by Mark Wandrey
“All you offer and half a million tons of grain.”
The bartering went on for a few more minutes before they came to an agreement. They got Aaron back for Seela, and all their lost equipment (minus the heavy weapons), one hundred thousand tons of grain, and one thousand beam casters of ‘not-new’ condition. The Chosen possessed at least fifty thousand used beamcasters on a warehouse near Steven’s Pass. They’d gotten them from a lucrative trade for food several years ago.
“When do you wish to make the exchange?” Veka asked.
“One week from today, on planet Coorson.”
Veka showed her black fangs again and Minu smirked, knowing she’d hit paydirt. The Traaga had already requested the human’s assistance in filing a complaint with the Concordia War Council. Their military action on Coorson had cost more than a few lives and had not been authorized. The Traaga were pathetic and weak as species went, but the Law was somewhat blind in that a good amount of the food she’d just traded would probably never leave Coorson.
“Agreed,” Veka said.
Minu produced a tablet with the details already logged by a Chosen from the monitor room and held it out for Veka. She took a tablet of her own and touched it to Minu’s. The two computers exchanged data and the Tanam examined it carefully before grunting and touching a claw to the screen then touched it to Minu’s again. The two beeped confirmation. An encrypted contract was created.
Veka took out a PCR and activated the portal. “I will see you in a week, human.”
“Agreed,” Minu replied and watched Veka step through onto a forested world before closing the portal. One more thing done and another to prepare for.
* * *
The press conference made the brief announcement at Steven’s Pass of her ascension look like an after school teachers conference. It seemed every credentialed reporter on the planet was there following the official ceremony of Minu Groves’ ascension to First among the Chosen.
The affairs had in the past always been designed as somewhat informal. A meeting with the press, a dinner and chance for planetary officials from all the tribes to meet the new First (if they had not before) and to get the feel for how his administration would proceed.
But Minu was different in many ways. She was the youngest. She was the first child of a previous First. She had a rocky history with the press. And finally, she was a female.
“I’m sick to death of sex being such a big deal,” she grumbled after shaking hands with a businessman from the Boglands tribe. He’d tried hard to catch her eye and went as far to wink at her. She was certain he wouldn’t have been such an ass if it was public knowledge that her husband was a hostage somewhere out in the galaxy. Or maybe she was wrong. “I’ve done my best to obliterate sexism in the ranks from the day I started, and look at this.”
“In trying to get rid of something negative you often bring it to the forefront,” Dram pointed out. Like Minu, he was dressed in the rarely used Chosen formal wear. All it really did was add some buttons, a higher collar, and piping down the legs and arms in color of your branch. If you were a scout, it was highlighted in white since the uniform was black as well. The single golden star she wore on her cuff was larger too, and now six pointed. She had to get used to that new symmetrical look of the stars.
The conference room in Fort Jovich was tastefully decorated with artwork from all the tribes, ice sculptures, and tasty snacks from all over Bellatrix. Behind the speaker’s podium was a large three dimensional Chosen star with all the rays in each of the six colors; gold, blue, green, black, silver, and the newest, red for the Rangers. All the branch commanders were there as well sharing Minu’s table in addition to the two councilors at large, Bjorn and newly retired Fernando Vega.
Her speech was simple and not much more informative than her initial one right after the council meeting. She spoke of how she wanted to move the Chosen forward towards the seventh century and how the addition of the Rangers would help keep humanity safe. She worked in a comment about the coming Trials and how she looked forward to seeing all those young, brave men and women come to join the Chosen.
Finally she finished by asking for a moment of silence for the thousands of children still struggling to recover from the Nocturne. As of that morning she’d verified that 28,766 children were still in comas. Most of those believed to be curable were already well into their treatment and many had regained consciousness. Only a few hundred were still in suspended animation awaiting their turn at the critical care medical bots that would inject the retrovirus directly into their brains to stop the Nocturne before it destroyed their hypothalamus. Alphonse Larson was officially one of those who would never wake up.
When everyone looked up after the moment of silence they saw a woman whose face was cut in dualloy. “We will not allow ourselves as a species to be the victim of other species greed, envy, or hatred. I intend us to be able to defend ourselves against anything, and I ask you to support me in the best way each of you can. We’ll also struggle against our planet’s changing environment, but I’m confident we’ll find ways to deal with that as well.”
It had been tradition for the previous First to offer a toast to the health and career of the new First. There’d been no sign of Jacob in days. He’d moved out of his personal apartment in Tranquility and not been seen since. Some small part of Minu was concerned by that.
Dram touched her shoulder for attention and she turned to the reception line. “And this is-”
“I know who this is,” Minu said, managing to sound gracious and took the hand. “Viktor Malovich, so good to see you.”
“Honored to see you again, First.” She marveled at how he managed to make even that word sound like a slur when directed at her. “I see you have managed to ride fame to the top.”
“One could say the same about your business interests.” Malovich Industries made large piles of credits on many Chosen projects, most of which Minu had no say in who they went to since they were publicly bidded. The only ones she had control over were classified projects, and many of those she sold off world to minor species like the Traaga, whose loyalty could be purchased for relatively small prices.
