by Trevor Wyatt
“Copy,” he says and lets his hand fall away from his comm.
“What is it now?” I ask.
“That was from Edoris Station,” he says wearily. He takes a pause before continuing.
I am not prepared for what I hear.
“The Tyreesians have amassed ten warships in orbit of the Omarias II Colony. They have a message for you…Disband the quest for a Galactic Council, or the colony and its seventy five thousand inhabitants will be glassed.”
Jeryl
I walk out of the Admiral’s office, my head spinning out of control.
“Everything alright?” asks the Admiral’s secretary as I pass her by.
“No, everything’s not alright,” I reply.
I activate my comm link on my hand. “Vice Admiral Jeryl to The Seeker shuttle. Come in.”
“Here, sir,” replies the shuttle pilot.
“Get ready for takeoff,” I say. “I’m on my way to there.”
“Back to The Seeker, sir?”
“No,” I say. “We’re going to the Diplomatic Center.”
“Aye, sir,” he replies.
I walk into the drop tube that goes all the way to the launch pad on top of the building. Along the way to the top, some officers join in, while others leave. I have to respond to salutes and smile at those who were in awe of me all the time.
On the launch pad, the shuttle was already idling, waiting for takeoff.
“Vice Admiral Jeryl to The Seeker,” I say, taping my comm link.
“This is The Seeker, Vice Admiral,” says the communications officer. “Go on.”
“Patch me through to the captain,” I say.
“I’m right here, Jeryl,” Ashley’s voice comes through the comm.
“Have you heard?”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m just seeing the news feed. This is a disaster.”
“Not quite,” I say. “I want you to assemble all the lead delegates and have them meet me at the diplomatic headquarters.”
“Aye, sir,” she says.
“I want them seated in ten minutes,” I say, “and I want you with them.”
“Aye, sir,” she replies, after which I cut the link.
I board the shuttle and within seconds we are airborne. It is midday in New Washington and the sky is agog with shuttles and air cars. The pilot is constantly in contact with the air traffic control. Towards the end of the flight, he is patched through to the diplomatic HQ control center that clears us to land on the main landing pad atop the building.
Before I exit the shuttle, the pilot says, “I’ve received a message from The Seeker, sir. They want me to inform you that the captain has departed from the ship and will be landing in five minutes.”
“Roger that,” I say.
I’m met by Colonel Masters and a team of armed marine guards. They all salute as I approach. I return their salute then Colonel Masters falls in line with me while the rest of the marines fall in behind us as we head for the elevator.
“What’s the status of the building, Colonel?” I ask.
“We are secure, sir,” he says. “Ever since the last incident, we have taken extra precautions on who we allow into the compound. It’s better to prevent the likes of Lucien from gaining access to the compound than stopping him from exercising his rights.”
“Good,” I say.
We and a group of the marines enter the elevator. The rest enter an adjacent elevator.
“I was informed by The Seeker than there was going to be an emergency meeting with the delegates on floor three.”
“Yes,” I reply. “Is the floor secure?”
I am not really paying heed to the colonel. My mind is taken by the problem that has just presented itself to me. Ten Tyreesian warships in the Omarian system. How the fuck am I supposed to beat that? I know I have the Terran Armada behind me, but I remember how much it took me to defeat one warship. How about ten?
What if they decided to militarize their matter transport technology? I’m guessing you need transporter pads in both locations but with their intelligent capabilities, what if they smuggled them all across New Washington? Simultaneous thermonuclear explosions around the planet. We wouldn’t even know which direction to fire a torpedo.
“Yes, sir,” the colonel replies to my query. “We have doubled security in the building ever since the incident. No such reoccurrence as what happened before will occur in this facility. You have my word.”
“And your marines?” I ask, eying the four soldiers before me in the elevator.
“They have been cautioned against the use of force against unarmed civilians,” the colonel replies. “Those who erred in the last engagement have been disciplined appropriately.”
The elevator deposits us at the third floor. The hall is filled with marine soldiers all hefting automatic disruptors. At the door into the conference room, Captain Gavin is standing and waiting for us.
She hugs me first before speaking.
“This is really bad,” she says.
I don’t reply.
“What are we going to do?” she asks. “Going up against ten of those things, while a terrible venture, will only plunge us into another war.”
“I don’t intend on going to war with the Tyreesians,” I say. “But if they force my hand, I will be left with no choice.”
“The Terran Union…” she begins but I’m not having any of it.
“Will do whatever I want them to do,” I cut her off. “Those boggarts have finally fallen in line behind me.”
Ashley arches her eyebrows in surprise. “You got their approval?”
I nod, remembering the disgust I felt when Admiral Flynn informed me. Bureaucrats, loathsome bunch.
“Let’s go deal with this,” I say and walk into the conference room.
The moment the delegates see me, they all begin to talk at the same time. They are seated around the table this time and not looking down at the grounds of the building.
