“No, my Queen. They do not consider Earth to be a sufficient threat.”
“I could send Havoc to Earth once more, this time to level its cities,” mused Khadiem. “The Humani would be helpless against a battleship armed with the Kaiytáva.”
“I would counsel against it. They have Lycian support now. Sending Havoc unaccompanied would place the Kaiytáva at considerable risk.”
“Have the Lycians stationed any forces there?”
“A handful of Tullan trainers sprinkled here and there among the Humani tribes, as well as Visk, Myr, and Brevian advisors. Our spies report Agrom and his few Grenn warriors use Earth as a base of operations. There are also indications that the Humani tribes have agreed to join the Lycian Alliance.”
“I thought you said they lacked the nerve.”
“They do, but it would seem the Humani, Ravenwood, convinced them to do otherwise.”
“Ravenwood,” growled Khadiem. “There is something disturbing about that Humani. He knows things he should not know, perceives things that should remain secret. Like the Navigator, he cannot be allowed to survive the destruction of Earth.”
“I will personally see to it that he does not.”
“How well is Earth defended? Have the Lycians positioned any ships near the planet?”
“None, aside from several hundred fighter craft they’ve given to the Humani. However, they installed ion cannons on the surface. They are powerful enough to pose a significant threat to a lone battleship, perhaps even destroy it.”
“Then Havoc can deploy a khâl and summon additional ships,” said Khadiem.
“Were it not for the fact that the enemy has deployed listening drones as well as their own clandestine khâls near Earth, I would agree it is worth the risk,” replied Kurak. “But we must choose our targets well. Admiral Var-Imar is hunting for Havoc, and she knows of your desire to destroy the Humani. I believe she is using Earth as bait to lure us in.” Seeing Khadiem’s displeasure with his words, Kurak quickly added, “I promise you, the time is fast approaching when Havoc will have free rein to go anywhere you desire. Earth will be reduced to smoldering ashes, but we must be patient.”
Khadiem regarded Kurak for a few moments. She did not like being counseled to show restraint, but she owed much to the old warrior. He had rescued her and her children from the dark rogue planet to which Pashira had exiled her. He had also anticipated that the Humani Navigator, Logan Brandt, and the Kaiytáva would be on Halduan. Had it not been for Kurak’s bold decision to side with her against her mother and help her acquire the Kaiytáva, Khadiem would still be trapped in the roots of that cold, dead planet.
“I know many of my mother’s offspring despise and reject you for having lived among the Humani for so long,” she said, her voice softening. “Yet, before fate placed you under the power of that foul species, you were a respected warrior, a captain of a formidable warship who had been entrusted with the last remaining Kaiytáva to carry out a critical mission. I have come to sympathize with your condition, for I, too, was an exile, held against my will on an isolated planet far from the shining sun of Sahiradin power.”
Khadiem paused and studied Kurak’s features. Though adult Sahiradin show few signs of aging, she could see his end was drawing near. Soon his reflexes would be severely diminished. His muscles would atrophy and leave him so pathetically weak that he would not be able to lift a sword. His organs would fail him one after another and he would die an ignoble death. Few warriors survived long enough to reach Kurak’s age, but those who did often chose to die in battle or to have their lives taken by a trusted brother in a death ceremony called the hajitz. Either way, she would not have her trusted warrior and counselor by her side for much longer. A pity. She would miss his intelligence, loyalty, and ruthless cunning.
In an uncharacteristically sympathetic voice, Khadiem said, “I foolishly allowed myself to be penned into a stone prison to appease my mother. You suffered the humiliation of living for generations among the Humani. We both made compromises that were untrue to our nature. Let us never do it again, Kurak. I am Khadiem, Queen of the Sahiradin. You are Kurak, a proud Sahiradin warrior. Together we will rise to glory and victory or be consumed in the fires of war.”
Kurak’s chest swelled with pride upon hearing Khadiem’s words.
“My life is yours to command, my Queen,” he said solemnly. “I will never leave your side. Ask me and it shall be given. Command me and it shall be done.”
Khadiem lifted her chin and looked into the sky.
