by P P Corcoran
“For there to be an Empire it needs an Emperor and, as we have all accepted, Emperor Paxt perished with Alona.”
All conversation in the room died as thoughts turned to the billions no longer with them. It fell to Posta to break the silence as she stood and straightened her spine taking a deep breath before speaking.
“General, Governor Dala and I may be political appointees however, we were also originally elected to the Legislator. I believe that fulfills the necessary requirements by law for us to select a new Emperor.”
Kilor was struggling to believe what he was hearing. Was this woman vying to have herself crowned Empress in the midst of the near extinction of Alona not only as an Empire but as a race.
“You, however, are a military man and, in normal times would not be eligible to be considered for elevation to Emperor.” Posta’s voice grew firm and it seemed that Dala drew strength from her words. “These are not normal times General. The Alonan people need - no, demand a warrior to lead us. Our empire was born out of war, Emperor Paxt The First was a soldier with no mandate from the people. Today, here and now I wish to give you that mandate. The Empire needs an Emperor General Lura - are you willing to serve?”
Surprisingly Dala rose and stood shoulder to shoulder with Posta. “As elected Governor of Opero I second the proposal made by the Governor of Kathan.”
Kilor was glad that he was sitting down as the conversation played out. He and Lura had discussed prior to the arrival of the Governors how they would effectively ambush them to get them to agree to the generals plan but this - this was completely unexpected. However, Lura had described him as a practical man and he could see the requirement for the few remaining Alonans to need a figure head. And what better figurehead could you have than an Emperor who was going to lead what was left of the Imperial Navy into battle. Under the table Kilor flicked his foot out, kicking Lura in the shin. The action broke the general out of the spell he had been in since Posta began speaking.
Tugging at the base of his uniform jacket the general brought himself to attention. “It would be my honor.”
In unison Governor’s Dala and Posta spoke the words heard so many times in the Imperial Palace. “The Emperor is dead, long live the Emperor!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
STRIKING A DEAL
WAYPOINT 4 | 5,000 LIGHT-YEARS FROM ALONA | INTERSTELLAR SPACE
Half a million kilometers from Waypoint 4. what a moment before had been an empty piece of space was now filled with a warship. A warship that the computers of the Commonwealth station were telling the duty personnel staring at their screens was definitely not of any design among the thousands logged in the main frame’s prodigious memory. Hence, the blaring sound of alarms which echoed not only on the station but among the mass of Commonwealth firepower that was designated BatFor 2.3.
As the mighty warships slowly rumbled toward the intruder a single whisper laser reached out from the unidentified ship and locked onto a receiver on the BatFor 2.3’s flagship. TDF Gauntlet, a Bismarck Class battleship commanded by Vice Admiral Atu Sy.
“Incoming message from Bogey One, Admiral.” Called the Flag Bridges Comms Officer.
Well at least they want to talk thought Atu. “Patch it through.”
One entire wall of the Flag Bridge was a vast holographic cube so when the communications link went live every member of the bridge crew was able to see with crystal clear clarity the red winged beast, the talons of its four extended legs picked out in gold and piercing the beast from head through to breast a bright silver sword with an intricately designed pommel. There was no mistaking the symbol of the Imperial Alonan Navy. Sat in front of the emblem of imperial power was an Alonan who sat straight backed, hands resting lightly on the arms of his chair. His light brown uniform adorned only by a single broach identical to the emblem mounted on the wall behind him.
Atu searched for anything which would designate his rank however, his search was in vain for he found none. It was obvious that the Alonan had no intention of starting the conversation so Atu decided to jump straight in the same way any military man would have. With a warning.
“Unidentified warship, this is Admiral Atu Sy, Commanding Officer of the Terran Defense Force Battle Force 2.3. You have entered Commonwealth space declare your intentions immediately or you will be fired upon.”
In response the Alonan raised a single digit as if signaling to someone out of range of the camera. The reaction on the Flag Bridge was nearly instantaneous.
