by Andy Kasch
Brandon nodded. “I understand your frustration, General. It all seems to be centered on the village this Belle-ub character is in the middle of constructing. He has somehow managed to assume authority in the region. At the very least, I believe he lords over the Northern Militia on C3—which means he now controls the bulk of the Amulen food supply—and also over the Central Region Militia. Perhaps more, as I know he’s reaching out to other communities and seems intent on uniting many of the Amulen factions. I’m in the process of gathering information there which I hope will be enlightening.”
Olut6 cocked his head. “Never heard of a Sheen having any kind of ambition before. They’ve always kept to themselves, and never had any interest in politics.”
“These red Sheen are a new order, General. They make me nervous. I find I don’t naturally trust them, and I’ve never said that about any Sheen before. But at the same time, they’ve become useful—even necessary—for handling the current situation.”
“Because they find themselves in the middle of it all?”
Brandon pushed the button for the lift. “More like they have deliberately placed themselves in the middle of it all. Whatever’s going on, I think it’s by design—and I suspect Belle-ub of orchestrating it. For what purpose, I don’t wish to guess. Inviting warring races here doesn’t figure to help his Amulen unification efforts, unless his intent is to start a war and unite them under a common cause. I’m hoping we get some answers out of him in these peace negotiations.”
The lift arrived. A few minutes later, Brandon and Olut6 entered the large conference room where everyone was waiting. Mip7 made the formal introductions and they all sat.
The Dirgs were on the back side of the table. This included the high commander, whose name was Admiral Hochob, his assistant, and three Dirg delegates who had been on board the Latian command ship and were now being returned. The most vocal of them was Commander Jojob, the second in command.
Directly opposite the five Dirgs sat four Latians, who were identified as Inquisitor Errshlin, Captain Murrkal, Ensign Larrmin, and the Inquisitor’s personal assistant. So the first and second in command of both the Latian and Dirg fleets were present for the meeting.
Olut6 sat down next to Mip7 at the far end of the rectangular table, closest to the door. The three red Sheen were at the other far end. Brandon decided to take that side and sit in the corner seat between Inquisitor Errshlin of the Latians and Belle-ub.
That position proved to have its drawbacks, as it gave Brandon a side-view of the Latians for the most part. There wasn’t much to see of them from that vantage point. In fact, the appearance of both these alien races took some getting used to. But then, so did the Torians originally. Nowadays, Brandon found the presence of large lizard-men to be as normal as being surrounded by humans.
Brandon wondered how formal these proceedings were going to be, and if they would follow some kind of protocol for interstellar peace negotiations. That question was answered when Commander Jojob of the Dirgs assumed the initiative and started blurting demands.
“The technology for the light weapon must be disclosed,” he said. “Not only to us, but to all advanced races in the Erobian Sphere. Sole possession of such a weapon of mass destruction cannot be tolerated. When the others learn of it, they will all come to our side on this point.”
Latian Inquisitor Errshlin leaned forward to respond. Before speaking, he allowed a moment of silence to elapse and surveyed the expressions of everyone in the room. Errshlin struck Brandon as an intelligent leader—alert, calculating, and in the habit of using his ears more than his mouth.
“Commander,” he said, “the weapon you are referring to wasn’t ours. We claim no knowledge of it, and, in the interest of settling our current conflict, confess that we do not possess such a thing. The surge of energy that came forth from the salvage vessel and destroyed a portion of your fleet was every bit as much a surprise to us as it was to you—although a welcome one from our perspective. We considered your attempt to appropriate the salvage ships a hostile act, as you threatened to take them from us by force.”
“Yes,” Jojob said. “We found you as pirates scavenging our property, so we asked you to leave—cordially at first. But we confirmed our intent to defend our possessions from thieves, with force if necessary. If you will recall, I also told you we preferred not to go that route, and granted you a gracious amount of time to clear away. How interesting that this coincided with the time your landing craft was received on board the salvage vessel, and moments later the attack commenced—a dishonorable attack, without warning.”
“The landing craft you speak of was not Latian either, Commander. When you asked if it was ours, I instinctively said yes. This was an impulsive lie on my part; one I now greatly regret. I was only seeking the protection of whomever it was, which I suspected to be a Milurian delegation sent by our half-breed race that had just relocated to the planet. Latians have no saucer-designed craft of any kind. And I will remind you that the first shots were fired by the Dirg fighters which scrambled and came at the salvage vessel after it became immersed in light. Only then did the light weapon react with its destructive force, in what appeared to be a defensive act—but again, we were only witnesses to that action, and in no way directed it or have any knowledge of its source.”
The five Dirgs could all be heard hissing. Brandon decided to interject.
“Inquisitor, are you certain the landing craft which docked in the Azaarian warship was saucer-shaped?”
Errshlin faced Brandon and his head became much wider. “Yes.”
“Interesting,” Brandon said.
“Why is that?” Errshlin asked. Brandon could tell he was fishing for information. The more Brandon talked to this being, the more he liked him.
