Jaeia stared at her hands. “Yes, I know. None of our contacts came up with any evidence that they were still alive. Even Yahmen’s whereabouts are questionable.”
“In light of everything going on in the courts, this will be exceedingly difficult for me to cover up. And it will be even harder for me to petition her as fit for duty,” the Minister said.
“So, then what?” Jaeia asked, her tone still even. “Do I need to be worried about our safety?”
“Please,” the Minister said, raising his hands off the desk. “This is not a threat. I’m merely telling you that Jetta’s behavior is unacceptable. She needs help. For her sake, yours and mine. For the entire Alliance. She is too important to all of us. Both of you are. I am willing to provide you with whatever resources you need.”
Jaeia thought it over. “I want to be here; I accept my title. I believe in what the Alliance could do to unite and preserve the Sentients of the Starways. I believe in restoration, reparation, progress—all these things. But my sister is different. With all of her powers and all of her abilities, you’d think she’d want to be CCO—be the most powerful commander in the entire galaxy. But she doesn’t. All of these abilities she has—we have—she sees as a means to survive, to escape those that hunt us, to protect me, not to be your soldier. She could one day believe in helping others, but not until she’s found a way to fulfill the role she feels she’s failed.”
The Minister looked at her, his eyes hard and narrow. “She’s still looking to save your brother?”
“She’ll never stop,” Jaeia replied, her chest tightening. “And you can’t blame her for that.”
“We have to find a solution to this, Jaeia. You’re the commanding officer of our Contact Teams—this is your area; this is key diplomacy. Find a way to restore your sister.”
And with that the Minister signed out.
Before she could react, her uniform sleeve beeped, alerting her that her mission team was prepped and awaiting her command back on the carrier ship orbiting Neeis. She sighed and thought of Jahx. “It would take a miracle.”
Chapter II
Being trapped on Trigos was bad enough, but after the Military Minister ordered the crew’s transfer the Alliance Central Starbase, things turned ugly.
Something’s up, Reht Jagger thought as an Alliance soldier showed him and the rest of his band inside their assigned quarters. That ratchakker is going to pull something.
Once again, he barely snuck the Narki technology past the guards. With a pat on the ex-con’s shoulder, Reht silently thanked Vaughn for swallowing the goods.
Vaughn turned up his lip, made a retching sound, and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Discreetly, he handed the silver wand and golden key to his captain along with a string of yellow saliva and bits of his dinner. Even for a hardened criminal used to smuggling items through his digestive system, this was pushing his limits.
Time to make my move, Reht decided, drying off the Narki tech in his pocket. Or the crew will riot.
Communicating with his crew would be exceedingly difficult, especially aboard the starbase. This place is surely bugged, he thought, scanning the sparsely furnished quarters. Nothing obvious stood out, but he didn’t believe his eyes. Why else would that assino let us all room together? Gotta beat that bastard at his own game.
Time to choose a cryptic language. Reht figured that the Alliance had probably deciphered a large number of dog-soldier tongues, so he’d have to use a lesser-known code. I hope these chumps remember their words, he groused, thinking of Ro and Cray.
Reht sighed and took a seat at the table in the middle of the windowless room. Billy Don’t ran laps around him, singing, or something of the equivalent, to himself while the other crew members fought over the bunk beds crammed into each corner of the room. Tech, too timid to challenge anyone for a prime bunk, scratched at the stain covering the ratty couch shoved up against the wall.
“I have these habits,” (We need to talk,) Reht said, pulling at the bandages on his hands to signal his choice of code-speak. “Bad ones I gotta quit.” (It’s urgent.)
“Chak, not again,” (I understand), Bacthar said, lifting his head off the pillow. His wings unfolded, and he slid off the top bunk. “We can’t keep up with you like that, Reht.” (Does everybody else understand?)
