Ambassador 3: Changing Fate: Ambassador Space Opera Thriller Series (Ambassador: Space Opera Thriller)

by Patty Jansen

  The Asto delegation had just arrived, a knot of people in the box two levels below mine. I spotted Delegate Ayanu, ordering people about. I didn’t see Ezhya. He was supposed to have had words with her and she’d come out of that meeting unscathed?

  There were also some people in the Aghyrian box, but they were on the other side of the hall. Marin Federza was one of the most easily recognisable people in the entire assembly, because of the way his silver hair reflected the light, but I didn’t see anyone who looked like him. If he was here, he would be in that box.

  Damn it. Where was he?

  Why had he left my apartment with those “guards”?

  And who were these new people who would negotiate on behalf of the Aghyrians instead?

  A bell rang, and while talk died down, the main lights dimmed, and people took their seats, the door at the back of the central floor opened. Two guards came out and stationed themselves on either side of the door. Then came Delegate Akhtari in full regalia: a heavy brocade coat with wide sleeves in gamra blue with gold embroidery on the lapels, a gamra blue tunic and blue trousers, both with exquisite gold patterns. She wore sandals to symbolise her status—because she didn’t need to run or flee, she could wear sandals. I didn’t think those sandals would protect her from what was to come. Hell, I didn’t even think I could protect her. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to protect her, even to save gamra from descending into chaos.

  She strode across the floor to the speaker’s dais, passing under the downward beams of light that made her hair shine like silver. Behind her another group of people entered. The ceiling light hit the bright red hair of Delegate Ethvos. Next to him was none other than Ezhya, wearing his silver temperature retaining suit and red sash. His new guards, also with the sash, fanned out over the hall and took up positions in the first tier of the audience. One stood right below Delegate Ayanu’s box, staring at her. She stared back.

  Someone in the box in front of us hissed. “What is he doing here?”

  I glanced at Delegate Ayanu and her assistants in Asto’s box. They were all sitting stiffly, not talking, kind of . . . resigned or nervous. Maybe I needed to reassess my judgement that she’d come out of this unscathed.

  Someone on the other side of the hall yelled. I didn’t hear what was being said, but the next moment a couple of guards ran out onto the floor into the audience. Ezhya’s guards remained where they were, all of them looking at the origin of the sound, but none of them overly concerned. From the location of the sound, I guessed that some of the smaller entities on the other side of the hall objected to Ezhya’s presence on the main floor. They made a habit of creating a fuss when he was in the hall.

  But Ezhya being Ezhya, he ignored all of it and sat down at the central table anyway.

  It was true that he was allowed a more prominent position than usual: one of the speakers’ chairs. Normally he used Asto’s box, or rather somewhere near it, because he had a habit of wandering through the audience while he spoke. It was also true that the reaction from the guards to protest calls was usually more subdued. I had no idea what sort of rumours went around about the reason for this sitting, but there were always plenty of rumours, most of them rubbish. The past days had been no exception. Tensions were high in the lead-up to the negotiations about the zeyshi claim.

  Delegate Ethvos completely ignored the goings-on and took the spot a few seats down from Ezhya, separated by a couple of scribes and other administrators with various bits of equipment in front of them.

  Whereas Ezhya had six guards with him—he stood at the top of this association after the breakup of his previous security arrangement—Delegate Ethvos had brought a single person onto the floor: a Kedrasi woman young enough to be his daughter, and who, knowing the Kedrasi penchant to employ family members, probably was his daughter, who carried his documents and electronics. I’d always admired the absolute cool of the Kedrasi delegates. They were small of stature and commanded no army to speak of; they never postured or threatened; but they could make a lot of impact with a few spoken words.

  Chief Delegate Akhtari rose from the table and turned on the light at the dais.

  Whatever disturbance had been going on across the hall died down. I could still see a couple of guards maintaining a warning presence in the audience. The benches behind them were packed, and so was the public gallery. I hoped the zeyshi delegation had been able to get in, but I had no hope of making them out from where I sat. There had to be close to three thousand people crammed into this hall. Curious, anxious, angry, frightened people.

