by C H Gideon
“Know this, android. Holding my daughter against me will not gain you any sympathy or leverage from my government. We will not bow or scrape to your demands. She is worthless as a hostage or negotiating tool.”
Reynolds chuckled. “It’s impressive how right you were,” he commed to Jiya. “I’d high five you right now, but that’d be awkward.”
Jiya nodded, taking a step forward to face her father. “For the record, Mister President,” she said, purposely avoiding any familial relationship with her father, “I’m not a hostage or a victim or even a tool. I’m here of my own free will as the Etheric Federation attempts to expand their mission, and my being here has absolutely nothing to do with our relationship, such as it is.”
She coughed to clear her throat, cutting off her father as he opened his mouth to argue.
“More importantly, as a representative of the Federation, you will speak to me with the respect accorded me as such, for to do otherwise will impact our willingness to negotiate with you.”
Well said,” Reynolds told her privately.
Thank you, she replied, but she knew she’d just stirred the pot, no matter how good it felt.
President Lemaire sneered, matching the expression on Gal’s face as the aide came over to stand beside him.
“All grown up now, are you, Jiya?” her father asked, letting loose a quiet chuckle. “I entertained this meeting because it’s rare an entity wants to speak with all three nations of Lariest, let alone at the same time, but don’t lose sight of the fact that this is my compound and my country, and you will not storm in here and press your demands.” He thumped a fist on the table. “I am in charge here, not you, not this Jonny taxi boy, and certainly not that superdreadnought circling our planet. Do I make myself clear?” His reddish face grew darker with his anger.
“Getting off on the right foot, I see,” Comm mumbled over the communicator, clearly having been listening in. “How about you threaten to eat his porridge and sleep in his bed next. Maybe huff and puff and blow his house down.”
“I can make that last one happen,” Tactical inserted.
“Clear as mud,” Reynolds answered. “Now that we have an understanding, how about we start this meeting so we can all be on our way? The sooner, the better works for all parties, I’m guessing. It’d be best if you sat your ass down. You’re starting to piss me off, and that’s not a place you want to go.”
President Lemaire stood without moving for several moments, clearly forcing his alpha-ness upon his guests, before finally signaling to Gal to get underway.
The aide triggered two massive viewscreens on the side wall. The image of two people resolved on the screens, neither looking much more pleased about being there than President Lemaire did.
“Greetings, Presidents Alac Sumor of the Melowi and Corrh V’ariat of the Toller,” Gal said, pointing to each monitor in turn, although everyone in the room already knew who they were. “We, the people of Marianas, are pleased to host such a historic meeting between the three of our nations and the visiting dignitary of the Etheric Federation.”
“Get on with it, worm,” President V’ariat said, motioning with her hand. “I’m not here for your grandstanding.” She pointed a withered hand in Jiya’s direction. “You’re clearly only hosting due to the fact that Lemaire’s daughter is part of the alien entourage.” She grinne”d, easing back into her seat. “That must have stuffed a gurlot’s burr up your bottom, huh, Lemaire?” The woman turned her cold, dark stare on Jiya. “I hope you took after your mother, dearie. You look like her, fortunately.”
Jiya bit back a laugh but said nothing, although she nodded slowly.
Reynolds acknowledged her restraint.
“Yes, Lemaire, let’s get on with this,” President Sumor agreed, and Jiya was surprised to note that the man looked a little like Ka’nak, although she knew the two weren’t related. “There are far more interesting things to discuss than who gets credit for arranging the meeting.”
Lemaire grunted and dropped back into his seat with a barely vocal growl. Jiya noted his veneer had cracked the tiniest bit, but she didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. It was what Reynolds had wanted, but how it would play out was still a mystery.
“Yes, yes, let’s get on with it, then,” Lemaire said, appearing to compose himself. He turned his icy gaze on Reynolds. “We still have no clue what you want from us, so please, tell us.”
Reynolds deferred to Jiya, much to her father’s disgust.
She strolled to the center of the room, taking a page out of Gal’s book of showmanship. “The offer is simple,” she told the assemblage. “The Superdreadnought Reynolds is on a mission to seek out Kurtherians wherever they might be since they are the enemy of the Federation. As such, we seek any information your governments might have regarding these creatures.” She glanced at each of the presidents, lingering a moment on her father before returning her gaze to the screens. “As well as food, supplies, an offer of safe harbor both now and in the future, and the okay to seek a crew among the various peoples of Lariest.”
She waved a hand, gesturing toward Reynolds. “In return for these things, the Etheric Federation is willing to provide knowledge on how to advance your societies and make life better for your peoples.”
President V’ariat straightened in her seat, leaning forward so her face swelled onscreen. “So, you’re willing to offer us advanced tech in exchange for these things?”
Reynolds nodded, but not without adding a caveat. “Within reason. We will not offer our advanced military technology since we’d prefer to return to find Lariest in one piece and not some smoking hole. That’d be awkward.”
“Then if not military advancements, what are you offering?” Sumor asked with a grunt, going straight for the throat.
