The Exxar Chronicles: Book 01 - The Erayan

by Neal Jones

  But after two months into his posting, and after several failed attempts to schedule lab time with two research centers close to the base, Ben quickly discovered that the level of bureaucracy and red tape one had to wade through was such that any work he would eventually get done would be for naught. There was too many forms to fill out, too many signatures needed of too many hospital officials and military brass, and too many repeats of explaining his reasons and theories to too many department heads and suits. Still, he fought the good fight, and after eighteen months was finally granted the off duty time and resources of one of the civilian labs.

  But just as he thought he was close to a breakthrough, he received his orders posting him to Mars. Ben had been so frustrated at that point, so exhausted from his battle with the bureaucrats and the local admiralty, that he had put aside his work for the entire time he was on Mars. That was when he reaffirmed his promise to Jennifer that his next posting would be Earthside, and he submitted the request through the proper channels at Naval Command. At the same time, word was getting out from personnel at CMC about the positions and postings at Exxar-One. Ben didn't believe that he had the experience or rank necessary to merit a posting of CMO on that starbase, and anything less than CMO wouldn't be worth it, not compared to the position he would have at the academy.

  But then it was announced that Doctor McCarthy had reneged on his acceptance of the post, choosing instead to retire from the service, and Ben had put his name on the list of candidates on a dare from one his colleagues at the shipyards. He really didn't believe that he would get it, so when Admiral Larsen contacted him directly and asked if he was genuinely interested in serving as Exxar-One's CMO instead of the teaching position at Medical, Ben was too surprised to say no. But even then he wasn't sure that the odds were in his favor, and when he received the communiqué two weeks later, he thought it was joke from Doctor Messmer, the same colleague who had dared him to put his name on the list in the first place. When he confirmed the new orders, and as he researched the starbase's design and the plans for the medical sector aboard it, he had no choice but to take this opportunity before it was too late.

  The hard part, of course, was convincing Jennifer.

  Ben put his empty bowl in the reclamator, placed the leftover stew in the fridge and turned off the light. Jennifer was curled on her side, asleep, when Ben walked into the bedroom. He took a shower and then crawled under the sheets next to his wife. He matched his body position to hers, drawing an arm gently across her waist to place his hand over hers. She murmured something, but she wasn't really awake as he had been hoping. So he kissed her softly on her neck, and laid his head next to hers.

  "Computer, reduce lighting level to zero," was the doctor's final words before the weight of his exhaustion forced his eyes to close. The last thing he felt was his wife's fingers intertwining themselves with his.

  ( 4 )

  Mariah keyed her personal code into the crate's com panel and opened the lid. She decided to unpack the kitchen first, and since she had begun the process two hours ago, she had only succeeded in emptying one crate. She had begun after dinner, when Josh had retreated to his room and turned up his music. After half an hour Mariah could stand the slamming thud-thud-thud no longer and demanded that he put his headphones on. When she went back to check an hour later, he was asleep, sprawled across his bed like a bear rug on a lodge floor, the noise in his headphones set to the highest volume setting. She didn't bother removing them because it would probably wake him, and after their fight at dinner, she was too tired for another argument. So she simply turned out the lights and left him to his cacophonous slumber.

  As Mariah filled the cupboards with plates, dishes, cups and coffee mugs, she wondered once more if she should have left her son with her parents as he had requested. Perhaps now that her father was retired he could spend some quality time with Joshua, could provide a stable father figure in his life that had been left vacant by Paul's death eleven years ago. But the more she reflected on that possibility, the more sour the taste in her mouth became. If Josh had remained on Earth, Mariah would only see him twice a year, at most, and that was a situation she could not abide. If she was honest with herself, she would also acknowledge that she had refused her son's request simply because it was something that he wanted. For the last two years he had begun to openly resent her, to rebel in whatever ways he could, to continually test every limit and rule she placed on him, and his desire to stay on Earth while she accepted this post was the last straw. He hadn't earned that kind of privilege, dammit, and she was not about to reward him for his bad behavior.

  Nor was she willing to see a family therapist. She knew exactly what her son's reaction to that would be, but more than that, there was nothing wrong with him. He was a normal, healthy teenager whose only problem was obeying authority, and Mariah didn't need to pay someone two hundred credits an hour to tell her something she already knew. Moreover, a therapist would end up prescribing some kind of medication which Josh didn't need, and Mariah would refuse the prescription. It would lead to one more battle with her son, and she had plenty of those already, so there was no other recourse but to stick with her original plan.

  Josh was her son, and he was coming with her to every single posting. Period. End of discussion. He could hate and resent her all he wanted, but in the end he would acknowledge her authority as his parent, and he would obey her. She might have to drag him kicking and screaming, but he eventually obeyed. The only problem was that, after two years, Mariah was quickly running out of patience and energy. She tried to pick her battles, but Josh always caught on to her strategy so they fought over almost everything. Tonight was a good example. Josh said he wasn't hungry and refused to come out of his room for dinner. Mariah gave him no choice, and, after a verbal match which lasted fifteen minutes, he finally came, slouching into his seat and refusing to talk for the entire time.

