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

by Neal Jones

  "That's right. We only have about three dozen more to go, and then we'll be ready."

  "Good." Gabriel looked around the table once more, making eye contact with everyone in turn. "A red level quarantine, ladies and gentlemen, means that no one – I repeat, no one – gets on or off this station from this moment forward. Doctor Rosenberg has already put the declaration on record, and Major Saveck and I have signed it. That means, under Interstellar Federation general order number fourteen, we are authorized to use deadly force, if necessary, to ensure that no one breaks quarantine. Is that clear?" A murmured chorus of affirmatives answered him. He turned to Ben. "Doctor, let's review specific procedures."

  Rosenberg stood and held up a hazard mask. It was just large enough to cover the mouth and nose of a standard humanoid. "These will be dispensed to everyone – military and civilian. For military personnel, you'll need to code them to your bio-nets. Right now, this is our best option for filtering anything that might be airborne. It's not much of a defense at this point since we're dealing with an unknown and unidentified virus, but it's better than nothing. Don't start wearing them until after the commodore's announcement. We don't want to set off mass panic too early. Other than that, there's not much to tell you aside from the basics: wash your hands regularly, and don't touch someone who's infected if you can help it. However, if you need to, then use sterile gloves. Every triage station will be heavily stocked with those and other basic supplies. When you do come into contact with someone who's infected, direct them to the nearest station or call for medical assistance. Any questions?"

  No one spoke up. Gabriel nodded to Rosenberg and then said, "Once I make my announcement, all civilians will be confined to quarters unless they're infected. Key areas like the promenade and the rec centers will be closed to everyone except military personnel and the infected. I've already dispatched a communiqué to Admiral Hazen, apprising him of our situation and requesting any assistance that he deems necessary. I don't know yet what that assistance will be, but the best thing we can do right now is focus on staying calm and keeping busy with our assigned tasks. Is that clear?" Everyone nodded. "All right then, dismissed."

  Ilkara fell into step with Rosenberg and Garrett as they left the wardroom. "Is there anything I can do? Would you like to take more blood samples?"

  Rosenberg nodded. "Yes, thank you, I was going to ask you about that. I still have some on file, but we're probably going to need as much as you can spare." He smiled grimly.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ilkara," Amelia said, sticking out her hand. "I've heard a lot about you, and I was hoping that I could meet with you at some point during my stay here. Although," she added ruefully, "this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

  "Nice to meet you as well," Ilkara replied.

  Ten paces behind them, Navarr was issuing orders through her commlink. "Tell Mackerson to meet me in my office, and issue an alert to all off duty personnel. I want everyone on stand by. Tell the shift commanders and team leaders to be front and center in the watch room in ten minutes. Navarr out."

  Decev snagged Gabriel's elbow as they left the wardroom. "I'd like to go check on Josh before I return to my post."

  Marc nodded. "Of course. Take as much time as you need."

  "Thanks." She squeezed his hand and then raced to catch up to Navarr and Sikandra who were stepping into the PTL.

  ( 3 )

  "Thalor!"

  Grax looked up from his menu to see Tilura waving at him from across the veranda. Only a few tables in the outdoor café were occupied, and he had chosen one that would afford the two of them some privacy. As soon as she sat, he said, "Where's Sevlin?"

  "With Sol. They're making a side trip to Kosamird. I told them to pick me up on their way back." She leaned closer, noticing the slight discoloration around his left eye. "What happened? Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine," he smiled, turning away to look at the menu. "The royal guards had their way with me before turning me over to Sesrin and Ghyl."

  "Oh my gods! Thalor, I'm so sorry."

  "It's all right," he shrugged. "I knew what was coming, I just hadn't expected it to be so...brutal. But enough of that. How are you?"

  "Good. Sol asked me to join him, and I couldn't say no."

  "Not smuggling again, I hope."

  "No. He found work as a courier for a mining company on the Chrisarii homeworld. Looks like our route will be mainly there and Federation space from now on."