  Delegate Akhtari rang her bell. “Delegates. Welcome to this special emergency sitting of the gamra assembly. I call on Delegate Ethvos, who has called for this meeting.”

  The delegate rose and entered the pool of light that came from the downward spotlights in the middle of the floor. The intense glow made his hair show up brilliant red. He had come prepared and wore his ceremonial robe, complete with the coat that marked him as one of the five prime delegates who were entitled to call such meetings. He stopped before the dais and bowed before delegate Akhtari, who nodded in return, and stepped back from the dais so that he could get on. It was all very ceremonial. My fists were clenched with the long-windedness of it all, but we would have to go through the protocol before I could have my say.

  His assistant remained at the table. Kedrasi went about by themselves, without guards or protection. They tended to be rather fatalistic. “If I die, then I die,” Delegate Ethvos had once said to me in response to my question about why he didn’t use security.

  He put his reader on the dais, pulled out the little stool from underneath, climbed on and adjusted the microphone. He was only the size of a young teenager, a couple of heads shorter than Chief Delegate Akhtari and, even when standing on the stool, could barely see over the top of the dais.

  “Delegates. We meet here to discuss a grave occasion that has been brought to my attention by Delegate Cory Wilson, whom I will ask to present his material so that we can all appreciate the seriousness of his discovery.”

  Finally.

  I picked up my reader and left the box in the company of Thayu and Nicha. We had to walk down the stairs that went past Asto’s box. Delegate Ayanu made a point of looking the other way.

  Everyone in the hall was silent as I crossed the floor into the pool of light and to the dais. Sometimes I wondered what sort of reputation I had amongst the delegates. Would they gossip about me being a lot of hot air and no action, or living in Ezhya’s pockets?

  I put my reader down while Thayu busied herself connecting it to the projector and Nicha took up position next to me.

  I used those last moments to consider the pronoun situation. Would I be bold or would I be traditional? Bold or traditional? Bold or—

  Thayu gave me the thumbs up.

  I made a split-second decision. “Delegates. Every day since the Exchange outage and since my return from Asto, I’ve been afraid that I would have to come here and make this speech, and every day I’ve hoped that I wouldn’t have to do it.”

  A murmur of surprise went through the hall. No one ever heard dhoya pronouns in the general assembly. In fact, one rarely heard them on the island at all. Delegate Akhtari stared at me in a what the hell? kind of way.

  But Ezhya looked at me and nodded.

  I continued in slightly more formal language. “Over fifty thousand years ago, a meteorite struck Asto. The Aghyrian people, who lived on that world at the time, had little time to prepare because no one saw it coming. They had three ships that were capable of rescuing but a fraction of their population. One of those ships came to Barresh.” And as I said that, another realisation struck me: could it be that the remains of that ship lay under the marshes on the eastern side of the main island and that this is what the signal had responded to and what the Tamerians had been looking for in the dark in the reed beds? “A second ship crash-landed on the Mirani highlands. The descendants of those people founded Miran. The third ship was a d
eep space vessel, fitted out to carry large crews over long distances where the anpar lines wouldn’t reach. They were in orbit, but refused to take extra passengers on board. They disappeared after the meteorite impact and were never heard from again.”

  I gestured to Thayu who switched on the projector. The image of that huge ship was projected into the middle of the hall above everyone’s heads, blown up to a construct of light that filled the entire space above our heads.

  The audience exploded into gasps and exclamations. I couldn’t hear but imagined what they said.

  “What the hell is that thing?”

  “I bet Asto has something to do with it.”

  Even I was impressed.

  Wow and holy shit. That was a serious ship and the image was serious quality. Normally if you enlarged a projection, detail became fuzzy, but not this image. You could see all the little protrusions and air locks and tubes on the outer walls of the ship. I enlarged the image, and an even greater level of detail resolved from the projection, showing individual hatches and hooks, panels and a million other things the function of which I could only guess.