“The means to better cure yourselves of diseases, wound care and better health in general, as well as the means to take advantage of the resources you have available on Lariest. We can work out the specifics of each option in private once arrangements have been made between us, but suffice it to say, given what we’re asking of you, we’re offering far more in return.”
“And how can we believe any of what you say?” Lemaire barked from his seat. “You could be charlatans, offering us snake oil in exchange for our goods and services.”
“We could be,” Reynolds replied, “but, honestly, given our means of arrival, the superdreadnought settled in space above your heads, we could have gone about acquiring our needs in a much simpler way. We chose instead to bargain with you, help advance your nations for a pittance in return.”
“Are you threatening us?” Lemaire shouted, leaping to his feet. The guards at the door shuffled forward.
“Most certainly not,” Jiya answered, raising her hands to calm everyone. “What Reynolds is saying is, we’re here on a mission of goodwill, not violence. Despite the superdreadnought’s destructive capabilities, we came to you in person and put ourselves in a position where we are vulnerable to show that we are serious in our intent.”
She turned to address the two viewscreens.
“You both know my status with President Lemaire,” she said. “Would I have come here if I didn’t believe in the mission I’m part of? What is there to gain from my returning here otherwise?”
President V’ariat nodded, offering Jiya a tight-lipped grin. “I believe you, dearie. I wouldn’t want to spend a minute longer with your father than was absolutely necessary.”
Sumor grunted noncommittally, but Jiya saw the slight sway to his head—the hint of a nod.
Jiya turned back to face the entire gathering. She raised her hand and twisted it slowly. “Yesterday, my hand was injured, scorched by blaster fire and unusable. Now, as you can see, there is no hint that it’s been injured. No redness, no scarring, nothing,” she explained. “And while I don’t expect you to take me at my word, we can provide evidence of my situation and the results.” She wiggled her hand again. “This is but a small portion of the knowledge
we’ll pass on in exchange for our request.”
She turned her back to her father and met the eyes of the presidents onscreen, knowing where her best chance at success lie. “Further, should you have something to offer us above and beyond our stated interests, we can most certainly enter into individual discussions.”
V’ariat cackled. “You’ve got balls, dearie, coming into your father’s house to propose separate negotiations with the two of us,” she told Jiya. “I love it.”
Sumor nodded. “The Melowi people are interested in your proposal, Representatives Lemaire and Reynolds,” he said, emphasizing Jiya’s last name as a clear shot at her father. “We would be grateful to speak with you in private here in our homeland.”
“The same goes for the Toller people, dearie,” President V’ariat agreed. “We’d love to speak with you both,” she motioned toward Reynolds with her eyes, “soonest.”
She grinned at them both, locking gazes with Reynolds.
“We’ve noticed your ship has some hull damage while we’ve been stalking you,” she said, not bothering to sugarcoat her military’s reasons for having sent destroyers into orbit near the superdreadnought. “We have some experimental metal we’ve been crafting armor out of, and I think that’d be the perfect bonus offer to squeeze a little more out of you, don’t you think?”
“I like this one,” Tactical muttered over the comm. “Feisty and straight to the point.”
Reynolds grinned. “It would indeed, Madam President. I’ll have my representative reach out to you momentarily,” he told her, shifting his gaze to Sumor. “And to you, Mister President. You can expect us to be in touch shortly.”
“I, too, would be interested in your offer,” President Lemaire said behind them.
Jiya started, having almost forgotten the man was there, and spun, eyes narrowed.
“In fact, we can discuss terms once we’ve concluded the meeting,” he offered, “if that works for you.” Jiya noted he only spoke to Reynolds, but she really hadn’t expected anything different.
Reynolds nodded. “That would be perfect,” he answered. “My first officer and I will be glad to meet with you.” Reynolds gestured to Jiya and offered a furtive wink.
Jiya swallowed her smile at her father’s snarl.
“Perfect,” Lemaire said, his voice still as smooth as glass despite the obvious frustration deepening the color in his cheeks. He glanced at the viewscreens. “I’ll send them your way once we’re finished here,” he told the other presidents, not offering them a chance to reply before Gal cut the connections.
“See, that wasn’t that bad,” Reynolds told Jiya over the comm. “Could have been much worse.”
Jiya groaned, realizing Reynolds had just jinxed them.
It very well could have been worse.
A moment later, it was.
The guards filed into the room, weapons out and at the ready. Gal Dorant grinned and waved them over.
“Please secure our guests,” Gal told the guards.
The men circled Reynolds and Jiya.
“What is this?” Reynolds asked.
“This is karma biting you in your big metal taxi-cab ass,” Jiya answered aloud, shaking her head and sneering. “‘What’s the worst that could happen?’” she mimicked. “This, Reynolds. This is the worst that could happen.”
Reynolds shrugged. “I’d hardly call this the worst. I mean, they could easily—”
“Don’t. You. Say. Another. Word,” she told him, a growl punctuating each word.
“This is for daring to bring my child into my house and trying to use her against me,” Lemaire said, coming over to stand before the surrounded pair and curtailing Jiya’s threat. “I will not be made to bow to some foreign power in my own home, nor will I have my daughter prance around thinking she’s my equal.” He waved the guards off. “Take these two away and have a full complement of security services standing guard around each. Do not let them out of your sight.”