  "Good. He's still able to drop me off at Exxar-One, right?"

  "Yes." She paused, watching him. "You sure you don't want to join us? We could use a decent cook."

  Thalor shook his head, putting the menu aside. "No thanks." He pressed the table's interface to activate its holo-waiter. "I'll have the fried halk with a side of steamed merm and a large sun juice." He looked at Tilura.

  "I'll have the same," she said.

  The waiter nodded and then disappeared.

  "So..." Tilura began, "are we going to keep making small talk, or are you going to finally tell me the truth?"

  "The truth? About what?"

  "Don't mock me. You owe me this."

  A humanoid waiter arrived with their drink order. Grax sipped his juice, and then closed his eyes as he lifted his face to the sun. The bruise around his eye still ached. "What do you want to know?" he said at last, looking at Tilura.

  "Well, for starters, how the krak't did you make it off Mr'gss-Gl'nn alive?"

  By the time Thalor was finished with his explanation, their food arrived. Tilura shook her head as she sliced her meat. "The real crown was on their homeworld the entire time??"

  "No."

  "But you just said –"

  "The Sr'gg'nss believe that the crown I turned over to them two days ago is the genuine Crown of Az'Nn'rkk. I said it passed all the authentication scans, remember?"

  Tilura set aside her fork, confused. "You gave them another false crown??"

  Grax only smiled as he sliced his halk.

  "No, no way." Tilura leaned back, sipping her juice. "There was only one false crown, and there's no way you could have made another one in the last two weeks. Not without our help."

  "I didn't. I made it seventeen years ago. It's the one you helped me forge."

  Tilura stared him, her frown deepening. "That doesn't make sense, Thalor. That's the crown that you were caught with when they arrested you."

  "No, it wasn't. The crown that you helped me forge was placed in a security vault in the bank of Cr'nn'lxx. I gave the key code to the Sr'gg'nss two days ago. It's a perfect forgery. It passed all their authentication tests, just as I expected it to."

  Tilura shook her head again, her lunch entirely forgotten. "No, that doesn't make sense," she insisted. "If that's true, then that means the crown you took from the Vault of Fl'nnd was also a fake. I left orbit before you could pass it off to me."

  "Oh no, the crown in the Vault of Fl'nnd was real. It's currently on Orethiaze. It's been there for seventeen years. I managed to get it off Mr'gss-Gl'nn before the Sr'gg'nss arrested me." He chewed his meat, watching Tilura's expression as she finally put the pieces together.

  Her eyes widened, and her puzzlement turned to astonishment. "Two false crowns??" She stared at him, speechless.

  "You know, I'm surprised you never figured this out sooner. I would have thought that when you and Sesrin began working for Ghyl a few years ago, you two would have compared notes. Surely she told you about the time she helped me make a forgery of the Crown of Az'Nn'rkk."

  "She did, and we both assumed we had helped you create the same crown. That whole time we were smuggling together you never told me you were working with Sesrin! You refused to let her join us!"

  "That's true. But a couple years after she first came to me she showed up again on Shel'Belard. It was about the time that I began to formulate my plan to steal the crown. I saw a perfect opportunity, and I took it. When I told her what I was planning, she insisted on helping me."

  "S
o why didn't you let her join us on the Gothmar, and then all three of us could have worked together on that heist?"

  "Because I always have a backup plan, remember? And I didn't trust either of you at the time. Prudence suggested that I keep the two of you in the dark about each other. And, as it turns out, my instincts were right. You left me stranded with the crown in my hands outside the Vault of Fl'nnd. And, seventeen years later, Sesrin betrayed me by telling the royal family that I had gotten away with the theft of their crown after all."

  Tilura nodded. "And that's when you turned over the other false crown. But how did you know back then which crown to hide away and which to get caught with?"

