BairnGefa- The Akashic Expedition

by Ruairí Cinéad Ducantlin

  Silence enveloped the somber response. Jirxena waited politely before speaking.

  “Jexnell was third in line to the position of Madame Negotiator but would not have risen to the position. Junell was the fifty-fifth Madame Negotiator. Her daughter Junella, the assassin you killed, was destined to succeed her mother as the fifty-sixth in the long line of succession. Jexnell would not have ascended when Junella spawned a daughter. No one in Jexnell’s family had ever risen to the position of Madame Negotiator.

  “The Enlightened One broke a thousand years of lineage. Jexnell did not bestow the credits as compensation for the Coterie’s actions. The Plentari both revere and fear the Enlightened One. The credits are Jexnell’s message to the Plentari. The Plentari know who opened our culture to the future.”

  Nick did not miss an opportunity, when Jirxena paused, he chimed. “Damn right! Michelle almost died! Every credit earned! What message?”

  “Jexnell’s gift of the credits is homage. Yes, that is the correct word. Homage. The gift of credits is considered payment by those who hold on to the old ways. Negotiations that result in a benefit, intentional or not, require payment. Until the correct compensation is accepted, the negotiation is not complete. The old ways continue to influence the Plentari.

  “Accepting the credits completes Jexnell’s obligation to The Enlightened One.”

  Disgusted by the revelation of plots within plots, everyone glared at Corb with sour faces.

  “Do not judge another culture based on humanistic norms or your personal bias. Jexnell is Plentari and her actions are appropriate. Landry and I have discussed Jexnell’s motivations. I am comfortable with our position.”

  Sensing a serious turn in the conversation, Lucinda stopped the talk of money and palace intrigue.

  “Jirmina, Jirxena, you are excellent warriors. However, aboard a starship, we all fill many roles. Do you possess any skills that may be applicable to a starship?”

  “Jirxena was a first officer for a freight hauler before joining the guard regiment. I was a strike fighter pilot before joining the guard regiment. We are familiar with starship operations and have extensively studied the Jaguar’s construction documents.”

  “Wait a minute. You gave up a lucrative carrier in shipping and a position as a fighter pilot to become … what … palace guards?”

  Jirmina and Jirxena hesitated to respond to Ragnar’s sharp tone. Cass eased the moment.

  “Jirmina, Jirxena, this is a learning moment. On Earth, your decision to become warriors is not common or considered a good career option. Also, Ragnar is male, but all are equal on the Jaguar. You will become comfortable with our methods of communicating. Now, tell us, why did you become warriors in the guard regiment?”

  Jirxena bobbed her head, letting her translator catch up before she responded.

  “Forgive us. Ragnar, we will strive to change our cultural bias. All are equal here. For the Plentari, there is no greater honor than to be chosen for the Madame Negotiator’s personal guard. Many apply. Few survive the training. Fewer are accepted. It is the greatest honor a Plentari can achieve.”

  “You said few survive the training. What does that mean?”

  Jirmina looked at Nick and, with concerted effort, responded to the male.

  “Nick, surviving the training is as it sounds. The strongest, bravest, and smartest survive to become one of the Madame’s personal guard. Jirxena was the personal guard commandant. I was a captain. We volunteered to serve the Enlightened One. It is the highest honor our people can achieve. We live to serve.”

  Jirxena and Jirmina looked to Corb, who tilted his hat at the verbal honor.

  “You were the commandant and you were captain of the guard? Wow.”

  They were confused by Cass’s comment. Lucinda continued to intercede and ease the Plentari’s minds.

  “Jirmina, Jirxena, it is also considered uncommon for a human to give up the position and authority you held within the personal guard.”

  Pausing for effect, Lucinda continued. “We will address the assignment schedules. Jirmina, please join Ragnar at the weapons console for several shifts. When he is comfortable with your progress, we will work you into a regular schedule on the bridge.

  “Jirxena, please work with Nick and Janish at navigation. When they are comfortable with your performance, we will rotate you into a regular shift.