Nostrils flared, Mom took a seat by his captain’s side. Ro and Cray uttered expletives as they whipped around chairs and plopped down opposite Reht at the table. Annoyed, Ro stuck his foot out and stopped Billy mid-lap, and Cray hit the half-Liiker boy mid-spine, sending him off into a self-diagnostic/sleep cycle.
“This again?” (yes) Tech replied. Deciding to brave the mystery stain, the nervous engineer perched on the armrest of the couch, while Vaughn, rubbing the stubble on his head, looked blankly at the floor. With him it was always a crapshoot anyway.
“I need to get laid. That’s an old habit,” (Our insurance policy,) Reht chuckled. “But it’s getting in the way of my thinkin’.” (We may need to move on it.)
“Cappy, you ain’t comin’ onto me, is you?” (That’s a bad idea,) Ro said, scooting his chair back. Mom bared his teeth and took a swipe at Ro, but the Farrocoon ducked out of the way.
“Calm the hell down,” (I disagree,) Reht said, tightening the knot on his bandaged left hand with his teeth. “Look, there’s also this: I got a new itch, and it’s bad. I think I need help.” (There’s a job opportunity that’s better. We need to all be in on it.)
“Hey, we’re all thirsty, boss. Stupid Alliance is keepin’ us dry,” (We will follow your lead,) Bacthar said. Mom nodded and emitted a low growl. Twiddling with his thumbs, Tech waited for the group consensus.
Ro and Cray exchanged glances, their faces tight and noses upturned.
Those ratchakkers, Reht thought. They’re balking!
“Cappy, we always been helping you, all the way from Titus to now. But your habits—they queer. Don’t know about this anymore.” (We’ve always been loyal to you, but this is too much for us.)
I’m losing them.
Reht looked around the room; Bacthar sighed and massaged his temples, resigning himself to the bench in the corner. Despite the threat of his first mate, Ro and Cray didn’t break their gaze, crossing their arms and looking petulant. Even Tech and Vaughn maintained their distance.
Surprisingly, Tech chimed in: “He’s our captain. This is his decision. We made the oath. Bad habits or not, we’re all in.”
“Least one of you remembers the pack,” Reht said, yawning and stretching out his arms. He hadn’t been sleeping well at all lately; he felt like his head was stuffed with cotton. A stiff drink would help, he thought longingly. “Look, just stick with me. I’m working on changing my ways.” (Follow my lead, I’m going to make a move.)
Cray hung his head, rapping his brow with his right hand. Ro stared intently at him but didn’t utter a word, either because he couldn’t translate what Cray wanted to say or because Mom was too close for him not to mind his tongue.
“Keep the boys in line, okay? I’m going to talk to someone who might care about this,” Reht whispered in his Talian’s ear. Mom grabbed the captain by the forearm as he got up to leave.
Reht grinned. “Hey, trust me, old friend. We’re gonna do alright.”
JAEIA HAD ALREADY BRIEFED her Contact Team about their mission, but her mind kept going over and over the details.
Am I missing something? she asked herself for the tenth time as she perused the composite reports on the armrest screen of the bridge command chair. (Or maybe I can’t focus on diplomacy with my sister still missing.)
Forging a ceasefire with the terrorists on Jue Hexron was critical. Well-known across the galaxy for its Holy Cities, Jue Hexron was also one of the few worlds where humans and other Sentients coexisted peacefully, and the loss of that planet and all the delegates that fought for human rights meant that the delicate balance between humans and Sentients could devolve into another civil war, further dividing the Alliance.
Her mission aboard the Heliron, though, was only part of whatever the Alliance had planned. Usually she oversaw the entire process of diplomacy and restoration, but for whatever reason, she was only charged with the negotiations; they would send research teams to interview human colonists after she had settled the dispute. Her superiors never briefed her on the second part of the mission and met her inquiries with noncommittal statements. Something for me to investigate later, she thought, making a mental note.
