Vasiliev wagged his index finger back and forth. “First of all, I hardly consider the League to be a nation and both Poland and the Baltic States are part of Russia, though they pretend otherwise. Second, the Fortress Earth position is to defend Earth, not some far-flung Lycian world. But if the threat is sufficiently great, I would be willing to discuss deploying Russian troops to alien worlds.”
“I see the game you are playing,” said Ravenwood. “You believe you are risking nothing by adding my proposal to the ballot. You believe it is a way to gain a vocal ally to your cause.”
“Yes,” replied Vasiliev without hesitation. “That is the art of diplomacy. But I offer this knowing my position must be preferable to you than the pure neutrality camp. What I seek is your advocacy when the time comes. There are factions within the Fortress Earth block who are still hesitant to give it their full support; they see it as a Russian attempt to gain influence over their affairs.”
“Isn’t it?” asked Ravenwood suspiciously.
“Not if we had North America’s most knowledgeable and noteworthy diplomat on our side.”
Ravenwood folded his arms across his chest and looked over the Russian ambassador’s shoulder at a group of diplomats who were cautiously eyeing the two of them. “Our collaboration will anger the Canadians, and neither the Pacific Federation nor the League of Free Cities will welcome it. None of them are happy with Russian settlements popping up all over North America’s higher latitudes.”
Vasiliev responded with an indifferent shrug.
“This cannot be seen as a quid pro quo,” continued Ravenwood. “My siding with you and joining the Fortress Earth camp must be perceived as a principled decision driven by what is in Earth’s best interests.”
“I will play my part if you play yours.”
Ravenwood looked once more upon the herd of diplomats and high ranking bureaucrats milling about. He prepared to speak once more, but then he noticed something was happening. The group was becoming more animated. Hurried whispers were being passed from person to person. Soon the swirling pool of hushed activity overflowed its banks and voices bubbled all around until they rose up in a wave of excitement that washed through the center of the hall until it reached Ravenwood and Vasiliev.
“Did you hear?” asked an excited Congolese woman. “We’ve found the Sahiradin frigate! Black Dagger is destroyed!”
“What’s that you say?” asked Ravenwood. “Are you sure?”
As the Congolese representative nodded her head, a United Earth Council official appeared above them at the top of the stairs and said in a loud voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please return to your seats. General Secretary Broussard wishes to make an announcement.”
“Did we destroy the frigate?” shouted a diplomat.
The official did not answer the question. Instead, he held his hand toward the entrance to the assembly hall behind him and repeated his request. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you please.”
“Just tell us!” shouted a Franco-German minister.
“What’s going on?” asked the leading delegate from the Republic of Ghana and Ashanti.
Ravenwood looked around the room and noted a number of people had discreetly drifted away to little pockets of privacy, apart from their colleagues. They were holding their communication devices to their ears and speaking into them. A few delegates followed the official’s instructions and walked toward the grand stairs leading up to the auditorium’s entrance, but many others had gathered into little cliques to discuss the rumor and how it might change their calculations.
As excitement grew and representatives engaged in intense discussions with their counterparts, General Secretary Broussard, a tall, lean man with a thick mustache twisted into points at the ends, appeared at the top of the stairs and silently took in the scene. He leaned to the side and said something to a junior official, who nodded his head and hurried off. Broussard watched the messenger disappear then walked confidently down to the landing where the wide marble staircase split into two sets of steps leading to the left and right.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he shouted in a loud voice. “Your attention, please!”
The cacophony died down and all faces turned toward the man in the dark suit and blue tie. Those with phones paused their conversations, though they did not disconnect the line.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” continued the General Secretary. “I have news. The menace of the Sahiradin frigate has been lifted, and their plan to invade Earth has been thwarted. We did it, my friends! We destroyed Black Dagger!”
Ravenwood pulled his eyes away from the General Secretary and cast them upon the sea faces representing nations from around the world. The clusters of small cliques were breaking up and individuals were walking from group to group. Everyone was speaking excitedly, great smiles of relief on their faces. A number diplomats who had been carefully avoiding eye contact with Ravenwood the past few days now turned to look at him. He responded with a courteous smile then turned his head and locked eyes with Vasiliev.
“I agree to your terms on one condition.”
“And what is that?” asked the Russian.
“If the opposite should occur, if my proposal should survive the first round of votes but yours does not, you and those still loyal to your cause must come to my side.”
Vasiliev raised a hand to stroke the flesh under his chin and studied the enigmatic representative from North America. Then he looked around at the many diplomats scurrying to and fro. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. Extending a hand, he said, “Agreed! The destruction of one frigate will not change the hearts of so many people.”
Ravenwood took the Russians hand and said, “You would be surprised what a spark of hope can do for the human spirit.”
“You have one day before the vote, Mr. Ravenwood. That is very little time to achieve the impossible.”
“A lot can happen in a day,” replied Ravenwood with a smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, some of my colleagues are beckoning for me to join them.”
Chapter 5
Maximization of efficiency and accumulation of wealth is the most equitable and rational mechanism for ordering society, especially one as vast and diverse as ours. All activity is economic activity. Therefore, the most effective method for securing peace and balance is through careful management of commerce.
