by Ryk Brown
“You might want to study those plans a bit more,” Marcus suggested. “That’s a storage closet.”
“Sometimes, discovery requires that one opens a door that appears to be not worth opening.”
“You always talk this way?”
“It pleases me.”
“It’s damned annoying,” Marcus grumbled as he opened the door and entered. To his surprise, Gunwy was right. Instead of the expected closet, there was a modest but tastefully decorated foyer, complete with overstuffed chairs and a vid-screen displaying the Sanctuary news feed.
Within moments of entering, a man in monochromatic attire appeared from the interior doorway.
“Two?” the man asked.
“Yes,” Gunwy replied.
“Follow me, please.”
Marcus followed Gunwy and the man down a long corridor lined with evenly spaced doors on either side. Halfway down the corridor, the man turned to his left, opened a door, and then stepped aside. “Gentlemen.”
Gunwy entered first, turning to his right, then to his left, navigating the short screen that obscured any view of the interior of the room from the corridor.
Inside was a single table that sat low to the floor, surrounded by luxurious cushions. The room was adorned with rich tapestries that hung from the ceiling, hiding the metal walls. Lilting music played from hidden speakers, and there was a pleasant aroma, reminiscent of the spice garden Neli had once tried to cultivate in their cabin on the Seiiki.
“I’m feeling a bit underdressed,” Marcus admitted.
“This place may cater to a select clientele; however, I am not aware of any dress code.”
“How did you find this place?”
“SilTek created this establishment in order to feed its technicians during the upgrade of Sanctuary’s targeting systems. Needless to say, its menu is predominantly Tekan.”
“Tekan?”
“That’s how we refer to ourselves, as Tekans,” Gunwy replied. “Eventually, some of the locals learned of it, and their clientele quickly expanded beyond the Tekans on station. When the project was completed, this establishment was left behind, fully functional, at the behest of several prominent Sanctuarians. Lucky for me, right?”
“Then, you’re not the only Tekan on Sanctuary,” Marcus surmised.
“Oh, I am the only one.”
“What about the cooks?”
“The preparation of the food is completely automated,” Gunwy bragged. “In fact, ninety percent of the operation is automated.”
“Was that guy who brought us in a…”
“No, he was a Sanctuarian. There are no androids in this facility.”
“SilTek makes androids?”
“Yes, but only in limited forms. We do not create sentient artificial beings.”
“Why not?”
“Most people find such creations off-putting, at the very least. Some find them outright offensive. SilTek has always sought to strike a balance between the benefits and the side effects of androids that are too realistic.”
“So, your androids still look like robots?”
“Most, but not all. There are some custom-made models that are so lifelike it is difficult to tell them apart from humans, without a detailed examination.”
“Seems to me it would be great to have a bunch of androids to do all the grunt work,” Marcus said.
“Human beings need a purpose,” Gunwy explained. “Even if that purpose is, what you call, ‘grunt work’. If an android housekeeper enables its owner to spend more time doing that which brings him, or her, their feeling of purpose, then that is a good thing. If it takes their purpose away, it is bad.”
“Too much of a good thing, I suppose,” Marcus commented. “What are we going to eat? I’m starving.”
“This time, I will order for both of us,” Gunwy insisted, picking up the order pad from the table and sitting down on one of the large cushions. “Is there anything I should avoid?”
“Whattaya mean?” Marcus asked, plopping down, himself.
“Any food allergies? Any gastric system sensitivities?”
“My gastric systems are about as sensitive as a rock,” Marcus bragged. “I can eat just about anything, especially if it’s meat.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Marcus leaned back, pulling some additional cushions in around him. “I could get used to this. Is this place expensive?”
“Very.”
“SilTek must pay you well.”
“I expect you can afford it, based on your lodging.”
“My employer pays for that.”
“Surely you receive generous compensation for such an important assignment,” Gunwy said.
“Uh, actually, I don’t receive any compensation. I guess you could say I’m a volunteer.”
“Do you work for a charity of some kind?” Gunwy asked, puzzled.
“More like a cause,” Marcus corrected.
“I hope it is an honorable one.”
“I guess that depends on which side of the line you stand.”
Gunwy examined Marcus a moment.
“What?”
“I have a confession.”
“You’re not gonna hit on me, are you? Cuz I’ve got a mate already.”
Gunwy laughed. “No offense, but you’re not my type.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I have made inquiries about you,” Gunwy explained. “More as a matter of business than anything else. It is standard procedure when establishing a business relationship.”
“What did you find out?”
“That you work for the Karuzari Alliance. In what capacity, I could not determine, but you are more than a technology scout, of that I am sure. You have often been spotted in the company of two youths: an adolescent male and a female child. Relatives, I hope.”
“Something like that,” Marcus replied. “I’m sort of a babysitter. My mate, Neli, and I are keeping an eye on my employer’s niece and nephew, while their mother is undergoing treatment.”
“With Doctor Symyri, I hope. He is the best in the quadrant.”
“Yes.”
“I trust the treatment is going well?”