Brandon leaned back in his chair. “Torians and Azaarians both use saucer-shaped landing craft. Tora experienced a large migration of half-breeds to Milura 25 years ago. The transport ship which took them never returned, and vanished from our scopes shortly after the migration. The Azaarian half-breeds populated Milura several generations prior. There was once a native race of intelligent life on Milura as well, but not much is known of what happened to them. So I find this story …interesting.”
The Dirg admiral spoke up. “We are not interested in discussing half-breed races.” He then hissed something at Commander Jojob in a low volume, and Jojob hissed something back.
Mip7 spoke. “Please, if we are to make progress, we must not talk quietly among ourselves. Whatever is to be said, let it be heard by all.”
Jojob turned to Mip7. “We offer our apologies. My admiral was asking me if the Latian commanders seemed genuinely surprised by the light weapon when it emitted from the salvage ship. I confessed to him that they did, but I cannot tell if it was simply a convincing act.”
Brandon sensed an opportunity.
“Commander Jojob,” he said, “what do your instincts tell you? I’m certain you did not rise to the position of second in command of the fleet without being recognized for your instincts. A good commander should be able to trust those. I ask you to give us an honest answer, as to whether your instincts tell you the Latians were feigning surprise when this great energy weapon came forth from the old warship.”
There was a moment of silence in the room. Brandon caught Mip7 nodding at him appreciatively.
“No,” Jojob finally said. “I do not believe the surprise was feigned. But the possibility remains that the Latians are extremely good actors. Also, there is no question that we were in dispute over the salvage rights when the attack occurred, and Inquisitor Errshlin does not deny there were Latians still on board the Azaarian vessel when the light weapon commenced.”
“At this point,” Mip7 said, “do we at least all agree on there being doubt over the source and origination of the light weapon?”
The Dirgs hesitated, but conceded to agree to the doubt. Mip7’s point was firmly established and progress in the talks was being made.
Olut6 spoke. “Admiral Hochob, would it help the situation any if the Latians agreed to an inspection of all the hangars in their fleet, so that you can verify for yourselves they have no saucer craft?”
The Dirgs studied the Latians’ reaction to his suggestion.
Inquisitor Errshlin must have realized that. He quickly said, “This is perfectly acceptable. However, I must remind all those in attendance that we did not come to this star system with the intent of proving ourselves innocent of the accusations of the Dirgs. Far from it.”
“Then why did you come here?” Belle-ub asked.
“To exact a measure of restitution from the Dirgs, one way or another. They attacked us, and committed an outright act of war in so doing. Six Latian transport ships and hundreds of Latian lives were lost in the battle. We are unwilling to let that go. I will speak straightforwardly, as we have nothing to hide. We require that the Dirgs either finish the battle or surrender. If they surrender, restitution must be made for our losses.”
All five Dirgs began hissing, and their flesh was now pulsating rapidly.
Olut6 stood up. “Any ‘battles to be finished’ must be fought outside of Tora space.” He looked directly at Errshlin. “Is that understood, Inquisitor? We won’t tolerate it here. Let me make myself perfectly clear. If you choose to fight in Tora space, then you are choosing to fight the Torians. Plain and simple. And we are well equipped to handle you.”
Errshlin stood to respond. “Yes, you have effectively demonstrated that. At least, from inside the atmosphere of one of your worlds.”
The Dirgs all then stood up, which caused a chain reaction. Everyone in the room was shortly standing. Brandon could feel the tension between the Dirgs, Latians, and General Olut6.
“Silence, everyone!” Mip7 said. He spoke in an uncharacteristic stern voice which drew all eyes upon him, even Olut6’s. That was something he must have learned to do since becoming governor.
Mip7 continued. “These talks are making progress, whether we realize it or not. We must avoid emotional reactions which only serve the cause of war. If war is the only solution, we will arrive at it soon enough. No need to jump the gun. I’m certain we all agree it is wise to explore the possibility of peace first. This is that opportunity. It may well be the only opportunity. I have studied the histories of dozens of races across this galaxy, and have concluded that rarely is war the best solution for any party. Therefore, it is best to set aside emotions and attempt to follow a logical course, while one may still be found. I ask you all to sit back down.”
Olut6 sat immediately, which Brandon thought to be an unusual gesture of humility for him. Brandon followed his lead, as did the three red Sheen. The Dirg and Latian leaders then also sat, bringing their subordinates down alongside them. Mip7 was the only one left standing.
“Thank you,” he said. “Admiral Hochob, the last proposition was that of an inspection of the Latian hangars. Is this something you are interested in?”
“No,” the admiral said. “I am convinced there are no saucer craft on board, judging by the Latian commanders’ reactions.”
“Do you still suspect the light weapon that attacked you to be Latian?” Mip7 asked.
“Some suspicion remains of that, yes. We suffered a much greater loss from the light weapon attack than the Latians did in the resulting battle. I will now confess we also have some suspicion that the light weapon may be Torian. You are a wise mediator, Governor. In the interest of making further progress towards peace, I would ask you to now question the Inquisitor on what he believes was the cause of our battle.”
“Fair enough,” Mip7 said. He turned to Errshlin.
