by M. D. Hall
His father was right about the importance of the meeting with Darl, but not for the reason Zaron imagined. He was more interested in learning about the man, rather than what he had to say. When, not if, he attempted to derail the invasion, Darl might be all that stood between success, and failure.
His acceptance of the post was quickly followed by a personal invitation to meet his new commander. This was prompted, as he well knew, by the forthcoming zagball match, pitching Eclipse against the cream of the entire fleet, which had come about in the most absurd manner.
With the completion of his bridge complement, Darl, during a dinner attended by all the senior officers of the fleet, stated he had the best bridge crew in the Navy, a wild statement not readily testable. Not satisfied, he continued, at the urging of others, to declare: with the addition of Gorn, he now had a zagball team unparalleled anywhere in the fleet. That brag was met with some general groaning, but most were content to let it pass.
Being effectively ignored, he pressed his point and issued a challenge. His team were better than the rest of the fleet combined, and he would consider the absence of a response to be confirmation of his assertion. The admiralty, and the other commanders were left with no choice, but to take up the challenge. Darl smiled, completely unaware that Gorn would refuse to take part in the match.
Later, when he heard of the refusal, it was quietly suggested to him that he renew the invitation he extended, when he visited Meteor. Darl liked the idea, and felt the young man’s resistance melting away at the mere thought of it.
Ω
All Te’ans lived in considerable comfort, with each family possessed of both a coastal, as well as a rural villa. However, within city boundaries, accommodation was restricted to apartments of varying sizes, at least in most cases. Darl’s city property was a huge villa standing alone within substantial grounds, a monumental statement of power and influence.
Gorn had taken a public flyer to within three blocks of Darl's address, and decided to walk the rest of the way. Approaching the gateway, he recognised the teleport posts, despite them being cleverly integrated into imposing gate columns. It came as no surprise, therefore, that he soon found himself in front of an equally impressive doorway to Darl's mansion. Teleportation was something he preferred to have some control over and for his host to remove that choice, in favour of flamboyance, did little to enamour him in the eyes of the science officer.
The double doors opened inwards on hinges in the ancient manner preferred by some, usually the very rich. As he stepped across the threshold, he was met by an olive skinned young woman who, without introducing herself, led him through a large portico to another doorway. He now faced a traditional, sliding door, which opened on their approach. The woman remained at the doorway, gesturing for Gorn to enter, alone.
Walking into the room, he recalled what he had been told by his aunt about the man he was about to meet. He had two weaknesses: vanity, which occasionally blinded him to what was going on around him, compounded by a weakness for beautiful women, sometimes eroding all lines concerning propriety. His second weakness, intoxicants, while not uncommon with some wealthy cadets, was a rarity among mature, established adults. It was rumoured that, within the higher echelons of the service and government, some did enjoy the effects of imbibing more esoteric versions of these liquids, notwithstanding that they could achieve the same effects by non-invasive means. Gorn had already taken his capsule. Given that his task was to glean intelligence, the last thing he wanted was to be an addled mind divulging information to his host.
Darl stood in the centre of a large room, which was adorned with treasures the like of which Gorn had only seen in museums. He stepped forward to greet the young man who had succumbed to the temptation of entering his domain. Gorn found it difficult to tear his eyes from the staggering display of wealth, but his host waited patiently, evidently enjoying the reaction of his young officer.
Soon, the two were seated and, after a few moments, Gorn became aware that his new commander’s voice was less exact than it had been when they first met. A look at the older man’s eyes confirmed his suspicions, his aunt had been right, Darl was already under the influence of something. The thought, immediately springing to mind was, this might not be so difficult, after all. The key lies in whether his invitation stretches to drinking.
No sooner had Gorn formed this thought, than Darl poured a generous amount of golden liquid into a cup, and handed it over, raising his own cup in salutation. Gorn responded by gulping down half the contents. ‘Slow down, my young friend, you need to pace yourself, this isn't the insipid swill you’re used to, it has a kick.’