“It’s a long process.”
“I also learned that you have a contingent of highly trained mercenaries as your personal guards.”
“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”
“Sanctuary attracts a wide variety of individuals, many of whom are of ill-repute.”
“I’ll let that slide, seeing as how you’re payin’,” Marcus commented.
“I meant no disrespect, I assure you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Would you like to know my conclusions?”
“Your conclusions about what?”
“About whom your employer is.”
“Why not.”
“I believe your employer is Nathan Scott, captain of the Aurora and leader of the Karuzari Alliance, and the war you are fighting is against the Dusahn Empire.”
Marcus offered no reaction.
Gunwy smiled. “I have no intention of revealing your secret to anyone, I swear to you.”
“My connection to the Karuzari Alliance is remote, at best,” Marcus insisted. “I have never met Captain Scott. My employer is Connor Tuplo, captain of the Seiiki, a small cargo ship that smuggles information and people out of Dusahn-controlled space to the Karuzari Alliance.”
“Then why the mercenaries?”
“Captain Tuplo has made a few enemies in his day. He cares about his sister, and her children, very much.”
“But eight men,” Gunwy said. “That cannot be cheap.”
“Actually, they were provided by the Alliance, free of charge, as were the accommodations.”
“Your Captain Tuplo must do a lot for the Alliance.”
“We have been involved in a few key missions, yes, but nothing too crazy. It was more a matter of timing. We were there for them when they needed us most. They have not forgotten that.”
“Interesting,” Gunwy observed. “Odd that you are so willing to share this information when earlier, you refused.”
“Better to tell the truth than let you believe I have direct connections to the leader of the Karuzari Alliance,” Marcus explained. “Especially, since you’re buyin’.”
* * *
More than forty blue-white flashes of light appeared in high orbit over Takara. A split second later, every ship in orbit had swung their point-defenses around and opened fire on the incoming missiles. The few that made it through the onslaught impacted the shields of those ships. However, little to no damage was caused.
Elsewhere in the Takaran system, another group of forty-some-odd missiles appeared behind flashes of light and was immediately met with similar defensive fire. Again, most missiles were torn apart, and the few that made it through found the Dusahn shields difficult to penetrate, if not impossible.
By the time the third wave had arrived, every ship in the system was on full alert, and not a single missile had made it past the Dusahn defenses.
In the end, the Dusahn lost only three gunships and suffered damage to several frigates. However, the message had been clear. Attack us, and we will strike back.
* * *
The leader of the Jung-Mogan caste knew upon entering his residence quarters, in the Hall of Leadership on Nor-Patri, that he was not alone. “I would be well within my rights if I killed you where you sit,” he said as he removed his jacket and hung it in the corner of the darkened entry foyer.
“Five hundred year-old coran is meant to be shared,” a man replied from the darkness.
“I should have known it was you,” Dom Jung-Mogan stated as he removed his gun belt and hung it next to his jacket. “Politicians have their own, unique aroma. Much like the doral…you know, that little rodent whose only defense is to release a terrible smell and then run away.”
“I did not come to exchange insults, Penta.”
“I wasn’t aware we were on a first-name basis, Kor-Dom Borrol.”
“We will be after a few shots of this gut-rot,” Kor-Dom Borrol said, offering a glass to Dom Jung-Mogan.
“Lights half,” Dom Jung-Mogan said. The lights slowly came to life, stopping at half-intensity, providing enough illumination to see his unexpected guest and accept his offering. He tossed the contents down in a single gulp, wincing as the intoxicant grabbed hold of the back of his throat. He reached down to the arm of the chair behind him to steady himself, taking his seat slowly as he wrestled with the effects of the beverage. “I should have sat, first,” he admitted. “I am not a young man.”
“None of us are,” Kor-Dom Borrol agreed. “I suspect recent events have only served to accelerate the aging process,” he added, pouring another round.
“If you are trying to get me drunk and convince me to vote against the Tonba-Hon-Venar, you will need more than a single bottle. I may be old, but I can still drink any member of the Borrol caste under the table.”
“Of this, I have no doubt,” Kor-Dom Borrol agreed, handing another glass to Dom Jung-Mogan. “While I am hoping the coran will make you more pliable, I do not seek to change your mind. I only hope to get an honest opinion from you, free from the influence of the council or the reporters.”
“Then, this conversation is off the record, Mogi?” Dom Jung-Mogan surmised as he took another drink, this time sipping it instead of tossing it back, whole.
Kor-Dom Borrol smiled. “I have not been called that in some time.” He looked at the leader of the Jung-Mogan caste. “There are not many whom I would allow to use that name.”
“I meant no disrespect,” Dom Jung-Mogan stated as he took another sip.
“The hell you didn’t,” Kor-Dom Borrol replied.
Dom Jung-Borrol set his glass down on the side table, looking at his guest. “What is it you wish to know, Kor-Dom?”
“The truth, nothing less.”
“Truth is often subjective.”
“The truth as you see it will suffice.”
“Very well,” Dom Jung-Mogan replied.
