The Exxar Chronicles: Book 01 - The Erayan

by Neal Jones

  "That's bullshit!"

  "You have become quite the connoisseur of human expressions, haven't you?"

  "This talk is pointless. Goodnight, mother. I'm sure you can see your own way out."

  "Don't walk out on me, Jerren! We're not finished!" Taelon's voice resonated with such fury and volume that the security chief nearly choked on his embb.

  He turned to his mother, even more stunned than when she had asked him for a joint. She was standing now, and the cold granite in her expression, as well as the naked wrath in her eyes made him suddenly afraid.

  "You listen to me, son, and you listen well. You have disrespected me since the moment I arrived, and it was you who initiated a six-year silence. It was you who chose to blame me for the death of your father, and you have rebuffed my every attempt to reach some kind of peace with you. I will not have this any longer." She softened her tone, as well as her expression, and her vulnerability surprised Jerren. "I love you more than anything else in this universe, and I don't understand why you persist in blaming me for Koren's death. He made his own choices, and it wouldn't have mattered if he had died at my side, or back on homeworld. You would have found some way to blame me. Why?"

  "I don't know," Jerren replied, his voice nearly breaking. He cleared his throat and took a swallow of his wine. He thought for a few moments, and then he said, "Maybe it's because he was so weak." He walked back to the coffee table and refilled his glass. "He was pushed around his whole life. He made a remark to me once that he never wanted a position in the House of Lords. That was his parents' idea, or more specifically, his father's." Jerren took a deep gulp of his embb. "And then he married you, and you were even more intimidating than his father. You knew exactly what you wanted, you knew what was best for everyone around you – especially your husband and children – and you didn't hesitate to get everything set up so nice and neat. Eteshia and Sren were so afraid of you, of disappointing you, that they were only too happy to go along with whatever plan you had established. I'll bet I know the real reason that Sren hasn't given you any grandchildren yet. She's probably terrified that she's going to turn out like you, and she can't bear the thought of that. But I wasn’t afraid of you, and I defied you. I stood up to you, and that's why father supported me. I had the guts to do what he didn't, and you just couldn't stand it. I'm not so naïve as to think that was the reason for the divorce, but I do believe there was a point when you decided that your husband was holding you back, and you wanted the last word." He downed the last of his wine, then refilled it a fourth time. "Here's the simple truth, mother. You're right in one respect: I'm wrong for blaming you for father's death. So I won't anymore. But as for you and me, I don't see a need to have this big, deep discussion where we rehash every little detail of our past and try to understand what went wrong in our relationship. I'm willing to have dinner with you, to talk to you, to correspond with you after you leave, but that's it. The past is past, and I don't want to talk about it anymore. I also don't want to talk about my personal relationships, or lack thereof. For the record, I haven't decided yet whether I want to get married or not. The choice is up to me. You have no say in it. I'm not under your control anymore." He held his mother's gaze for several moments, then added, "Is that honest enough for you?"

  "Yes," Taelon replied. She didn't flinch or look away, yet there was a new sadness in her eyes, despite her efforts to hide it. "Thank you, Jerren. You honesty is all I wanted."

  It was a lie, but he allowed her to believe it. He sipped his embb. "It's still early, and I'm hungry. Would you like some dinner?"

  She almost refused, but the only place to go from here was her own quarters. She was feeling woozy from the kaanu, and her clothes reeked of it. She couldn't go out on the promenade smelling of an illegal substance, so she accepted her son's invitation.

  "Mother, you look dizzy. Sit down and watch HT. I'm sure there's a classical opera or a documentary on somewhere."

  "As if you don't watch such things," Taelon murmured as she obeyed, and she nearly wept at the sight of a genuine smile from her son. She waited until he had left the room to dab her eyes, and after regaining her composure – as well as her balance – she rolled herself another joint. The olive branch had not been accepted, but neither had it been outright refused. This was a cease-fire, and that was enough for now. The esteemed Federation ambassador lit her cigarette, inhaled, and closed her eyes.