“Admiral,” cried the Tactical Officer, “Bogey One has activated some form of energy shielding - Sir, its virtually identical to that employed by the Black Ships!”
“Unidentified warship…” Atu began again only for the Alonan to raise a second digit.
This time the Tactical Officer dispensed with the pleasantries of rank. “Vampire! Vampire! Vampire! Single missile launch from Bogey One. Tracking shows it running on a course that will take above and behind Bogey One.”
“Weapons tight across all units unless you receive an explicit order from me contradicting that!” Atu worked his jaw furiously not caring who saw him. What the hell was going on?
“Missile detonation.” Reported the Tactical Officer. “My god! It was an antimatter warhead. Brace for shockwave impact.”
Across the Flag Bridge restraints were double checked and the odd hand dropped to feel for the vacuum helmet stowed in its seat rack. Atu gritted his teeth and stared back at the impassive Alonan who had yet to speak.
Seconds later one of the largest ships ever built by humanity was shaken to its keel as the rapidly dissipating shockwave crashed into battle armor designed to take the impact of nuclear detonation. Damage alarms sounded balefully, and the lights of the Flag Bridge blinked on and off for a few moments before coming back on at full intensity.
“Damage report.” Demanded Atu.
“Minimal damage. Blown circuits and the odd failed computer run. All weapons’ systems, both offensive and defensive are fully operational.”
Returning his attention to the holo cube Atu was struggling to hold his legendary temper in check. “Now you listen here mister…”
“I am Emperor Lura of the Empire of Alona. I sit aboard my flagship, the INS Vengeance. One of many of this class of warship in my fleet. As you see the Empire has perfected the Saiph shielding technology and their antimatter weapons. I require an immediate meeting with the heads of state of the Commonwealth.”
“And what is the purpose of this meeting, Emperor.” Asked Atu incredulously.
“The Empire is willing to share its Saiph technology for a guarantee from the Commonwealth that it will provide whatever aid is required to ensure the survival of our colonies on Kathan and Opero. Time is short Admiral Atu for the Black Ships could return at any moment and their next target may very well be you.”
As the transmission ended, a feather could have knocked Atu over. Where the hell had the Alonans hidden those ships?
They had them this whole time?
Why the hell had they not used them to defend Alona, now nothing but a burnt cinder circling its star?
And, Who the hell is Emperor Lura? The Emperor was dead the last he’d heard.
“Comms. Get a flash signal off to the Joint Chiefs, I think this’s well above my pay grade.”
✽✽✽
TDF CUTLASS | ON APPROACH TO WAYPOINT 4. | INTERSTELLAR SPACE
“This is becoming a bit of a habit Captain.” Stage whispered Nicholas Schamu from his seat behind and to the right of Captain Denise Parks. The commander of SurvFlot Ones flagship TDF Cutlass took a breath and counted to ten before fixing her best ass kissing smile onto her face and allowing her seat to spin to face Schamu. The Ambassador looked as well-groomed as the last time she had been forced to spend any time with him.
“If you must know Ambassador, it was a sheer coincidence that the President was on a planned inspection tour of Charon when his ship developed an engine fault and Cutlass was re tasked to bring hi
m to this meeting.”
Nicholas glanced around before leaning forward and whispering, “Admit it Captain, secretly you like the designation Space Force One.”
The temptation to shove Schamu’s china teacup down his throat was one that Denise nearly gave in to. If it had not been for the sliding open of the bridge hatch and the instantly recognizable figure of President Madkin striding onto her bridge, there was a very good chance Denise would have taken her chances with a court martial.
“President on deck!” Called the armed marine stationed by the hatch causing all present excluding essential personnel to rise to their feet. Denise noted that even the insufferable Schamu showed deference when the President was around.
“At ease people.” Called President Madkin releasing the bridge crew to return to their stations. Denise and Schamu remained standing as the President halted beside them.
“Are we on time, Captain?” Madkin asked.
“Yes, Mr. President. We are on final approach now. Waypoint 4. reports the other heads of state have already arrived and are assembling in the Flag Mess” Answered Denise.
