by Neely Dobbs
CHAPTER 19: Coalition
Lord Ptoriil Briin spoke into his clip-microphone in crisp tones: “Has Special Aide Braang reported?”
“No, Your Grace,” replied the voice of Malaar, Lord Ptoriil's senior administrative aide.
Braang Pezzer, Briin thought with mild distaste, the newly acclaimed hero who detected the comet on a collision course with the home world of House Braang. Hero? Hah! The truth was that Pezzer almost missed the signal that was automatically generated by the Advance Warning Detection System. He had barely heard it over his whining about having to sit a routine shift on the system. Besides, the nine years advance warning it provided meant there would never be any real danger to the Braang homeworld. It mattered little. Despite Pezzer's chance role in the discovery, he had managed to capitalize on his brush with fame effectively enough to get himself admitted to the Coalition’s prestigious legislature, the Conclave. Of course, Pezzer is politically well connected. Plus, his relative youth and aristocratic looks lend him a certain charisma. He really is much like I was ten…no twenty years ago. If only he listened more to his Uncle Ktor!
Briin had used Pezzer's fortuitous set of circumstances as the occasion to “elevate” him to a Special Aide position. Well, Braang Ktor is a top political advisor and one of my oldest friends. And it was his wise suggestion that I find a position that might move his nephew away from his odious father’s influence. So what if Pezzer suspects the promotion was made primarily so I can keep a close eye on him? Any such thoughts would be correct— but he could never prove it.
Of course, Briin admitted, Pezzer is smart. I must respect that. He did manage to neatly and rapidly capitalize on the opportunity to enhance his political status. Young and impulsive. High-strung. A bit too cagey. Disrespectful. But smart... no question about that. He must be watched. “Promoting him” to Special Aide made sense and it does assure that we can keep tight reins on him.
He swiveled his seat and surveyed the scene before him. To the uninitiated, he appeared to be facing a console whose only support was a thin polished slab only marginally wider than its horizontal dimension. The entire assembly appeared to be suspended in the void of space, with distant stars clearly visible.
Briin spoke into the air. “Malaar, please notify Special Aide Braang, CommSat priority one, flash response requested. Follow that with our most current detailed report on HG-73425, section 31/475/1653H.
"Also, add the following comments: The warp there is approaching critical limits and three of the system’s planets are in quadrature with each other and their primary. Because of this wide spread of the planets relative to their sun, maximum transition width will be required to have any chance for the entire system to be captured without damage. Maximum target time for transition is within 10 hours, with 88.2% likelihood of transition within eight hours. Also, set in motion the final positioning of transfer generators for that region; bring them up to two-thirds power to assure that Transfer Threshold Condition One can be rapidly induced.” His voice took on a slightly strident note. “We're coming down to the wire, so let’s look smart and move quickly on this one. No mistakes!" Briin grimaced. "Send now!"
“At once, Your Grace,” Malaar promptly replied. “And, Sir, should the other Regents be notified and concurrence of the Advisory Committee be secured?”
“Yes, Malaar—and thank you for your insight,” he responded more softly. Then his steely tone returned. “But tell them instant action is required on this one. Also, confirm First Science Officer Laytonn’s attendance during the capture, and arrange a meeting for her to report back to me…assuming, of course, that our recalcitrant Regent Advisors can recognize the urgency and actually approve the action.”
“At once, Your Grace.”
Ptoriil clicked off his microphone as he turned his attention to the slowly shifting visual images. He wondered again if, this time, there would be people on any of the planets affected by the impending capture. He had labored over the issue of making contact with them. His desire to make contact had been frustrated repeatedly by the Regent Advisors of the Mutual Advisory Committee. MAC's refusals— however worded or disguised— were always based on the Regents’ unshakable fear that, following such a traumatic transition, any Coalition contact would be perceived as "an attacker making overtures to a subjugated people." But that was a typical attitude for the bickering Lords Regent of the twelve houses who— in addition to Briin, as Lord Regent of House Ptoriil— made up the full Mutual Advisory Committee.