“What is your most important duty?” McFinn asked him through the pockcomp translator.
“I spend most of my time on the southern continent of Kabir, tracking down the Resistance.”
“That sounds important. They pulled you away to attend a diplomatic ceremony?”
“I am to be honored at the banquet tonight.”
“Are you receiving a medal?”
“A commendation for leading a successful action.”
“Congratulations, Captain. I’m sure you and your family are very proud.”
“It is nothing. Men braver than I have never been commended.”
The vehicle had no windows, and McFinn felt nervous. The Borregan envoy had brought an enormous amount of information, including the route the convoy would take from the airfield to Basq and the Shah’s palace. McFinn thought the event would be public, but he soon realized the convoy would be heavily armed and take a circuitous route to avoid the population. When he asked His Excellency the reason, the man said the route was necessary to avoid any attacks by the Resistance.
McFinn felt the vehicle accelerate and decelerate, and turn several corners. He kept touching his holster. The other people in the vehicle spoke in low voices.
He asked Charmachi a question; he knew the answer, but he just wanted to relieve the tension. “This vehicle has an internal combustion engine?”
“Yes. The engine runs on diesel.”
“Diesel? A fossil fuel?”
“Yes. Borrega has vast coal reserves. Our industry converts the base coal to a number of useful materials: aviation and vehicle fuels, and hydrocarbon stock for plastics and pharmaceuticals. Coal is our principal power source, but we do have several hydroelectric projects in the north of this continent.” He paused for a moment. “It is my understanding the Union is offering to rebuild Borrega’s infrastructure with the successful conclusion of negotiations.”
“Yes, Captain. Fusion and antimatter power and an orbital station.”
“In exchange for an open-ended lease for your fleet?”
“That is correct. Borrega will be part of the Hominin Union, but will maintain independent rule.”
“The Shah will remain in power?”
“Yes.”
“And what is your role in this?”
“I am attaché to the Union Ambassador. I will be assisting her during the negotiations.”
“That sounds like a very important task.”
“Not really,” McFinn said, remembering the Persian custom of downplaying one’s importance. “Think of me as a secretary.”
Charmachi smiled. “A Union Naval captain working as a secretary?”
“Like you, I do as I am ordered.”
“Ah, yes. One must do one’s duty.” He leaned forward. “May I ask you a delicate question?”
“Sure.”
“Many years ago, Admiral Kilgore of the Union aided the Resistance on Borrega until he was betrayed by a lesser ranking officer. The rumors going around the security service say it was you. Is this true?”
Good grief, will I ever be free of that? He was surprised at the question, given the Persian custom of polite manners. He tried his best to keep his tone neutral. “I did not betray Admiral Kilgore. He disobeyed a direct order from the Consul to keep the peace with the Naati. His goal was to goad the Naati Hegemony into war. If that had happened, Borrega would have suffered greatly. I was only doing my duty. Surely you can understand that?”
“Of course, Captain, of course. I meant no offense whatsoever. Your actions allowed us to score major victories against the Resistance for several years. I thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” McFinn decided it would be bad manners to remind the Captain of the Shah’s collaboration with the Naati. “Tell me, is the Resistance still a threat?”
“Though they sometimes strike here in the northern continent of Aviz, they mostly remain in the south, in Kabir. The Shah’s security forces have contained the Resistance on the southern continent. Kabir is a harsh environment, and not much use to us.”
Then why the heavily armed convoy? He wanted to ask Charmachi that very question, but remembered his manners. “I understand the Naati are taking the same route to the palace as we are. What preparations have the security forces made?”
“The security forces have erected concrete walls all along the route. The Naati will travel to the Palace on foot,” he said, smiling, “so they shouldn’t be too difficult to contain if they get unruly. They will return by the same route each day. Perhaps they will work off some of their difficult nature on their daily run?”
“Lock up your children!” McFinn said with a smile.