Frustrated, she opened up the Alliance’s files on Earth’s history. Even while on the Core ships, Jaeia had learned little beyond the common knowledge that humans had traveled to the Homeworlds after their wars resulted in the destruction of their planet. From her appearance she knew she was at least partially human, but she and her siblings, like those they interacted with, had deduced long ago that they couldn’t have been completely human given their unusual abilities, so learning about the human plight was never a strong interest. But pitted against the many factions of terrorists vying to control what remained of the habitable worlds, knowing a bit about Earth history and the struggle of mankind gave her new insights.
“Commander,” one of her Lieutenants said, approaching her with a salute. “We’re entering communications range.”
“Keep me appraised,” she said, nodding for her to return to his post. With only a few minutes left, she absorbed as much as she could about Earth from the Alliance records, stretching out her mind and allowing the information to synergize with the collective knowledge she had accumulated.
“...overpopulation and pollution crisis lead to extremist factions developing weaponry to protect and control the planet’s last viable resources. The first worldwide nuclear war began May 12, 2045, and although most prominent countries suffered losses, the Middle East and parts of western Asia were hit the hardest, with entire cities and nations completely destroyed.
In 2049, the United People’s Republic, formerly the United States of America, publically revealed that world-renowned scientist Dr. Josef A. Stein and his son, Dr. Kurt Stein, had the means to repair the environmental damage caused by fallout, promising the United Nations that peace was possible through restoration of the ecosystems. In an unfortunate turn of events, Stein’s wife was murdered by a UPR official, and his son went missing in 2051. Stein retaliated by releasing a deadly bioweapon that infected several million people across Europe. News of the bioweapon prompted the Russian and Middle Allied forces to unleash nuclear weapons on Europe in an attempt to stop its spread, drawing the UPR and United Eastern Asia into the Last Great War.
Later dubbed the Exodus, minority party leaders from the Cause for Earth, in conjunction with private investors, revealed several mass transport lifeboats designed for survivalist space travel, taking aboard as many survivors of the nuclear fallout as they could. Forces still grounded on the planet attacked several lifeboats as they launched into space, but 10 million people survived the initial stage of the Exodus.”
Jaeia scrolled down further. From that point on, she was quite familiar with Earth’s history and the trials of the human race. Equipped with oxygen farms, food gardens, and water recycling systems, the lifeboats were designed to be self-sustaining, but overcrowding maxed out the resources. The congested lifeboats struggled on for a few weeks before their food, water or oxygen systems collapsed, while other passing ships, unable to render aid, watched and listened while they died. Within a month, the human population went from 14 billion to 3 million.
The dwindling survivors were catching their first glimpses of Mars when the course of the Starways changed forever.
How did the Prodgies know to intervene—and why? Jaeia wondered, enhancing the report on the fateful rescue of the human race. Nobody understood how the elder Healers could have known of the destruction of the tiny planet on the outskirts of the galaxy, or why they would want to save such a lowly species. Even Triel couldn’t provide any answers.
Regardless of the reason, the Prodgy gift of break-light speed to the dying race gave humans the edge to survive the precious few weeks it took to reach the Interior. Still, after all they had survived, the refugees did not find solace in the Homeworlds, and relations only worsened with the host of new diseases they inadvertently introduced to the Sentient population.
Jaeia rubbed her eyes. I don’t feel like negotiating today. “Lieutenant, what are the latest readings? Who do I have to deal with?”
Her first officer didn’t look up as he studied his console. “I’m not sure; the signal is coming from a known Creos-occupied location, but the operator is not identifying with any party. It’s someone calling themselves ‘Victor.’”
That’s odd, she thought. It had been a long time since the Creos, a terrorist group with many high-powered leaders, opened up communications with any Alliance official. Furthermore, most of their members proudly—and often violently—demonstrated their allegiances to the Creos upon contact. Who is this Victor and why is he reaching out to me from Creos territory if he’s not part of their faction?
Jaeia stepped up to the front of the telecommunications grid and straightened her back. “I am Commander Jaeia Kyron of the Starways Alliance. I am representing all Sentients who wish to negotiate peace on Jue Hexron.”