I take my seat at the head of the table, while Captain Ashley and Colonel Masters take up positions to my left and right. I see a mix of marines and security personnel from The Seeker scattered around the conference room.
“By now…” I speak above their voice, subduing them to silence.
I pause to catch my breath.
“By now you’ve seen the threat we received from the Tyreesian Collective,” I announce. “They are demanding for the negotiations for the Galactic Council to be dissolved otherwise they will fire upon an innocent, defenseless planet with about seventy five thousand inhabitants.”
I pause. I watch as the fear spreads across the room like a cold, infecting every mind that is open to hear me. I try to look into some of their eyes, but none of them is willing to look back at me, except, of course, the Sonali.
“This is a terrible turn of events,” he says.
“Indeed,” I reply.
“How could this happen?” blurts another delegate. “Don’t your systems have Terran Armada defense?” his voice takes on an angry tone.
“And when you realized that the Tyreesians may be up to no good, why didn’t you take the proper precautions to protect those planets closest to the Tyreesian space, knowing that they could use these planet as hostages?”
“Pardon me, sir, but we only just discovered the Tyreesian plans,” I say. “The truth is, Leader Greer has been playing us all for a fool for three years. He used us as a pawn in his game of chess, and he always had the upper hand simply because of our ignorance. There was no way we could have prevented this without foreknowledge of this planned attack.”
“But why do they want to break up the council?” says another. “Don’t they want peace?”
There is complete silence.
“Do we stand a chance against the Tyreesians?” asks the Reznak delegate.
I don’t answer. We stand a chance if our governments all band together to resist the Tyreesian oppression. However, would their governments want to commit their forces to war?
I pause for effect. I can see the glimmer of hope rekindled in their eyes. I press on.
“We can work together. We can prevent this terrorism from happening. As individual people we may not stand a chance against the Tyreesian war machines. However, if we band together and stand as one, the Tyreesian will have to bow to our forces.
“But I promise you. If we refuse to stand up to this oppression and go our separate ways, we will be damned to return to the barbaric form of brutality we have become accustomed to. The Earth-Sonali War will be nothing compared to the conflict that will engulf the galaxy.”
A heated argument immediately follows my rendering, which each delegate weighing the pros and cons of following me to battle against the Tyreesian Collective. I allow the arguments to proceed for about ten minutes, after which I bring the room to a silence by rising to my feet.
Surprised eyes stare back at me. I presume they were expecting me to join in their argument. I am, however, consumed with working out the Tyreesian problem. I refuse to believe this is the end of the road.
“It’s your decision, whether to remain as one and fight this or to disband and give in to terrorism like cowards. You have twenty four hours, after which you will have to let me know what your response is.”
Silence greets me as each person in the room stares at me.
“Thank you,” I say as I walk out of the conference room, Ashley and Colonel Masters following in tow.
I swear. This walking out from silence is becoming my thing lately.
Jeryl
We’re back on The Seeker in Ashley's quarters. I'm on slipstream with Admiral Flynn as he does his best to reassure me. "Jeryl, I hate to add any bad news to the situation; however, you should know that the Nova Corporation is determined to prevent the galactic council from forming. As we speak they are lobbying stridently against it."
Admiral Flynn looks at me his jaw set in a grim line. "But look at it this way—we both know that these self-righteous assholes are only happy when they're running things. And they're mad as hell that you're stealing the spotlight by proposing an idea they didn't have the balls to suggest themselves."
Admiral Flynn looks at me smug with pride. "Don't pay those assholes any mind. Stay strong. We're on the home stretch with this, I promise. Flynn out."
The slipstream goes dark. I replay what Admiral said to me. I wish I could share in his optimism but right now I have too many frustrating things on my mind. Too many things are weighing on me. Flynn may be right; we may be in the home stretch, but it still feels like we have miles to go and many roadblocks are on the way. Ashley switches the news on. There's even more bad news coming through the news feed.
"We’re now live from WSHN—where Terran Nationlists are protesting the plans to create an intergalactic council with representatives from alien races across the galaxy."
The newscaster is standing in a huge crowd of protester. She steps near one of the protestors, "Sir, can you share with us why you're opposing the galactic council?" she asks pointing the mic at him.
"The formation of a galactic council is ridiculous. I had a lot of respect for Admiral Jeryl during the war, but now he's lost his mind. He cares more about the well-being of aliens than he does his own species. I don't know how he sleeps at night. He wants this council so bad that's he's willing to trade human lives for it. And I refuse to stand for that," says the man disgust written all over his features." The newscaster turns back to the camera.
"In addition to these protests, the Sonali outpost of New Washington is seeing a rise in anti-alien violence." I click off the news feed.
I try not to take the protesters words personally, but it is personal. He's talking about me and my dream. Ashley notices my demeanor.
"Jeryl," she says coming over and placing her hand on mine, "He's wrong." I look at her with worried eyes. "It's easy to talk about a problem when you don't have to deal with it."
