by M. D. Cooper
The messages from the Battian delegation hadn’t indicated who would be in attendance, and that had given him hope that it was to be the empress herself—which turned out to have been a fool’s hope.
“We thank you, Ambassador. First, some introductions. This is Commander Maureen, who serves with me aboard the Polis Fury. She’ll be assisting in negotiations. Also, in the spirit of full disclosure, Alice, the AI I’m paired with, will be recording these proceedings. Empress Mei’s office should’ve received a data packet from us a few days prior. It will help explain why we’re here.”
“You do like to get down to business, don’t you?” Pauline asked with a smirk.
Grayson gave a short nod. “When you travel as much as I do, you want to get the ball rolling. Can you confirm the receipt of our data packet?”
“I can. I must confess it brought the empress much confusion and heartache to think that Silstrand wishes to unseat her sovereign rule.”
“We’re at war. Silstrand and Scipio are uniting to fight a common threat, and that requires stability in our backyard. We will need the worlds of the Hanoi System to join us and sign the treaty. This requirement was stipulated by Scipio—not to put too fine a point on it, you should be happy that it’s Silstrand coming into Hanoi. The other alternative would be a Scipian fleet on your doorstep.”
Ambassador Pauline gave a wan smile. “I suppose we should thank the stars above for small mercies, then.”
Grayson ignored the irony in her voice as he continued. “Also, there are parts of that treaty which involve the treatment of AIs.”
“Battia has no AIs. Not since we aligned ourselves with Peter Rhoads and the Revolution Fleet. He mandated their removal and destruction.”
Alice made a choking sound in Grayson’s mind, and he felt her pain. Even though his time with Jerrod had not ended well, he recognized that AIs were sentient beings. This woman was giving genocide a casual hand-wave.
He pushed that from his mind and responded evenly, “Then I imagine that you’ll have no problem signing the treaty.”
Pauline gave a polite laugh. “Colonel Grayson, anything that diminishes the empress’s power, she won’t sign. She read it herself; it gives ultimate authority over Battia to a government far away in the Silstrand System and strips all power away from the individual leaders. We don’t even get a seat in Silstrand’s senate. I have come here today to meet with you as a courtesy, but know this: we will not be signing your treaty today or any other day.”
Grayson pursed his lips and gave the woman a narrow-eyed nod. “I can’t say I’m that surprised. Especially after seeing the contaminated ‘relief’ supplies you sent. Any leader who would send half-rotten, bug-infested food to people in need is not someone who would see the logic in this alliance.”
Pauline drew herself up and stared down her nose at Grayson. “I don’t like your accusations, Colonel. I’m afraid we’re done here. We’ll see you returned to your ship—” She gestured toward the door.
Grayson held up a hand. “Commander Maureen, how long before we can blockade Battia? Also, please provide an estimated timeline for bombarding their capital city.”
A predatory grin formed on Maureen’s lips and she snapped her fingers. “Blockade is child’s play. After Rhoads seized Battia’s ships, all they have are patrol boats. It would only take three monitoring satellites for the Polis Fury to secure Battia’s nearspace. Add in a couple of freighters or tugs, and we’d have it completely locked down. One thing Chimin has in spades right now is fuel, and a lot of the people there are pissed at Battia, so I imagine we could have a few of them here in a couple of days.”
Pauline’s eyes narrowed. “We have orbital defenses. You’ll not find it that easy.”
Maureen gave the ambassador the kind of look one would give a child who had just threatened an adult. “Outdated tech, the work of hours to destroy. Your capital city has some basic grav shielding, but we can use one of Chimin’s tugs to haul a nice big rock over and drop it on the city. Unless the rest of our fleet gets here first. Then we won’t even need that.”
Pauline’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious! What do you hope to gain from this?”
“We’re playing for keeps,” Grayson replied. “Like I said, our alliance with Scipio mandates that we gain control of the Fringe systems. There’s no alternative. If I cannot meet with your empress, if I cannot make a deal for Silstrand, one will be made without her. And without you.”
Pauline swallowed hard, and Grayson saw a look of panic in her eyes. He didn’t like strong-arming the woman, but there were dozens of systems and thousands of stations and worlds that they needed to bring into the fold. Silstrand didn’t have time to pussyfoot around with the likes of Empress Mei.
Even so, he felt bad about threatening an entire planet. But that’s all it was: a threat. He’d never follow through with that sort of attack.
“Very well, we’ll escort you to meet the empress, but I warn you, Colonel. Empress Mei isn’t one to be threatened or trifled with.” Pauline nodded at the other Battia representative, who stepped forward.
“You will surrender your weapons and receive them when you leave Battia.” She extended her hands, as if they would readily hand over their weapons.
Grayson did as requested, but left his plas knife hidden in his boot, certain the Battians wouldn’t be able to detect it. After giving him a worried look, Maureen followed suit.
“We’re putting our faith in you. I do hope you’ll do the same,” Maureen said.
“Follow me,” Pauline said and quietly left the room, not waiting for Grayson or Maureen to catch up with the guard trailing behind.