“Can you defeat the Sol Alliance?”
“Of course I can,” Dom Jung-Mogan replied confidently, “but what you should be asking is can I defeat them without destroying the empire?”
“I thought I was.”
Dom Jung-Mogan leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of the coran. “The cost will be high, perhaps too high…for those who do not have the stomach for such.”
“I should tell you that the public voted in favor of the Tonba-Hon-Venar,” Kor-Dom Borrol said.
“Of this, I am aware.”
“It was not an overwhelming majority, but it was enough that I have not the right to veto, unless…”
“Unless the leader of the warrior castes tells you the enemy cannot be defeated.” Dom Jung-Mogan laughed, tossing back the last of his drink. “You expect a Jung-Mogan to make such a claim? Even if it were true, my subordinates would line up to challenge me for leadership, were I to make such a statement.”
“The ships you spoke of, the ones that are hidden, where are they?”
“If I told you, they would no longer be hidden.”
“Can they reach Earth soon enough to prevent the destruction of Nor-Patri?”
“That depends more upon the Sol Alliance than it does on the position of our ships,” Dom Jung-Mogan stated. “We have no way of knowing the true reason for their attack. A believed intrusion, on our part, or a lie meant to justify their attack in the eyes of their citizens…this we cannot know.” Dom Jung-Mogan leaned forward again, his expression becoming more serious. “This much I can promise you, Kor-Dom Borrol, should the Sol Alliance destroy Nor-Patri, the Earth and her core worlds will cease to exist.”
“Then, you are confident that your fleet can defeat them, despite their jump drives,” Kor-Dom Borrol surmised.
“We will isolate each world, destroying them one by one, until all that remains is the Earth, itself. Then, as they beg for mercy, we will glass their entire world so that, decades into the future, the Jung can remake the birthplace of humanity…correctly.”
Kor-Dom Borrol closed his eyes a moment, imagining the destruction the people of Nor-Patri would suffer. “Then, our world is finished.”
“The Tonba-Hon-Venar is not about saving a world, Kor-Dom Borrol, it is about saving an empire. That is the difference between a politician and a warrior. You fight to preserve what you have. We fight to preserve what everyone has.”
* * *
“My contacts within Dusahn command have informed me that the latest attack against the Aurora did not succeed,” Lieutenant Vulan reported.
General Hesson appeared unsurprised by the news. “And Lord Dusahn’s response?”
“General Docca did not leave Lord Dusahn’s office, alive.”
Again, the general did not appear surprised. “How did the Karuzari defeat our forces?”
“They drew our cruiser in close. Captain Fenta believed that he was about to achieve victory and did not foresee the trap he was approaching. The Aurora vented plasma and ignited it as they translated upward. The explosion disrupted Fenta’s sensors, and he did not see the incoming jump missiles. His forward shields were obliterated, and he was forced to jump away to save his ship.”
This time, General Hesson did look surprised. “He disobeyed orders?”
“His orders were not to lose his ship,” the lieutenant replied.
“He was not to fight to the death?”
“He was not,” the lieutenant confirmed. “It seems that Lord Dusahn’s concerns have shifted to the preservation
of his remaining ships, at least until the Orswellans can complete the Jar-Oray and the Jar-Yella.”
“How long until they are ready for launch?” the general wondered.
“Both ships will be able to depart the Orswellan shipyards in three months. They have been ordered to proceed directly here and will perform their operational validation testing in transit.”
“Our lord is wasting no time,” General Hesson noted. “He fears failure.”
“He becomes increasingly agitated,” the lieutenant said. “He has called for the destruction of Rakuen more than once. Were it not for his advisors, Rakuen would have been the target of the last attack, and not the Aurora. But, as his agitation grows, his advisors become hesitant to speak their minds for fear of execution.”
General Hesson said nothing, contemplating the situation.
“You met with him?” Lieutenant Vulan asked in hushed tones.
“I did,” the general replied in a similar tone.
The lieutenant was in disbelief. “How did he get onto Takara?”
“They did not say,” the general replied.
“They?”
“He was accompanied by a female, Jessica Nash.”
“The executioner of Caius?” the lieutenant realized, almost gasping.
“Indeed.”
“What was she like?” the lieutenant wondered. “Is it true that she is as large as any man?”
“She was of normal size and appeared as feminine as any woman I have known. Quite attractive, actually.”
“Incredible,” the lieutenant said, shaking his head. “Did he accept your offer?”
“He did not say,” the general replied. “The female was against the idea, to be certain.”
“Maybe he knows,” the lieutenant decided.
“He would be foolish not to be suspicious,” the general said. “However, it would be impossible for him to ascertain the full extent of my plan.”
“I hope you are correct,” the lieutenant said. “If you are to challenge Lord Dusahn, it will need to happen soon, before the Jar-Oray and the Jar-Yella arrive. Otherwise, it will be too late.” The young lieutenant noted the look of concern in the general’s eyes. “You did tell him about the Jar-Oray and the Jar-Yella.”