Charmachi laughed a polite laugh. “We are providing them with meat and other victuals during their stay.”
They chatted about the upcoming banquet and negotiations for the rest of the trip.
Borrega joining the Union depended on the successful outcome of the negotiations with the Naati, so the next day’s activities were largely symbolic. The Ambassador and the Shah established friendly, but not formal, relations, and exchanged gifts between the peoples of the Union and Borrega.
McFinn spent most of this time in the spacious apartments assigned to him in the Shah’s palace; Arrington’s other aides would assist that day. The Consul had selected him to help with the Naati. He reviewed the security arrangements and agenda for the Naati negotiations, and thought of any contingencies.
At the end of the day, Arrington summoned him to her quarters. Her apartments were even larger than his were and much more ostentatiously decorated. She sat on a bench on a large balcony overlooking the Palace grounds, a vast area of green lawns, hedges, cedar trees, and sparkling pools.
“Your Excellency,” McFinn said in greeting. “How did the day go?”
Arrington smiled and handed McFinn a glass of dark red wine. “The Shah is a tall and handsome man, charming, well-mannered, and a complete idiot. The generals and industrialists run this planet, behind a façade of faith and royalty. The Shah introduced me to many of these men today, and they were all smiling and obsequious, but I suspect the daggers on their belts are for more than decoration.”
McFinn sat beside her. “Can we trust them?”
“I think so; one even had the temerity to petition me for a contract. It was almost obscene. These men are salivating at the prospect of gaining access to our technology.”
“There will still be no Borregan observers during the negotiations with the Naati?”
“Yes, that much I made clear. Be sure to sweep the council chamber for any surveillance devices tomorrow, and we will conduct negotiations at night.”
“At night?”
“This harsh sun is too much for Naati eyes. Also, keep the Marines in their barracks. They will not be present when we greet the Naati.”
“What? Why?”
“I want to set a welcoming tone.”
What? “What about during the negotiations? I had planned for six Naati occupying the northern antechamber to the council room, and six Marines in the southern antechamber.”
“That is unchanged.”
“Also remember, Naati usually conduct ritual hunts before any meeting of their own kind; it tempers the bloodlust. Since no arrangements have been made, they will be somewhat touchy.”
“I’m aware of that, but to allow the Naati delegation free range on Borrega for a hunt is too much to ask of the Shah.”
“You seem eager to welcome a bloodthirsty enemy as a friend.”
“Remember, the Naati came to us. These are not negotiations so much as a surrender. The Tolkists are the traditionalists; they fear the change the Reactionaries want, so much so they are willing to approach a hated and feared enemy for assistance. What does that tell you?”
“They fear the Reactionaries more than they fear us.”
“We need to find out why. Remember the defector, Noga? It gave its life to warn you about something the Reactionaries are digging up on Borrega, some enemy
of the Harbingers.”
“Do you think the Shah is working with the Reactionaries?”
“It is a possibility. His father used the Naati to help fight the ongoing insurgency against his rule. But the way those old men sucked up to me today says otherwise. They are eager to become part of the Union.”
“Then we can dictate terms to the Tolkists, can we not?”
“Yes, we can, but they are still Naati, prickly and unpredictable. Remember, we want to avoid conflict as much as possible, to save lives. Do we know any more about the two we are meeting tomorrow?”
“Nothing. Gavanus of the Jureen participated in the Battle of Anuvi III, a close lieutenant of Lord Commissar Moosta. We know Fangrik was exiled from the Command Authority over thirty years ago at Moosta’s command, for some kind of heresy, but we don’t know much more.”
“Yes, I’ve thought about Fangrik. Why would the Command Authority bring him back? What heresy was Fangrik convicted of?”
“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“It is my belief Fangrik wanted to make peace with the Union, but was banished for it. So, Captain McFinn, why would Fangrik have wanted peace? Certainly not out of any moral considerations; this is a Naati we’re talking about.”
“Fear,” McFinn replied.
