“Sorry,” she said. Then: “Hi, Dad.” She waved across the room. Darvon smiled and waved back.
“Hi, sweetie. Did you have fun?”
“Yep.” And she was off to her room in a rush.
She, like Egg, was used to these meetings.
When she was gone the Daimyo picked up his train of thought.
“I think,” he said, giving his next words consideration, “we might arrange a meeting.” He looked around the room at each person there—even pausing briefly on Egg. A sense of the momentous ran through her; like she was being included. It was the first time she’d felt that way, though she’d been attending these gatherings as a bystander for years. The invisible girl who brought them wine and the occasional snack.
It was an unexpected thrill.
“Now may be our chance to bring together both sides.”
He turned specifically to Chom and issued instructions:
“Make contact with your highest level liaison among the Venatres,” he told him. “Make it known we want to broker a meeting. Between Yamoto, our Council, and their leaders. Venatres and Dominion, here in Osaka. Gauge their response.”
Egg wondered if she gasped audibly, though there seemed to be a collective intake of breath in the room. What the Daimyo proposed was probably more than Chom was suggesting yet … made perfect sense. Why not go all the way? Bring both halves of the world together in one place.
Little bumps tingled on her skin. There she was, one person in a room of few—in her own living room, for crying out loud, crappy furniture and all—not some great political hall or even a public venue—preparing to arrange a meeting of Anitra’s greatest leaders. An act, an effort at peace that could forever change the course of their entire world.
The fate of Anitra was being planned right before her eyes.
“While you do that I will meet with Yamoto,” the Daimyo finished. “This will inevitably show our hand. Let us hope that it works.
“If it does not …” he paused. A long pause, during which he took a sip of wine. After he swallowed he finished with: “One way or the other this will be the end of the Conclave.”
* *
In such proximity the Kel warship hung in the air like a mountain set free from its base; impossibly huge, filling Cee’s vision. Black, sleek, colorless against the white sky. Slowly it came, having appeared first at a fast clip, dropping from orbital heights above and materializing through the clouds as a ghost; fog wisping away around its sharp edges as it came lower, gaining substance until it was at last on final approach, descending to the sprawling port, headed for the giant berth cleared and awaiting its arrival. Cee, her delegates and closest aides stood atop a high platform, in the open air, watching. Other warships crouched in berths scattered across the facility, dark hulls of varying size stretching into the distance. Only one of the other craft outclassed the arriving cruiser, a dreadnought which sat close enough to gauge its massive size in relation. The Kel fleet boasted hundreds of such ships of the line, thousands of smaller vessels.
Far too much arsenal for a race with no enemies.
Soon that will change, Cee thought, watching in breathless anticipation as the cruiser’s shadow loomed, seeming to come in right on top of them—an illusion that was real enough to instill a thrill of fear, as if they were about to be crushed. And as it settled the final distance to ground she realized that fear came not only from the proximity of the great warship, but from the consideration of its deadly cargo. Aboard was the beast.
This will be the hallmark of my rule.
With the beast came yet more to drive that thrill. A relic from their past. A device that could, quite possibly, open ancient space lanes, a way to move their vast fleet beyond the borders of their own star system. An opening for conquest, if so; a way to redirect their might. A new direction for their warlike impulse.
If true it could not have come at a better time.
“Is the beast as hideous as they say?” asked one of her delegates. As the cruiser landed it gave off little noise, inertial drives all but silent. Only the inevitable sounds of moving such a titanic shape through the atmosphere—even slowly as it now traveled—preceded it. The push and pull of great volumes of air, displaced ahead of and around its gargantuan form. Once it settled fully into the walls of its berth the spaceport fell heavy with quiet.
Even the frigid air was still that day.
“It is,” Cee’s high bishop answered. “Truly an abomination.”
Cee ignored their exchange, eyes glued to the gleaming black flanks of the warship and the small door through which the arrivals would emerge. A gantry moved into place against its side, squaring up with the portal, all aspects of this arrival pre-arranged. Cee’s delegation consisted of a dozen officials and, stationed all around the berth, a legion of Kel soldiers, heavily armed and assembled specifically for this occasion. This was not a civil event. There were no citizens present for the spectacle.
Flurries had begun to fall, gently, fluttering nearly straight to the ground in the absence of a breeze. All around them was like a giant, open-air tomb, deathly quiet beneath the vault of a cloud-laden sky.
The gantry notched solidly into position and the heavy clunk echoed across the snowy landscape. Senior commander of the legion present ascended, trailed by three of his officers, their figures pitifully small against the smooth flanks of the cruiser. Bugs, walking toward a huge black wall. Their white faces and hair were like stark little dots, dark armored bodies blending with the black of the ship itself.
Cee felt herself move closer to the edge of the reception platform as the four officers reached the top of the gantry, assembling outside the troop door. She put her bare hands on the icy railing. For a long moment she stood like that, then reached and pulled her fur wrap tighter about her shoulders. The luxurious white animal hair was long, warm against her cheeks.
Snow fell; the legion of troops below motionless, as were the officers waiting on the gantry; one of her delegates coughed, a dull sound in the cold air.
And the door opened.