“You have served me well, Kurak. When I sit on the throne, I will give you authority over my fleet and my armies. I will name you my Warden of the Citadel and Master of Ships. Together we will destroy my enemies and bring order to the galaxy.”
Kurak touched his breast. “I am honored, my Queen.”
Khadiem placed her hand on Kurak’s right shoulder. A head taller than Kurak, she looked down into his eyes and held his gaze for a moment. Khadiem’s touch and close proximity caused Kurak to breathe more deeply. His nostrils flared with excitement. Khadiem nodded in acknowledgement of the effect her touch was having on him and slowly walked around the warrior until she stood on his left side. Kurak was struggling with emotions he’d rarely if ever felt before. His shortened breath acquired a new, muskier quality as his body reacted to her approaching cycle.
Khadiem breathed in and was not displeased by the scent Kurak emitted. She breathed in once more and held it, savoring it, evaluating its potency. That was when she sensed something different about her loyal champion and advisor; something was not quite right. She slowly reached down and gently took his left wrist in her hand. Raising it, she peeled back the sleeve of his black tunic to reveal a geometric-shaped implant. As she examined it, the tattoo-like object shimmered a dark green.
Khadiem lowered her chin and whispered in his ear, “I know why you have embarked down the path of the mollag. It both pleases and saddens me. But you must keep this secret to yourself. If others, even my own offspring, learn of your attempt to cheat the cycle of life they will tear you apart.”
Kurak breathed in deeply as Khadiem’s breath filled his lungs. He closed his eyes and drank in the essence of her scent. His mind flared with wild, passionate visions. His body trembled with excitement.
“They shall never know,” he whispered in a voice quivering with emotion.
“When the time is right and we have finally reunited the galaxy, I will give you an honorable death,” she said. “Your remains will be interred in the catacombs of the Sacred Mountain. You will rest forever among the queens of old.”
“You honor me. But I pledge my life to you, not the queens of old.”
Khadiem smiled and exhaled, allowing her breath to warm the old warrior’s neck and fill his lungs with her fragrance.
“We have much to do, my loyal warrior,” she said softly, “and little time in which to do it.”
Kurak opened his eyes.
“Command me to tear the stars from the sky, and it shall be done! Send me into battle against a thousand foes, and they shall be slain!”
“Yes, my champion,” whispered Khadiem. “Prepare yourself. For the time for such deeds is nearly upon us.”
Kurak’s nostrils flared again as he subtly lifted his nose, seeking to capture a fresh trace of her breath in the air, but it was gone. He breathed in once more but abandoned the pursuit as someone approached. He opened his eyes and glowered at the Karazan now standing at Khadiem’s elbow.
“Yes, my daughter,” said Khadiem. “What is it?”
“A message from the Kisch,” said the Karazan with a suspicious glance at Kurak as he pulled his sleeve down over his wrist to cover the mark of the mollag.
“And?”
“They have acquiesced to your demands. They are prepared to perform the Ascension Ceremony.”
“Conditions?”
“None.”
Khadiem’s eyes lit up in triumph. “I have won. I have won!”
“I suggest we go immediately to Sahir,” said Kurak, having regained full control of his emotions. “Before the Kisch loses its resolve.”
“Yes,” said Khadiem. “There is no time to lose. We will leave immediately.”
“Might I suggest something else?” said Kurak, his eyes lowered to the stone floor.
“What is it?”
“The last time you were on Sahir, your mother and Bakaram placed you under heavy guard and transported you to a distant, sunless world. I think it would be unwise to place yourself under anyone’s power ever again, including the Kisch.”
“Agreed,” said Khadiem. “Recall my ships, including Havoc. Leave a garrison here, but order my children to gather and prepare for immediate departure to Sahir!”
Chapter 13
Many believe they can control the affairs of the galaxy. That is an illusion. We float on the current of events seeking merely to steer them. Yet, there are moments when the careful observer can hear the footsteps of fate marching through history. At such times, one must clasp onto it as it passes by or flounder in its wake.
- Brassa Tut. Lectures from the Brevian Academy.