“Then let’s be getting on with it shall we. Wouldn’t do to be tardy for our first meeting with the new Emperor would it.” Madkin said with an infectious smile that Denise found herself subconsciously returning. Madkin sat himself in the free chair to Denise’s left-hand side and a yeoman stepped forward to help the President with his shock harness. Madkin waved the man away and deftly secured himself into place. Once a marine, always a marine noted Denise as she touched a stud on her arm rest activating a comms link to the station.
“Waypoint 4. Control, this is Cut… correction. This is Space Force One on finals requesting permission to dock.” Out of the corner of her eye Denise caught Schamu beginning to lean forward mouth half open. Without turning she raised her hand halting him in his tracks.
“Permission granted Space Force One and welcome to Waypoint 4.”
Damn it thought Denise, that peacock Schamu might be right she could get used to this red-carpet treatment after all.
✽✽✽
FLAG MESS | WAYPOINT 4. | INTERSTELLAR SPACE
In all his years as a career diplomat, Nicholas Schamu could not recall the last time he had been present at such a high-powered meeting as this.
The opulent surrounding of the Flag Mess barely coped with the numbers of leaders from every Commonwealth state and their aides. A brief flurry of diplomatic exchanges ensured that representatives from the Edasich, though not a full member, managed to attend.
As far as Nicholas saw the only race not represented were the Turak. No surprise there, he thought, then noted the Deres and the Nilmerg were also missing. Though, if the information from the latest Diplomatic Corps briefing pack was reliable, then the Deres and Nilmerg were in the process of protracted peace negotiations which, surprisingly, could bring a cessation to generations of warfare in that corner of the galaxy.
Nicholas glanced across to where President Madkin was in deep conversation with Chancellor Volak of Pars. The Persai’s midnight black fur and impressive eight feet in height dwarfed the human president, even though Nicholas knew Madkin was a hair below six feet four inches. Today, Nicholas reflected, was going to be a trial by fire for the new president.
By unanimous decision they agreed that the race supplying the current Chairman of the Commonwealth Council would lead the discussions with the Alonans. That meant that President Madkin would chair the meeting.
A white liveried steward caught Nicholas’ eye. That was the sign that the Alonans had arrived. Nicholas deftly maneuvered himself across the crowded room until he was able to catch the Presidents attention. Having forewarned his charge Nicholas retrieved the PAD from his inside jacket pocket and tapped a single key. The sound of a single bell chime carried across the mix of conversations going on in the room and the heads of state extricated themselves accompanied by a single aide and made their way into the adjoining conference room. Nicholas ensured he was the last person to enter and closed the large double doors behind him before taking his seat directly behind President Madkin.
Some enterprising soul had found a horseshoe shaped table from within the no doubt limited supply within Waypoint 4. and the Commonwealth leaders were arranged equidistantly around it. President Madkin sat centrally for the simple expedient that he was the elected chair for the meeting. Chancellor Volak sat to his right with the equally tall, though ridiculously thinner, form of Representative Hoolas of the Benii sat on the Persai’s right.
To Madkin’s left was the squat, reptile skinned figure of Prime Minster Bezled. A longtime friend and ally of President Coston, Nicholas hoped that the Garundans political loyalty had transferred to President Madkin. Beside him sat Thomas Crothers, President of the Janus. Completing the lineup was the only race present who was forced to wear a breathing apparatus, the Edasich. Though not formally a member of the Commonwealth Union of Planets their application was being fast tracked through the various governing bodies of each member state and was, if the rumor mill was to be believed, a simple rubber stamping exercise only delayed because many a politician wanted his or her five minutes in the media spot light before casting their final vote. The Edasich who had traveled from their subterranean base to be present today was the partner of the Edasich leader, Felan. To add a little confusion, it was Edasich tradition that partners used the same family name making no distinction between genders. Therefore, the Edasich representative would be addressed as Felan also. Nicholas was glad he had managed to sidestep that particular assignment though he was sure Ambassador Jelav was having the time of his life. That was one odd Garundan.