“You heard him, Inquisitor. I ask you for an honest answer. Why do you believe the Dirg fleet attacked you?”
“They obviously believed the light weapon was ours. I do not contest that. Were the situation reversed, we would have assumed the same—although we would not have hijacked another race’s salvage operation.”
Mip7 was still standing. He began nodding enthusiastically. “Good, good. Do you understand what you have just conceded? You do not blame the Dirgs for engaging you, after witnessing what happened to them.”
He turned to the Dirgs. “Are we all in agreement now, that responsibility for the light weapon cannot be determined, and, under the circumstances, blame for the resulting battle cannot rightfully be assigned to either party? If so, we can move on to the only remaining issue—that of salvage rights to the Azzarian warships.”
Inquisitor Errshlin nodded from across the table. “Yes,” he said, “under the circumstances, we reluctantly agree to your point.”
Brandon was blown away. Never had he witnessed such diplomacy.
The Dirg admiral still objected, however. “I am not satisfied on the issue of the light weapon,” he said. “I suspect responsibility for it lies within this very room, whether it be with the Latians, the Torians, or even the half-breed races.” He turned and looked at the Sheen.
Belle-ub responded. “We need to get beyond this issue. There must be some trust between us in regards to the unknown origin of the light weapon. Many strange things are occurring in the Erobian Sphere. We cannot become suspicious of one another over every phenomenon, or a complete breakout of galactic war will be the consequence. This we must avoid at all costs.”
The Dirg admiral shook his throbbing head. “We cannot get beyond this issue without first achieving satisfaction. The salvage ships we are willing to concede to the Latians as the spoils of a victorious battle. But they should not have followed us here. We will make no restitution for their loss, as they themselves have now agreed that we are not at fault for instigating the fight under the circumstances. If we can settle the light weapon issue, then all will be settled, as we relinquish our rights to the Azaarian vessels. But we remained unappeased in regards to the light weapon—and if this situation is not rectified, war may be unavoidable.”
“As I told the Inquisitor,” Olut6 said, “any fighting in this system will be considered an act of aggression against Tora.”
“Does that include the Noors and Circons?” Admiral Hochob asked.
Olut6 frowned. “We will deal with them next, hopefully. At the moment, the reason for them being here is as much of a mystery to the Torian military as the reason for your visitation, Admiral. We are unaware of any invitation being extended. This space station has always been Tora’s foreign relations reception facility, but it is currently closed to visitors for reconstruction.”
Mip7 finally sat back down, but Belle-ub stood again, drawing scowls from both Mip7 and Olut6. Brandon held up a hand to them from across the table, in an effort to keep them from voicing an objection. Brandon wanted to hear anything Belle-ub had to say, without it being altered by combativeness.
“The Dirgs are invited guests of Amulen,” Belle-ub said.
Olut6 stood up—to Mip7’s obvious chagrin—and said, “Do you claim to represent all of Amulen?”
“As much as what matters, General. I currently speak for most of Continent-3 and the industrial captains of Continent-4. That means most of the food supply and technology production of the planet. Very soon, I expect, all voices of recognized authority will in turn recognize me as their representative.”
“Very interesting,” Olut6 said.
Belle-ub continued. “All current visiting alien races are in fact invited guests of Amulen.”
Belle-ub then turned to Errshlin. “Inquisitor, I now also extend our invitation to you. My apologies for not having contacted you formally at your home world, but you are so far out on the edge of the sphere it was impractical. I am happy, though, that you have found your way here for this momentous occasion, however unfortunate the circumstances which led you here may have been.”
“What is this momentous occasion?” Olut6 asked.
“An interstellar tournament, General. We are hosting an interstellar tournament.”
“Of that extat polwar game, you mean? Surely you must know it is banned
on Banor, and on this space station.”
“Yes, General. That’s why you were not invited.”
Olut6 was visibly upset. He leaned forward and stood with both hands spread on the table.
“Belle-ub, Amulen currently possesses no known interstellar travel capabilities. How is it you managed to venture out into the galaxy to extend these invitations? And why would you invite warring races to come here?”
Belle-ub smiled. “Banorian authorities lacking knowledge of Amulen interstellar travel ability does not mean we do not possess it. Also, such a thing is not difficult to arrange when the capability exists all around us, and has for nearly 2,000 years. One merely requires the intent. When the intent is strong enough, the means will appear. All it takes is a solitary messenger to begin a process which can change the fate of the galaxy. The fact that races in the Erobian Sphere are warring among themselves is why we proposed the tournament. We can settle our differences in the arena, and become the instigators of peace rather than those who sanction war through complacency.”
Everyone looked back at Olut6, who appeared poised to launch into an angry rant. Instead, he restrained himself and sat down. Belle-ub sat back down as well, but continued speaking.
“Governor, we would also request the use of this station, as an official reception facility, and for hosting a social affair.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Mip7 said. “As you know, Cardinal-4 submits itself to Banorian authority and falls under their jurisdiction and laws. We cannot be supportive in any way to an event which glorifies an illegal game.”
“Especially when that game is the primary factor responsible for dividing our two worlds,” Brandon added.