  ( 6 )

  Gabriel had just sat down to a late dinner when his door chime played its bland tune. Varis was on the other side of the threshold.

  "I apologize for interrupting your evening, commodore, and I won't stay long."

  "Come in." Gabriel headed for the kitchen. "I was just starting dinner. Care to join me?"

  "No, thank you, I've already eaten. But I will have a glass of whatever you're drinking."

  He poured her a cup of water, and if she was surprised she didn't show it. They both sat, and Gabriel stabbed at his leftover pasta with his fork.

  "I have been an FCI field agent for eleven years, and I have a somewhat large network of sources and inside information that I use on a regular basis. Most of the time I can find out certain things that are omitted from official reports, or information that hasn't yet been made public to other field agents or CMC." She sipped her water. "However, my efforts today to learn more about the Jha'Drok situation have yielded only one small result. It's enough to give us a starting point, but it's far less than what I was hoping for." She pursed her lips, and a deep scowl seeped into her otherwise austere features. "There's a star system on the far side of the Jha'Drok territories that's being intensely protected. That system was in more than one report of the field agents who were stationed behind Jha'Drok borders two decades ago."

  "The same agents who have since vanished," Gabriel clarified.

  "Yes." Varis took one last sip of her water and stood. "We will be departing tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred. I have selected two squads of Marines, as well as three EarthCorps security officers who have had some training in these types of missions."

  Gabriel nodded. "Good luck."

  "Thank you for the water. I'll see myself out."

  ( 7 )

  Sikandra's eyes snapped open and her first instinct was to reach for the gun beneath her pillow. But her upper body was pinned, and there was a thick hand over her mouth. Arrul's voice whispered in her ear.

  "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm going to help you escape, and I have a message for you to take back to your contact in Central Intelligence. Do you understand?"

  Grynel nodded, and Arrul withdrew his hand. Sikandra glanced over at Navarr. She was still asleep.

  "I gave her a sedative," Arrul said. "I wasn't sure I could wake both of you without any trouble."

  "You know that we're spies?"

  "Yes. I knew it after we examined your luggage on the first day. That medicine that your friend is packing isn't for her food allergy. It's for the allergy she's suffering because of cosmetic surgery. I assume she's human? Or another species?"

  "She's human."

  Arrul nodded. "How long will it take you to pack?"

  "What? We're leaving now?"

  "Yes." He glanced at Navarr. "Her sedative will wear off in a few minutes. In one hour you both will meet me at the central PTL tube. Video surveillance will be disabled in that section. I will open the door for you, and you will be free to leave the colony." He handed her a data disc. "Give this to your contact. It has all the information that I've been able to gather on Vi'Sar and his plans. You shouldn't have any trouble booking passage on a transport ship. You still have a monetary card, correct?"

  Sikandra nodded.

  "Good. Meet me in one hour." Arrul started for the door.

  "Wait." Grynel stood. "Why are you doing this? Who are you working for?"

  "No one." Arrul hesitated, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes. "I once believed in the glory of the Old Empire, before we became an Alliance, and that Vi'Sar was the man who cou
ld lead us back to that former Glory. Now...I don't know what to believe. When I uncovered Vi'Sar's true plans, the covenants that he has made with the Jha'Drok..." Arrul shook his head. "It's all in my report. You'll understand why I'm doing this when you read it." He walked out of the room.

  Sikandra frowned as she sat on the edge of her bed, turning the disc over and over in her hand, wondering how much she could trust Arrul. This felt like a trap, and yet, if he had known all along that they were spies, then there was nothing else that she and Navarr could do except to take him at his word. They had been at his mercy this whole time, and they still were. If his desire was to kill them then there wasn't much they could do about it now. Grynel stood and got dressed, then tucked the disc in her pocket and roused Navarr.

  ( 8 )

  Schabe Arrul sat in his office, alone, staring at his computer terminal. It was well after midnight, and more than an hour after Sikandra and Navarr had escaped. The bomb that the cell leader had attached to the power core would go off in a few minutes. Arrul had only one last task to complete, though a farewell letter couldn't really be considered a task, not when it was addressed to one's wife and daughter. Arrul reached out with fingers that didn't seem to be his own, and he began typing. No sooner did he transmit the message than he felt the first tremor beneath his feet.