She looks into my eyes, a small knowing smile on her lips. "How many times have we seen a situation where the people who are screaming the loudest—are also the same people farthest away from the problem?" I know she doesn't really expect an answer. It's a rhetorical question; part of my wife's effort to make me feel better. It almost works.
Almost. I kiss Ashley gently, my mind already backtracking to Flynn's words, the newscast, my mood dipping toward despair.
Suddenly there's a beep on the comm. Incoming message. I look at the connection. "It's Marjda, Chief Delegate of the Drupadi," I say, looking questioningly at Ashley who shrugs her shoulders in reply. I tap the comm. I know about the Drupadi, but I have never actually spoken with their leader Marjda. I recall how the Drupadi are supposed to be an extremely seductive race. I gulp a bit wondering how much more trouble I may find myself in just by talking to her. I click the message.
"Admiral Montgomery—I need to show you something. Can you please come planet-side to meet with me? It is most urgent. I think this is something you will really want to see before the delegates make their decision."
I look at Ashley. "What do you think?"
"I think you should go—now," she says firmly.
"Marjda, I'll meet you planet-side as soon as possible. Montgomery out." As I send out commands for a shuttle to take me to the planet.
I think of all the things on my way:
The anti-alien protests.
The increase of violence against non-Terrans.
The Nova Corporation doing all they can to make sure the council fails.
The delegates fearing for the safety.
And now Marjda has another piece of the puzzle to show me.
Why do I feel like my meeting with Marjda is going to be more dangerous than any of the obstacles in my path?
I take a deep breath.
I have no idea what she's going to show me, and I have no idea how it will affect me.
But what I'm really curious about is my first contact with a Drupadi and how it’s going to affect me.
Jeryl
My pulse beats faster as I enter the Drupadi Empassy right off Ambassador Avenue. I'm doing my best to keep a poker face, but inside my thoughts, it’s chaotic. If it wasn't enough that I need to solve all the issues threatening the creation of the galactic council—the very thing we need for sustained peace throughout the galaxy, now I am about to face a sexy female alien with a secret—one she'll reveal to me only. I can't help but wonder what she'll want in return. I also can't help but entertain how exactly I will respond to a trade for the information.
For three years I’ve felt like a bug under a microscope every time I talk to her. She’s flirted with me. She’s rubbed herself against me. She’s batted her eyes. The worst part? She’s been like that with everyone—her entire race is programmed to determine the sexual desires of those they engage with and to tailor their reactions appropriately. But has it bothered me that she’s given everyone attention? Have I felt jealous?
Not a bit. I’ve lapped up her attention like a hungry varren.
My face is flushing and my palms are sweaty. It’s always like this with Marjda. I feel like I'm a guy asking a girl to prom or going on a first date. However, given that there's more than my ego on the line, I firm up my resolve because the fact is that the stakes are really high and much bigger than me.
If I don't get the information Marjda says she can give—then it's quite possible that everything I have worked toward these last three years since the end of the war will be for nothing.
I can’t afford, or more importantly, the universe can’t afford for me to not gain this information. I tell myself that failure is not an option, over and over as I enter the room where I am to meet Marjda.
Bu
t in the past, we’ve always had the luxury of official duties that brought us together—with retinues of aides.
This will be the first time I step into her den. Where there are no Armada Marines. No cameras. No motion sensing doors.
She sits on a low backless chaise. Her legs are crossed delicately at the ankles - her body half turned to face me. Her clothing is soft, sheer pale blue layers that leave nothing to the imagination. Looking her. I can see exactly how she will look naked.
As I sit on an opposite chair with a low table between us, I run through all things I know about the Drupadi.
They are a species devoted to sexual pleasure. It is their main goal in life.
They are similar to us with regards to body shape, but instead of having specific regions, the Drupadi's entire body is one big erogenous zone.
As I remember this I try to for the millionth time in three years to think of a polite way to greet Marjda given that shaking hands is considered a sex act. Instead after I sit I put my hands on top of my legs; I pretend that I've glued my palms to my pants. I'm hoping this mental trick will keep my hands from wandering to exotic places that are suddenly well within my reach. Given the stakes in this I feel like an intergalactic spy confronting a femme fatale who has information I need. Actually, that metaphors fits a little too well.
She starts the conversation, "Admiral Montgomery, thank you so much for coming so soon. I really think this information holds incredible worth to you. But after all this time, considering you are in my home…may I call you Jeryl?"
I sit mute for a moment. The soft, huskiness of her voice charms me, so it takes a moment for me to respond.
"Yes, you can call me Jeryl," I respond, telling myself that I am only doing this out of diplomacy. She smiles at me with a knowing glint in her eye. I don't believe many people say no to her requests.
"Forgive me," she says, one hand playing with the hem of her dress, "I must confess meeting you here made me nervous." I can't help but arch a brow in surprise.