by Neal Jones
Sikandra laughed and nodded as she slipped the compad into its holder on the side of console. "As it happens, I did bring a set of cards. But first, I think you and I should get a couple issues off the table."
Navarr didn't miss a beat. "I agree. And for starters, yes, Commodore Gabriel gave me the authority to kill you if I believe that your loyalties become compromised at any time during this mission."
Sikandra nodded. "That doesn't surprise me. For the record, my loyalty is to my uniform. My oath as an officer dictates that I follow orders, and right now, I have been posted to the position of chief tactical officer on starbase Exxar-One. Until either my government or yours says that we're at war, I will fulfill that oath to the best of my ability."
For just a breath, the two women stared at one another with solemn expressions; then they both erupted with soft laughter.
Navarr shook her head. "Glad we got the rhetoric out of the way."
"You have no idea how many times I've had to recite that speech."
"Actually, I might." Navarr sat up and swiveled her chair to face the rear wall of the flight deck. She reached beneath her seat and pulled out a gravball. Gravity hoverball – or "gravball" for short - was one of the major sports played throughout the Federation, and Navarr had been champion of the Naval Academy team during her sophomore and senior years. She switched off the ball's anti-grav function and tossed it against the wall. It bounced back. She threw it again. On the third toss, Sikandra's arm lanced out and she snatched the ball. She tossed it to her side of the wall for a few throws before Navarr stole it back. They played this duet for almost thirty minutes as they talked.
"So did you really miss the basket during the last five seconds of the championship game your junior year, or was it a wrong foul call by the ref?"
Navarr grimaced and became distracted just enough for Sikandra to steal the ball. "You've been talking to Ritano."
"He claims you had an open shot and you missed it."
"I lost because of a technicality. The ref called a foul on me, and I was nowhere near the forward guard. The decision stood despite my...extreme protests."
Sikandra snickered. "Ritano told me about those too."
Navarr bristled. "Have you two been having daily lunches together? He's not even on your crew."
"Hhhmmm. Touchy subject. Have I struck a nerve?"
"Not at all. Yes, the lieutenant and I have a history, but it's just that. All in the past. I haven't even spoken to him since I arrived on the station."
"Yes, he said that you arranged it so you two would be on opposite shifts."
"Okay, seriously. You two play cards at the same table? Have breakfast together every morning?"
Sikandra laughed. "We both have a love for gravball, and Grax has tuned his HTs to the Essver Cup Series every night for the past few weeks. During the commercials, Jeff and I have ...talked."
"Yeah, I'll bet," Navarr said sourly as she snatched the ball. After a few throws she added, "I suppose it's good for everyone that you two have become friends. Maybe you can set an example for everyone else."
Sikandra shrugged. "In all honesty, I think that Gabriel, Saveck and Krael Zar are overemphasizing the situation. Yes, there've been a few fights among the off duty officers, but I was there when the first one went down and it started because of a disagreement over a bet on the final score of the fourth GS game."
"A bet which happened to be between a Chrisarii and an EarthCorps Marine."
"Yep. So tell me a little about this history between you and Ritano."
"You don't know the details?"
"We've only had a couple conversations."
"I'd rather talk about something else."
"Oh, come on. You're the one who said we have twelve hours to kill, and it's only been" - she glanced at the chrono on the console display – "ten minutes."
"I meant that we should talk about you."
"All right, fine. You show me yours, I'll show you mine. I've got a few urnelds in my oere patch."
"What?"
"An old expression. It means I've got a few embarrassing secrets of my own. My father's a farmer."
Navarr hurled the ball and nearly missed it on its way back. "Oh gods, why not?"
"That's the spirit!"
The EarthCorps officer scowled, and then exhaled slowly, trying to decide how much of this sordid tale should be revealed. In the end, she chose to bare all. "Jeff and I met during my freshman year at the Academy. He was a sophomore. He was on one of the opposing hoverball squads, and after a few games, he asked me out. The first thing you have to know about Jeff Ritano is that he has the personality of a used hovercar salesman. He knows just what to say to get you to seal the deal. In my case, it took three rounds of negotiations before I finally caved. I agreed to one date, early evening, someplace public and with a bunch of friends. Of course, I knew ahead of time that Jeff had already bedded a third of the cadet population by the time I arrived, though I wasn't aware that a few of his conquests had been male. I learned that little nugget two weeks after my first time with him."
Sikandra stole the ball and threw it underhand. "Your first time?"
Navarr shrugged. "What can I say? He's good looking, as smooth as liquid triinium, and he ... well, I'll just say it was a memorable first time."
Sikandra snickered knowingly. "Keep going."
"So a couple of months later, after not calling me and not saying more than 'hi' or 'bye' in the breaks between classes, he suddenly shows an interest. I learned later that he had begun dating Cadet Ferrell right after me and that she had finally dumped his sorry ass. So he decided that I was worth a second go-around, and I was young enough and stupid enough to offer him another ride. Long story short, we dated off and on for a couple years and then we were married during my junior year. Turns out, neither of us was cut out for married life. In fact, once we started living together we couldn't stand each other. All we did was fight, and then we'd have great make-up sex, but then we'd fight again, then we'd make up, yadda, yadda, yadda. So we divorced, he graduated, and we haven't spoken since."
