The Exxar Chronicles: Book 02 - Emissary

by Neal Jones

  ( 5 )

  As Gabriel stepped onto the command deck, Decev glanced up from her station, and she motioned for one of the other standby officers to take over. She fell in step beside the commodore as he walked towards his office.

  "Something you'd like to discuss, commander?"

  "In your office, if that's okay."

  He paused after the door opened and motioned for her to go first. After the door closed he walked around his desk and sat. "If this is about Laura, forget it. I don't feel like talking about it."

  Decev couldn't tell him about her telepathic ability. It was the only way that she knew something was bothering him. Being able to sense other people's emotional states was like standing next to a furnace. The typical emotional state of a calm and relaxed person was the equivalent of the furnace being turned to a low setting. You barely felt any heat. In Gabriel's case, however, the furnace was turned way up, and even with her limited rating of L2, Decev could feel an emotional heat wave that threatened to give her a mental sunburn.

  "I couldn't help but notice that you seemed a little distracted during the briefing. You also look like you didn't get very much sleep last night."

  "I thought I said I didn't want to talk about it."

  There was an edge to Marc's tone that warned Mariah he meant what he said. He really didn't want to talk about it.

  "Okay. But if you ever want to talk, you know I'm here to listen."

  He nodded and then promptly turned his attention to his terminal screen.

  Decev returned to her post, even more curious about Laura Sysko now than she had been two days ago.

  Chapter 4

  ____________________

  ( 1 )

  ANNAIAS NEJRA SIGHED AND paced to the viewport that spanned the rear wall of her and Jolan's quarters. She'd lost count of how many times she'd stood in this spot over the last three months, wishing that she could push through the glass and the bulkhead and be free of the quarters that had felt more and more like a prison cell with each passing day. She was also ruing her husband's decision to bring her here. It had seemed logical, at first, primarily because Exxar-One was the largest and most heavily armed military starbase that was closest to the Jha'Drok territories. But Jolan had not expected to still be here after this long. He had assumed that Commodore Gabriel would notify one of his superiors, and that a security transport would have taken Jolan and Annaias to a more specialized facility weeks ago, probably on Galadreon or one of the other central worlds of the Federation.

  Instead, they were still sequestered in what Annaias had come to think of as a gilded cage. The quarters were large enough to accommodate a family of five, with three bedrooms, a spacious kitchen, a well-appointed living room, and the master bath contained a spa with four dozen massage and temperature settings. It hadn't taken Jolan long to program the food dispenser to create Jha'Drok dishes, and for the first month, living in these quarters had felt like a vacation.

  But Annaias missed her garden. She missed fresh air and sunshine. She had lived planetside for all of her life, and being confined to the artificial atmosphere of a space station was starting to erode her spirit. It would have been one thing if she could take a walk on the promenade, or visit the hydroponic gardens, but even that was out of the question. No one was supposed to know that she and Jolan were here, and that meant that the farthest they could go was the corridor outside their quarters. Commander Navarr had made the entire deck off limits to all but authorized personnel, and Commodore Gabriel had made arrangements with Commander Garrett to have an engineering team convert one of the other empty quarters into a small hydroponics bay. With some help from a botanist, Annaias had obtained a variety of seeds, and while none of the flowers were of Jha'Drok origin, she had been successful in creating a colorful garden in the spacious living area behind the door at 56A.

  Annaias sighed, turning away from the viewport and heading for the guest bedroom. Jolan had turned it into an office, and he was hunched over his computer terminal, deep in thought. His wife smiled wanly, thankful for the one good thing that had come from this forced seclusion. For the first time in almost forty years she had Jolan all to herself. Until now he'd always been working late at his office in the senate chamber, or performing an inspection of the shipyards, or sequestered behind closed doors for an emergency session of one senate committee or another. Annaias had learned long ago to treasure whatever little time she'd been allowed with her husband, which had been even less than usual in the last few years as the construction and assembly of assault legion had neared completion.

  But now the two of them had nothing but time and privacy, and they'd relished it. Annaias left Jolan alone with his writing during the day, and then in the evenings they would have a leisurely dinner or watch a movie on the HT. Or they'd stroll the entire length of the corridor, just talking. That was something that neither of them had done for a long, long time, and it was almost enough to make up for the loss of their other freedoms.

  Annaias walked around behind her husband and peered over his shoulder at the terminal screen. The window was open on a blank document, the small cursor blinking rhythmically at the top of the page. Jolan was scowling, and his wife started massaging his shoulders.

  "Have you been staring at this all morning?"

  He grunted and then closed the screen. "The Gods are silent. They have been ever since we arrived here." Jolan sighed and stood, turning to Annaias. "Would you like to take a walk?"

  She wanted to go to the promenade, or the observation dome, or take a shuttle flight to a nearby system. "Sure."

  As they entered the living room the door chime sounded, and Jolan answered it. Commodore Gabriel and Brantar Varis were on the other side.

  "I'm sorry to disturb you," Gabriel said. "Is this a bad time?"

  "Not at all," Annaias replied, smiling warmly. "Please come in." She motioned to the sitting area.