As Kang stepped through into the light all but Cee and her bishop reacted, Kang’s yellowed, disfigured form stark against the rest, but something in the reaction of one of them took Cee off guard. She turned to him.
“What is it?”
The man stammered. “It’s … The Prophecy.”
Cee froze. Fury rose hot in her throat, though she nearly saw the man’s words in his eyes before he spoke them. Nearly knew they were coming.
“You dare!” She stepped to him and he recoiled. “You are among the elite!” She herself had made the connection upon first seeing Kang; upon hearing the description of him, in fact, as the drama of his arrival aboard the warship unfolded via their comm channels. But she buried it deep, secretly hoping no others might draw the same conclusion.
A foolish hope. Surely all would who bore witness.
The legends of the Prophecy could never be fully crushed.
“Shall I have you killed?!” she closed the gap, pushing the man against another such that he could retreat no further. Time to make a statement; a pre-emptive strike here, before her highest leaders. “Now?!” She leaned in, face directly in his. The others would know exactly of what he spoke, were no doubt thinking the same—if they hadn’t been already. But none dared utter those thoughts aloud.
How dare he!
Perhaps she should kill him. Make a bloody example, such that no other present so much as thought to speak such blasphemy.
The delegate was horrified, saw the murder in her eyes, but all he could do was point a trembling finger at the monster.
Cee did not want to release him from her rage, but her own curiosity compelled her to follow his outstretched arm, to turn her attention back to the beast as it departed the ship. Kang stood on the gantry among the Kel officials, gripping the shiny device in one hand. Her Praetor, Voltan, stood near to him, others positioning themselves accordingly, in preparation to escort the monste
r. Kang’s crooked horns, his yellowed hide, bloodshot eyes; sharp, uneven teeth even from that distance, fangs that could not be fully concealed even when his mouth was fully closed … It was the Prophecy. And no matter how she might turn her mind from it, the thought could not be denied.
Damnation!
The delegate’s voice snapped her from her thrall.
“My queen—”
She whirled on him, spit flying with lost composure. “The Witch is dead! I will not have her words uttered! Nothing of her words will be repeated! Nothing! Do you understand?” The delegate trembled. Cee looked to the others. “Would that I could burn those memories utterly from our past! This is a new age!” She got back in the delegate’s face. “Who have you spoken to of this?”
“No one my queen!”
She glared at him, piercing his eyes, boring deep into him—in the hope he would be so cowed as to never think on this again.
Still she thought of killing him.
But the deep call of a bone horn brought her back to the moment. It’s rumbling, discordant sound echoed across the expanse of the port, directing everyone’s attention to the passage of their guest.
Cee turned. The hornsman stood alone atop a tall, narrow platform, put there for that purpose alone, looking out over the berth and the assembled legion. A proper herald for the arrival of a dignitary. Kang, Voltan and the others passed along the wide walkway, drawing up on the larger platform on which Cee stood with her delegates. The thin, white fur of the pelt draped across Voltan’s wide shoulders moved gently in the still air as he walked. With one last, deadly glare at the blasphemous delegate, she stepped further apart from the others and drew herself straight, regally, preparing for the encounter.
Kang and the group ascended the final bit of stairs and stepped onto the platform, Voltan in the lead. Her Praetor came to her. Behind him Kang snorted, like a true beast, frozen air shooting from his nose in a jet and Cee held herself from a start. The impulse to jump passed through her and she looked hard at Kang. It was some sort of natural action, like a sneeze; not an effort to create an effect or make his presence known. She steadied herself before him. In such proximity he was truly fierce to behold.
Voltan, for his part, seemed used to Kang’s peculiarities. He spoke as if no sudden outburst had occurred.
“My queen, I give you Kang.” He stepped aside and looked between them. One of the officials in their group held a translator and positioned himself accordingly, as Voltan continued the introduction: “Kang, the lady Cee-Ranok, Tremarch of the Kel, queen and ruler of the Forever Dynasty.”
Kang bowed his head, then looked to her.
“How shall I address you?” he asked in his deep, scarred voice, the translator doing its work. “I have only one name: Kang. You are Tremarch, queen, Cee-Ranok. How should I call you?”
“For now Lady Cee will do,” she decided, the uniqueness of the situation dawning on her as if a revelation. This was her first encounter with anyone outside the Kel universe. Until that time there had been no call for special means of address.
Lady Cee. Impulsive, but she liked the sound of it.
“Then I am honored to meet you, Lady Cee.”
“Welcome, Kang,” she warmed to him. Live and in person she saw more of the face that underlay his disfigurement, judging that at one time, by the standards of humanity, he might have been striking, in a rugged way. The beast’s manners were certainly coming through, especially in the wake of his violent arrival—though she suspected much of this newfound pleasantness came directly from the desire to get what he wanted.
He took a sweeping look of the entire facility, horns exaggerating the movement, looking out over the legions of troops assembled in waiting, out across the facility at the mighty ships on display. He looked all the way, turning fully in place, taking in the mountains and the land as well, then back to her. “Impressive,” he said. “Again I apologize for the destruction I’ve so far caused.”