  Grax shrugged, reaching for his juice. "Again, it was instinct. Both crowns were made in the exact same way except for a single flaw. With the crown that Sesrin helped me forge, there was a flaw in the makeup of the red gemstones. With yours, it was in the mixture of the strull. Both flaws were very minute and very difficult to spot, even with the computerized scans. Only if you were looking for them would you find them. Sesrin, of course, told the royal family exactly what to look for."

  "And what makes you think they won't find the flaw in the crown they have now?"

  "The same reason that they never found the flaw in the red gemstones on the other one. Like I just said, you'll only detect them if you know exactly what you're looking for and where to look; which is precisely how Sesrin betrayed me."

  "You created each of those flaws on purpose? Why?"

  "Well, first of all, you can never create a completely flawless forgery, especially for a relic as old as the Crown of Az'Nn'rkk. The trick – and the art – is to create as near perfect a replica as you can. I couldn't really help either of those flaws. It was only a matter of choosing which crown would have which flaw. Yours is the more perfect replica. The flaw in the gemstones was easier to detect, and because I trusted you just a bit more than I did Sesrin, I made hers the easier flaw to find."

  "Because it's the more logical flaw," Tilura continued, nodding. "I understand now. The royal family expected to find the flaw in the gemstones because that's where all con artists have made their mistakes in the past."

  "Exactly. Thus, that was what they were looking for in the scans of the other forgery I turned over to them two days ago. And because the flaw in the strull is very difficult to spot with computerized scans – unless you know exactly at which frequency to set the scanner – that crown will forever be passed off as the real one."

  "Unless, of course, I were to send a communiqué to Morgus-two," Tilura teased.

  "But you won't."

  "How do you know? And, for that matter, how did you manage to flawlessly replicate the gemstones of that crown? You succeeded where hundreds of other con men have failed."

  Grax smiled, shaking his head. "Sorry, Til, I can't reveal all my secrets. It spoils the mystery."

  Tilura gave a rueful sigh as she forked another bite of halk. "You're right, damn you. Mystery has always been one of your more endearing qualities."

  They ate in silence for a bit, and then Tilura slid her plate aside. "I'm going to miss you, Thalor. It was nice working with you again."

  He nodded wistfully. "I enjoyed this little adventure. There was a couple times, though, where I honestly didn't know if I would make to this restaurant today."

  "There's still a chance the Sr'gg'nss might discover that their crown is still a forgery. Doesn't that bother you?"

  "Nope," he grinned, shaking his head. "Even if they do find it, they'll never make the news public. It would be too embarrassing for the royal family. That's also why they won't bother with putting out a bounty and hiring assassins. The real Crown of Az'Nn'rkk will stay in my private collection."

  "Speaking of which, where is that exactly?"

  Thalor laughed as he stood. "Secrets, remember? What time did you say Sol will be in orbit?"

  "Another couple hours, at least."

  "Good. There's a little museum here that I've been dying to visit. Would you like to join me?"

  "You're not planning on stealing anything are you?"

  "Oh, lords, no, not from this one. But they do have an exhibit of artifacts from an archeological dig on Kosamird that I think will be interesting."

  "Oh, yes," Tilura quipped, following him out of the café, "there's nothing like looking at dirty pieces of old pottery to while away the afternoon."

  ( 4 )

  Varis crouched, skittering across the alley into the shadow of a large waste reclamator. It was shortly after midnight, and the building that she had identified from her web search eight hours earlier now loomed large on the other side of the street. It was exactly as it had appeared in her meld with Avyrem, and, according to her 'net's translation matrix, the neon sign labeled the factory as a chemical treatment plant. She glanced down at her palm readout, searching for other bio-signs, but the entire block was empty.

  The building whose wall she crouched against appeared to be abandoned, as did most of the other buildings in this area. The exteriors were covered in moss and other wild vegetation, and their windows were blinded with grime and weather-worn paint. During her research earlier that day, J'Soran learned that this section of the industrial district was among the oldest parts of the city, dating as far as back as the landing of the first colonists in 2380. Whatever service these factories had once provided had apparently become unnecessary in the last century or so, but the buildings had been left behind like the bones of rotting carcasses beneath a desert sun.

