by Neal Jones
The promenade of the docking station was the usual cacophony of odors, colors and sounds, and it took a few minutes for Navarr to adapt herself to the alien environment. She was accustomed to the streamlined, polished interiors of EarthCorps starbases, and while this station wasn't a junk heap by any standard, it was still a far cry from the modern construction and décor that Navarr had pictured in her mind during the journey. Where the EarthCorps navy preferred to use neutral tones of gray, blue and white, the Chrisarii seemed obsessed with much darker hues – bronze, copper, crimson, gold and burnt orange. Nor did they see a need for carpet. Treading upon the steel deck plating were dozens of species that Navarr had only seen in textbooks at the Academy. While most of the crowd was populated by Chrisarii, she recognized a pack of Sohnath traders, a family of Hinarde, a squad of Kauramide soldiers, and many other races that were now allies with the Federation.
The Chrisarii Alliance was so named because their empire spanned several dozen star systems and sectors whose indigenous populations had been conquered by the Chrisarii at one time or another in the past two centuries. Those populations had no choice but to follow their government when the treaty with the Federation had been signed a decade earlier. However, there had been more than one uprising against the treaty, primarily in the Kauramide systems, which was where Central Intelligence believed most of the Haal'Chai resistance cells were located. The Om'Nalu colony, which was the final destination for Navarr and Sikandra, was in the Chatas system, in the Kauramide home sector.
"Navin is going to meet us in our quarters tomorrow morning," Sikandra said quietly to her companion.
"We're not going to the planet's surface?"
Sikandra shook her head. "Wait here. I'm going to that kiosk to confirm our reservations."
Navarr set her suitcase down and leaned against a nearby pillar. She did her best to appear casual, trying not to stare too hard at the people around her. It was difficult to contain her excitement. This mission had a very high risk factor, and while that was part of the thrill, the other part was the fact that Navarr was in uncharted territory. She had never thought much about space exploration when she was little, but after enlisting in the navy, and after getting a taste of the possibilities that a military career in space could offer, the young woman who had been raised among the cornfields of western Iowa was eager to set out for unknown territory.
While she'd had her share of first contact experiences before this point, there was something extra special about this type of mission. Until ten years ago, this station and the planet below it had been enemy territory. Most of the species that were crossing paths in front of Navarr had never met a Federation officer except on a battlefield. Here was a chance to lift the mask off the Chrisarii and examine the face beneath.
The promenade was the typical thoroughfare of shops, restaurants, and various recreational facilities, and there was a temple or a church of some kind not far from the kiosk where Sikandra was procuring the tickets. Navarr knew this because she recognized the symbol attached the wall above the arched door. She had used the time aboard the transport carrier to conduct further research on the Chrisarii. Religion was one of the topics that Sikandra had insisted Navarr become more familiar with.
Faith and spirituality are very important to my people, Sikandra had stated. Not all of us believe in the same thing, but we all believe in something.
Christine had found many parallels between the gods and goddesses of the Varashok and the deities of her own religion, Cassandranism. For the Chrisarii, their deities had no individual names. There were only archetypes: the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Maiden and the Priest. Five was a holy number for the followers of the Varashok. The Father gave wisdom and justice, the Mother love and peace, the Warrior strength and honor, the Maiden virtue and temperance, and the Priest gave faith and sight. Navarr wasn't exactly sure what that last one meant, but she wasn't surprised that the Warrior was the god who was most revered by the Chrisarii. The cornerstone of their religious mythology involved a warrior prophet from three thousand years ago named Tor'Ahl who had been saved and reborn by the Varashok. He then proceeded to unite the disparate tribal clans under one rule, one holy law. Today, Tor'Ahl was revered as the emissary of the Varashok, and His followers eagerly awaited his Second Coming.
"Aerin."
Navarr blinked and turned to see Sikandra standing in front of her. "What?"
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Why?"
"I said your name twice. You looked a little dazed."
"Sorry. I was just...thinking."
Sikandra glanced at a printout in her hand. "We're on the third level, habitat section one. This way."
The women weaved their way through the crowd to a PTL, passing the temple on their way.
( 2 )
The following morning, Navarr stifled a yawn as she followed Sikandra into the café. The EarthCorps officer had slept little, thanks to a thin mattress and a bed frame that she was certain was made of Manidoran steel. There were no extra pillows, and Navarr decided that the Chrisarii as a species did not desire any comfort whatsoever, or this station's personnel were just plain lazy, at best, and downright rude, at worst. Not only that, the water temperature in the shower stall was set so high that she was sure she had burned her right hand. According to Sikandra, the Chrisarii skin is much thicker than a human's and can withstand greater temperatures. Navarr spent twenty minutes trying to adjust the temperature, but failed to attain a medium heat, and by then all the warm water had been used up. The day, so far, was not off to a good start.
As soon as they sat, a waitress appeared and handed them compads. Sikandra ordered the breakfast special, and Navarr followed suit. Thanks to the miracle of modern food processors, no one had to wait any length of time for a fresh, hot meal. The waitress returned only minutes later with two steaming plates and two glasses of sulyc milk. The milk was pleasantly sweet, but one taste of the slice of meat on her plate made Navarr gag. She quickly swallowed and asked Sikandra what she'd just eaten.