  “This is the ship, and they’re back.”

  By now, all the talk in the hall had died down. Two thousand delegates and their assistants listened to me in absolute silence.

  “We knew about this ship, in a roundabout way. The Exchange had captured some snatches of random material from the wake of the anpar burst that fried the Exchange and that, we are reasonably sure, resulted from the ship creating an insanely strong anpar line to return to our galaxy. What we did not know was whether this ship was an automated empty shell, or if it was functioning and live. If there was a crew. I can now say that we have proof that it is live, that it contains people who can still communicate with us.”

  A murmur rose in the hall, many voices with an alarmed tone. I waited until it died down.

  “When the ship left all those years ago, a hardline man called Kando Luczon was its captain. In the historical archives of Athyl, there is evidence that even though his ship could have taken on board tens of thousands across a relatively short distance to Ceren, he refused to take extra people on board. While Asto died and was reborn, while the two sets of refugees struggled, almost died out, and resurfaced on Ceren, they chose to leave the galaxy. While a huge amount of time has passed for us, they’ve been away for four hundred years ship time. The hardline Kando Luczon is still their captain. You may ask me how I know all this. I know this because people have been talking to the ship.”

  I signalled to Thayu and the projection of the ship made way for a projection of the translated document.

  I waited.

  While people read, the shouts of outrage and anger increased. More guards streamed into the hall, and lined up on the walkway that ran between the boxes and the upper stands where most of the minor delegates sat.

  I let the tumult build for a while.

  Thayu and Nicha both stood on either side of the dais, ready to take defensive action if necessary. Delegate Akhtari glared at me across the floor. Her mouth was a thin line. I had always suspected that she knew of many of the dealings of the Barresh Aghyrians, and I increasingly got the feeling that I was correct. She’d known about this. She should resign, and I had promised Delegate Ethvos that I would do whatever I could to keep her in the job.

  I couldn’t see Delegate Ayanu. People were standing in the Aghyrian box, shouting, but there was too much noise in the hall for me to make out anything.

  Only Ezhya sat at his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, perfectly relaxed and amused. As his eyes met mine, I swore the corner of his mouth moved up.

  The noise showed no sign of dying down. I looked in the dark space at the back of the dais, but couldn’t see the bell, so I tapped the microphone, which produced a loud thudding sound and the noise dimmed somewhat.

  “I obtained this material from the office of the Asto Delegate Ayanu, who, in turn, obtained it illegally from the office of the Barresh Aghyrian delegate Trader Federza, who, I believe, had the material in his possession in order to raise it with the assembly.”

  “Nonsense!” someone shouted.

  I ignored it. “I would like Trader Delegate Federza to come forward to explain his position.”

  There was a lot of rumbling in the stands on the opposite side of the hall. Someone shouted, “Stay in your seats!” In a decidedly imperative pronoun form.

  None of the noise produced Marin Federza.

  I tapped the microphone again. An employee rushed forward to bring me the bell that was used for this purpose. Its clear tone rang through the hall.

  “Where is Trader Delegate Marin Federza? Can we get someone from the Barresh Aghyrian delegation to comment?”

  There was movement in the Aghyrian box but because of the strong light where I stood, I couldn’t make out what was happening there.

  The man who came onto the floor—and who wasn’t Federza—had the typical tall and lanky form of an Aghyrian. He wore the uniform of a lesser delegate: only his tunic was blue, but his trousers were grey. His hair was dark and curly, held back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had a sharp face, with a long nose and thin lips.

  I’d seen him a few times in the corridors of the gamra buildings, not that I remembered his name, but my feeder said Delegate Tomar Samari. The name sounded vaguely familiar.

  Thayu added, Born in Barresh, educated in the Aghyrian complex, has never left Ceren. One of those indoctrinated kids like the ones we had seen on the train. Oh so attentive, assertive and judgmental, and a little bit creepy, to be honest.