“I consider that two powers of war have come in contact,” said Cee. “Such contact is inevitably brutal. Today we come together to discuss an arrangement.” The sense of danger in the beast’s presence was intense, but she thrilled with it. And as she stared into his bloody eyes found herself not afraid but, rather, encouraged.
“I’m not much for pageantry,” he said.
The edges of his discourse were quite rough, and his impatience was tangible, but standing there in witness of him she was ever more strongly of the belief she could harness him. Properly directed, she imagined, he might move the War Council in ways she herself might not.
It was gripping.
“For one of such power,” she said, “who has survived in the depths of space, you may not appreciate discomfort, and thereby comfort, but my citadel awaits our discussion. Let us make our way there.”
“As you wish.”
She turned to depart the platform, watching him over her shoulder as she did, the fine fur of her wrap tickling her face. A breeze was picking up, swirling the light flurries into a whiter current. Soon it would snow harder.
Kang followed and she looked ahead, speaking to him as she walked. She listened to the footsteps of the group as they followed in order, down the stairs of the royal platform to the beautifully lamp-lined walkway that led directly to the royal transport monorail in the near distance.
“I would give the Icon, as you call it, to our scientists, that they might study it.” She held her eyes ahead, on the sleek black train waiting at the end of the walk; her private coach that would take them from the port to her citadel.
“The Icon is all I have to bargain with.” Kang’s voice was gruff. “Without it I have nothing.”
“Absurd,” said Cee, hoping the translator managed the subtleties of her inflection. Already she was getting used to the intermediary device, its neutral voice overlaying the sing-song of her own and the bestial utterances of Kang. “You can lay waste to us if you choose. Regain it should we attempt to steal it. The worst we could do would be to destroy it.” She determined to project absolute frankness with him, such that he felt she was being thoroughly honest. An apparency of truth was the best way to ensnare him. “But what purpose would that serve?” she wondered, for his benefit. “We would lose the thing we also want, and locking you here … our civilization would be ruined before the wrath of your rage. I doubt we could stop you.” Kang’s footsteps clomped the snow-dusted walkway beside her, distinct from the others.
“You could use it without telling me,” the beast grumbled. “Make me believe it’s indecipherable while you secretly use it.”
“Unlikely,” she said and, again, hoped for the veracity of the translation device. “But no matter. There are a hundred possible outcomes. If any of this is to work we must first lay a foundation of some degree of trust. We have trusted you in bringing you here. Aboard the warship you were at least contained. Here our entire world is at risk. But we have trusted you. I invite you to trust us in return. If only a little.”
They reached the shiny black monorail and its wide entry door. Warm air drifted out, mixing with the bite of the increasingly cold outside. A storm was picking up. Cee looked at their reflections in the glossy black surface, distorted by the curve of the train’s body. Kang behind her to the left, visage fierce, Voltan at her right, the others grouped nearby. Delegates, the other military officers. She made eye contact with Kang in the reflection then stepped aboard.
“This can get you to my world,” he said and followed, the rest of the group boarding. Cee stood near the front of the starkly furnished yet opulent coach. Kang stood across from her, Voltan to her side. The delegates and officers gathered within, the door closed and the train pulled away, inertial dampeners holding them perfectly steady, as on a starship, as it accelerated to speed. Outside the large windows the port fell quickly away and soon the soaring trees of a great, dark forest were blurring past as they gained velocity and raced through it.
“If you were to understand it it mig
ht, in turn, show you the way,” said Kang. “Like a key.”
One of Cee’s delegates, a scientist, spoke: “It is arcane technology,” he confirmed, looking as well as he could at the device in Kang’s grip. The translator picked up the translation as all the rest. Cee frowned a little. Not only that he spoke out of turn, but that the translator used the same neutral voice for him as it did for her. Her translated voice was not unique.
Kang studied the device in his own hand. Everyone else had been staring at it, fascinated by the power contained in such a simple thing.
“If we are not mistaken it should contain a quantum entangled location pair,” the scientist went on. Cee watched him, deciding to let him continue. “Which should shift between locations.”
“My world is at the other end,” said Kang. “Ripe for the taking.” A bit of the rage simmering within him passed across his face, ever boiling beneath the surface. “My armies were engaged with the enemy. I would soon have ruled them, then this.” He held up the Icon. “I was about to use it to return, after we retrieved it, but by then I’d had a chance to witness your people and what they were capable of. It led my thinking in a new direction.”
“You see us as yours to use,” said Cee.
“Not entirely,” he said, and she found it telling how little he rejected the idea. Almost as if he considered it a valid prospect, but agreed they would likely not become his absolutely. As if they might, in the end, retain some autonomy. Such arrogance! He was rife with it, barely able to hold the façade of diplomatic discourse he knew he must in order to succeed. The banter of politics, the give and take of such a conversation nearly eluded him.
Kang would, truly, be a challenge.
He phrased his words carefully. “The Kel would also stand to gain from the conquest of a new world. Knowing nothing more of your people than I do I know this: Everyone needs territory. You commit to me the resources of your world, in return I give you the resources of mine.
Star Angel: Dawn of War (Star Angel Book 3) Page 16