by Ryk Brown
“And your people would be willing to make such a sacrifice?”
“People do not always think clearly when threatened, Dayton.”
“Quite true,” the president replied.
“Is this why you came to speak with me today?” the ambassador wondered. “To learn about Jung history?”
President Scott stared off to one side, unsure of what to say.
This did not go unnoticed by Ambassador Loden. “Something troubles you, Dayton?”
“I appreciate how candid you are being with me now, Jorus. More so than you could possibly know.”
“Yet, you do not feel able to do so in kind,” the ambassador surmised.
“Your recounting of your ‘Day of Blood’ worries me, as I fear I face a similar threat.”
“Michael Galiardi,” the ambassador surmised.
“He very much wants to launch a first strike against your remaining battle platforms.”
“And you oppose this?”
“I do,” the president replied. “But he makes a convincing case, and I do not know how much longer I can control him.”
“You fear a coup, then?”
“You are one of three people to whom I have admitted this fear,” the president said. “You, my daughter, Miri, and the head of my protection detail.”
“I am honored.” Ambassador Loden thought for a moment. “I still do not understand why you are here.”
“I suppose I was hoping to gain some insight… Something that I might be able to use.”
“Let us pretend, for a moment, that I truly speak for the Jung leadership… That my promises to you would immediately result in actions throughout the empire. What would you say to me?”
President Scott sighed. “That I am truly sorry for retaliating against you fifty-three days ago, and that I suspect the only way we can defeat the Dusahn is if we join forces to stand against them.”
“And how would you suggest we do such a thing?” the ambassador asked. “What would you have us do?”
“Stand-down all your military forces, and promise not to attack us, so that we might send our forces to deal with the Dusahn.”
“Then you believe you can defeat them?”
“They have only a few dozen ships,” the president replied. “Jump-equipped, yes, but still not in numbers that we cannot overcome. But we cannot do so while we are protecting ourselves against your forces.”
“So, if we promise to leave you alone, you will deal not only with a threat against your alliance but also one against the Jung Empire, as well,” the ambassador surmised.
“Precisely,” the president replied.
“Not an unreasonable request. And were I the leader of the Jung Empire, it is one that I would be inclined to grant. However, given the current political environment, and what I suspect is a very pro-war public opinion on Nor-Patri at the moment, it is doubtful that the leadership caste would be so inclined.”
“Even if I made the appeal in person?”
Ambassador Loden laughed. “No disrespect intended, but I’m afraid you would meet the same fate as your son.”
President Scott held his head down as he sighed. “Then there is no hope.”
“I am hardly qualified to tell you what to do, Dayton,” Ambassador Loden said. “But I have been observing your world, and your people, for seven years now. There are many similarities between our worlds and our people. One of them is that what the people believe to be right usually is, regardless of whether it is, or is not.”
President Scott laughed. “Could that be any more cryptic?”
“In politics, the truth is merely a matter of perception.” Ambassador Loden could see the disappointment on the president’s face. “I am sorry that I could not help you more.”
President Scott looked up at the ambassador. “My father once told me that sometimes a politician must trust the public to come to the right conclusion on their own, when given the facts. He believed that it was his responsibility, as a public servant, to make sure the people had the facts so they could make the correct decision, even if that decision was not the one he hoped for.”
At that moment, President Scott knew what he had to do.
* * *
“My lord,” General Hesson said, announcing his presence to his leader, whose back was turned.
“General Hesson,” Lord Dusahn replied without turning. He gazed out the window at the hills surrounding Answari, the capital of his new empire. “I trust you have seen the latest intelligence reports from Rakuen?”
“I have, my lord.”
“Are you not troubled by the news?”
“Concerned, yes. If the Rakuens agree to join the Karuzari Alliance, and are allowed to outfit all of their Gunyoki fighters with jump drives, it will make the Karuzari far more formidable.”
“Five hundred fighters alone cannot defeat us,” Lord Dusahn insisted.
“Alone, I would agree. However, if used smartly, and in conjunction with larger vessels, they could pose a threat to the stability of our fledgling empire.”
Lord Dusahn turned around, the general’s choice of words to describe the new Dusahn Empire caused him concern. “And when the Teyentah is completed, what then?”
“The Teyentah will be a valuable asset to the empire, my lord. However, if we truly wish to ensure our dominance over this sector of the galaxy, and guarantee the future of the empire, more ships will be needed. And the sooner we can build them, the better.”
“And how can we accomplish this?” Lord Dusahn wondered.
“We will need a much greater workforce and industrial capacity, I’m afraid.”
Lord Dusahn took his seat behind his desk, leaning back and staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. “We will offer greater salaries and benefits for those willing to build our ships. We will put out the call to all worlds within the cluster, and offer transportation and housing to all who answer that call.”