  Likely he had always been part of the delegation, but I’d just never had any direct dealings with him. The Aghyrians were usually silent in the meetings and they had to have some sort of hierarchical structure that governed who could speak in which situations. All of which made me more concerned about Federza.

  “Delegate Federza is indisposed,” he said in a deep voice that belied his thin appearance.

  “I would like to see him,” I said, again using dhoya pronouns.

  His brow furrowed as if he was suspicious or unsure of my intentions.

  “When the Trader Delegate came to see me, he was afraid for his life. Someone shot at the window of my office while I was meeting him. I would like to know if he is all right.”

  “He is.”

  “Then why is he not here to address us?”

  “Is the issue at hand about him or about that ship?”

  “He came to me to warn me that some people were talking to the ship. He was afraid for his life. I want to see him before I believe that you act in the interest of the general assembly.” I abandoned the intimate pronouns for more formal ones.

  “Wait a moment. I object to being painted as criminal,” Delegate Samari said.

  Some people applauded.

  Someone else shouted, “You’re a liar!” from the back of the hall. “You talked to this ship and were going to keep it secret from the assembly.”

  And a few other people shouted. An argument broke out in Damarcian on the other side of the hall.

  I glanced at Thayu. Any news from Federza?

  She shrugged. Not a trace.

  Can you use your security protocol to track him?

  I could, but the equipment doesn’t scan the Aghyrian complex. There wouldn’t be much point.

  If that was where he had gone. Damn it, I disliked him, but that didn’t mean I wished him ill.

  Chapter 17

  * * *

  AMONGST THE ARGUING and shouting, a man walked down from the higher tiers of seating. Only when he came into the light did I recognise him: it was the Barresh councillor Ramadu, whose daughter had been the subject of Reida’s interest and who—I’d forgotten about that—attended gamra meetings on behalf of the Barresh Council to coordinate logistical operations.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs, spoke to the guards who stopped him there and they let him through. He came up to the dais and bowed
to me. “If I may, Delegate.”

  I stepped down and he went up to the microphone. “Delegates.” His deep voice echoed through the hall. “I would like to confirm what Delegate Wilson says. A few days ago, Trader Delegate Federza came to us. He said that he feared for his life and was expecting attacks both from his own kin as well as from the Asto delegation. He was nervous and didn’t want to talk about the issue until he could be guaranteed protection. While we were working on that request, I believe some guards treated him roughly and he left again. But before he did, he told us that some of his kinsfolk wanted to keep certain information from the assembly and that he wanted to give this information to us, providing that we passed it onto the assembly. He didn’t say what that information was, only that it was explosive and that he wanted copies of it to go to the assembly.”

  “That is nonsense!” one of the Aghyrians shouted, and a lot of people tried to drown him out.

  “Quiet everyone!” This came from Delegate Akhtari. “Let the man speak!”

  “This is what I’ve come to say: that the delegate speaks true about Trader Federza. He was trying to do the right thing.” He bowed and left again, walking calmly the way he had come.

  Delegate Akhtari’s nostrils flared.

  A male voice in the back of the stands yelled, “Chief Delegate, I’m thinking you are extremely biased.” I had no idea who this was, but oh, that was a very confrontational pronoun. “I’m thinking you’re involved with this group that is withholding information from the assembly.”

  The spotlight on the ceiling was frantically searching the crowd. It eventually found the speaker, a man of the Indrahui delegation. He stood in the stands, his arms crossed. The spotlight made his black skin glisten.

  A good number of people in the hall applauded. Coldi, Damarcians, other Indrahui, Kedrasi, even the Hedron delegation, and they normally supported everything that was against Asto—and therefore supported Delegate Akhtari—as a matter of principle. Now they agreed with Asto. There were many more forces in this issue than I could possibly contain. If the assembly voted against Delegate Akhtari, then who was I to think that I could stop it?