"Not even in the entire time you've both been on Exxar-One?"
"Nope. I made sure of that by bribing Krael Zar with a case of Sibyk. He put us on opposite shifts, and since I know Jeff's habits, I know when to steer clear of Grax's." She grinned and tossed her co-pilot the ball.
Sikandra laughed and shook her head. "That is a lot of history."
"You want to know the real funny thing? I haven't been able to stop thinking about him since I first saw his name on the crew roster six weeks ago."
"Isn't there an old human expression that says opposites attract?"
Navarr nodded but then shook her head. "Jeff and I were more than just opposites. We had our differences, yes, but as the old cliché says, we were more alike than either of us cared to admit. We were both proud, stubborn, always unwilling to give in and admit that the other was right."
For a few moments the only sound was the ball striking the wall and bouncing off the floor as it came back to its thrower. Navarr turned her seat around to check the readouts on the autopilot. Sikandra watched her, wondering if the lieutenant had actually told the whole story. Navarr cleared her throat and stood.
"I'm ready for a snack. I assume there's a food processor in the rear cabin."
The shuttle was a Chrisarii model, procured by one of Saveck's superiors in CI. It was designed as a three-man cargo ship, with a large hold beneath the flight deck. The hold was currently stocked with supplies, and a legitimate manifest was logged in the central computer, just in case the ship was stopped at the border and inspected.
Sikandra stood and nodded as she tossed the ball to Navarr. "This is a good time to introduce you to some more Chrisarii cuisine. I know you had some in the last couple days on the station, but you should sample as much as you can, as well as learn the names of a few dishes so you can order from a restaurant menu on homeworld without looking like an idiot." She smiled.
"This is a traditional ket dish, prepared with a pasta that comes from one of our largest spice colonies in the Worquau system," Sikandra narrated.
"It smells awful! No offense."
"None taken. It's the vegetables in the sauce which give that aroma. They're called ianye. Taste one."
Navarr stabbed a globule with her fork and held it up, examining it for a moment before she popped it into her mouth. She was pleasantly surprised by the texture and the flavor; it reminded her of the sauce from her mother's garden stew recipe. The noodles, however, were a different story. One bite and Navarr spit them out. They looked like tortellini but tasted like sand.
"Uugh! That's nasty! What did you call this again?"
"Ket."
Navarr shoved the dish away. "No. Bring me something else."
"This meal is one of the most traditional and most sacred meals of my people," Sikandra said. Her eyes flashed with anger, and she leaned forward, her fork pointed menacingly at Navarr. "You only took one bite. You have to eat at least half that bowl."
Navarr leaned forward, rising to the challenge. "Or what?"
"I'll tie you down and force the whole thing down your throat one spoonful at a time."
"I'd like to see you try."
The staring contest lasted for another ten seconds before Sikandra broke. She laughed as she picked up Navarr's dish and walked back to the processor. The other woman leaned back and folded her hands behind her head.
"I think you and I are going to get along just fine, lieutenant."
"Same here." Sikandra returned to the table with what appeared to be a steak dinner, although the mashed potatoes were green and the vegetable medley contained tiny shards of brown sticks. The meat itself, however, appeared perfectly normal and was smothered in a cream sauce. "The steak is nysych meat, and those aren't potatoes. They're called oere, and you eat them with the steak. They bring out the spices in the meat."
Navarr did as instructed and was pleasantly surprised. "You're right. This is much better." After a few more bites, she laid down her fork and reached for her glass of ustf juice. "I've told you my sordid tale, lieutenant, it's time for me to hear yours."
"Actually...I don't have one."
"Oh, come on. You said you had several."
"I lied."
"Bullshit!"
"It's true. I was born and raised on the Worquau colony. My father was an oere farmer, and my mother was a seamstress. They're retired now. I have a younger brother who's on homeworld right now, working for a company that manufactures weapons and other supplies for the military. He's doing quite well, from what I hear. I haven't spoken to him in awhile. As for marriages, or even something resembling a relationship, I have never had either. The closest I came was a few years ago, right after I graduated from combat training. I was stationed on a starbase in the Ainai system, and I had an affair with my superior officer. Nothing ever came of it, and it only last a couple of months. He was transferred and I haven't seen him since. That's all. I never fought in the war, and Exxar-One is my third posting since graduation."
Navarr watched her fellow officer sip her juice and take a bite of her pasta. It was hard to tell if she was lying, but the EarthCorps lieutenant knew that she was. She smiled as she sliced another piece of meat.
"I'm onto you, lieutenant. Sooner or later, you will give up your secrets to me."
"I enjoy a challenge," Sikandra replied, grinning.
You're wrong, commodore, Navarr thought as she chewed her steak. Not all Chrisarii are like Major Saveck. Grynel Sikandra and I are going to get along just fine.