"It's called angop," the Chrisarii replied. "It's typically seasoned with isrr spice, which is probably what you're reacting to. Try the eggs, though. You'll enjoy those."
When they returned to their quarters an hour later, Navin was waiting for them. He was seated in a chair near the viewport, perusing a compad. He stood as the women entered and gave no apology for breaking and entering. "I'm Special Operative Navin with the Central Intelligence Ministry. Please sit. We have a lot to discuss." He motioned to the small desk in the corner nearest the door. Sikandra and Navarr obeyed. Navin set his compad on the desk and activated it. A holographic display popped into the air, hovering a few inches above the pad. "I trust your journey here was uneventful."
"Yes," Sikandra replied.
"First of all," Navin began, "the Chrisarii government thanks you for your willingness to volunteer for this mission. You do understand the risks that you will be facing on the Om'Nalu colony?"
Both women nodded.
"Second, there's been a slight change to your orders." Navin inputted a command, and a photograph appeared in the upper left corner of the "screen". To the right were a few paragraphs of biographical information. "This is Alikk Vi'Sar, the man whom we believe is the central leader of the Haal'Chai."
"I recognize him," Sikandra said.
"So do I." Navarr furrowed her brow. "Wasn't he the only prisoner of war to escape the Octovar penal colony?"
Navin nodded. "That's right. He was one of several dozen soldiers who were captured at the battle of Rigana-seven twelve years ago."
"That was the same battle where Major Saveck was taken prisoner," Navarr added.
"Your assignment is to locate Vi'Sar, and if at all possible, kill him."
The women reacted, stunned by this pronouncement. "No," Sikandra said firmly. "That wasn't part of our mission and I won't accept that responsibility."
"As I stated earlier, your mission has changed."
"We did. But in the last few months, several have disappeared. My superiors believe it's because of leak in CI headquarters, which is another reason we're grateful that you two volunteered. No one except myself and two senior officers know of this mission. The last information that we received from one of our informants on the Om'Nalu colony stated that Vi'Sar had arrived and established new headquarters for the resistance. That was three months ago."
"And CI is certain that this colony is the origin of the raiders which have attacked Exxar-One?"
"One of the origins, yes. Our latest information suggests that there are at least four colonies which have been manufacturing those raiders. You're being sent to Om'Nalu because we need you to kill Vi'Sar."
"Why not just capture him?" Navarr interrupted.
"Because there's no way for you to get him to a CI safe house. You would be captured and/or killed in the process. Neither of you is fully trained in CI field operations, and since we've lost all contact with our few remaining agents, we're resorting to desperate measures."
"You really think killing Vi'Sar is going to have any effect on the Haal'Chai?" Sikandra said. "My understanding is that there's hundreds of resistance cells scattered throughout the Alliance. Vi'Sar is only one head among many."
"Yes, but he's one of the most important." Navin hesitated, then sat behind the desk. He frowned for a moment, as if debating something with himself. When he spoke, he directed his words to Navarr. "My government has not been completely honest with yours regarding the Haal'Chai situation. This terrorist group presents a much bigger threat to the Alliance – and the treaty with the Federation – than we have let on. This is primarily because of the Kauramide, for they have been the most outspoken of all the member worlds of the Alliance in their opposition of the treaty. Assassinating Vi'Sar will allow us to create some chaos among his followers, which might lead them to act rashly in response."
"Which, in turn, will expose certain cells and maybe even lead to a few arrests," Navarr finished.
"Yes. If we can gain some valuable intelligence from those arrests, we'll have information which might help us quell the rebellion even further."
Navarr glanced at her companion. "Do we really have a choice?"
Sikandra leaned forward, resting her hands on the desk. "We'll do as you ask, but only as long as it does not compromise our cover. There's a good possibility we won't even get near Vi'Sar at all."
The agent nodded. "I understand. But if you do get the opportunity, you will be doing the Alliance – and the Federation – a favor." He stood and deactivated the compad, then extracted its data disc. "Take this with you. There's more information on there about Om'Nalu that will help you."
Sikandra accepted the disc, and the two women watched Navin leave. When the door closed, Navarr stood and paced to the viewport while Sikandra turned the disc over and over in her fingers, her expression somber.
"Assuming we're able to get close enough to Vi'Sar to pull this off, how are we going to do the actual deed?" Navarr wondered aloud. "And besides that, how are we going to escape if we're caught? Vi'Sar has to have dozens of protective measures set in place to prevent this kind of situation. He knows he's a wanted man." She paused in her pacing and faced Sikandra. "Grynel – I mean, Drennen – are you listening to me?"
Sikandra rose and tossed the disc to Navarr. "Yes, I am. And you're lucky that I've done more than my share of assigned homework for this mission. We're going to pack first, and then we'll start planning."