  As the bomb exploded, as the power core disintegrated, as the wave of energy and shrapnel burst upwards, Arrul sent a final prayer unto the Father. "I ask thy forgiveness," Arrul murmured. "I ask for thy mercy. Let me cross into El'Sha'Lor, and let me commune with Thy spirit as my fathers and grandfathers have done. Thy will be done. Amen."

  The southern district of Om'Nalu suddenly erupted in fire, flesh, stone, steel and blood. The ground splintered, heaving upwards and then collapsing into the chasm that was once the hidden base. The wail of sirens mixed with the confused cries of the survivors, and, far above the night sky, racing away from the planet at maximum stardrive, was the transport on which Navarr and Sikandra had managed to book a last minute fare.

  Part Three

  "Fire And Blood"

  Chapter 19

  ____________________

  ( 1 )

  Lord Prince Erengaar Valayne, fourth of his name, heir to the throne of the Jha'Drok Emperium, lay back against the velvet cushions and closed his eyes. He was getting close, and Vatra knew just how to prolong the climax until the best possible moment. Erengaar gasped, clenched two fistfuls of her thick, auburn hair and thrust upward with a violent shove. His seed exploded into the mouth of his half-sister, and she gulped every last drop. Erengaar quickly released her and pushed her aside so he could stand. While Vatra reclined in the armchair beside the bed, the lord prince began getting dressed. When he saw that his sister hadn't yet reached for her own clothing, he cast her an irritable look.

  "There isn't going to be a second round. I'm not coming back here before dinner."

  "Is there a reason you've been so cross with me lately?" Vatra massaged her scalp. "It wasn't so long ago when we had three and four rounds per night."

  "We are not married, nor are we lovers. I do not owe you an explanation."

  "It's our father, isn't it? Doctor Rimshar told me this morning that this week hasn't held any good days for our Lord Emperor."

  Erengaar gave a derisive snort as he reached for his belt and boots. "Our father has not had any good days for a very long time. If I don't wish to discuss something with you, then that's my prerogative." He stood back to observe his reflection in the full length mirror.

  Vatra rose and walked to her half-brother, knowing full well that he couldn't resist her, especially in her nakedness. She turned him to face her, and then adjusted his ceremonial sash and his collar. "You should know by now, Eren, that you can't keep any secrets from me." Eren was a pet name that Vatra had chosen for her younger sibling shortly after he was born. "Your mood of these last few days has been especially...dark. Is it something that I have done to displease you?" She slowly traced a finger down his front and paused as she reached his waist. He was already hard, and as she caressed him, he gave a gasp. Vatra smiled.

  But Erengaar didn't allow her to continue. He grabbed her wrist and pushed her away. "Get dressed. You don't want to be later for dinner." He stormed past her on his way out the door.

  "No, of course not," Vatra murmured, massaging her wrist. She sighed as she pulled on her dress and coat. She didn't bother slipping into her shoes since her bedchamber was only one floor down. She didn't usually visit Erengaar this early in the evening, but she thought a tryst before dinner might lighten his mood. She shouldn't be surprised by his anger, yet it was disturbing to see him developing an immunity to her charms. Once upon a time he hadn't been able to get enough of her, summoning her to his private quarters two and three times a day. Now, more than a decade later, she was the one who had to invite herself, and even then there were a few instances – like now – when he was the one who received all the pleasure.

  But more than that, he had once confided in her. Vatra was privy to the politics and power plays of every corner of the Emperium's government. For the last ten years, as their father slowly descended into his madness, Erengaar had taken on more and more responsibility as the head of the empire. These days, he all but sat on the throne and wore the crown, and while he was not Vatra's sole source of information, he was her primary one, for he attended almost every session of the senate, as well as reading every detailed brief of the Lord's Hand, Dakkahr Broen. And, until a few weeks ago, the lord prince had been happy to share all sorts of secrets and gossip with his sister, usually during the afterglow of their lovemaking.