  The second crate was now empty, and Mariah poured herself a glass of juice and sat at the table. It was too early in the adolescent stage for this much fighting. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe there really was something wrong with Josh, some kind of genetic flaw that was just now making itself known. But Mariah stubbornly shook her head and told herself no, that his last checkup had been fine. He was healthy, growing teenage boy, and this was just typical teenage behavior. It was a phase that would pass eventually and all Mariah had to do was ride out the storm.

  The door chime's loud tune interrupted her reverie, and she moved the last pair of crates to get to the living room. She glanced at the chrono on the com panel beside the entrance to her quarters before pressing the command to open the door. It was 21:35, and she was surprised to see Marc on the other side of the threshold.

  "Hi," he said, almost sheepish. "Am I interrupting anything?"

  "Not at all. I was just in the middle of unpacking." She glanced down and saw a bottle of scotch and two tumblers in his hands. "You read my mind. Come into the kitchen."

  She pulled back two chairs as Marc filled the tumblers halfway, and they sat, sharing a comfortable silence as they sipped.

  Mariah glanced at the bottle as she swallowed. "This isn't your usual brand."

  Marc nodded. "It was the best I could find at the first liquor store I came to on the promenade."

  Another lengthy silence followed, and Mariah became nervous. After their talk following the staff briefing on the Dauntless five days ago, the two of them hadn't been alone since. She tried to gauge his emotions by his body language, but she had never been very good at it, and his gaze was fixed on a point on the wall beside the table. He was definitely lost in thought, and Mariah gave him his silence. He would have his say soon enough, and if he was finally ready to talk about the funeral, their fight, and that night on Kelatia-two eleven years ago, then that was fine with her. The sooner that this skeleton was dismantled and buried, so much the better. She emptied her glass and reached for the bottle. Marc suddenly roused himself and downed the last of his glass
.

  "You're right. This isn't as good a vintage as Ardmor's."

  "It's not bad. It tastes like my grandfather's scotch. I tried to sneak sips from his glass when I was younger, but he always caught me and made me promise to never touch the stuff." She tossed her old friend a wan smile, but his face wrinkled into a scowl as he poured himself another round.

  "You know what I haven't been able to stop thinking about since I arrived? That song from the club that you, Paul and I went to on Kelatia."

  "We went to three."

  Marc laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "The first." He drank. "It's been eleven years and I still remember that tune, even though I haven't heard it since that night."

  "I'm sorry I fought with you at the funeral. I know I apologized once, but I want you to know that I mean it. It wasn't you I was angry with."

  "Yes, it was. And you had every right to be. I was the one sitting in the command chair, the one who gave the order that condemned Paul."

  "Paul was never one to order his crew to take a risk that he wasn't willing to face himself. He was the one who made the decision to enter that maintenance tube, so you can stop blaming yourself."

  "And so can you."

  "I did. A long time ago. Eight years, to be exact." Mariah paused, turning her gaze to the wall which separated the kitchen from Josh's bedroom. "Perhaps that's part of the problem. I was so wrapped up in my grief at losing my husband that I neglected my son, and he knows it."

  Marc shook his head. "Josh was only two when his father died. He wasn't old enough to understand what happened."

  Mariah sighed, reached for one of the crates, and began sifting through the napkins and silverware. "I keep telling myself that but what else could it be?"

  "I loved you."

  The words startled Mariah, and she kept her face turned away from Marc, afraid to look at him.

  "What happened on Kelatia was my fault, and I'm sorry."

  She still couldn't look at him, and her vision was now blurred by tears which she struggled to blink away. She stood, walking to the reclamator and setting her empty glass in the compartment. She pressed the command which closed the door and began the wash cycle. It was several moments before Mariah could finally face her commanding officer.

  "It's late. I still have to unpack the bedroom stuff, and tomorrow is a big day for both of us."

  Gabriel stood and swallowed the last of his drink. He handed her the empty glass. "Goodnight, Mar."

  The nickname stung her eyes, and she walked to the sink, swiping at them with one hand. Gabriel left the bottle on the table. Long after he was gone, Mariah sat and nursed what little was left.

  Chapter 4

  ____________________

  ( 1 )

  Krael Jerren Zar was pleased to see that he was not the last officer to arrive for the morning staff briefing. He had been up late last night, unable to sleep. Not even a few chapters from Dagan's "A Dissertation On The Huunak Colonization Of 2432" could lull the security chief into a peaceful slumber, so he had resorted to a rigorous workout in one of the station's four rec centers. Unfortunately, his thoughts had been preoccupied with the upcoming visit of his mother, Ambassador Taelon Zar, and he wasn't paying attention to the readout on his treadmill. He was near the end of his 8K run, and as the track began to decrease its speed, Jerren kept up his pace and his foot slipped. He sprained his ankle, and while he was at the infirmary he requested a sleep aid from Doctor McMullen. It worked, but because he didn't get a full eight hours, he woke up feeling groggy, and he was behind schedule.

