm?" She turned and then smiled. "Sorry. I was just...thinking."

  "The peace talks?"

  "No. Those I'm not too worried about." She paused, fumbling with the hem of her sleeve, looking down at her lap. "I received a letter from Sovereign Na'Drauv two days ago. Apparently he has learned of my intentions to retire after this treaty with the Chrisarii is concluded." She paused, looking up at the stars once more.

  "What did he say?" Gabriel prodded.

  "He wants me to return to the H'thraY'N Congress."

  "I thought you already served two terms there."

  "I did many years ago. He doesn't want me to return as a representative. He wants me to take his place as Sovereign of the Commonwealth."

  Gabriel turned to her, stunned. "I thought your government was a monarchy. Doesn't the crown pass to Na'Drauv's eldest son?"

  "No. We are a monarchy, but not the kind that you're thinking of. Our constitutional law dictates that one house may rule the commonwealth for only seven generations. That's roughly two hundred years by the standard calendar. At the end of that time a new house must be chosen by congress. Sovereign Na'Drauv has been in declining health for the last few years, and it sounds as if he is finally preparing for retirement. My family is of the lineage of the House of Ermir – one of the founding houses of the modern commonwealth. But no one of that lineage has yet served as sovereign, and Na'Drauv is asking for my permission to put up my name for consideration."

  "I see," Gabriel nodded. "That's a huge request."

  "To put it mildly, yes." Zar gave a rueful smile. "I honestly don't know what to tell him. I am only seventy-one years old, and I do have at least thirty more good years of service left. I was thinking of retiring, though, after this assignment as an indulgence to myself. I felt I'd more than earned it."

  "You have. You've achieved a great deal in your years of service to the diplomatic corps."

  Zar nodded, and then frowned. "Except that part of me hasn't wanted to retire just yet. I only wanted out of the diplomatic corps. I wanted to return to homeworld for good, to spend time with my family. If I am chosen as Sovereign, there will be even less time for my family than if I was traveling about the Federation as ambassador." She gave a woeful laugh and then stood, gathering her ceremonial robe about her. "Shall we go? The hour is late."

  Gabriel stood and held out his arm. "What did you think of tonight's dinner? Did we launch these talks with sufficient pomp and circumstance?"

  Zar smiled, nodding, and linked her arm with his. "Yes, I think we did." She gave a puzzled frown as they walked out of the quarterdeck. "I'm still not sure what to make of Morryn. He seemed very...un-Chrisarii. He has none of Vorik's pride or presence of command. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would almost say he was…absent-minded."

  "He didn't seem to say much, did he?"

  "Well, I am sure that he will have plenty to say once we sit down to the negotiating table. I hope."

  ( 4 )

  Vatra R'Daak fiddled nervously with the silverware, adjusting each utensil until it was exactly in line with the plate and glass. She carefully sliced the cayrd roast, and then set the platter in the center of the table. She dished the bowl of acko greens and then laid out a sliced loaf of xofo bread. She poured cold elmr't into the three glasses, and then stood back to appraise the whole setting.

  "Mother," Jharek frowned. "Is everything all right?"

  "Yes, Jhar, of course it is. Your father has come home tonight, and I want this meal to be special."

  "My coat is itching me," the boy complained. "Do I really have to wear this? It's only supper."

  "It's a special occasion," Vatra corrected him, "and yes, you must wear your good coat. Just as I am wearing this new gown."

  "And very beautiful you both are." Prokal strode into the room, smiling.

  Vatra moved to embrace him. "Dinner is ready."

  He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "It smells wonderful. You made this all yourself?"
>
  "Yes. I have become quite skilled at cooking since you left. I have my new friend Kelitreth to thank for that."

  "Third Krin A'Sha's wife?"

  "Yes." They all sat. "She's been a great help to both of us. Her son is only a little older than Jharek."

  "Good. Let's pray."

  All three held hands while Prokal recited a traditional blessing of thanks to Sh'alla. It was no surprise to Vatra that the prayer lasted for at least five minutes. When it was over, she passed her husband the meat platter and then took a slice for herself. She was too anxious to eat but forced herself to take small bites anyway, smiling and putting on what she hoped was a good show for Prokal.

  "How are you liking your new school, Jharek?"

  "Okay. I'm studying a lot."