“No disrespect, my lord, but how will we pay for this?”
“We will increase our shares of the noble houses’ profits.”
“The nobles will not be happy, my lord,” General Hesson warned.
“I do not care about the happiness of the nobles,” Lord Dusahn scowled.
“Their happiness is necessary to maintain stability, my lord.”
Lord Dusahn sighed, rolling his eyes. “I so look forward to the day when their happiness is no longer required.”
“As do I, my lord.”
“We shall expand their access to markets outside of the Pentaurus cluster, by making more jump ships available for their use,” Lord Dusahn pronounced. “That will replace the profits lost to our share increase and add to our revenue stream, as well.”
“A wise decision, my lord.”
Lord Dusahn sighed again. “Tell me truthfully, my dear general, am I the only one who misses being able to enslave entire populations and force them to serve us?”
General Hesson smiled. “Your forefathers would be proud, my lord.”
“How long until the Teyentah is completed?”
“Trials should begin in a few weeks,” General Hesson replied.
“Offer bonuses to all who complete their work ahead of schedule,” Lord Dusahn ordered. “We need that ship in service now.”
“That may not be wise, my lord. Such bonuses can lead to substandard work.”
“Which is exactly what trials are meant to uncover,” Lord Dusahn reminded him. “Make the bonuses payable after the Teyentah completes her trails. I want her flying in two week’s time, maximum.”
“Even if she is not fully battle ready?” General Hesson wondered.
“A lap around the system, blowing up a few asteroids with her big guns, is all it will take to dissua
de the Karuzari from venturing into this system,” Lord Dusahn insisted. “Then we can send ships to deal with Rakuen.”
“We might not need to wait that long to deal with the Rakuen threat,” General Hesson said.
Lord Dusahn looked at his trusted advisor, one eyebrow raised. “What did you have in mind?”
“A change in strategy,” General Hesson replied. “One not worthy of the Dusahn, yet effective nonetheless.”
“I’m listening,” Lord Dusahn said.
* * *
Krispin had barely started his breakfast when Mister Dakota sat down across the booth from him.
“How’s the food here?” Mister Dakota asked, placing a small sound-suppression field generator on the table between them and activating it.
“It was fine, until ten seconds ago,” Krispin replied.
“You worked in the restaurant business once, didn’t you?” Mister Dakota said, picking up the order pad and tapping the screen to view the menu.
“As a teenager,” Krispin replied. “For one summer, just before I enlisted.”
“Then you shouldn’t have a problem with your new mission.”
Krispin stared directly at Mister Dakota while he took his first bite. “What mission?”
Mister Dakota placed an envelope on the table, to his left, sliding it closer to Krispin’s side of the table. “You’re going to work for a caterer as a server. Big event. Lots of bigwigs. You’ll probably even make a few hundred in tips.”
“What, now you’re an employment agent?”
“It’s the only way to get you inside.”
Krispin looked at Mister Dakota again. “Inside where?”
“The Founders’ Day celebration at the family estate of President Scott.” Mister Dakota slid the envelope closer to Krispin. “IDs, shuttle tickets, new residence information… Everything you’ll need to get in.”
“And what do I do when I get in?”
“You know what to do,” Mister Dakota insisted.
“With my bare hands?”
“A weapon will be provided,” Mister Dakota promised. “You will not be our only operative at the event.”
“Then, why do you need me?” Krispin wondered.
“You’re the asset. You’re the one with the proper motivation. They’re just the support.”
“What about the president’s security fields?” Krispin asked. “They’re active whenever he’s outside the capital building.”
“Leave that to us,” Mister Dakota promised.
“What happens afterwards?” Krispin asked as he continued with his breakfast.
“On the chip in the envelope,” Mister Dakota explained. “Bio-printed, self-erasing, so memorize it before you deactivate it,” he added as he rose.
“You’re not eating?”
“I don’t wish to spoil your appetite,” Mister Dakota said as he turned to exit.
Krispin grabbed his handler’s jacket sleeve, stopping him. “After this, she will be released.”
“We’ll talk.”
“She will be released,” Krispin repeated, more confidently than before. “Or I’ll come for you first.”
Mister Dakota smiled. “Finish the mission. Then you and Sara will get your ‘happily ever after’.”
“You had better hope so,” Krispin warned, letting go of Mister Dakota’s sleeve and returning his attention to his meal.
* * *
Suvan returned to his room, after his shift, somewhat later than usual. Most days, travel between the orbital shipyard and the surface was quick and efficient. Others, it took nearly as long as the shift itself. This had been one of those days.
Due to the delays, Suvan had chosen to skip his usual stop at the diner on his way home. Since the last time his return had been delayed, he had stocked up on meal-replacement bars and other snacks, just in case. Tonight, he would dine on acqai berry and walla nut bars, and jeran juice.