Ambassador Pendu Barka hastened down the corridor toward the chancellor’s suite of offices where Penawah’s Close Council was gathering. News of the Sahiradin fleet’s arrival at the edge of the Lativian System had sent the Dewar into a panic. The planet Agurru was the beating heart of the Trade Federation, and it was now under dire threat.
As soon as they became aware of the massive Sahiradin armada’s arrival in the system, Barka approached delegation leaders individually, testing their resolve and their faith in the Alliance’s ability to defeat the invaders. As feared, they were pessimistic, and in many cases they anticipated unmitigated defeat. The reactors on Agurru powered numerous khâls of the wealthiest inner systems. All feared that their destruction would cripple the Trade Federation and the Alliance would collapse.
Barka reported her findings to Chancellor Penawah, who declared them to be cowards and defeatists. Though Barka did not openly disagree with the Chancellor, in her heart of hearts, a rarely seen organ of the Brevian anatomy, she shared the Dewar’s concern for the security of Agurru and fate the Trade Federation. It was difficult to see how the Alliance could recover if the reactors there were destroyed. Trade would grind to a halt. The Trade Federation would be crippled and the Alliance with it. Surrender to the Sahiradin would be inevitable.
The Ambassador slowed her pace and nodded her head to a group of approaching Visk technocrats, a serenely confident smile on her face. As she passed by, she pushed aside thoughts of Agurru and considered her recent conversation with Veiju Dhurlan. What Veiju had offered was quite extraordinary and could alter the balance of power in the struggle against the Sahiradin, but could she trust him? Unlikely, she concluded. None of her many spies throughout the Trade Federation and beyond had passed her any information suggesting his proposal to provide large numbers of troops could be genuine. Yet, the nature of the offer signaled Veiju’s desire to alter the Dhurlan role in the Trade Federation. His older brother, Cisca, had made a fortune for the syndicate, mainly through warship and weapons manufacturing, but also through expansion of mining operations, shipping, and finance. He had been widely known as a tough competitor, but for all his cleverness, Barka knew that it was Veiju who merited close observation. Cisca was very shrewd, of that there was no doubt, but he was also very Visk-like in behavior. Veiju was different. He was a planner, a visionary, one who seemed to see the future and take advantage of it. In this way, he distinguished himself from the great majority of Visk, who focused almost exclusively on accruing wealth. Veiju wanted more. It was clear to Barka that Veiju wanted political power. But to what end?
Barka entered the Chancellor’s administrative chamber and saw that Penawah and her Close Council had begun deliberations. Also present were the Tullan General Ghorla and the Rahani Admiral, Var-Imar. Surrounded by her counsellors and with the news of the Sahiradin armada weighing on her, the diminutive chancellor seemed smaller than ever. Her shoulders drooped and her eyes revealed a weariness Barka had rarely seen before in the normally buoyant Rahani.
“How did this happen!” demanded the Close Council’s newest member, Vrul Bazail. The broad-shouldered Tullan leader’s long red hair fell over his shoulders as he slammed a fist into his open palm. “How could they have placed a khâl in the heart of the Trade Federation without our knowing? Sentry drones should have seen the gate long before it was fully deployed and destroyed it! The fleet has failed us. The damn Visk sentry drones have failed us!”
“Calm down, Tullan,” said the Rahani delegation leader, Isk Banna. “Obviously, the enemy used Havoc and the Kaiytáva to deploy the khâl.”
His brother Isk Foreseh nodded his head vigorously and glared at Bazail through violet-colored eyes. “It’s true,” he said.
“We should have detected the appearance of Havoc,” countered General Ghorla, with an appreciative nod to Bazail. The Tullan general belonged to a different clan than Vrul Bazail, but Ghorla and Bazail often found common ground and relied upon each other to influence Chancellor Penawah. “We have sensors in every system to detect Havoc’s space-time signature.”
“Not if Havoc deployed the khâl in deep interstellar space, well away from the Lativian System’s outer edges,” said Barka as she took her place next to Chancellor Penawah, who sat in the middle of a long, ornately carved table salvaged from the ruins of Halduan. The table was beautiful, but it was out of place in the dull, windowless room in the drab Visk-designed building. The Trade Federation had moved its capitol to the planet Tyseria, former Home World of the Cassamar Syndicate, following the fall of Halduan. And although it seemed fitting at the time to place the Dewar in the halls of the Visk syndicate that had betrayed the Alliance and ushered in the destruction of the old capitol, many of the Dewar’s members found the Visk penchant for functional design uninspiring to say the least.