In the corridor, Pauline glanced over her shoulder. “Our shuttle is prepped and waiting. If you’ll follow me, Colonel,”
“Thank you, Ambassador,” Grayson said. “Have your pilot register your route with the Polis Fury. It’ll be following along so it can pick us up after the empress signs on.” Grayson watched Pauline to see how she’d react and saw the way her jaw twitched to the side.
The implication was clear: the blockade was already beginning.
“Don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite,” Maureen said with a smile.
Pauline relaxed, though only a fraction, and gave the commander a small nod.
Grayson did his best to calm his nerves as they walked through the station’s corridors. Though he fully expected that things would work out in the end, he wasn’t so sure about what it would take to achieve his goals.
MEETINGS & DISTRACTIONS
STELLAR DATE: 12.20.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Executive Residence, New Roma, Dante
REGION: Dante Velorum System, Fringe
Paul peered out the window from the executive house he frequented when visiting New Roma. Behind him, the meeting with his generals and advisors was wrapping up. Though he’d moved away from the table, he tried to listen, but found himself wondering how things had gotten this big.
He’d never wanted to start a war, let alone lead it. He wanted peace. It was his father’s promise that had somehow grown into something monstrous—and Paul didn’t know how to stop it…only how to ride along with it.
“Thank you, everyone,” he said, turning back toward them once General Bret had finished speaking. “The next few days will be big. Let’s do our best to prepare and be ready.”
Everyone began to disembark except fo
r Cecile, his personal assistant and advisor—other than his wife, of course.
“Everything all right, Paul?” she asked.
“Yes, everything’s fine. Just tired after all the traveling.” He raised his eyebrows as though that explained everything away. “I feel like it wears you out the more you do it.” And Paul was sick of it. He loathed it. “Feels good to have a planet under my feet again.”
Cecile sighed. “If I can be frank with you, sir?”
“Of course you can. You always have been.”
“Since losing…Peter, your resolve…seems weakened. Others haven’t noticed yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“You’re witnessing grief coupled with disappointment.” Paul turned to gaze back through the window so he wouldn’t need to look her in the eye. “I’m sure you’ve heard that when we lost Father, hundreds of my own ships defected. During jumps over the last week, they’ve disappeared. Probably dumping out of the DL and changing course. At just over three hundred ships, we’re at a fraction of our former strength. That alone would be enough to dampen an admiral’s spirits, don’t you think?”
He turned to watch Cecile’s slow nod. “Yes, sir. They weren’t true believers like you and me. Like Janice. But the rest of us, those who remain, we’re with you until the end. The wheat from the chaff.”
Her words felt more like the jaws of a trap than a pledge of support. Still, Paul forced a smile. “Thank you, Cecile. You always know what to say to make me feel better.”
“Fake it until you make it, sir. I took the loss of Peter hard, too. I thought for sure his death would rally the family, but when I heard of David’s call to surrender and lay down our arms….”
“Kylie got to him,” Paul admitted. “She always had a way of convincing him…making him believe things that weren’t true. We’re not monsters, except maybe in her eyes.”
“I know that won’t happen with you.” Cecile smiled, and Paul felt a quick surge of panic that she’d seen through him. But she gave no further indication, only got to her feet and said, “It’s late, and I’ve taken up too much of your time. Goodnight, sir.”
“You too. Try to stop working for a few minutes and take care of yourself.”
Paul walked her to the door to see her out. He was finally alone—except for the armed guards he knew to be standing outside the door. They were always there these days; maybe by now he should’ve been used to it, but he wasn’t.
He poured himself a finger of whiskey from the bar while keeping his eyes on the horizon as Velorum Prime began to set. So often, he wished the stars would tell him the right thing to do.
At least he had the counsel of his wife. Janice had yet to steer him wrong.
Footsteps behind him drew Paul’s attention, and he turned to see Janice entering from the door that led to his private study.
“Meeting over already?” she asked.
After the two-hour meeting, the word that came to his mind was ‘finally’, not ‘already’, though he kept that thought to himself and only nodded silently before taking another sip of his whiskey.
Janice blew out a long breath. “Well, OK, then. No word yet on Raynes. I’m getting worried that maybe he didn’t leave Chimin when he sent his last message.” She went to the bar and poured herself a drink.
Paul gazed ahead and repeated, almost as if on auto pilot, “There’s still time. He’s not late yet. I have faith in him and in the people of the Papote Alliance. Their numbers strengthen our cause, not detract from it.”
“You’re right.” She gave him an uncertain smile as she approached—the gesture enough to show Paul that Janice believed him. They clinked their glasses and each sipped their whiskey. “Chassea secured her target, but called in that she’d had some trouble with her ship. She’s back on track, but with all these balls in the air, it’s easy to be nervous. If they don’t get here before the gala, Orion is going to have our asses.” She took a deep breath and settled down.
Paul realized that his wife was more on edge about the gala than he’d thought. He put his glass down and massaged her shoulders. “There’s a lot of moving parts, but we must have faith that everything is going to work out.”