Her tone and demeanor were matter-of-fact, and Navarr was a little disconcerted by how well the tactical officer could adapt herself to the unexpected. Christine was already feeling nauseous, and she hoped that whatever spices were in that breakfast meat wouldn't make her regret the whole meal. But then again, she thought, I wasn't surprised by Gabriel's order to me concerning Sikandra. Vi'Sar certainly made a much better choice, but even still, the EarthCorps officer began to wonder if the war was really over, treaty or no treaty. Had the two governments only created a second cold war, where the battlefield was underground and the spies were the new army? Navarr shuddered and dispelled this thought with a shake of her head. She would complete this mission, no matter what, and in two weeks she would back on Exxar-One safe and sound.
She hoped.
( 3 )
Gabriel sighed as he cleared off his desk and shoved the pair of compads into the top left drawer. He shut off his terminal and stood, examining the clean surface one last time. Five days since President Enkaro had left, and the commodore was finally caught up on all the paperwork which the daily operations of a starbase produced. Tomorrow, there would another pile of papers, another catalogue of reports, another series of communiqués and updates to receive and answer. The last few days had been without incident, thank the gods, but Gabriel continued to be wary. Although there had been no attack from the Haal'Chai, he was surprised they hadn't made another attempt since Enkaro left.
He was also surprised by the lack of major incidents among the crew. Gabriel had managed to forge a working relationship with Saveck, and while it wasn't ideal by any means, the pair was able to set the example for the station's crew that Gabriel desired. However, the commodore expected that there would continue to be more incidents for a little while, at least, before the new order fully established itself. But apparently McKenna was correct in her assumption that Gabriel was a bulldog, and the crew appeared to respect his authority. The edict which his senior officers had passed along to their respective staffs had been taken more seriously than Gabriel had anticipated, and he was grateful for this. It was a small victory, but he would take it.
The commodore left his office, said goodnight to the watch commander, and entered the PTL. He considered going straight to his quarters, but decided to make a detour to the promenade instead. He hadn't had a drink in four days, and he deserved a break for his good behavior. He had actually accomplished a great deal in such a short amount of time, and he was quite proud of himself. He stopped the PTL on the promenade's third level, and began walking to the liquor store.
"Good evening, commodore."
The soft voice possessed enough volume to startle Gabriel, and he whipped his gaze to his left. The Delphic priestess was standing outside of the Cassandran temple, clad in her customary ceremonial robes for the evening service. Around her neck, hanging from a gilded chain, was the symbol of the Delphic Sisterhood.
"Good evening, sister," Gabriel replied.
"Will you be joining us this evening?"
"No, thank you." The commodore resumed his trek, but the priestess' next words gave him pause.
"It's been so long since you've crossed my threshold. The Gods carry a message for you, Marcus."
"Excuse me?" Gabriel turned to the woman, certain that he'd misunderstood her words. But she was already disappearing into the darkness beyond the doorway. The service was scheduled to start in a few minutes, and the lights had been dimmed. Gabriel knew without following the priestess that the altar children were lighting the clusters of candles that were placed in various positions throughout the sanctuary.
The commodore shook his head and returned to his walk. Ever since his enlistment in the academy twenty-six years ago, he had ceased attending church, severing almost all ties with Cassandranism. Alanys insisted all of her children be raised in the faith, but once he was away from home Marc had seen no need for the weekly services and rituals. The church had its uses, but the mythology as a whole seemed ridiculous to him. It was a bunch of fables that were no truer than the older religions, the ones that were worshiped before the onset of World War III. Jesus Christ was just as fictional as Zeus and Apollo.
Instead of his usual bottle of Scotch, Gabriel chose an Orethian brandy, one of the older vintages, and when he stepped into the PTL he told the computer to take him to Mariah's quarters. She had remarked to Ro
senberg at the staff briefing that morning that Josh was spending the night with a friend from school, and Marc had been waiting for an opportunity like this ever since the first night he and Decev had shared a bottle of Scotch. She had been avoiding him since, interacting with him only when necessary, which was usually when they were both on duty, and Marc decided it was time for the game to end.
A lengthy wait followed his pressing of the door chime. Maybe she had decided to eat out or go see a movie. He pressed the chime again. Another minute passed, and just as Marc gave up, the door opened. Mariah was in her bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel, and she looked flustered.
"I'm sorry," Gabriel said. "I've caught you at a bad time."
Decev smiled. "Not at all. Come in."
Marc obeyed, but he paused inside the threshold. "You're obviously in the middle of a bath, and I should have called first. Are you sure I'm not disturbing you?"
"Marc, you’ve been eyeing me like a hawk ever since that night that we talked, so you might as well get off your chest whatever it is you need to say. And I just got done with my bath." Mariah walked into the kitchen and began preparing a cup of tea.
Gabriel reached into the cupboard and brought out two tumblers. "You're right. I do have something that I need to say, and I need to say it because I don't like how we left things that night."
"No scotch for me, thanks."
"It's not scotch. It's Orethian brandy."
"Then no brandy for me, thanks."
Marc stopped filling the second glass and set the bottle on the counter. He stood back and looked at Mariah for a few moments. "What's the matter? You act like you're upset with me."