He stepped close and glared at Reynolds. “I suggest you keep your ship on a leash, android, or you might find you and your first officer make better shields than you do negotiators.”
“You’re making a mistake—” Jiya started, but her father cut her off.
“The only mistake I made was not dealing with your insolence earlier,” he answered. “I should have known you’d return and cause trouble, just like your mother always did. It’s in your blood, child, but I didn’t put up with it from her, and I damn well won’t put up with it from you.” He slapped a guard on the back. “Get them out of my sight.”
Jiya growled and turned her glare on Reynolds.
He shrugged. “How was I to know this would happen?”
“Because I told you!” she shouted, fuming as the guards marched them out the door and down the hall.
Reynolds acknowledged. “There is that.”
Jiya sighed and let the men lead her away without another word.
At least she wasn’t hanging out with her dad anymore.
Chapter Seventeen
To her surprise, Jiya found herself not in a cell but in a small room in the servant’s quarters only a short distance down the hall, which had apparently been cleared just for her. The windows had been barred at some point in the past and all the personal belongings had been removed, leaving only a couch, a chair, and a small bed without any covers.
She paced the room’s narrow width, mumbling to herself.
“He had this planned before we even arrived,” she said, furious that she’d let herself be walked into a trap of their own making.
Reynolds had been taken elsewhere, and given the direction she’d seen him dragged off, she had a pretty good idea that he had ended up in a cell.
Not that it mattered, considering his mind wasn’t confined to the Johnny taxi android.
She considered his various personalities, splintered into various positions, and wondered if maybe he was actually trapped in the cell while the other hims went about their business independently.
“I doubt it, even though that doesn’t matter,” she said to herself. Loose screws they might be, but there was no way they would leave part of themselves down here in danger.
Then she remembered her comm implant. Still new to her, it wasn’t something she consciously thought about until she needed it or someone else addressed her over it.
She needed it now.
She tapped it and waited for a signal. None came back.
“Great,” she muttered, “he’s blocked the communicators.” Her frustration with her father was ready to boil over.
From the day she was born, he’d controlled her, pushed and pulled and shaped her into what he wanted her to be. And from that day, she’d fought him because she’d been like her mother, too strong-willed to let someone else dictate who and what she was.
She wasn’t going to let him get away with it now.
Jiya went over to the door and pounded her fist on it. An ordinary wooden door, it vibrated and rattled under her fury. If her father or Gal Dorant had expected her to be a prim and proper princess and just accept her imprisonment, they were sadly mistaken.
After a few minutes of riffing punches against the door, she resorted to kicks. The door trembled under her assault, and the lower hinge looked ready to give way, splinters of wood exploding with every blow.
Then the door was whipped open.
Gal Dorant stood on the other side, a handful of security men looming behind him. He went to speak, but Jiya cut him off.
“I don’t care what you have to say, Gal, but you need to let me speak to my father,” she snarled.
She shook specks of blood from her battered fist, spattering the aide’s robes. He glared at the blood droplets for a moment before lifting his dark eyes to hers.
“Fortunately for you, your father is a merciful man. He—”
Jiya chuckled, cutting Gal off. “Oh, President Lemaire the Magnanimous,” she mocked. “That’s what they call him in the streets.”
The aide stiffened, straightening to his full height. That provoked another burst of laughter from Jiya since the man barely stood as tall as her chin despite the platform boots he wore.
“I suggest you show some respect for your father and his rule or I will defy his wishes and drag you to a cell myself.”
Jiya grinned and drew a step closer to the man. The guards at his back inched forward to meet her.
Much as she wanted to see Gal try to wrestle her into submission and place her in a cell, she knew he was sufficiently spiteful to go through with at least part of his threat. While he wouldn’t dare do it himself, he would gladly have the guards do his dirty work for him.
That was something Jiya didn’t need right then.
She raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. Lead the way, O Master of Aides.”
Gal growled low in his throat and stood his ground. Jiya could see the war waging in his eyes, but as long as she didn’t push him harder than she already had, he’d wilt and give in to his training.
He was a professional servant, after all. He would do what he was told.
Without another word, he spun on his heel and marched through the throng of guards. He threw up a hand as he walked off, and the guards corralled Jiya and marched her down the hall.
Internally, she sighed, striving to keep her breathing level and calm.
As much as she didn’t want to see her father again, if there was a way out of all this, that was where it would emanate from.
She trusted Reynolds to try to break her out eventually, but that wasn’t the best way to go about assuaging her father’s rage and wounded pride. The only real way to do that was to surrender to him, if only outwardly.
It was a tactic she’d learned long ago, although she rarely put it to use. It just didn’t sit well with her, and never had. Still, if it freed her and got her and Reynolds on their way, she’d swallow her own pride—for a minute or two—and do what was necessary.
Rather than bring Jiya back to the meeting room where they’d had their first confrontation, Gal and his flunkies led Jiya to her father’s private quarters.