  Vatra laughed to herself as she thought of the word again. Lovemaking. Yes, those days were long gone. Her half brother was losing interest, and losing it fast. Either he had become bored with her, or there was something weighing so heavily on his mind that he couldn't bring himself to be distracted by anything else. The lady princess paused at the entrance to her bedchamber as an uncomfortable thought occurred to her, and she felt a sour taste rising in her throat. What if it was the simple fact of her age? What if her brother had chosen one of his other mistresses as his primary one? Someone younger, prettier, full of the fire and lust that only youth can generate?

  "M'lady?"

  Vatra's head snapped around, and she saw her manservant, Salish, standing a short distance away, his hands clasped behind his back, his cool, green eyes looking upon her with a guarded lust that she could never resist. She glanced both ways to make sure the wide hall was clear. Most of the staff was on the ground floor, in the kitchen and banquet hall, preparing for the festivities. The lady princess really wanted to meet with Sierik, but he was most likely with Dakkahr or the lord prince. Salish would have to suffice.

  "I'm ready for my bath, Salish."

  "Of course, m'lady. Give me a few moments."

  She nodded and stepped aside so he could enter her quarters first. She slipped out of her dress and tossed it on the foot of the bed, then hurled her shoes in the general direction of the walk-in closet, which was an apartment unto itself. She hadn't bothered to put her undergarments back on, instead stuffing them inside the pockets of her coat. When she entered the bathroom, the tub – which was large enough for five – was barely a quarter full, but Salish was already as naked as his master, and he waited patiently for her direction. Vatra took her time, using him as Erengaar had used her, and when she finally reached her first climax, the tub was full and a thick layer of steam hid the mirrors.

  ( 2 )

  Erengaar walked into his father's private chamber, making sure to close the door softly behind him. He waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light and then walked through the foyer and into the bedchamber beyond. Only a trio of lamps cast their soft glow upon the massive – yet sparsely furnished - quarters. Lord Emperor Emkai Valayne, seventh of his name, was seated in the armchair across from his bed. Ildirale, the Lady Empress, had bathed and dressed him as usual, but she was no
longer making an effort to hide the physical symptoms of the disease that had ravaged her husband for more than a decade. Erengaar greeted his mother with a kiss, and her cheek felt cold his touch.

  "He cannot come to dinner, Erengaar. Please don't force him into such humiliation."

  "It's all right, mother. I've changed my mind. Dakkahr and Vatra have convinced me to let him remain here."

  The tightness around Ildirale's eyes and mouth visibly slackened, and she smiled wanly. "Thank you."

  "How is he?" the lord prince murmured.

  Emkai was staring at the floor, his dark eyes vacant and his lips muttering something that only made sense to him. His skin was sallow, draping about his thin frame like a frayed costume. His face was a wrinkled mask, topped by wisps of silver hair, and his gnarled hands gripped the armrests of his chair like talons.

  "He is no more worse or better than yesterday, or the day before that, or the week before that." Ildirale sighed, gathering her evening gown about her like a shroud. She settled herself into the vacant chair next to her husband. "Doctor Rimshar cannot understand why the disease has not yet claimed his life."

  Erengaar walked closer to his father, lowering himself to one knee to bring his face level with Emkai's. He searched the lord emperor's face for some sign – no matter how slight – of recognition. The eyes, which had once blazed with a fury that dominated the empire, were now beady embers, containing barely a spark of their former brilliance. The voice whose thundering tones had once echoed off the vaulted ceiling of the senate chamber now rasped, its volume barely above a whisper.

  Erengaar stood and faced his mother. "Leave us."

  If Ildirale was startled by her son's command, she didn't show it. She rose and walked out of the room, her gown swishing about her legs like dark water. Erengaar pulled the other chair around so it faced his father, and he sat, leaning forward to bring his gaze close to the lord emperor's. He reached out and grasped Emkai's hands. They were cold, more bone than flesh, and a shiver rippled along Erengaar's spine. But he forced himself to maintain the physical contact, and he took a deep breath before he spoke.