The Shah of Borrega stood in the eastern arch of the Reception Hall, flanked by McFinn on the right and Arrington on the left. McFinn wore his dress uniform, while Arrington wore a purple ankle-length dress, a sash of medals across her chest, and a glittering tiara nestled into her dark hair. The Shah looked magnificent in a deep blue tunic with gold epaulettes and belt, his chest festooned with medals.
The Reception Hall was a massive space, built of sandstone, fully fifty meters square. Fluted columns spaced along the walls supported the high ceiling, a dome inlaid with intricate geometric designs of gold and turquoise. Bas-relief on the walls depicted Human figures in various scenes, some of which McFinn recognized from his recent studies of ancient Persian history. Intricate tile work of gold and yellow covered the floor. The doors in the western arch stood at least ten meters high, inlaid with gold, silver, and precious gems.
A battalion-sized honor guard lined the walls, standing at attention. Each man wore a crisp brown uniform and beret, and held a rifle at his side. McFinn spotted Captain Charmachi; he wore white gloves and an orange cravat, and a gleaming scabbard hung from his belt.
McFinn’s pockcomp chirped. “They’ve arrived.”
He looked at the Shah and nodded, and the three walked forward. The snap of the honor guard presenting their rifles echoed through the hall. The three strode to the middle of the floor.
The massive doors in the western arch opened inward. Two Naati stood in the archway, the light of the setting primary casting their shadows across the Hall. They walked forward sniffing the air, their back spines slightly erect, ears straight, heads moving back and forth, red eyes scanning the assembled Humans. Much taller than the Humans, each wore red trousers and a simple harness and bore no weapons. A retinue of a six more Naati followed several steps behind. Each wore grey trousers and a harness, and carried a large blaster rifle and a long blade in a scabbard.
The stench was almost overpowering, and McFinn saw many of the assembled soldiers flinch in reaction.
Though the Naati walked upright, their arms were as long as their legs. Their massive bare feet were bare, covered only with short black hair. Four large toes on each long narrow foot supported most of their weight. A long claw tipped each toe. Their hands had two long fingers and two opposable thumbs, each also tipped with a long claw. Their chests were a broad expanse of rippling muscle, the upper arms as thick as the legs, the shoulders wide, the neck corded with tendons. The hair on their bodies had a black and brown pattern not unlike a giraffe. Their eyes looked like large red orbs with black pupils set beneath bushy eyebrows and above a short snout. The ears looked like upright triangles. A mane of long yellow and brown spines and rough black hair covered the top of the creature’s head between its upright ears, and extended down the center of the back, the spines and hair becoming shorter and less dense toward the creature’s rump.
McFinn almost pissed his pants. These few Naati could rip the shit out of all of us!
He saw sweat on the Shah’s face as the three bowed. The Naati copied the gesture.
“I am the leader of the people of Borrega,” the Shah said, a translator embedded in one of his medals translating. “I extend greetings to the Tolkist Faction of the Naati Hegemony. May I present Frances Arrington, Senator for Phoenix and Ambassador of the Hominin Union. Captain Joshua McFinn, officer of the Union Navy, is the Ambassador’s attaché.”
“We accept your greetings,” one of the Naati said. Gray spots covered the hair on his body and he wore an eyepatch. “I am Commissar Fangrik of the Kolon Bloodline, and this is Lord Commissar Gavanus of the Jureen Bloodline. Let us begin.”
“Yes, let us begin,” Arrington said.
Yazdani
The faces of the Resistance fighters that died haunted Yazdani during the ride out of the mountains. He dreamed about them at night; they stood in church with his parents, listening to the benediction; they stood beside him as he sent Directorate agents to their deaths.
Shirazi did not lead them back to the Kabir Caves, but to the northern coast of the continent. “You will get the information you seek,” Shirazi said, “so you can transmit it to the Union fleet when it arrives. But you also need to let your superiors know what the Naati are doing on Borrega.”
