by T. R. Harris
Adam grinned and nodded with approval. Nurick’s brother was definitely the more intelligent and intuitive of the pair. “I am impressed, Second-Commander. And you are correct; however, you cannot imagine how much of a link.”
“Explain.”
“First, let me ask you where did the financing and expertise come from to build such a large fleet in such a short time, and without any prior military background among your scientists, engineers and manufacturing enterprises? Also, have you, just in your normal life, noticed any bankrupting of the Clan’s coffers, or any suffering among the general population from an excess tax burden that would be needed for such a major undertaking?”
Again, the two officers exchanged looks.
“I do not see where these questions are relevant. You and Nurick are being held to answer for the death of our leader, not so you can confuse the issue with riddles of your own. It matters not where the financing came from. The fleet has been built, therefore the financing and expertise was available when needed. That is all we are concerned with.”
“C’mon, Qwels, aren’t you at least a little curious?”
“Are you implying Silean involvement in these matters?” said the unnamed officer hovering next to Qwels Nur.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“That cannot be true,” said the officer, “at least not to a large part, otherwise we would have known.”
“And what do you think the reaction would have been among the Clan to learn that beings from Silea were actively involved in helping the government build the largest—and first—military fleet in the galaxy? Why was it that you were not informed?”
“More riddles, Adam Cain?” said Qwels. His confusion over the revelations had now shifted to anger, not at the data, but at the messenger.
“It’s not a riddle, Second-Commander. You know the answer; it would not have gone over very well. There is already an innate fear and hatred of those from my galaxy. You’ll accept our technology, yet even that makes you feel inferior and dependent, which only adds to your resentment of us. And now you learn that Silea has helped build a fleet large enough start a galaxy-wide war, just as has been the practice within the Silean Galaxy for centuries. The peoples of your galaxy thought you were above such nonsense, having based your interactions on commerce and fair trade rather than territorial conquest. But now you learn that your government has been manipulated into becoming just like Silea.”
“We are not like you!” Nur slammed his fist down hard on the metal desk. “We built the fleet as a defensive tool, to protect the Clan—and other Clans—from the Kirans. We are an instrument of peace, not war.”
Adam smiled again. “That’s what they all say, Second-Commander. Take it from someone who has spent his entire life as a soldier: That’s what they all say.”
“So what does all this have to do with the death of Lord Dakken? Was that something ordered by your Lords in Silea?”
“No, in fact just the opposite. My Lord—as you call him—has been working closely with Lord Dakken for years, providing all that was necessary to construct your fleet. Yet Dakken did not let very many within his inner circle know of this affiliation, and for all the reasons I’ve just outlined.”
Adam’s face suddenly grew serious and his expression hard. He uncrossed his legs and leaned in toward Qwels, now resting his elbows on the desk. “And now he's here and coming to claim what is rightfully his.”
“You mean the fleet?” the standing officer gasped. “But that is not possible. The fleet belongs to the Clan—”
“Yet built with the money and expertise of my benefactor.”
Qwels leaned back in his chair and drew out a wide smile. “Your benefactor is insane if he believes an alien from Silea can simply step up to the Clan and demand ownership of the most powerful military force in the galaxy, and especially through some unprovable claim of ownership. This will not happen.”
Adam now leaned back in his own chair and returned the smile. “Relax Second-Commander. He's not here to foreclose on your fleet.”
“Then what does he really want?”
“Since the death of Lord Dakken—and the lack of a new leader with knowledge of my benefactor’s involvement in your affairs—he is concerned that the fleet will lose its purpose and break up into meaningless and ineffectual units. That was not why he invested so much time and wealth in the project, just to have it evaporate right at the moment of its great reveal.”
Adam crossed his legs again and let the pregnant pause in the conversation raise the alien’s curiosity to the breaking point.
“What then?” Qwels finally asked. “What is he after?”
“New leadership, Second-Commander Qwels Nur.” Adam emphasized the word Second in the title. “Are we even sure Zi’lous Jur, the fleet’s Commander-One, is still alive? Have you had contact with him since the unfortunate events at Balic-Mor?”
‘Events you caused!” cursed the standing officer.
Qwels raised his hand to silence his subordinate. “We have not, and it has been several days.”
Adam nodded. “And so with Dakken, Solius Vix—and quite possibly Zi’lous—all dead, there may be no one in the inner governing circle of the Clan who even knows of the fleet’s existence, let alone of its origins and purpose.”
Adam was quiet again until Qwels could stand it no longer. “Does your nameless benefactor have a solution to this problem?”
Adam nodded again. “Indeed, Second-Commander. First, let me tell you that he has arrived with a fleet of his own, and one possessing technology beyond even that which my own ship contains. And his firepower is unstoppable against whatever target he chooses. Yet he doesn’t wish to lead the battle himself, merely to help guide it, and for that he will need a new commander. That is why we are here, Second-Commander Nur, to offer that position to you.”
Adam noticed Nurick’s mouth fall open. He thought they had come to meet his brother simply to gain information about the secret fleet and what condition it was in after the demise of Lord Dakken, not to make Qwels its supreme commander.