Janice rolled her head to the side as he massaged her. “You and Peter, you were all about hope and faith. I’m a realist, Paul. If Kylie and her…allies were able to get to Peter and his fleet…look what she did. Just look. We lost your brother. Your mother.”
Paul tensed, but he tried not to display it. “I’d rather not talk about my sister.”
“We need to talk about her eventually, don’t we? We can only run and hide for so long. So long as we stay in the Fringe, a confrontation will happen. You might be forced to do what you don’t want to.”
Avenge his father’s death by having his sister killed? Father had the stomach for it. Paul didn’t know if he did.
“You have to ready yourself,” Janice insisted. “How do you do that if you’re not even willing to talk about it?”
Talking about his sister brought images of her to the forefront of his mind. He could even smell the lilac bushes that grew outside the front of their childhood home.
“I grew up with her, Jan. Everything that makes me who I am, she shared. Right now, she’s confused and lost, but should I give up on her so easily? As easily as she gave up on us?”
Paul shook his head. When he thought of Kylie, he remembered that little girl in pigtails, clutching her stuffed pig. And later a young woman he’d fought and argued with in a desperate attempt to make her stay with the family, and not fly off to join the Silstrand Space Force’s academy.
In the end, she’d broken his heart.
“I know what you two share, and I also know that I barely met her once, but Paul…you can’t let that bond undo everything that we’ve accomplished. All that your father accomplished. We must be the ones who get to complete this task. Look at what is at risk if we fail. Not just us, not just Kylie, but all of humanity.”
Paul thought about her words as he took his glass back to the bar. He rocked it side to side, watching the remaining whiskey in the glass swirl in a vortex. “It’s the same argument you used for joining Orion.”
“And you see how that’s worked out, don’t you? They strengthened our numbers. Gave us money and material. I know you don’t like pledging your support to them strictly on their merits, but what we’ve managed to achieve and in such a short time…” Janice’s eyes widened. “You see, don’t you?”
There was no denying that the partnership with Orion had proved fruitful—or that their goals were aligned. “Do you believe the ends always justify the means?”
“In this case, I do.” Janice ran her hands up Paul’s arms. “Your brother David followed Peter without question. Kylie stands opposed. You…you of all the Rhoadses like to question and seek your own answers and make up your own mind. It’s admirable, Paul. I love you for it, but you can’t hem and haw over this one. You have to be all in.”
Do I?
He wasn’t so sure. Their two children—a son and a daughter, all grown up—were already lost to them, just as he’d lost Kylie. What if the family dream was no longer a dream? Maybe it was destroying their very foundation. Maybe it was the thing made of nightmares and monsters.
Maybe he had turned into a monster.
And what of his lovely wife? What did that make her?
She looked up into his eyes, hers earnest and sincere. “Scipio and Silstrand are more aligned now than we ever thought possible. The AIs and those who support them are unflinching in their views, and they’re growing stronger. Silstrand is moving into the Fringe. Soon there will be few places left in our region of space that are truly free.
“But more important than ever is that we still have Orion’s support. They’re committed to helping us get rid of the AIs, free humanity to make its own choices so we can pursue the pureblood race your father wanted so badly. Humanity’s pursuits…doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?”
Again,
Janice had said just the right things to put Paul’s mind at ease.
He took her hands and squeezed them firmly. “I don’t know how you manage to distill everything down so well.”
She smiled at him. “It’s a gift.”
Paul kissed her, sliding a hand beneath her hair and caressing the back of her neck.
Janice traced her fingers up Paul’s arms. “I think we need to relax, don’t you?” She went up on her tiptoes to kiss his neck, and he remembered all the promises they had made.
The answer was yes. He would take his wife to bed, and when it was over, they’d lie in bed and laugh. The good times far outweighed the bad.
Paul would try to remember that…to convince himself of it.
* * * * *
The past had its way of making itself known.
“You must be a good son,” Peter demanded as Paul sat on the edge of the reclining chair in their old living room. “Any doubts you have, you can’t make them public! What would people think if they knew I couldn’t control my own family?”
Young then, thirteen or fourteen, Paul could barely lift his head as his father went on, reprimanding him, making more and more demands as the years went by. When he found the strength to glance up, he saw young Kylie in her pretty farm dress. She clutched the arm of her stuffed pig in one hand and her eyes looked so sad as she watched him.
So sad…before she snuck away.
That memory was fresh in Paul’s mind as he rose early the next morning. He had much work that needed to be done.
He dressed quietly while Janice still slept and as he affixed the cufflink on his sleeve, he watched her sleep, admiring the way her hair cascaded across the pillow. Her lips were parted, and though she might have drooled a little, he only loved that face more. He thought to kiss it, but he didn’t want to wake her and ruin all his careful planning.
Instead, he’d have to deal with the growing heartbreak in his chest.
He grabbed the second cufflink from the tray on the dresser and his eyes caught the silver etching on the side—‘PR’.