  “Janish, I want you to take less of an operations role. We need you to help Landry index the data pods we acquired from the Xjaal. Also, please work with Cass to interpret the information. Focus on the Overlords. We need more information about the Triad and the star-portal.”

  Jirxena caught the obscure reference and her cultural bias was non-existent when speaking to a female.

  “What is a star-portal?”

  Corb intercepted the conversation.

  “A star-portal is a way of permanently connecting two points in space. There is a portal on Earth connected to a similar portal on K’an. A person can travel, via the connected star-portals, from Earth to K’an in ninety seconds. There are other portals throughout the galaxy.

  “Jirxena, Jirmina, this is the first piece of data you may not share with anyone beyond this ship. It is likely there is a star-portal connection between K’an and Plentari. When you return to Plentari, you may share this information with the Madame Negotiator and no one else. Is that understood?”

  In unison, they responded, “Yes, Corb.”

  Jirxena hesitated but asked when Corb smiled. “What is that?”

  The former Plentari cargo freighter’s first officer pointed to Landry’s avatar standing on the sideboard, next to the coffee maker.

  “That is Landry. He is an artificial intelligence. However, we refer to him as an artificial person. That is the image he projects to indicate his presence. He is considered part of this crew and we take his advice seriously. You may not discuss Landry with anyone not on this ship. Do you understand?”

  Again, in unison, with enthusiasm, they responded. “Yes, Corb.”

  “Let me rephrase my statement. You may not discuss Landry with anyone not on this ship, including the Madame Negotiator. Do you understand?”

  Jirmina looked to Jirxena, her former commandant, who gave her the Plentari equivalent of an affirmative nod. Both looked to Corb and responded in unison. “Yes, Corb.”

  “Jirxena, Jirmina, I cannot emphasize this strongly enough. I will be personally offended if I learn you have discussed Landry’s existence with anyone not on this ship. You may discuss Landry with only the people in this room. You are soldiers and you know how to follow orders. I am giving you an order. Landry’s existence is not to be discussed with anyone, ever. Are we clear?”

  Jirmina gave Jirxena a second look, requesting guidance. For the first time, Corb felt the Plentari were demonstrating a military hierarchy.

  “Enlightened One, I am Jirxena, former commandant of Madame Negotiator’s personal guard. I vow on the life of the Madame Negotiator we will not discuss your secrets with anyone. Jirmina reports to me. On penalty of death, she will not violate her vow of fealty.”

  “Jirxena, Jirmina, your words are acceptable. I will not speak of this again. The Coterie will also accept your words. We desire success for this alliance.”

  The translation of Jirmina’s soft closing statement was understood by the Coterie. “Corb, to many of the Plentari, you are a divine being. If our people learn we, Jirxena or I, broke the trust you placed in the Plentari, we would not be able to return to our home.”

  Corb sat up, grinned, and changed the subject.

  “Landry, please plot a course to Kripkeni. Nick, check the flight plan with Jirxena.”

  “Course plotted. Lucinda, do you want me to digitally request orbital departure and head out of the system?”

  “Yes, Landry, let’s get going. I want to get the repairs completed so we can head home.”

  While they were filing out of the galley, Corb contacted Landry using his nanobots.


  “Landry?”

  “Yes, Corb?”

  “I want you to create a sub-process to monitor Jirxena and Jirmina. I am overriding the privacy constraints. Record everything. Everything they say and do, twenty-four seven.”

  “I anticipated the request and created the sub-processes required. They are coming online now.”

  “My eyes only for anything unusual. Understood?”

  “Yes, Corb.”

  Time to Entry: 83:38:13.

  Time to Emergence: (9D) 17:58:48.

  Chapter Five

  ᛍᚼᛅᛕᛏᚱ ᚠᛁ

  “A person who deserves my loyalty

  receives it.”

  Joyce Maynard

  Repair Depot Number Seven — Kripkeni Six

  “Tell him I will visit him when, and if, I find it convenient.”

  “Corb, the merchant traveled from Kripkeni Five to meet with you.”

  “Landry, I do not care. I want the Jenny repaired and out of here as quickly as possible.”