Nicholas’ PAD vibrated noiselessly in his pocket and he leaned forward and whispered into the Presidents ear.
The President cleared his throat softly and stood. “Ladies and gentlemen. Emperor Lura.”
The doors at the opposite side of the room opened and an Alonan unusually tall for his race entered followed closely by an older Alonan who struck Nicholas as more the scholarly type than political.
“Greetings Emperor Lura, it is a pleasure…”
“May we dispense with the niceties President Madkin?” Said Lura cutting Madkin off in mid flow catching the career politicos by surprise. To Madkin’s credit he recovered well. Dropping himself back into his seat without waiting for his guest to be seated first it was his turn to catch the Alonans out.
“Certainly. How can we help you?”
Nicholas thought he caught the beginnings of a grin on the Emperor’s face before his features once more returned to their stoic appearance.
“The Alonan Empire as was is gone. From a population of billions we are now reduced to the tens of thousands and we will struggle to feed even those that remain.”
“We appreciate your honesty Emperor Lura however, in the past you have blocked us at every turn. You have employed espionage, trickery and anything else you could think of to further your own ends. That does not bode well for future good relations between the Commonwealth and the Empire.” Madkin pointed out.
“You speak the truth Mr. President but that was yesterday, and this is today. We need you and we are willing to pay.”
Boy, this guy is not hanging about thought Schamu. Usually these types of negotiations take weeks if not months to even get both sides to agree the color of the toilet paper.
“What we are proposing is a simple exchange.” Said Lura. “We will supply you every piece of Saiph technology that we have on the condition that you in return meet the needs of the populations of Kathan and Opero until such time as both colony worlds are capable of being self-sustaining.”
“It could take us years to reverse engineer that sort of technology and you know it.” Pointed out Madkin.
Lura nodded in agreement. “Indeed, I do which is why we are willing to supply technicians and engineers to assist you. My Chief Scientist, Kilor, sits beside me today and in his possession is the design schematics for every piece of Saiph tech
nology in our inventory.”
With a flourish Kilor deposited a stack of data chips on the tabletop.
Each of the Commonwealth leaders eyed the stack with envious eyes. Contained in that fragile tower of plastic was the answer to overcoming every advantage the Supreme Leader and his Black Ships had over the Commonwealth fleets. Even so it was obvious to Lura that Madkin was hesitating. Time to sweeten the deal.
“As a sign of our good faith we are also able to offer the assistance of - let us call them ‘specialists’ who have a unique knowledge of this technology and are highly motivated to ensure the demise of the Supreme Leader and his ilk.”
Lura noted the skepticism on the commonwealth leaders’ faces and he decided now was the time to play his ace in the hole. With a nod to Kilor, the scientist stood and walked to the doors through which the Alonans had entered. Opening them he took a step to one side to allow the entity waiting patiently beyond the doors to enter. Walking with unfaltering steps until he stood in plain view within a few meters of Madkin and the gathered leaders, Commander Okal of the Saiph said one word and caused the room to erupt.
“Hello.”
✽✽✽
TDF CUTLASS | FORAM SYSTEM | THIRTY-SIX LIGHT-YEARS FROM ALONA
“Excuse my directness Ambassador Schamu, but I am beginning to regret ever meeting you.” Said Denise Parks as TDF Cutlass threaded its way between floating construction yards big enough to swallow her ship whole and leave room to spare.
Nicholas Schamu was in his usual seat slightly behind her and to the right though his china teacup was nowhere in sight. Instead he was doing his best to interpret all the sensor data that was running along the side bar of the holo cube that was projecting a view from the ships bow cameras. It struck him as nearly beyond belief that the Alonans had managed to conceal this massive construction project from the probing eyes of the various Commonwealth intelligence agencies. Never mind the fact that they had a working Saiph vessel complete with crew. Nicholas was willing to bet that there was a few selected words being had with the heads of intelligence behind closed doors.