- D’chor Gru. Principles of Efficiency.
Veiju Dhurlan crossed the floor of the darkened chamber and stood at his brother’s bedside. The older Visk lay in a shallow pool of thick liquid. He slowly raised his left arm and splayed his long blue-tinged fingers wide. Veiju stooped and pressed his fingertips against his brother’s and murmured a few words of comfort.
“What progress have you made?” whispered the older Visk as he lowered his arm back into the liquid.
“We are in the final stages of testing, Cisca,” replied Veiju. “The clones are responding well. Everything is going as planned. We will soon have a powerful army of warriors more formidable than any other in the galaxy.”
“Good,” whispered Cisca. “Very good.”
Slowly turning his elongated head to the right, the ailing Visk raised his pure black eyes toward a female standing at his side. He opened and closed his nose slits a few times to take in additional oxygen before speaking.
“Kluri,” he whispered. “How is our daughter? Does she continue to grow?”
“Yes,” replied Kluri. “She is progressing well. Her lungs are fully developed, her spine has hardened, and her skin is a vibrant blue. She will be a strong leader of the Dhurlan Syndicate.”
Kluri lay her hand on Cisca’s forehead and stroked it with her thumb. “Your legacy is secured, Cisca. Be at peace.”
“Peace?” said Cisca with a cough. “Peace is impossible under these conditions. But if the Chacksu perform as designed, we will finally have it. Not the capricious, despotic peace of the Alamani or the suffocating, tyrannical peace of the Sahiradin. It will be the peace of the Visk - ra
tional, balanced, profitable.”
“We will put an end to this pointless destruction,” agreed Veiju. “Efficient and creative use of resources will flow toward that which is truly useful and beneficial to all.”
“The other syndicates will seek to undermine us,” said Kluri. “We must be vigilant against their machinations and defections. The Cassamar have enticed the Bru and Terika syndicates to follow them.”
“The Cassamar are fools. They saw what the future held for them after the fall of Halduan and now seek to make the best of a difficult situation,” said Cisca in a strained voice. “As for the Bru and Terika Syndicates, they have long believed that a Sahiradin-led regime would provide the stability they desire to maximize their profits.”
Veiju bowed his head in agreement. “Their actions will work to our advantage when we have demonstrated our strength. The more the other syndicates collaborate with the Sahiradin, the greater will be our ability to strip them of their holdings when we come to power. None will have the means to challenge us.”
Cisca tried to speak but a coughing spasm robbed him of the strength needed to form the words.
Kluri placed her hand on his chest until the spasm past. “Do not exert yourself, Cisca. Conserve your strength.”
Cisca rested a hand on hers. “Conserve my strength? For what purpose?” he whispered after the spasm had passed. “Merely to exist? There is no profit in that.” He turned his eyes to Veiju and asked, “When will you reveal the Chacksu and where?”
“Soon, my brother. The time is ripe. The Dewar is losing its will to resist, and our spies tell us Khadiem is growing increasingly frustrated with the Kisch and the cadre of treasonous generals who seek to carve out empires of their own. The anger and confusion following the death of Queen Pashira has not yet passed, and Khadiem’s brutish warriors are still considered pariahs by the rest of the Sahiradin.”
“Good,” whispered Cisca as his eyelids slowly closed. He forced them open and reached for Veiju, who took his hand. “When I die, you will be leader of the Dhurlan Syndicate. The successful execution of our plans will rest on your shoulders.” He squeezed his hand as tightly as he could. “Strike hard, Veiju. Strike hard and rule wisely until my daughter is of age.”
“I will, my brother.”
Veiju freed his hand from his brother’s grip and raised his tall, lean frame to its full height. He looked across the sleeping pod at Kluri. The muscles around the corners of her large round eyes were pulled into rivulets of sadness for her dying mate and worry for her young child. Veiju folded his arms in front of his chest then lowered them in the traditional Visk sign of sympathy. Kluri returned the gesture.
Veiju looked down at his brother, who had drifted into unconsciousness, then back at Kluri.
“Have no fear for your child, Kluri. I will see to it that nothing happens to her. I have no mate, no offspring. She is the future of the Dhurlan Syndicate, and one day she will rule over an empire that will span the galaxy. But to achieve this, I must do things no other Visk has dared. There are difficult days ahead of us. When I am finished with this endeavor we will not be loved, but I promise you we will be powerful and very much feared.”
“Do what needs to be done, Veiju. This war amongst the Children of Bréh must end. Order must be restored or civilization will collapse.”
Veiju bowed his head slightly and gave his sleeping brother a final look before exiting the chamber. Once outside, he encountered his younger sibling, Yeura.
“How is our brother?” asked Yeura.
“He is dying. He won’t see another moon. Go to him and say farewell. I am going to Station Four to see the final tests performed. If all has gone well, we will begin creating our army tonight.”
“Yes, Veiju,” replied the younger Visk. “The threads of our plan are finally coming together.”
Veiju continued walking down the dimly lit passage until he came to a set of heavy doors which silently opened for him as he approached. A hovering vehicle awaited him. He sat down in an oval-shaped chair inside the vehicle.