Chapter 6
____________________
( 1 )
Jerren fastened the last button of his dress uniform jacket and stood back, smoothing the front and adjusting his belt. He'd gained a couple pounds since arriving on Exxar-One, and he chided himself for not keeping to his regular workout schedule for the last week. Just two days. After the president and Ambassador Vorik are gone, things will be back to normal around here, and I can stop worrying about every little security detail. But even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. On a starbase like Exxar-One, there was no such thing as normal. The Tiralan neutral zone was a high traffic sector, and with such a large civilian population, Exxar-One was a port of call for smugglers, entrepreneurs, thieves, legitimate merchants and everyone in between. There was always a security issue, no matter the time of day or night, and Zar had never been so busy in his entire career as he was on this outpost. The standard shift rotation for all military ships and bases was four – alpha, beta, delta and gamma. Alpha and beta were eight hours, while delta and gamma were seven, thus completing a standard galactic day which was thirty hours. On starships and starbases, since there was no actual "day" or "night", everything was done in shifts, and gamma was considered to be graveyard. When Zar first arrived on Exxar-One, he assumed that it would be this shift which would have the highest crime rate. His last posting had been planetside, and the graveyard shift had always had the highest criminal incidents among the civilian population.
That was not the case for Exxar-One. Put simply, this station never slept. There was always something going down somewhere, and it usually involved theft, assault, and/or illegal substances of one form or another. The brig was always half full, and each shift's incident log was always at least ten pages. Now, with the impending visit of President Brouchard, along with all the recent media attention, Zar felt as if his head had been shoved into a black hole. He resisted another yawn as he left his office and headed for the nearest PTL. His destination was docking port one, where Ambassador Vorik's ship had just arrived. The honor guard was already there, and Zar was running late. He had decided to take a nap in one of the empty holding cells, and he was already regretting it. He felt sluggish, like he was walking through a class two nebula, and the day was only half over. He wondered if there was a way to back out of his mother's dinner invitation without offending Vorik or Gabriel.
He really didn't care what his mother's response would be.
The security chief arrived at the docking port just as the doors to the crossway tunnel were opening. Taelon was standing beside Gabriel, with Saveck and Decev on either side of them. Jerren smoothly moved into his place at Saveck's right, just as Gabriel called –
"Atten-shun!"
All officers locked up as Ambassador Queyn Vorik crossed the threshold. He was a stout, beefy man of medium height, with a large belly and a round face whose lower half was covered in a neatly trimmed beard. His hair, too, was cut short, and the pair of V-shaped ridges in the center of his forehead were not as pronounced as they were on younger Chrisarii. This fact, accompanied by the presence of the crow's feet around Vorik's eyes, betrayed the ambassador's age. He was definitely past his prime, and as he greeted Taelon, Jerren could see why the media and parliament had dubbed the pair "the grandparents of peace". Watching them, one would believe that Queyn and Taelon had known each other their whole lives.
Vorik suddenly appeared in front of the security chief and thrust out his hand. Jerren felt like he was grasping a slab of clammy meat, and was even further startled by the ambassador clapping him on the shoulder.
"A pleasure to finally meet you, krael. Your mother has told me a great deal about you."
"I wouldn't believe half of it, sir. She tends to exaggerate."
Vorik laughed - a deep, booming sound that resonated in the cramped corridor. "You have her sense of humor. I like that.
"
He turned and motioned to a tall, slender woman who was waiting on the threshold. She was dressed plain, yet there was a quiet elegance about her, a way she carried herself that instantly – and disconcertingly - reminded Jerren of his mother. He knew before Vorik spoke the introduction that this was the ambassador's wife. Waaris knew her role, and she played it well. Her greetings were formal, but her manner wasn't detached or stiff. She was one of those who grasps your elbow as she shakes your hand, squeezing just for a moment and looking at you as if you're the only other person in the room.
The last of the introductions were reserved for Vorik's aide and his chief of staff. The former was a young man who looked scared to death, and the latter was a middle aged man who remained in the background and said nothing when his name was spoken. He merely nodded and then returned his attention to his compad, inputting several new commands and notations.
"Commodore, I won't bother you with a tour of your station. I know that Taelon has already had her turn, and I'm an hour late in my arrival." He glanced at Taelon. "Plus, we’ve all been invited to dinner tonight, and I'm looking forward to meeting the rest of your senior staff."
"As you wish, ambassador." The relief in Gabriel's voice was palpable, probably more than he intended.
Vorik held out his hand and Waaris took it, assuming her customary position at her husband's side. "Taelon, would you care to join me? Krael, there's no need to show my staff to my quarters. Just give them the information, and they'll find their way."
Jerren nodded. "Understood." Grahlen Ommnor, Vorik's chief of staff, was already striding forward. When it was all over, when the honor guard had been dismissed, when Vorik's staff had returned to their ship, when Gabriel, Saveck and Decev had disappeared into the PTL, Jerren stood alone in the corridor, the back of his skull beginning to throb. As he trudged into the PTL, he tapped his commlink and told Lieutenant Howard that he was ending his shift early. The only way that he was going to get through the next few hours was if he took an extra-long soak in an Orethian spice bath.