  As Zar took his seat next to Doctor Rosenberg, he activated his compad and reviewed his notes regarding the president's visit, as well as the arrival of Ambassadors Zar and Vorik. All the standard security precautions were in place, as well as extra measures set up by Jerren himself, and the krael felt confident in himself and his staff. Enkaro's visit would last a day-and-a-half, long enough for him to get a full tour of the station, dinner with the ambassadors and the senior staff, and an opportunity to regurgitate his speech about a "new era of peace and prosperity for the quadrant" during the change of command ceremony on the station's quarterdeck. Though it was nearly a week away, Zar had already sealed off specific sections of Exxar-One, including the quarterdeck, and a thorough background check was being conducted of all military and civilian personnel who would play a part in any aspect of the president's visit. So far, nothing unusual had turned up, but with the recent rash of bar fights between the off-duty soldiers - fueled by the racial tension which had been simmering in the corridors of Exxar-One ever since it came on line and its mixed crew stepped aboard - Zar was not taking any chances, no matter the size or detail.

  All of this had given him many sleepless nights, and he returned once more to the one fact which had caused most of his insomnia: his mother's visit to the station. Taelon Zar was highborn, a daughter of the lineage of Ermir, one of the founding houses of the modern DrayH'M Commonwealth. She had been educated at two of the Federation's top universities, earning a Lovaan – the equivalent of a PhD at an Earth university - in political science before returning to her homeworld to serve as a representative in the House of Lords. After her tour of service, she married one of her fellow representatives and settled down to raise a family. Jerren was her third child and her only son. His two sisters were currently following in their mother's footsteps. One was a successful corporate litigator, while the other was in her final semester at the same university where Taelon had received her degree. Both were married, but only Eteshia, the lawyer, had thus far given her mother any grandchildren.

  It wasn't that Taelon was unhappy with Jerren's choice of career, it was just that she was disappointed. She had devoted her life and career to serving her home empire and the Federation as a diplomat of peace and non-violence. She regarded the military as a necessary evil, and too often was the case where soldiers followed the orders of their superiors instead of their conscience. The Interstellar Federation of Peace was founded upon the principles of peace, upon the ideology that diverse and separate cultures could come together under a banner of harmony and concord, and could govern themselves according to a moral and just law. Unfortunately, not all alien worlds encountered by Federation explorers held aloft that same philosophy, and that was where the role of the soldier came into play. But in times of conflict the ultimate goal should always be one of peace and unity, with both sides striving with all of their resources and their abilities to come together on common ground and discuss their differences in a non-violent setting.

  The problem was that Jerren did not believe it was as easy to do that as his mother claimed. She made it sound so damn simple, as if all situations like the recent Beta Erendii War were nothing more than a petty dispute over a toy between two children on a playground. Taelon was a firm believer in what she termed "the basic humanity of every sentient lifeform". Everyone was more than capable of doing the right thing at the right time, and the only problem was that most people chose to allow the darker halves of their nature to dominate them instead of walking the harder road and choosing that which they knew to be right and just. She saw it as her mission to help others choose the better angels of their nature, to help them walk a new and righteous path, and she naively believed that her rank and title as an ambassador of peace would always protect her.

  That naïveté led to the death of Jerren's father six years ago, the last time that Jerren and his mother spoke. Taelon was negotiating a trade dispute between the Bisilian and the Gorebron, two empires that occupied the same sector. A surprise attack from Gorebron terrorists leveled the site of the peace summit. Taelon barely survived, and Koren's body was discovered three days later, buried two kilometers beneath the rubble. When Jerren heard the news, he had been so devastated by the loss that he had taken his first and only leave of absence in his career and returned to homeworld to grieve with his family. But when he investigated the incident and learned that several reasonable security precautions had not been in
place, he became furious with his mother, demanding to know why she had had so carelessly risked her life and that of his father's. Taelon answered him with her usual rhetoric of "coming together upon common ground, and she had felt the security measures were adequate."

  A summit is a place of peace, Jerren, and I have been negotiating these kinds of conflicts for most of my life. You would do better to respect my judgment and my experience in these matters.

  And what of my father? Jerren retorted. What of the man whose body now lies in pieces in our family's burial ground?

  Taelon had winced at her son's words, but she stood her ground. Your father chose to come with me on this mission, and he accepted the risks. Peace and unity are almost always bought with blood of the innocents. Those terrorists were soldiers who refused to put down their weapons, who refused to listen to their conscience, instead clinging to that which they knew to be false. The Gorebron government lied to its people and made them believe that they would be destroyed by an alliance with the Bisili.

  Stop it, mother! I've heard this speech before and I don't care for another round of your sermons against those who wear a uniform and fight for their beliefs.

  Even when their beliefs are clearly wrong? Even when their ideals violate basic moral laws of decency and justice?

  This response brought Jerren to his breaking point. It's so simple with you, isn't it?? You think that everything in this universe falls so neatly into a prescribed set of categories: right and wrong! How can you be so blind and so naïve after all the violence and bloodshed you have witnessed in the course of your career??