  Jolan and Annaias took the couch, while Gabriel and Varis occupied the pair of easy chairs across from it.

  "Jolan," the commodore began, "you have given us a lot of good information, but you haven't told us anything about the hypergate. The one that brought the Jha'Drok into contact with the Erayan technology in the first place."

  "I believe I said in one of my initial reports that I knew nothing about the technical specifications of the hypergate or its maintenance. My responsibility was to oversee the construction of the assault legion."

  "Yes, I know. But I was hoping that you had remembered something in the last three months, maybe some names of colleagues who were in charge of the hypergate. You did say that the gateway was connected to multiple gateways in the Erayan network, not just the one near the outpost where we found Ilkara. We need to know how the Jha'Drok were able to do that."

  "I'm sorry, commodore. I wish I could help you, but I don't know that information. Nor can I provide you with names and personnel dossiers. For security reasons, that data was known only to those directly involved with that project."

  "Even though you were a member of the Sholm'Ryy?"

  Jolan smiled sadly. "The structure of our government may appear to be democratic, but in truth, the lord emperor holds all the power, and democracy is merely an illusion to appease the masses that he governs. The hypergate is the most closely guarded secret of the Emperium, and not even I was privileged enough share in the details of that project."

  "Do you know where it's located?" Varis asked.

  "No. But I could easily narrow the list to a handful of systems." He glanced back and forth between her and Gabriel. "You have some kind of mission planned?"

  "Yes," the commodore replied. "I'm sending you with Varis into Jha'Drok space to find the hypergate. Federation Central Intelligence wants more information on it, and Central Military Command wants it destroyed."

  Jolan and Annaias turned one another, surprised by this statement, and Annaias was the first to respond.

  "Commodore, are you sure that's necessary? My husband just told yo
u that he knows nothing about the hypergate or where it's located. How is he going to help you?"

  "He was a high ranking senator with an extensive knowledge of military technology as well as locations of key systems and bases." Gabriel turned to Jolan. "We're going into this as prepared as we can be, but we're also very blind. Varis' sources are extensive, but not as extensive as your knowledge base. We need you, Jolan."

  "Are you giving me a choice, commodore?"

  "Let me put it like this. As long as you're useful to us, Jolan, we can continue keeping you here, safe and sound. But as soon as you are no longer needed, I have no choice but to hand you over to FCI."

  Annaias leaned forward, her expression turning cold. "Do not threaten us, commodore. We have been more than helpful to you, but we will not betray the Emperium."

  "Annaias," Jolan murmured, laying a hand on her arm. She frowned but said nothing more, deferring to her husband.

  Jolan looked at Gabriel. "My wife is correct. I told you when I first arrived that I would not help you bring down the Emperium. I will only help you ensure that they do not move against the Federation and, thus, upset the balance of power in this quadrant. Your threat is an empty one, commodore. Nothing was preventing you from handing us over to FCI three months ago. I will go with you on this mission, but I expect to return to these quarters if we make it back to Exxar-One. I want your word on that."

  Gabriel nodded. "You have it. I will do everything in my power to keep you here." He turned to Varis, handing the floor to her.

  "We'll leave in three days. You and I need that time to create a mission plan."

  "Understood. Is there anything else?"

  "Not right now." Gabriel stood. "Thank you."

  "Of course, commodore."

  Gabriel and Varis left, and Annaias turned to her husband. "I'm going with you." She covered his lips with her fingers as he began to protest. "This is non-negotiable. I will not spend the next three weeks in these quarters going out of my mind worrying about you. And if something happened to you, and you couldn't return to me, I couldn't accept living the rest of my life without you."

  She released her fingers, and Jolan took them in his hand to kiss them. "I have never been able to say no to you."

  "I'm glad you remember that," she teased. "Let's go for a walk."

  ( 2 )

  Marc tugged at his suit jacket, trying to adjust the shoulders. It was a size too small, but this was the only civilian suit he owned, and he hadn't worn it for almost three years. He stood back and frowned at his reflection, deliberating. He decided to ditch the whole thing and just go casual. As he rummaged in his closet for a clean pair of pants and a collared shirt, he ran through a list of subjects for conversation with Jeanette. He didn't want to launch right away into her mother and his relationship with her, and the whole mess of why she hadn't told him about Jeanette. Unless, of course, Jeanette wanted to know all about that.

  But was he willing to go into all that history? And just how much had Laura really told her daughter about her and Marc's past? It had to be more than just the facts, especially now that Jeanette was an adult. Marc wished now that he had asked more questions of Laura, such as exactly how old Jeanette had been when Laura told her about him? And exactly how many facts had Laura disclosed to her daughter about her and Marc's past? How curious was Jeanette about her father? Was this reunion entirely her idea, or had Laura also encouraged it?

  As Marc left his quarters and walked to the PTL, he took a deep breath and tried to undo the knot in his gut. He was probably just as anxious about this reunion as his daughter was, and the conversation was initially going to be awkward no matter what either of them said, so he wasting time and thought by worrying over it so much.

  His daughter.