  The Jaguar, also known the crew as the Jenny, had been in the magnetic mooring clamps for nine days. The holes in the outer hull plating were repaired, the fried electrical conducts had been replaced, and several structural members had been reinforced. The improved plasma emitters had required three Earth days to install. The rail gun barrels were lined with improved guides. Guides capable of taking the heat from a higher rate of fire. The rail gun stockpile of high-density metallic alloy bolts was replenished.

  Everything was progressing ahead of schedule. Corb and Lucinda let the crew visit the commercial market of the orbital repair depot in shifts. Two at a time with Corb or Janish tagging along. No one got into any trouble and all of the merchants, legitimate and otherwise, seemed to know the crew of the Jaguar possessed core credits.

  “Landry, how much longer until the loading is complete, and the cargo bay’s seal is repaired?”

  “Corb, one more day, maybe a day and a half to complete the seal repair. The antimatter load will also complete. The antimatter magnetic containment pod will interfere with the repair autobots. Consequently, everything on the schedule will be completed prior to the antimatter load. The Jaguar can release the mooring clamps in approximately thirty-six hours.”

  “Well, damn, I have no reason not to visit the merchant. Ask Jirxena and Ragnar to meet me in the cargo bay. Ask them to bring concealed weapons.”

  The merchant demanding Corb’s time was the source of the hyper-tunnel map and the advanced video cameras/emitters that were installed on the Jaguar and on Earth’s only interstellar cargo hauler, the Marissa. The merchant’s dealings with Corb and the Coterie had made him exceedingly wealthy. Nevertheless, he was being persistent with his request to meet, but not forthcoming on what he wanted to discuss with Corb in person.

  “Ragnar, Jirxena, you good with this little excursion?”

  Ragnar’s response was immediate.

  “We got your back, boss.”

  Jirxena waited for the translator to parse Corb’s colloquial speech. When she understood the translation, she responded.

  “Corb, I place myself between you and harm.”

  Ragnar and Corb looked at each other, smiled, and nodded positively to Jirxena, before Corb continued. “It is a long walk, at least five kilometers, to the merchant’s shop. Ten kilometers round-trip. Let’s keep our heads on a swivel, no surprises. Landry, are you tracking us?”

  “Yes, Corb.”

  Again, Jirxena’s translator learned something new, allowing her to respond. “Confirmed, continuous scan, in all directions, for danger.”

  Corb titled his head to acknowledge Jirxena’s confirmation and spun to head down the Jaguar’s cargo ramp, followed by Ragnar and Jirxena. Adrenaline spiking, the trio walked the five kilometers in a brisk forty-three minutes.

  A thick crowd of shoppers blocked several areas along the market corridor. The throngs parted to allow the Enlightened One to pass unimpeded. Ragnar entered the merchant’s shop first, followed by Corb, and Jirxena brought up the rear. They entered and stood to the side of the glass door, allowing Jirxena to observe the corridor outside the merchant’s shop.

  The on-duty Kripkeni shopkeeper looked up, recognized Corb, and mutely pointed to the rear of the shop. Ragnar, with hand signals, indicated Jirxena should remain, watching the entrance. Ragnar pushed aside the sliding panel and entered the merchant’s makeshift office. Sliding it closed behind Corb, Ragnar placed his back to the wall, pushing his shoulder against the panel.

  Sitting at a desk piled high with scores of small boxes, the rotund Kripkeni merchant appeared to have gained more weight and was sweatier than the video images projected. The thought He’s a bipedal Jabba the Hut flew through Corb’s mind, but he was able to remain composed.

  Silently, Corb reached out to Landy.

  “Landry, can you observe the office where I am standing?”

  “Yes, Corb.”

  “What is in all the boxes?”

  “The boxes contain a single serving of Jima. It is a nonaddictive stimulant similar in state and texture to Earl Grey tea. Tea with the kick of a shot of Jameson’s finest whiskey.”

  “Enlightened One, it is a pleasure to speak with you. It is an honor for you to visit my small shop. Please sit. Let us drink Jima and chat.”

  “I will not be here long enough to sit, nor am I interested in chatting. You were persistent in your request. You annoyed my crew. Something is on your mind. I am here. Speak.”