“Station Four,” he said as the door closed and his chair gently molded itself to his frame.
The pilotless vehicle accelerated down a dark tunnel and shot out from the upper level of the ancient pyramid-shaped palace of the Dhurlan Syndicate. The vehicle silently raced through the night sky above the dark, mostly windowless buildings of the Dhurlan capitol city toward a distant mountain range. The ragged peaks glowed red and orange as the last faint rays of the system’s brown dwarf sun disappeared below the horizon.
While the vehicle whisked Veiju across the sky, he touched a console which brought up a red-hued hologram containing data and text. He studied the information as it flowed before him, sometimes touching a symbol with a long but dexterous finger to pause the feed or to explore additional underlying data. He rotated his thumb to pull up three dimensional pictographic displays of information in multicolored spheres linked together by text and equations. Using his index finger, he entered commands into the hologram, causing new streams of data to appear. With a swift motion of his hand, the displays began scrolling data in unison. Images of many-pointed stars floated into view. They linked together one after another until they had formed a slowly turning matrix of jagged spikes. Soon there were hundreds of them, then thousands. It grew into a rough-edged globule, then into a vaguely recognizable shape, until finally, with sudden clarity, the image formed itself into something distinctly humanoid.
Veiju used his finger to slowly rotate the image and viewed it from all angles. Though it was humanoid, it was not human. Its eyes were black, like those of the Visk species, and its body was completely hairless. Veiju scrolled through the data to the left, muttering his approval. Zooming in on the upper torso and head of the projected image, he studied the heavy musculature and thick-boned lower jaw. Its nose was rather wide with flaring nostrils and the corners of its mouth were pulled downward in a thin-lipped frown.
A soft chime announced his arrival at his destination, the summit of a tall mountain. He quickly extinguished the holographic projection and prepared himself for landing as the small craft entered a circular tunnel that led deep into the mountain, terminating at a small docking station. Veiju stepped out of the craft and was immediately met by a female Visk in green and brown robes. Behind her stood the Brevian mollag, Dross Faan, and a gray-skinned Grenn. The Visk bowed her head as Veiju brushed indifferently by her. He proceeded down a corridor toward a set of heavy metal doors that slowly opened outward upon his approach.
“Are we ready to perform the transfer, Asika?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Yes,” said the female Visk, who had fallen into step behind him. “All is prepared.”
“And the earlier rejection issues have been overcome?”
“Yes. All tests indicate there will be no more difficulties.”
“Good. Time has run out. The future of the Dhurlan Syndicate and the entire galaxy rests on the success of tonight’s demonstration!”
“I understand.”
“I hope so, for your sake,” said Veiju.
Veiju’s words caused Asika to glance nervously at Dross Faan to her left. The Brevian winked at her then stuck out his grotesque gray tongue and waggled it between his dark teeth. She quickly looked away in fear and disgust.
They passed by the heavy doors and stepped into a gravlev that dropped them deep into the roots of the mountain, terminating in a large, irregularly shaped cave. Though floating globes cast faint rays of light around the central part of the cavern, darkness prevailed in the deeper recesses where the trickling sounds of an underground stream could be heard. Veiju and the other Visk walked toward a cluster of scientific equipment located in the center of the cave where four Visks, all dressed in the green and brown robes of bio-technicians, awaited them. The group dropped their hands to their sides and bowed their heads, respectfully focusing their eyes on the stone floor in front of their feet.
Behind them, rising from a cluste
r of machines was a cylindrical chamber roughly five meters tall. The upper and lower ends of the cylinder were made of metal, but its walls consisted of a transparent material. Inside the chamber was the motionless silhouette of a figure suspended in a cloudy white liquid.
Veiju walked around the cylinder, his mouth slightly agape, small pointed teeth excitedly clicking together. When he had finished his slow circuit, he looked down at a table located to his right. On the table lay a naked human male. His arms, legs, chest, and head were restrained by shimmering bands of red energy. The man looked at Veiju as the Visk leaned over him and placed his long fingers on his forehead.
“Korba 114, my loyal soldier, your time has come,” whispered Veiju. “You have trained hard in the short time since your inception. You have learned to obey your masters without hesitation. You do not know fear. You do not know compassion. You know only the burning desire to destroy your masters’ enemies.”
The man’s eyes were alert but calm. He nodded his head, at least as much as the restraint would allow.
“Eaah,” said the man, speaking a simplified version of the Visk dialect, Sova. He closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, then slowly, carefully continued speaking. “Eaah…Eaah junbi ga dekichu uri shatau masiki.”
“It is good that you are ready,” replied Veiju. “And your new body is ready to receive you. It is a good body. Strong. Durable. And most importantly, deadly. The skills you have been learning will be augmented in your new body. Your eyes will be keener, your sword arm swifter, your flesh tougher. Korba 114, are you ready to become an unstoppable force, a warrior without equal, one of my elite Chacksu?”
“Eaah junbi ga dekichu,” said the man.
“Good, good,” said Veiju as he gently stroked the human’s forehead.
“What is your purpose, Korba 114?” asked Veiju quietly. “An ata mokutek desu ka?”
The Renegade Page 4