  The word was so foreign, so strange, so...weird. Ever since breaking off his engagement with Laura, Marc had never considered marrying again, much less starting a family. Perhaps that was a testament to how deeply Laura had hurt him, and he had been content to settle for relationships that lasted no longer than whatever current assignment he was serving. Not that he really had time for a family anyway. While the EarthCorps Navy allowed for the presence of families of officers on board starships, very few personnel opted for that, primarily because of the constant danger that deep space exploration presented. It was easier for most to go for long periods without seeing their husbands, wives and/or children, than face the daily fear that the next first contact mission could mean going into battle and losing their families to a bulkhead decompression or a core breach.

  For Marc, it was simpler. He didn't like children and had never had any desire to start a family of his own. That had never come up during his relationship with Laura, mostly because their first year together had consisted of little more than casual dating. There wasn't much talk of the future, and both had been happy with that. It was in their second year that things got rocky, and they'd been too busy fighting, breaking up, then making up, then fighting again to worry about such long term plans as marriage and family. It was Marc's proposal to Laura and his decision to drop out of the academy that had finally driven Laura away, for reasons that he still wasn't clear on. She had initially accepted his proposal, but then rejected it and the ring a month later, and it was during that time that Jeanette had been conceived.

  And now, twenty-three years later, Marc was about to meet his daughter. How much had she studied on him? His personnel file was available only to military databases, but Laura probably had clearance and authorization to download it because of her position at the FCE. Was Jeanette expecting a lot of him? Was she expecting a lot from this first meeting? He was surprised to discover that he was genuinely looking forward to this dinner, despite his reservations and anxiety about this unexpected news.

  And there she was. His daughter. Standing at the entrance to Karmo's, looking as nervous as he felt, but trying not appear to anxious by focusing her attention on the front window display of the shop next to the restaurant. It was a clothing store, and the row of holographic mannequins were laughing and talking to one another while arrayed in festive evening wear.

  Marc cleared his throat and tapped Jeanette on the shoulder. She jumped, whirling to face him, and then gave a girlish laugh.

  "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean ..."

  "It's okay." She faltered, smiling, not sure what to say next, and neither did her father.

  "I'm...Marc. Marcus Gabriel. Your father." Gods, that sounded stupid. Who else would he be?

  "And I'm Jeanette."

  "I'm glad to meet you." And he really was. He was astonished at how much she looked like her mother. Her shoulder length brown hair, the narrow, angular curves to her face that gave her an aristocratic appearance, just as they had done for Laura at that age. And her eyes. Her wide, expressive, green eyes that betrayed every little emotion, whether she wanted them to or not. Laura was wrong. There was very little of Marc in this young woman. She was entirely her mother's daughter.

  "And I'm happy to finally meet you," Jeanette gushed, then realized she was probably being too girly, and she corrected herself by stepping back just a little and folding her hands in front of her. "Looks like we're both a little early. I don't think they have our table ready yet."

  "I'll go check."

  While Marc walked over to the maître d', Jeanette used the opportunity to study him further. He was taller than she expected, but just as handsome as the file photo in his personnel record. She wished her mother had supplied her with more than that record, but Laura had been strangely firm in her unwillingness to divulge any details about her relationship with Marc. Jeanette hoped that she wasn't a disappointment to him. She was very relieved when her mother told her last night that he wasn't married. This reunion was awkward enough as it was without having to meet a stepmother and step siblings.

  "Our table's ready," Marc said and then motioned for Jeanette to go ahead of him.

  They followed the host to a table for two in th
e middle of the restaurant, and Marc was relieved to see that the other three tables immediately surrounding them were empty. They wouldn't remain that way for awhile, but at least he and Jeanette would have some privacy for a little bit.

  "Your waiter will be with you shortly."

  "Thank you," Marc said, accepting the menus and handing one to his daughter.

  For a few minutes, neither said anything as they pretended to peruse the appetizer choices and wine selection. The waiter arrived and Marc requested a Binellian spring water. Jeanette asked for a Pepsi, and she let her father choose the appetizer.

  "We need a little bit more time with the dinner menu," the commodore said, and the waiter nodded before moving on to the next table to refill the wine.

  "I think the lemon crusted trout looks good," Jeanette remarked. "Although if mom were here she'd ask the waiter where the trout came from, and if it was raised on a freshwater farm, and what kind of preservatives were used in packing it." She shrugged in a what-can-you-do-that's-my-mother-for-you gesture.

  Marc chuckled. "Still the health nut, eh?"

  "Oh yes. I think it's actually gotten worse in the last few years. Chicken and fish are about the only meats she'll eat, and she's picky about how her vegetables are prepared and how they're grown. She's very much into the organic bio-farm movement. I asked her once what that meant, and that's an hour of my life that I'll never get back. Unless time travel eventually gets invented, of course. And look at me, I'm babbling. That's exactly what I told myself I wouldn't do."

  Marc laughed. "It's okay. I'm glad to hear that your mother hasn't changed. Did she tell you about our gravball sessions? She likes to claim that she hates the game, but I had no trouble getting her onto the court."

  "Actually, she watches the tournaments with me. I'm a fan of the college teams, but she prefers the pros."