The ship’s viewscreen distorted and then reset, the protected signal finally organizing itself on the flat display. Jaeia squinted before realizing it had nothing to do with her vision.
What the—?
A man with a pink, seamless face smiled back at her. Any illusion of youth dissolved as soon as he turned his head, revealing the telltale signs of hormone and metabolic serum abuse in the queer glint of his skin.
That’s either the worst cosmetic job I’ve ever seen, Jaeia thought, or he’s very, very old.
Everything about the man was unnatural. His hair, an unpleasant mix of yellow and silver pulled back taut, should have belonged to a display mannequin. Even his accessories—the gold-trimmed glasses, and the large, flashy rings adorning his fingers—felt more befitting in a gaudy catalogue.
“Commander,” he said, hands resting on a black cane. “It is my pleasure to finally meet you.”
With the price of an engineered body like that, I bet the cane is for effect, she surmised.
“I am Victor, and I speak for the Creos. I speak for all of Jue Hexron.” His eyes, darker than a starless night, gave her the most unusual look.
He’s inhumanly human.
With the slightest movement of her left hand, Jaeia signaled her first officer. Since we won’t be able to accurately lock the signal’s true origin, we’ll have to take a chance on cross-referencing his profile.
The lieutenant nodded and began processing the data she wanted off-screen.
“Forgive my confusion, Victor, but I came to negotiate peace between the Creos and the residential colonies. I was not aware that there was a representative for both sides.”
“No need for confusion, Warchild,” Victor said, revealing the diamond finish of his teeth. She had not heard that nickname in awhile. “I have negotiated peace. There is a cease-fire. Your presence here is unnecessary.”
Jaeia tilted her head. The man was too far away for her to probe around his thoughts, but his words carried a whisper of his essence. She gleaned something she hadn’t felt in ages—something dark, something beyond what words could describe. Gods—the last time I’ve felt like this, she thought, skin prickling, I was back on Fiorah, hiding from Yahmen.
(Why am I afraid?)
She tried to think objectively as the adrenaline flooded through her body, making her heart pound in her chest. I’ve stumbled upon a figure of importance, maybe the leader of the terrorist groups, or perhaps someone bigger.
“Mashen Ky is negotiating for the human colonies, and our last contact with Creos identified as Xerod of Gramen,” she said, still maintaining her composure.
“Here they are, Warchild. No need to worry. Speak to them yourself.”
Victor waved the
camera to pan to his left and right, revealing both Mashen and Xerod. Aside from fading bruises and scars around their right eye sockets, they both appeared unharmed.
Why are they so emotionless? Jaeia wondered, confused by their dispassionate expressions. This has to be the first time in the history of the planet that they have stood within a few meters of each other.
“I speak for the human colonies,” Mashen said, his tone confident but face remaining blank. “We have obtained peace with the Creos.”
“I speak for the Creos. We have achieved peace with the human colonies. We will no longer wage battle with the Starways Protectorate,” Xerod said, his affect mirroring Mashen’s.
Jaeia looked to her first officer, who promptly cut off the com line.
“What do you have, lieutenant?” she asked.
“So far our scans support the possibility of a ceasefire,” the officer reported. “I have three colonies ringing in... Yes, I have confirmation. An agreement between the Creos and colonies has been negotiated.”
Jaeia didn’t believe it, not even for a moment. I need to find out who this Victor is.
Instincts pulled at her thoughts. (He cannot be trusted. I have to be careful.)
“Victor, my congratulations and thanks; you’ve done something admirable in such a short period of time,” Jaeia said. “Would it be possible for you to join us aboard my ship and dine with me tonight?”
He smiled, his teeth glinting. “I do not like remote transport, and I like space travel even less. But you are welcome to dine with me. I will send you my location.”
“The signal’s lost,” her first officer announced. “But we have the last transmission. Looks like he wants you to meet him on the southern continent.”
Jaeia stared at the blank viewscreen where the image of Victor had first appeared just moments ago. Something is very wrong about this.
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