  "Not very fun, is it?" Prokal teased.

  The boy shrugged. "I don't get to practice Skelperi as much I used to."

  "Well, yes, that is one side effect of going to school. Having classes all day doesn't leave much time for anything else."

  "Yeah. I miss my tutors at court."

  "I imagine you do. Your teachers here are much better for you, though. You have a Skelperi master, don't you?"

  "Yeah, but it's just not the same. He doesn't show me the same stuff that my Uncle Erengaar did."

  "Well, of course not," Prokal smiled. "Your uncle was teaching you techniques that are far above your age level. You are still just a boy, after all."

  Jharek scowled, glancing at his mother. "I guess. It's still no fun, though."

  "Skelperi isn't supposed to be fun. It's a fighting skill, designed to be used in battle. Boys do not fight battles. Boys are supposed to be studying and having fun with other things. You'll learn more about Skelperi when you're older."

  "Okay," he replied doubtfully.

  "Eat your greens, Jharek," Vatra said. She turned to her husband. "How long will you be with us?"

  "A few days. Probably not more than a week. Several of my soldiers are being transferred to new assignments, and their replacements will be arriving in the next couple days."

  "So you're going to be busy then?"

  He reached out to squeeze her hand. "Only during the day. I'll be home every evening in time for dinner – especially if it's always as good as this."

  "Oh, my," Vatra laughed. "Well, I'll do the best I can. It would be easier if I could hire a cook."

  "Nonsense. This roast is delicious." He glanced over his shoulder through the doorway into the parlor. "You seem to have done well with keeping up the house on your own."

  "Thank you. It has kept me very busy."

  "How are you liking the community here? You mentioned Kelitreth?"

  "Yes. She introduced me to some of the other officers' wives. Sonri is nice. There's a lot to do here. The other day Jharek and I went on a picnic in the woods. The bansh trees are quite lovely."

  "Good. I'm glad. I realize this is a far cry from the glamour of the royal court, but I think you'll like it here."

  "I do." Vatra looked at her son, smiling. "We do."

  Later, after the dishes were cleared and Jharek was in his room studying, Vatra brought a glass of tea to the garden behind the house. The sun was setting, dappling the courtyard in crimson and gold. She sat beneath the large tree, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly. So far, the bouts of nausea brought on by the pregnancy were few and far between, but something in the roast was not sitting well in Vatra's digestive track.

  "Evening star, my wife," Prokal said as he emerged from the house. He looked around as he walked the short path to the tree. "You've been very busy out here as well. I like it."

  Vatra looked up, smiling. "I hoped you would. Kel helped me choose some of the new flowers. The orange ones over there, and the red ones. I can't remember their names."

  Prokal nodded as he sat beside her. "You're learning all kinds of new talents."

  Vatra smiled again, but said nothing, sipping her tea instead. Prokal watched her, sensing that something wasn't right.

  "Vatra, is there something troubling you?"

  She stood, summoning her courage, and then turned to face him. "My husband." She hesitated, and then pressed forward. "I'm pregnant." Her mouth went dry and she watched Prokal's face, waiting for the puzzlement and then the anger that was sure to follow.

  Prokal's brow furrowed for a moment, and then his expression smoothed out as he stood and reached out to her. Vatra flinched, but then relaxed as he took both her hands in his. "It's all right. I'm not angry, Vatra."

  She swallowed, confused. "You're not?"

  "I am hurt, but I'm not angry. And I won't ask who the father is. It doesn't matter now. No one but my former wife knew of my defect, so, as far as anyone else is concerned, you and I are starting a family of our own." He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Just answer me on question. This happened while at court, yes?"

  Vatra nodded and swallowed again. "Yes."

  "Good." He leaned close, his lips next to her ear. "But understand this, my wife. If you dishonor me here on Sonri, you will feel the fire of my wrath. Is that clear?" He pulled back, looking into her eyes, and she nodded. He motioned to the bench and then handed her the glass of tea. "How far along are you?"

  "Only a few weeks."

  Prokal nodded, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and they leaned against the tree trunk. "Tomorrow I will arrange an appointment for you with my personal physician here in Sonri."

  "All right." Vatra sipped her tea and then said, "Now that you know my condition, I would like to have a housemaid to assist me in these next few months. Is that all right?"