Looking down into the cup, and remembering Narol’s parting words, Gorn smiled sheepishly at his superior - something alien to him. ‘I didn’t know, sir, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be, and there’s no sir, tonight,’ he looked at the young officer with narrowed eyes. ‘Want to go onto something less toxic?’
‘If it’s good enough for my commander, it’s good enough for me.’
Darl’s eyes brightened. ‘Good lad!’ He grabbed the flask and leaned over to Gorn's cup, filling it almost to the brim. ‘Remember what I said, pace yourself.’ The contradiction between his words and actions were almost comical. He went through the formalities of welcoming Gorn's change of mind, with no enquiry as to what prompted the rethink, as if his arrogance was such that he could put the original refusal out of his mind. He briefly extolled the virtues of his erstwhile science officer and, duty done, moved on to make expansive comments concerning Eclipse and her crew. It soon became clear that by crew, he meant the bridge staff, and that he had spent the better part of his time, as commander of the flagship, seeking out and obtaining the services of the best bridge officers in the service.
After another three cups of the pungent liquid, Gorn began ‘topping up’ his own drink, on the last occasion, making sure he spilled almost half the contents on to the floor. Darl was delighted, ‘Careful now, that liquid is precious stuff!’
The response was an idiot smile - this affectation was becoming a little easier - and another mouthful. Darl was completely at ease, and began to speak of what it meant to be the commander of the greatest ship in the fleet. Initially, there were interminable references to duty and honour, but as the flow of the liquid increased, so did the breadth of the commander’s subject matter. Soon he was presenting another, less noble facet to his character, readily admitting his background as commander of the most successful sweeper in the Fleet, without explaining what such a ship did.
The more Darl spoke, the more Gorn realised his superior revelled in taking advantage of the naïveté, and greed of powerful civilians. He regularly entered into a few select arrangements where, in return for a healthy, untraceable payment - he had no interest in profit sharing - he would provide technology, seized from defeated races, that could be adapted and make the purchaser a fortune. Very few complained.
Occasionally, the technology had proven unusable. When that happened he reminded his buyers they had never been misled. If they persisted in lamenting their loss, usually in direct proportion to the size of the payment they had made, he would become indignant, pointing out that good men, never women, had gone to their deaths to secure the technology, while they stayed at home enjoying a luxurious lifestyle.
This usually quietened them down, but Darl did not fool himself by imagining it had anything to do with his rhetoric; he knew they harboured the expectation of another, more lucrative, tidbit after his next expedition. This sideline had helped consolidate his wealth and influence, and as if to emphasise the point he waved his hand at the exhibits in the room.
Darl’s candour surprised Gorn, and as if sensing this through the thickening haze afforded by the drink, the commander moved on to more appropriate matters, but it was not long before he reverted to his extra curricular activities. Gorn listened patiently to these tales, suspecting some to be exaggerated. Yet, despite his personal feelings it soon
occurred to him that the commander, as well as being a very dangerous enemy, could be a very powerful ally.
Away from the service, and its codes of honour towards those with whom he served, Darl's attitude towards civilians was harsh, and not limited to his business associates. Civilians were second-class citizens, the soft underbelly of a society totally dependent, for its continued survival, upon a strong Navy, and owing all of which they stood possessed, to the men and women of the military. Perhaps, thought Gorn, remembering his briefing from Narol, he applies this reasoning to justify his affairs with the wives, and daughters of powerful civilians, maybe the girl I’ve just seen is one of them.
He wondered when Darl had begun his dalliances. For himself, he had resolved to eschew all female relationships, at least of a sexual nature, until he had attained his goals. Several times he had almost relented. It was difficult resisting the advances of some of the girls who came across his path, but each time he was about to give way he saw, or heard of some contemporary who was put on report for unofficially extending shore leave, or another who had become besotted, and chose to leave the service. It was a condition that no cadets, or service personnel with less than six years service, were permitted dependants, in other words no wives, no children. Gorn convinced himself, not without some justification, there would be plenty of time later for that sort of thing, but suspected Darl had never taken that view.