Adam tried to ignore Nurick’s stunned reaction and only concentrate on how Qwels was taking the news. He was taking it just as expected.
Qwels met Adam’s steady gaze with one of his own, and Adam knew instantly that he had read Nurick’s brother right. He was the more ambitious of the two, having left his home planet for greener pastures and more opportunity. And now he was being handed command of the largest military fleet in the galaxy. For such a prize he would even tolerate a little backseat driving from Kroekus.
And as Adam and the alien shared a physic moment, he knew he had just saved him and Nurick from capture and imprisonment at the hands of Nurick’s brother. Since first finding themselves located deep within an impenetrable military base and surrounded by a dozen highly-trained and armed alien soldiers, Adam had been racking his brain for a way out of this mess. Luckily, a combination of quick thinking and a power-hungry military officer had done the trick.
Now all he had to do was convince Kroekus that he needed Qwels to take command of the fleet. But not only that, the Silean also had to throw his support behind Qwels against half a dozen other alien officers who would certainly oppose such a move—once they found out about Kroekus and who he was.
This would all be news to Kroekus, since at the time he and Nurick had left the Goliath to meet with Qwels, Kroekus hadn’t discussed such a plan with Adam, not even vaguely. Adam was sure Kroekus would be surprised to learn what he had just negotiated on his behalf.
150
“You did what?”
Adam was expecting this reaction from Kroekus. “It was the only thing I could offer him to save our lives. But look on the bright side: you now have an ally with over four hundred warships.”
“Which is less than ten percent of my entire fleet! What am I to do about the other seven commanders? I can’t offer them all the captain’s chair, now can I?”
Adam had thoug
ht of that, too, and no he couldn’t. “But when you and Qwels show up at the next camp, you’ll have credibility for your claims with Qwels there backing you up.”
“And what happens if one of these commanders is among the majority who do not appreciate outside influence over Clan affairs? Do I then send the young Vicorean against another member of his own officer corps? That will result in too many loses, and all within my own units, and not that of the enemy.”
The other person in the room was Kroekus’s longtime friend and advisor, Dracus Worden. He and Adam had known each other for almost twenty years and Adam ranked him among his top five alien friends. At one time, Kroekus had been number three. Now he was off the List—at least off that one.
Now Adam turned to Dracus. “There has to be another way of negotiating with the other commanders.”
Dracus nodded. “I am sure there is, however I am sure none of them will have a sibling who just happens to be your current alien sidekick. The other issue is that Qwels Nur is the youngest of the regional commanders, and therefore the least experienced. This will not sit well with the others, who would be required to bow to his authority. It would have been better if you’d offered the position to another with more seniority.”
“Well, I can’t very well renege on the offer,” said Adam, feeling completely deflated and unappreciated.
“No you can’t,” Kroekus said. “But I can!”
“That would not be advisable, my friend,” said Dracus. “Word will leak out and then none of the other officers will negotiate with you.”
Kroekus grabbed a spare datapad that was sitting on the desk—Adam assumed it was a spare—and tossed it across the room, sending it into a nearby wall with a clap like thunder. “I do not have time for this. My second ship will be completed in a month and heading this way. I must have a purpose for it. My enemy in this galaxy is Alic Kiran, and now—to even a greater degree—my own creation, Nigel McCarthy. Having to recreate the system I had in place before the death of Dakken was not in my planning, yet without it my task is so much more difficult.”
He turned his angry glare on Adam. “Why did you have to destroy an entire city while making your escape from Balic-Mor?”
Adam shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. But seriously, I had no idea it would screw up your plans so badly. Frankly, I could care less what you do with this galaxy, as long as I get my shot at Nigel McCarthy. So why don’t you stop all your shouting and let’s figure out a way to get back on track. None of us is getting any younger, you know.”
Adam’s scolding of Kroekus set him back slightly, but it didn’t cause the huge Silean to completely calm down. “Then let us go meet this new supreme commander of my fleet. Perhaps he has more resources than we give him credit for. I need my fleet back, Adam, and I need it now.”
Two days later, while in the Pegasus, Adam and Nurick helped guide the Goliath into the stellar cluster where Qwels’ base was located. Kroekus sent out a screen of two hundred fighters around his ship, as both security against an attack by a rogue ship, and also as a show of strength to Qwels and his fleet.
The tactic had the desired effect, as dozens of Polimor ships cleared a path for the mighty warship. And then as a way of punctuating the Goliath’s arrival, Kroekus launched a drone, and in full view of Qwels’ fleet, blasted it out of existence with a flash bolt more powerful than anything ever seen by the Clan—at least seen and lived to talk about it.
Qwels Nur and his senior staff were invited aboard the Goliath for a tour, and once they had been sufficiently awed by the experience, Kroekus feed them at a fantastic banquet featuring only the most-gourmet meals from across the galaxy. When that was done, Kroekus summoned Qwels and his second-in-command—a creature now identified as Mios Valnon—to a meeting away from the crowd.