  She looked up at him, and he gazed down at her, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled. "I suppose. I will leave the choice up to you. I'm sure there are many of your new friends who would love to have their daughter in the service of a lady princess."

  "Thank you."

  Prokal stood. "I have some work to take care of. I'll be in my study."

  Vatra watched him go, wrapping her arms about her stomach. The twilight rays warmed the garden, but Vatra suddenly felt a chill.

  ( 5 )

  The gray and silver orb of Shel'Belard slowly filled the forward viewport as Tilura navigated the Gothmar into alignment with the docking arm of the orbital station. Nearby, Grax was rapidly inputting commands into his terminal and examining the resulting readouts. At the rear of the flight deck, Sol had opened Eliot's chest and was making some adjustments to his hardware circuitry.

  "Okay, how's that?"

  "Much better," Eliot replied in his usual, bland mechanical tone. "Thank you, Sol."

  "You're welcome." He wiped his hands and started packing up his tools. "You've been at that console for the last six hours, Thal. You gonna fill the rest of us in now that we're here?"

  "Just a second..." The Orethian finished reading and then nodded approvingly. "We have a meeting with Gaetin and Draussen in one hour at Vesinor."

  "Vesinor??" Solomon echoed. "Do you know how much it costs just to get in the door at that place?"

  "Yes, but money is not an issue. I've reserved us a private room on the third level, and I've also hired us twenty guards."

  Both Tilura and Saul reacted with surprise. "How did you do that on such short notice?" Tilura asked.

  "Easy," Thalor smiled, glancing at Sol.

  "Yolot," Sol nodded.

  "Yes. Seems he knows quite a few trustworthy mercenaries who can be loyal for the right price."

  "'Trustworthy mercenaries'?" Tilura snorted. "I don't think those two words belong in the same phrase. Especially not when it applies to anyone here in Nevala."

  "Oh, don't be such a pessimist," Grax replied, closing out his screens and shutting off the console. "As long as I'm paying them more than anybody else, they're mine for as long as we need them."

  "And how long will we need them?" Sol asked.

  Grax rose, reaching for his disruptor and coat. "I'll explain on the way. Tilura, are we cleared to disembark?"
/>
  "Yeah." She placed the navigation system on standby and then rose to join Grax at the rear of the flight deck.

  "Eliot, you'll remain here. Keep a sensor lock on us at all times."

  "Yes, Sol. Please be careful."

  "Don't worry," Solomon quipped, clapping the android on his metal shoulder, "I just got you back, and I don't intend for us to be separated again so soon."

  ( 6 )

  Vesinor was one of several gleaming towers at the heart of Zadrika City. Shel'Belard's twin moons had just risen in the western sky, and the alien metropolis was alive with the best of the worst that only came out at night. Drug runners, exotic dancers, black market traders, and wealthy merchant lords all swarmed the brightly lit streets and crowded dance clubs. The city center catered to the more upscale crowd while the outer districts were reserved for the seedier patrons who were either looking for their next fix or a cheap date – or both.

  When Grax, Sol and Tilura arrived at Vesinor's main entrance, one of the two doormen pointed to a crowd of surly looking humanoids.

  "They said they're waiting for an Orethian named Grax."

  "That would be me. Gentlemen," Thalor greeted his new band of bodyguards. "So glad you could make it on time. Please come with me." He turned to the pair of doormen. "Thalor Grax, party of twenty-three. I have a reservation."

  Doorman number one checked his compad, nodded, and then glanced at doorman number two. Two spoke into his wristlink, nodded, and then he looked at Grax. "Go ahead. Take the elevator on your left."

  "Thank you. I would like four of you to remain down here in the lobby," Grax instructed the mercenaries as they entered the large – and magnificently appointed – foyer. "Two of you watch the elevator, the other two have a seat and keep an eye on everyone who comes and goes. I especially want you to count how many men come with Gaetin and Draussen, and then relay that to Tilura. You five come with us. The rest of you take the next lift."

  When they were all grouped together again on the third level Grax quickly dispersed the others to all corners of the large room and the balcony outside. Two remained to guard the elevator. The private room was as opulently furnished as the lobby – large couches with thick, soft cushions, gilded, ebony end tables, and a well-stocked bar running the length of the far wall.