Now firmly in the grip of the golden serpent, there was no holding Darl, and a further surprise lay in store for his listener. ‘Of course, since I took on the mantle of Eclipse, all that had to stop but,’ he smiled and dropped his voice to an almost conspiratorial tone, ‘everything is about to change. You have joined us at just the right time.’ He lifted his cup. ‘I give you Eclipse, sweeper extraordinary.’
The gesture was returned, with Gorn hoping his face gave nothing away.
The commander put down his drink and, sitting back in his chair, took on the voice Gorn had heard when they first met. The man who earlier voiced his loathing for the privileged and powerful, whilst being one of them, now spoke of the greatness of the Te, and their destiny to reach ever further into the wonder that was interstellar space.
Gorn began to understand that the sordid sexual liaisons, and twisted business dealings, were as nothing when compared to his commander’s all-consuming pride in the achievements of his people. Misplaced, but bizarrely genuine for all that.
As the evening progressed, he attempted to elicit stories of combat, but Darl would not be drawn. Knowing that, when ready, his superior would tell all, he was careful not to press the point. The two sides of Darl were totally at odds with each other. As he spoke openly of his business dealings, Gorn began to wonder whether this was not an isolated example, is it possible this behaviour is common among sweeper commanders? He supposed it must be the norm, after all, the sweepers were the first on site and would have their pick of plunder, otherwise Darl would not be so open, drink or no drink!
Even in his last posting, where he considered his commander to be as close to a father as he had known, at least in the service, that man had never opened up as Darl was doing. Now, Gorn was aware that Gakar had a great deal to hide, perhaps even more than Darl.
His aunt had told him that everything he believed in was a lie. Until then, he genuinely believed his purpose was to protect his beleaguered people. The man who was now talking to him also knew of the great lie, and yet took advantage of his position and knowledge, in a way that was anathema to Gorn. He had learned in the last few days, that pragmatism invariably won out against idealism. The result? He placed the nobler trait in a remote part of his mind, to be accessed another time, perhaps. The task in hand was to draw from Darl something to would confirm what Narol had told him. The sweepers were fact, but there was still no admission of what they did, and he would not leave until that was obtained.
Ω
The drink was taking its toll on Darl, and he fell silent. Now, for reasons he was unable to fathom, Gorn began to think about his brothers.
Opportunities to become embroiled in active duty were few and far between. In Gorn’s lifetime, there had only been two conflicts. The only major confrontation before that, had been with the Balg, nearly twenty-one years ago.
After Gallsor, each of his brothers became peripherally involved in the other two wars, which were really no more than skirmishes with races already defeated, but rallying for one last push against the indomitable Te. It went without saying, both attempts to save the remnants of their civilisations were doomed to failure, and he now suspected his brothers were never in any real danger.
Interestingly, the lead ship in each of those encounters was Eclipse.
Gorn wondered whether, by the time those conflicts were over, his brothers suspected the truth. The cleanup would be carried out by sweepers and Gorn wanted Narol to be right about the innocence of the non-sweeper squadrons. Despite his differences with Naraak, he needed both of his brothers to be innocent.
Ω
Darl stirred himself from his intoxicant induced lethargy, now when he spoke, his words were slurred. ‘It is the destiny of our people to take what they can, from anyone…what I’ve done is nothing more than a distillation of all we stand for…’
Gorn interrupted and reminded his commander of what he had said earlier about the greatness of the Te.
Darl shook his head as though trying to order his thoughts. ‘I said that?’
His young guest nodded.
‘Well, it must be true then,’ he replied, raising his cup in salutation before falling back into a silence and looking at the floor, eyebrows knitted.