Dracus and Adam were also in attendance, however Nurick was not invited. It was reasoned that without his brother present, Qwels might be more relaxed and forthcoming with classified information.
“So what do you think of my ship?” Kroekus asked the two humbled Polimor clansmon.
“It is truly beyond the imagination that such a vessel as this could even be built.” The brash, young military officer was in awe of Kroekus and his accomplishments by this point, and ready to follow his every dictate. “And you say there is another such as this soon to be in Tanic.”
“If need be I could construct a dozen such vessels,” Kroekus boasted. Adam smiled slightly, knowing that the Silean’s wealth and status in the Milky Way was on very thin ice. He was a fugitive, and eventually all his various sources of income and hidden stash would be found. Yet until then, Kroekus could still work miracles, even in another galaxy.
“Now the question becomes how can I secure the other units within my fleet, Commander-One Nur?” Even though it was not official, Adam suggested that they give Qwels the rank of the top military officer in the Polimor Clan—that of Commander-One. This would stroke his ego and make him feel like he really was in command of the entire fleet, and not just his small part of it.
“Lord Kroekus, I must ask: why do you need us at all when you already have such a powerful ship as the Goliath?”
“Because this ship can only be in one place at a time, and I will be expanding my influence across this entire galaxy. For that I will need many more ships and crew.”
“And what is your ultimate goal, if I may speak?” said Mios Valnon.
“Yes, you are permitted to speak; that is why you were invited to this meeting. As the newly promoted Second-Commander, Qwels’ fleet is now yours. He will have responsibilities beyond simply these units here. And now to answer your question, I seek control of the entire Tanic Galaxy.”
Adam watched the two aliens for their reaction to the Silean’s declaration. He was sure they had no qualms with the Polimor Clan taking over the galaxy and replacing all the other Clans. Adam’s only concern was how they would react to a creature from their neighboring galaxy leading the effort?
Adam had trouble calling Kroekus’s plan an invasion, since the vast majority of the fighters on their side would come from the locals. Yet still, the action was being initiated by a foreigner.
“I will attempt to arrange such a meeting with the others, Lord Kroekus, however I have only had contact with four of the other seven commanders since the events on Ralic-Sim. And with the new evidence appearing, I’m afraid at least two of the units have gone rogue.”
“What new evidence?” Adam asked. If there was anyone with intimate knowledge of the events on Ralic-Sim, it was he.
“Communication threads have been resurrected regarding instructions on the detonation of an energy facility; what it would take to cause one to go critical. There was also a timetable and record of Lord Dakken’s movements.”
“Who supposedly made these communications?”
“They were between Anicett and the local Kiran Clan embassy on Huof, the capital of the Polimor Clan.”
Adam knew this to be total bullshit. It was his escape from Balic-Mor that had triggered the nuclear explosion, not some Kiran conspiracy that just happened to pull off Dakken’s assassination at the precise few minutes Adam was ravaging the city with a gravity-well. This had to be the work of Nigel McCarthy. He looked over at Kroekus, who mirrored his expression of suspicion.
“Nigel?” Kroekus said.
“Nigel.” Adam confirmed.
“What is a ni-gel?” Qwels asked.
“It’s not a what, it’s a person,” Adam replied. “The reports about a conspiracy are bogus—false—planted by a friend of ours, Nigel McCarthy.”
“Why would a friend of yours do such a thing?”
“He’s really not a friend, but our enemy. He is now working with the Kiran Clan.”
“Then why did you call him a friend?”
“That’s not important,” Adam said with a frustrated waved of his hand. “What is important is the fact that Nigel is trying to make the Polimors believe that the Kirans are behind
the attack.”
“If he is working with the Kirans, then why would he want false evidence provided to implicate them in the attack? It does not make sense.”
“It does if Nigel’s intention is to start a galactic war.”
“According to you and Lord Kroekus, war between the Clans is inevitable.”
“That’s true, Qwels,” said Adam. “So why would he try to speed up the process unless….”
“Unless what?” asked the three aliens in unison.
“Unless you’re sure you can win.”
After leaving the huge starship, Qwels Nur and Mios Valnon returned to the domed Polimor military base that had been Nur’s home for a year, yet Mios’ for only two months—two months of the most hellish existence Mios could have ever imagined.
After experiencing the spacious luxury of the alien spacecraft, Mios resented his present assignment even more. He was part of a large and modestly-wealthy family—primarily channelers—who had interests across Tanic. He knew now that it had been a mistake to join the Security Corps as a means of furthering his political ambitions, yet how could he have foreseen the events that would impact the Polimor Clan over the past five years? He couldn’t have, and now these very events governed his life and movements, and they had just gotten even more complex and complicated.
There had never been a real Polimor military force before, just a weak imitation of one in the Security Corps. Even so, all the prior leaders of the Clan had come out of the Corps—even Lord Dakken—and with his family’s influence, Mios had received the most advantageous assignments to further his career since joining ten years before. So when he began to hear rumors of a secret project taking place within the Corps, he had to find a way to become part of it. Having knowledge of secret and classified operations was political currency, currency which could be cashed at some point in the form of blackmail and intimidation if need be.