  “Yes, of course. I have information that will settle our debts to each other.”

  “I owe you nothing. You owe me one favor of my choosing. If your information is worthy, I will forgive the debt. I will hear the information before I decide.”

  “The information. It is … dangerous.”

  The corpulent merchant looked past Corb to Ragnar, indicating he didn’t want Ragnar to hear what he what about to say.

  “There is a reason I do not know your name. I do not want to be burdened with something that is of no value to me. You insult me and my crew. My guards stay. If you delay again, I am leaving.”

  “Yes, of course. Forgive me. There is a bounty on you. Admiral Jymind has learned of Admiral Jexond and his vow of allegiance to you. Jymind knows he cannot return to Gowah. The place you call Zerain.

  “Jymind’s plan is to kill you, releasing Jexond from his vow to you. When you are eliminated, Jymind will attack Jexond and attempt to take control of the Ajawlil.

  “Jymind is seeking alliances. He is promising much when he takes control of the Ajawlil. Many of his fighters have been on this maintenance platform for upgrades.”

  “How many?”

  “Thirty-five fighters have been upgraded.”

  “How is it you know this specific number?”

  “I sold Admiral Jymind the upgrades.”

  “Of course, you did.”

  The obese merchant stopped speaking, retrieved a sweat-soaked cloth, and wiped away the rivulets running down his face. The pause gave Corb time to consider his next reply.

  “The is not new information. At least a dozen usurpers have made it known they wish to assume my role. You have wasted my time. Our deal remains. You owe me one favor. I will return to collect.”

  The merchant said one more thing as Corb started to turn and Ragnar leaned forward, beginning to slide the panel open.

  “The Xjaal are backing Jymind.”

  Corb stopped, looked unblinking at the merchant, and asked one question.

  “You have proof?”

  With surprising dexterity, the merchant’s fleshy fingers flung one of the small containers at Corb, who caught it and tucked it into his shirt. It was labeled Jima Tea in Kripkeni script, though Corb knew the small box contained a data pod.

  “If what you say is true, our deal is complete. If not, I will return to collect the favor.”

  The merchant’s bulbous head nodded quickly, sweat slinging onto his shirt, the desk, and the stacks of small boxes.


  Corb and Ragnar walked back to Jirxena.

  “I observed movement and spoke with Landry. Look there, the people have left. Look farther, there are no people. There are two ambushes. I like this word, ambushes. The closest attack is intended to be a diversion. It is expected we will run and be eliminated by the second attack team while we flee.”

  Jirxena looked to Ragnar and, with what passed for a Plentari smile, spoke to him.

  “We will kill many today.”

  Ragnar’s response was all business.

  “Maybe, but you have not seen Corb in action.”

  Reaching up, Ragnar grabbed Corb’s elbow, expecting Jirxena to do the same. Before Jirxena could grab his other elbow, to teleport back to the Jaguar, Corb did something unusual. He reached down and gently pulled Ragnar’s hand from his elbow.

  “Ragnar, it is time we stand our ground. We can run, but that will only embolden the next attackers. It is time to fight.”

  Corb watched as storefronts up and down the closest sections of the market corridor were being shuttered.

  “Landry, please link to our translators. I want to know where the attackers are hiding.”

  “Linked. The first group is past the fourth shop on your left, and third shop on your right, as you exit. They are in maintenance access alleys between the shops.”

  “Understood. Ragnar on the right. Jirxena on the left. Do not attack. Defend only. If they get through … kill them.”

  Jirxena looked at Ragnar, unsure. Ragnar’s broad smile was beaming.

  “Corb is about to go medieval.”

  Jirxena’s translator had not completed processing the unusual reference when Corb pushed through the door.

  Ragnar rushed to Corb’s right and Jirxena to his left. They heard Landry in their ears.

  “They are waiting for you to pass before they attack.”

  “Corb stopped the trio directly between the maintenance alley openings where the attack teams where hiding. Staring straight down the now empty shopping corridor, Corb spoke. “Ragnar, pull your saber, turn and face them but stand fast. Jirxena, you do the same.”