“They used Havoc to deploy the khâl in deep space soon after striking Halduan, then sent it on its way,” said Barka. “It has been on a long journey toward Agurru ever since, and only now was activated.”
“Well, I suppose that is possible,” admitted Ghorla. “Something that small approaching from so far away could go undetected, at least until it reached the system’s heliosphere.”
“But how do you know all this?” asked Isk Foreseh, turning to face Pendu Barka. The Rahani was a head shorter than the Brevian ambassador, but looked at her with cool confidence. “Or is this just a theory suggested by the Visk in order to hide the failure of their drones to detect the Sahiradin incursion into the heart of the Trade Federation?”
“I know it because I am well-informed,” replied Barka. “I do not reveal my sources. You do not need to know more.”
This statement was the causa belli the Rahani was looking for. His violet eyes flashed first at his brother, Isk Banna, then at Chancellor Penawah, a sign that Pendu Barka’s methods had been the subject of conversation prior to her arrival. Looking back at Barka, Isk Banna said, “More of your secrets and intrigue, Ambassador Barka? If you cannot share the source of your information, how can we evaluate its accuracy?”
“The source no longer matters. ‘The light of past days cannot be reclaimed’,” said Barka, reciting a line from a popular Rahani poem.
“It does matter!” shouted Cila Gannado, a brilliant researcher and leader of the Myr delegation to the Dewar. “Without sufficient information, we cannot decide on a course of action.” Gannado flicked his thin tongue across his lips in frustration. “You Brevians love to deal in intrigue, rumor, and innuendo! We need facts, information upon which we can rely!”
“To reveal my sources would cause the flow of information to run dry,” said Barka calmly. “Yet, in the interests of promoting faith and comity among us, I will tell you my source of this information. It was Veiju Dhurlan.”
Angry grumbles met this announcement.
“Veiju Dhurlan,
” said Vrul Bazail, glancing at General Ghorla. The two Tullans shook their heads. “If he was your source, I have no doubt he knew of the Sahiradin plan well before the khâl arrived. How does he profit from this calamity, I wonder?”
“Whether he profits and how much is unclear,” said Barka. “However, he has communicated to me a rather extraordinary offer.”
“He no doubt wishes the Dewar to award him the contract for more warships if we somehow survive the assault on Agurru,” growled Bazail.
“Actually, no,” said Barka. “He was pledged ground troops.”
“Preposterous!” shouted General Ghorla. “The few Visk who have ever participated in actual combat failed miserably. They have neither the size and strength of the Tullans nor the agility of the Rahani. Even the Brevians are sturdier. We do not need any Visk. They would no doubt flee the battlefield at the first sign of the enemy or break like twigs with a single sword stroke.”
The Chancellor held up a calming hand. “Let us not insult our Visk friends, but I agree they are more suited for fleet duty,” said Penawah. “Please go on, Ambassador Barka.”
Barka gave the Chancellor a slight bow and said, “I have no other details, but he was quite serious.”
“How many warriors did he offer?” asked Isk Foreseh suspiciously.
“Hundreds of thousands.”
Vrul Bazail sputtered with disbelief. He pulled angrily at the braided tufts of beard protruding from either side of his chin. “Impossible!”
Barka merely shrugged in response.
“When?” asked General Ghorla. “When could the Alliance expect to receive such a stupendous boost to our ground forces? The Sahiradin fleet will be at Agurru soon. There’s no time to train raw recruits.”
“Veiju assured me his forces would be ready in time to defend Agurru.”
Barka smiled inwardly at the anger and confusion the Dhurlan offer was creating within the chancellor’s Close Council. She would withhold the details of the Chacksu warriors she had gleaned from the demonstration she had witnessed. She would discuss such things with the chancellor when the rest of the Close Council was not present. It was much easier to influence the aging Rahani without the meddling of this absurd little collection of fools she surrounds herself with.
The Renegade Page 11