  Varis took a deep breath, glanced both ways, and then darted across the wide street, avoiding the large pools of streetlights. She disappeared into the shadows surrounding the chemical plant, and then crouched, listening, waiting, watching. Far overhead, the distant thrummm of the hovercar traffic played counterpoint to the eerie silence of the buildings and the streets around her. Nothing moved, not even the usual vermin that always seemed to appear in the aftermath of abandonment of places like this.

  J'Soran waited another ten minutes, until she could no longer hold her position, and she stood up to relieve the tension in her legs. She checked her palm readout and performed another scan of the chemical plant. No bio-signs. In fact, there was nothing – no indication of life or artificial power sources at all. Varis frowned, sweeping her gaze over the empty lots and the street once more. Maybe I was wrong, she thought morosely. Or maybe Avyrem tricked me.

  She hesitated, torn with indecision. Should she try to break into the plant? Was this even the right building? Just because Avyrem had been looking at it didn't mean that it was important. He might have been standing in front of the building across the street. But that one was just as empty of life signs and power readings as this one. Varis sighed, glancing once more at her palm readout, and then made a choice.

  She turned to walk towards the back of the plant, but she never saw the swift movement deep in the shadows. She experienced a flash of blinding pain, and she fell backwards, her head striking the pavement with thudding force. It was enough to stun her, and she blinked several times, struggling to clear her vision as well as roll to the side. But before she could move, there was another flash of pain, this time in her chest, and J'Soran had no choice but to fall headfirst into the swirling darkness.

  ( 5 )

  "What? What inspection? I wasn't notified of this!" The short, stubby tentacles on the sides of the alien captain's neck stiffened and his nostrils flared as he face Lieutenant Ritano.

  "That's why it's called a surprise inspection, captain," the security officer explained in a patient tone. "We're required to perform an inspection at random every few weeks. Your ship was chosen this time around."

  "But my cargo is perishable! I need to get underway in the next two hours if I'm to make my deadline on T'Naugh!"

  "Captain, the sooner we can start, the sooner it will be over with. I won't take more than twenty minutes, I promise."

  "But why do we need to evacuate the ship? I'll tell my crew to stay out of
your way!"

  Ritano had had enough. He stepped closer to the captain and used his most authoritative tone. "Look, I can take you off your ship in one of two ways: conscious or unconscious. What'll it be?" His hand hovered near the holster on his right hip.

  Captain Phritt glanced down at the weapon and then up at Ritano, his three eyes widening. "Are you threatening me, lieutenant??"

  "Captain!" The comm officer glanced at the trio of security officers who had taken up station at the rear of the small bridge. "I'm not able to get through to any of the other ships. I can only make contact with the docking master. He's ordering us to comply with the inspection."

  The captain's eyes narrowed as he turned back to Ritano. "What's really going on here, lieutenant? All of this seems very irregular. I think I'd like to speak with your commanding officer."

  "Fine." Ritano marched over to the comm station and typed in a series of commands on the holo-interface. Moments later, Commander Navarr's scowling face filled the forward viewscreen at the front of the bridge.

  "Yes, what is it?" she demanded.

  "Commander, Captain Phritt would like to speak to you. He's upset by this surprise inspection."

  Phritt stepped forward as Navarr's stern gaze fell upon him. "Commander, this inspection seems very irregular, and my comm officer tells me that he can't contact any of the other ships."

  "Why do you need to contact the other ships, captain? You're wasting my time and that of my officers. They need to get to their duties, and the sooner you comply, the sooner this will all be over with." She leaned closer, her face filling the viewscreen. "Or I could simply order the docking master to lock down your ship, and you can spend the next two weeks in my brig. The choice is yours, captain."

  The screen went dark, and Phritt turned to Ritano. "Very well," he fumed. "Twenty minutes, no more!" He motioned to his comm officer and the navigator, and they followed him off the bridge.