“I aim to see your term of service to be as brief as possible,” he said with a smile and bowed over her hand. His voice was pitched perfectly so that a female Boglands reporter less than a meter away heard nothing.
“There’s something I’d like you to know Viktor.” He looked serenely curious. “A few days ago I gained access to every Chosen file in existence. I found out something I’d always known in my heart. During the Trials we were under constant surveillance.”
Ivan blinked and his lips thinned.
“Interesting, no? That surveillance shows every interaction between myself, my team, and your sons.” Minu glanced a the nearby reporter, then several others around the area. She finished taking note of how every tribe’s elected or hierarchial leader was present in the conference room. “That includes his sneak attack and attempted murder of my friends during the trial.”
“Phtah,” was all he managed to say.
Minu cocked her head, mildly curious if that was a work in Russian or just a subvocal exclamation. “There can of course be no repurcussions, once a trial is over nothing can officially be done to the candidates. The video surveillance can, however, be released to the press. Every… single… moment of it.”
Ivan sputtered and turned red from the neck up.
“I do not want to ever lay eyes on you again. That’s my price for keeping this out of the public eye, father of a monster. Your son has been assigned to a Chosen research team studying climate change as a result of our sun heating up, and I can assure you he will serve out his career doing nothing more than helping scientists make observations and protecting them from marauding howlers. Now get the fuck out of my face.”
Minu didn’t think she’d ever seen someone so close to having a heart attack before. He took a step back and gasped for breath. His carriage was alarming e
nough that two men asked him if he needed medical assistance, one putting a hand on his shoulder. Ivan slammed the hand away with a vicious sweep of his arm, spun and was gone.
Several reporters noted the exchange but none were close enough to actually record what was said. Once he was out of sight, Minu took a deep breath and gave a little smile. That was some small resolution in her life.
She’d waited to access her private file until only hours before the reception. It felt like spying, even though it wasn’t. Jacob had had it sealed to the level of his office. And yes, there had been a tracker on each of the team members. It was sewn into their rough woven tunics. There were additional ones in each pack, and the knives handed out.
The video of their battle was grainy and jerky as a result of the tiny surveillance devices constantly refocusing on action (it reminded her of movies from old Earth made by a director named Abrams). The video of her rape was equally poor quality yet left no doubt what happened.
Her medical records (also sealed) contained the details of her damaged womb and how she’d been a flatline when brought into the Chosen field aid station. They’d gotten her heart going and it failed twice more before they got her to the Steven’s Pass hospital. Alexis Krum, her rapist, could not be revived and was declared dead in route. The Chosen council ruled the killing justifiable and sealed the file.
Jacob’s notes in her file, she found much more interesting. There was the confirmation that the Tog had told the council to make her First right after the Trials. All but two had threatened to quit, Dram and Bjorn. Her every success after that seemed to make Jacob more and more unhinged. He’d pushed for her removal after the beamcaster cache incident and openly tried to blame the vendetta on her despite the evidence it was predicated on Ivan’s slaughter of the innocents.
The records didn’t come out and say it, yet she could see he knew Dram was protecting and helping here. There was one note that Dram contacted P’ing to inform hser that Jacob intended the council to remove her. She remembered the incident well.
Minu looked up from thinking about the incident to see a delegation of Tog moving through the room along with a pair of Beezers. She blinked in surprise, excused herself, and moved to meet them.
“We greet and congratulate our First,” said the one she knew was P’ing, or at least one of the P’ing since there could be many. Minu returned the bow somewhat deeper.
“I am thankful to serve, honored Concordian master. How can we serve?”
“This is merely a courtesy call,” hse said and blinked those massive black-on-black almond eyes. Tog never did something for such a meaningless thing as courtesy. It was not unheard of for one to simply leave in the middle of a conversation without so much as a ‘I’ll be right back.’
“Then I am truly grateful.” Hse moved off and the Beezer rep found her a short time later.
“To be congratulated,” he huffed and bowed slightly, his head still a half meter above hers. As fellow clients of the Tog, Minu merely matched his bow.
“I am thankful and glad to see you.” She guessed this was Badcold, as he’d been nicknamed. He was a high-ranking leader of the dominant herd on Serengeti. His voice always grumbled like someone with a lot of phlegm in their lungs. The long shaggy hair on his thick face was intricately braided and his curling ram-like horns covered in scrimshaw.
“We can discuss minor business?”
Minu blinked in surprise then said as long as it was brief, owing to her other duties.
“We have a mining interest on a small planetoid. It is not a leasehold so not covered by normal acts of war by the Council. However our claim is properly filed with the Concordia Land Office.”
She was sure it was. The Beezer took after the Tog in their meticulous record-keeping and observation of propriety in the Concordia. He described it as being on an airless moonlet around an uninhabitable gas giant. The kind of place that could only have been originally built without the use of Portals, using starships.
“I hope it is profitable.”