Gorn waited. Perhaps his commander was deciding whether to completely unburden himself? After all, he had come this far. As the minutes of silence stretched on, an absurdity occurred to Gorn; the more Darl drank, the higher his voice became. Apart from the earlier, brief relapse, the deep and rich intonations from the visit in orbit had long since vanished, and he was left wondering how high the voice would become before the night was over. His flight of fancy was halted, as his host seemed to have reached a decision.
‘You know, the Council should have made me an admiral a while back,’ he took another mouthful of the liquid that had, by now, taken complete control of his mind, ‘except, I knew the wives of three of them very well,’ he looked straight down into his cup as he continued. ‘One of them probably blabbed, jealousy’s a terrible thing,’ he looked up and winked, then shrugged his shoulders and let Gorn fill his cup, it would not do for the flow of talk to be halted, by stemming the flow from the flasks.
Now was the time for Gorn to make his move. It would be unwise to assume he could just blurt out the question. His target was drunk, but, he thought, Narol’s right, he can’t have achieved all he has, by being a fool. His suspicions must remain dormant. The wrong question would rouse Darl's base wariness, and once that had surfaced, he would quickly sober, the ploy would fail and, even worse, his trust would be lost. It was with this caveat firmly in mind that Gorn resolved to press on. He had to give the impression of being in awe of his commander, and the exploits of their people. While his insides churned, he looked at his cup, still one-third full, the drink was still the key.
Seeing the young officer’s cup almost empty, Darl drank what was left in his own, reached for the second flask, and tipped it upside down, empty. ‘Terong!’ he shouted, to no one in particular. Within seconds, the young woman with olive skin appeared at Darl's side, with a new flask. Having placed the reinforcement on the table, and collected its expended compatriots, she left as quickly as she had appeared, Darl watching the departing girl with thinly disguised interest until the door slid shut, behind her. The commander returned his attention to his guest. Filling his cup he leaned forward to extend the same courtesy to Gorn, who put his free hand up, stared at the commander in the way a drunk might do, and spoke very slowly and deliberately. ‘Enough, I've had enough, you must have hollow legs.’
Darl, barking
a derisive laugh, took Gorn’s cup from his hand, downed the contents then, as if to prove the point once and for all, repeated the act with his own. He looked at the young man opposite, for a long time, as if attempting to discern his very thoughts. Had Darl suspected anything? He grinned, and broke eye contact. ‘You’re a good man. We need more like you in the fleet.’
This was Gorn’s opportunity. ‘I would be happy if I could attain half your achievements, your campaigns are legendary.’
The statement was a simple one, but had the desired effect. ‘If only...’ Darl began, checking himself, as though evaluating the danger in what he was about to say. ‘Your father, and his co-commanders were the stuff of legend,’ he leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘Their involvement at Gallsor was supposed to be a secret,’ he snorted. ‘Secret? There are no secrets.’
‘But,’ Gorn responded, needing to keep the dialogue open, ‘as a result of the encounter at Gallsor we reached, at best a draw. While you have the distinction of being victorious in every battle.’
‘You know, of course, that I had been offered the post of XO on your father’s ship?’ He obviously assumed that Bakir had broken with protocol, and told his family.
Gorn did not know that, how could he? Which made things very awkward. Darl would assume that Bakir would have told his son, as soon as he heard of the posting to Eclipse. It was the natural thing any father might do, in the same situation, except the man Darl thought was Gorn's father could not even bring himself to talk to the young man, who used to be his son. There was only one thing he could do in the situation, lie! ‘Yes, but he didn’t give me any details.’
Darl nodded approvingly. ‘I see he hasn’t lost his sense of propriety. He wouldn’t want to embarrass me…and, just so you know, there’ll be no favours on my ship because of who your father is and, to be fair, no expectations beyond your own capability. Your friend Genir gets no special treatment. It’ll be a fresh start…’ There was the slightest hesitation before he added with a smirk. ‘Of course I might announce your lineage to the rest of the bridge staff, but that would be for my benefit, not yours.’