After kicking off his shoes, and grabbing his dinner from the shelf, Suvan plopped down in his chair and unwrapped the first of the three bars he planned to eat. As he took his first bite, he looked around his tiny room, amused at how much he had changed. Life as a common laborer had transformed him more than he would have expected. The first change he had noticed was the manner in which he spoke. This had been a conscious decision, necessitated by the need to blend into the crowd. The second, another conscious decision, had been his choice of attire. Suvan had worn either suits or uniforms most of his adult life. Even his casual wear would have been considered unnecessarily formal by those he associated with these days. Now, work clothes were the norm. He donned them in the morning and removed them before his evening shower. Even his sleepwear had changed. Gone were the expensive silken pajamas, replaced by a plain t-shirt and underwear, making getting ready in the morning quick and easy. In the past, he would have started and ended each day with a shower. Now, he often fell asleep in his chair and didn’t shower until the following evening.
Had the hotel not provided laundry service with his room, Suvan wondered if he would even bother changing into clean clothing every day. Long hours and hard work changed a man. It changed his priorities. Little things like sleep became immensely valuable, since it was not always available. Opportunities to take little breaks, a minute here, a minute there, added up more so than one might think. It almost made him feel guilty for all the times he had chastised underlings for not working dutifully every minute of the duty shift, while in command of the Avendahl. Life as a working man was different, even if he was only pretending to be one of them.
Suvan finished his first meal bar, deciding to check his messages before starting his second one. Being cooped up all day long, in a crawler in space, meant that messages didn’t actually reach his comm-unit until he made it back to the surface. Hence, it had become routine to check them once he reached his room for the night.
Suvan picked up his comm-unit and began scrolling through the usual messages. Invitations from coworkers to hang out on their days off. A call from a friend of a coworker, looking to set him up with someone’s sister, or niece, he couldn’t remember which, but he was certain his wife would not approve.
Suvan put his comm-unit down for a moment, thinking about his wife. As expected, she had been vehemently opposed to his self-appointed mission. And she had not even known what he was planning to do; only that he was going to Takara to find a way to fight the Dusahn. If she had known the truth, she likely would have shot him, herself, just to keep him from leaving. But in the end, she had realized it was something he had to do. It was one of the reasons she had married him in the first place.
Suvan sighed, picked up his comm-unit again, and continued scrolling through his messages. One of them caught his attention. A confirmation that something he had ordered, from a manufacturer on Haven, had shipped.
Suvan sat up suddenly, immediately sending the message, via local-link, to the small device Terig had given him. The device quickly located the hidden message attached to the, seemingly harmless, shipping confirmation message. After a few seconds, the indicator light on the device flashed three times, signifying it had completed its task.
Suvan raised the device to view the decrypted, hidden message. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly. The Karuzari had devised a plan for stealing the Teyentah, and the further Suvan read, the more he realized that the plan might actually work.
* * *
Dayton Scott stared out the window as his shuttle streaked across the continent, high above cities below.
“Have you decided what you’re going to say in your Founders’ Day speech?” Miri asked from the seat across the aisle of the presidential shuttle.
Dayton turned to look at his daughter. “The truth.”
“Which truth?” she wondered.
&nb
sp; “Everything,” her father replied. “The Dusahn, their false-flag operation, that Galiardi knew all along the Jung were not involved, that Nathan is alive and leading the fight in the Pentaurus cluster… Hell, I was even thinking of admitting my part in keeping the jump drive project secret a decade ago.”
Miri didn’t respond at first, choosing instead to just study her father. He had aged tremendously over the past decade, and he was already one of the oldest presidents in recent history. Like all of the Scott men, he had been blessed with genes that refused to age at the same rate as most, a trait she hoped she had inherited. But the stress of leadership, combined with the loss of his wife and sons had overcome his genetic advantage. But now, having said just those few words, he looked twenty years younger in the blink of an eye. “You’re sure about this?”
“Quite sure,” he told her with a smile.
“What do you think will happen?”
The president shook his head. “I honestly do not know,” he admitted. “But whatever happens, it will be the will of the people, and not of one man who believes he knows what’s best for all.”
“And if they side with Galiardi and want to launch the strike against the Jung’s battle platforms?”
“Then I will approve the strike, and we will go to war once again.”
“And if they side with you and call for the admiral’s head?”
“Then I will ask for his resignation,” the president replied confidently.
“What if he refuses?” Miri asked, playing the role of devil’s advocate.
“Then I will order his subordinate to place him under arrest.”
“And if his subordinate…”
“Enough,” the president interrupted. “I get your point. I refuse to believe that the man I entrusted with the defense of our world…of all our worlds—would disobey a direct and lawful order given to him by his superior.” The president raised his hand, sensing another statement from his daughter. “And if I am mistaken, I will deal with that problem if and when it arises.”