The Beezer grunted amiably and bowed at the good will. “It is, it is, however recently it has been raided several times by Vampires.”
“Such a small facility, surely you can control what portal access it has.”
“Easily, yet. The Vampires are gaining entrance via another means.”
Minu cocked her head and looked expectantly. The Beezer huffed and pawed at the floor, looking from side to side. A Tog, not P’ing, had come up, seen the Beezer’s discomfort and placed a delicately jointed hand on his arm to intervene.
“He believes the Vampires are arriving to raid by using a starship.”
“Oh, I see.” Minu glanced around to be certain they were alone. “And how could I help in this.”
“We know humans have at least one starship now, First Groves. Many species know this now and after the incident on Planet K, many more will know.”
“Even acknowledging this, wouldn’t a stealth frigate be better suited to such a mission?”
The Tog regarded her quietly and Minu knew she’d placed her bishop well.
“Indeed. We traced the tiny gunboat the Vampires used and were in turn attacked by a frigate they rendezvoused with. While the frigate was insufficient to defeat our frigate, neither was ours sufficient to defeat theirs so we withdrew. They know we are, as you humans say, on to them now, and have not renewed their raids.”
“That would prove logical, however they continue to monitor the situation and have tested our blockade.”
Minu thought, in other words, they fooled you into giving up your hiding places and now you have no advantage.
“It would be a simple matter for your vessel to deal with this.”
Minu was fascinated at the position she found herself in. The Tog and Beezer were asking her to use her starship to intervene. P’ing had almost come unglued months ago when he’d revealed that they knew humanity had a ship.
“We are also concerned that should the Vampires find this endeavor worthwhile, they will acquire additional craft and begin making trouble for helpless species. There are thousands of such operations across the Concordia that would be all but helpless against even the smallest, most lightly armed starship.”
Minu nodded and rubbed her chin.
“Should I entertain this mission, would this signal the beginning of cooperation between the Tog and humanity in the realm of starship operations?” she asked.
The Tog cocked its head and glanced to where P’ing was sampling a salad. She had the impression P’ing just won some kind of wager.
“You may safetly assume that, First. I am Ka’lal and am responsible for our species’ space forces, such as they are.”
“I would also like a brief report on the disposition of those forces,” Minu asked, looking hser straight in those almond shaped eyes. “In exchange I will share the same.”
“We will need to discuss this on Herdhome.”
“I understand.” She turned to Badcold. “We have an understanding. However, I’d like to ask something more.”
“Yes, First?”
“We would like to enter into negotiations with Beezer to purchase ore, and for your species to crew our starship.”
The Beezer chuffed and Minu smiled. A huge piece had just fallen into place in her grandest plan yet.
Chapter 78
September 18th, 534 AE
Unknown Star System
Aaron woke up in the formless darkness of his cell to the typical panic he usually felt in zero gravity and total darkness. He’d been dreaming once more about the crash that cost him his legs and almost woke up screaming.
There was a slight growing gravity that he could detect, and sure enough one of the walls (ceiling) bumped into him a moment later. His jailers used to simply turn it on to their normal (about 1.2 human normal) first thing in the morning. However after he’d nearly dislocated a knee they were forced to admit humans did not always land gracefully on their feet and started this new ritual.
>
After gravity was resumed to normal, the lights along the edges of his cubical cell began to glow and a voice yowled, “Food in five minutes.”
Luckily he’d been allowed to keep his translator. Even after at least seven weeks of captivity, he’d barely picked up a word or two of their language. He was sure quite a bit of it was beyond his ears’ ability to hear.
Aaron moved quickly to the room’s small necessary niche. He relieved himself in the puddle of water after using it to wash a bit. It was disconcerting to wash in the same water he crapped in each day. He was counting on the ship’s systems to keep it sterile. At least he thought he was on a ship. Crapping on camera didn’t bother him as much; most Chosen lost all sense of modesty after the Trials.
No sooner than he was done the niche closed and the door slid open. A Tanam warrior brought in a moliplas bag and dropped it on the floor before retreating. She still carried a pair of beamcaster pistols and light body armor. He should have considered it a compliment. Instead he just felt like the prisoner he was. The display of force was enough that he never considered taking on the huge cat, and that was likely the purpose.
Inside he found the same thing, just like every day: a reproduction of the Chosen ration pack he’d had in his hip bag the day he’d been captured. Tuna salad, wheat crackers, peaches, and celery sticks. All badly reproduced and even the celery tasted mildly like meat.
He’d tried to explain he could eat meat if it was cooked. That seemed to disgust them even more than the fruit he ate every day. After weeks on end of the same thing, he was beginning to wish they’d toss in a piece of raw meat again.
The reproduced food had the same ‘not quite right’ quality as some of the early reproductions on Lilith’s ship, a further hint that he was also on a ship. Also he’d felt what had appeared to be a ‘tactical jump’ several days ago. Did they have that drive technology also? He made sure to tell Lilith if he ever saw his daughter again.
When, damn you. When you see your daughter again.