The city of Razdun was located on the northern coast of the continent of Kabir, on the shores of the Savan Sea. The settlement was a maze of narrow streets and mud brick and cinder block buildings; it sprawled at the foot of a spur jutting north from the Kabir Mountains. Fields and orchards extended from the town to the shore cliffs, and a paved road connected the city with an airfield closer to the water. The column of horses passed through several checkpoints attended by uniformed men. Soldiers in vehicles and armored personnel carriers patrolled the streets. Every soldier they met paid Shirazi the utmost respect.
“Some of the streets lead directly to passages in the mountains. When the Shah first took Razdun, most of the civilian population was able to escape. We keep the caves gated, but they are ready to use again, if need be.”
Shirazi led them to a large compound in the center of the city. The place had a high wall topped with barbwire, and an APC and machine gun position guarded the gate. Inside were several buildings, and scores of soldiers. Men appeared and took their horses away.
“Razdun is ours,” Shirazi said, “one of the last cities on this continent to be freed from the Shah, but the security service frequently makes forays into our territory. We are prepared.” He saw Yazdani looking at the vehicles and weapons and smiled. “You thought we were backwards, didn’t you? With nothing but horses and ancient rifles and holes in the ground? While we cannot match the Shah’s war machines, we do have our own, and use them to keep this continent free. We have artillery emplacements and anti-aircraft rockets in the mountains above the city, a hundred rotary and fixed wing aircraft at the airport, and a garrison of twelve thousand soldiers.”
Over the next several days, Yazdani mixed with the people of the city. He and the other Resistance fighters ate with the local families, attended religious services, and played kickball with the children. To Yazdani it was like revisiting his childhood on Kursk. He felt more peaceful than he had in decades. He realized that in the Union he had nothing left: no marriage, his children didn’t speak to him, and he hated his job and the Directorate.
One morning Yazdani hiked along the shore of the Savan Sea, the body of water that separated the northern and southern continents. Dense vegetation covered the northern coast, some of it native, some transplanted from the worlds the inhabitants had settled earlier, and even some from Earth. Borrega’s stellar primary dissipated the morning fog as the star moved higher into the sky. A wide beach sep
arated the low cliffs on the shore from the peaceful surf. Masses of jellies rode the surf up onto the beach and clumped together. He watched one clump form; it seemed to shudder and crawl toward the cliff as one creature.
While Borrega was Earth-like, it was still an alien world.
He became aware of a throbbing sound, and spotted a rotary wing aircraft fly above the horizon. It circled his position and landed on the sand. General Shirazi exited the aircraft and walked across the beach.
“The Union and Naati Ambassadors have arrived,” Shirazi said as he approached. “The Union delegation met with the Shah. An agreement was struck: upon successful negotiations between the Union and the Naati, Borrega would become part of the Union, be the recipient of technology transfers, and the Shah would stay in power, leader of an independent Senate world.”
“How do you know?”
“I have someone on the inside.”
“Who?”
“Lieutenant Commander Sakineh, one of the last Union Naval Intelligence officers to fly to Borrega. He has been our contact in the Shah’s security forces for decades. He says it is a certainty.
“It is a ruse.” Yazdani didn’t quite believe what he just said.
Shirazi smiled. “Perhaps your superiors sent you here to ingratiate yourself to us; to report on our numbers and strategy, so they can give that information to the Shah to use against us.”
“Nonsense. This is misinformation to keep the Shah in the dark about the real plan.” Will we betray the Resistance? Yazdani felt anxiety and then fear, but kept his expression under control. The memories of the Elysium Riots filled his mind, along with the faces of all the agents he had sent to die. “You can trust me; this is disinformation.”
“I hope you are correct.”
“Do you have the information I need about the strength and location of Resistance and Borregan Security forces?”
“Yes.”
“The Task Force will arrive soon. I must be ready.”
The Borrega Test Page 29
