by Doug Farren
Switching to yet another channel, this one reserved for peacekeepers, Tom said, “Lashpa, I’m not going to bother getting into armor. If their surrender is sincere, it’s just going to get in the way.”
“I agree. I’ll be on the ground in a few moments.”
Tom made his way to the armory and grabbed a pulse rifle off the rack. Holding it at the ready, he made his way to the lower level cargo lift and waited. A minute later, Orion informed him they were approaching the surface. Tom opened the hatch and watched as the snow-covered ground rapidly approached. He caught a glimpse of a few armored marines running under the approaching ship. When the Orion was at a height of five meters, he jumped. The impact would have shattered the legs of a normal human but he was cybernetically enhanced with legs made of duralloy. As soon as he was clear of the ship, the Orion ascended, taking up a position about 50 meters in the air above.
Lashpa joined him in the courtyard as her ship rose to join Tom’s. She was carrying her monster rifle.
“That thing is going to scare the crap out of everyone,” Tom told her.
She looked down at the massive weapon and patted its side as if it was some sort of pet. “I hope so. Let’s go.”
They walked across a large, snow-covered courtyard normally used by the Sultan for addressing crowds and entered through the main entrance of the palace. Armored marines were everywhere going through every office and room they encountered. Security guards dressed in shiny black and gold uniforms stood with their hands in the air, their guns lying on the floor. Working in pairs, the marines would take custody of the weapons and ensure the guards were unarmed. They were then taken out of the palace where they would be turned over to other marines.
Keeping their rifles handy, Tom and Lashpa crossed the expansive marble floor of the plush palace. Unwilling to be caught in an elevator, they took one of the wide stairs to the next floor. Expensive paintings adorned the wall to their right at regular intervals. At the top, they found themselves on a wide balcony that overlooked the grand entryway below. A long, thickly carpeted hallway branched off the center of the balcony heading into the heart of the massive palace.
The marines were here as well, rounding up those working in the government offices and gathering them together in the hallway. At the end of the hallway, they ascended another set of spiral stairs until they came to the upper level of the palace. In the center of a lavishly decorated hallway, they found the large set of doors leading into the Supreme Sultan’s private office. A pair of marines were stationed just outside.
“We can hear voices inside,” one of them said as they approached. “No one has entered the room per your orders.”
“Stay here,” Tom ordered.
Lashpa grabbed the handle of one door while Tom took the other. Together, they pushed them open and stepped inside. Eight men were standing together to the left of the office’s single, massive, ornately carved, desk. Another man (identified as Mohammad el-Kader, Safa’s Chief of Security by Tom and Lashpa’s ships) stood behind the desk. His left cheek was bandaged and a large white cloth was wrapped tightly across his chest. A body lay unmoving near the center of the room, his face covered by a cloth. A communications console very similar to those found on starships was built into the wall to the right of the desk. The screens were cracked and the entire console as well as the area around it was covered in broken glass, splattered drink, and bits of food that had apparently been hurled with considerable force at the console. A silver serving cart lay against the wall as if it had been thrown there.
Sitting on the floor with his back leaning against the front of the desk was Supreme Sultan Mahaajir Hadi. His left arm was handcuffed to the leg of the desk which had been expertly carved to look like the feet of an animal. He was glaring at Tom but said nothing. Another man was kneeling down on his right side apparently checking a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around Hadi’s right arm. Two security guards, their weapons laying on the floor, stood against the right wall, their hands in the air.
Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Tom walked over to the guards and quickly made sure they were completely unarmed. He kicked the weapons toward the open doors then said, “Sergeant! Take these men out in the hallway.”
“Who’s in charge here?” Lashpa asked, as one of the marines entered the room and gestured for the guards to leave.
“I am,” Mohammad replied. “For now anyway.”
“What happened here?” Tom asked, pointing to the communications console and then to the body on the floor.
“Supreme Sultan Hadi was angry,” Mohammad replied. “He knew we couldn’t win and he was threatening to set off the nuclear warheads he’s had hidden in the cities for years. He planned on doing so when your troops were on the ground.”
“And you didn’t like that idea, did you?” Tom asked.
“We’re willing to die for our cause,” Mohammad replied, straightening his back as best he could. “But if we all die, there will be nobody left to fight for what we believe in. Muhaajir refused to listen to reason. He was mad with rage and would have killed us all.”
Lashpa pointed the end of her rifle at the body on the floor. “And that person?”
“Muhaajir pulled a gun from inside his shirt during our attempt to subdue him. He shot Dave in the chest. He would have killed me as well had one of the guards not put a bullet through Hadi’s arm.”
Tom walked over to Hadi and stood over him. The Supreme Sultan had been staring at Tom ever since he’d walked into the room. There was hate in his eyes and something else Tom couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“Muhaajir Hadi, you’ve been accused of numerous crimes by the government of Earth. Terrorism, extortion, and murder are only a few of the many charges levied against you. You will be transported back to Earth where you will be tried for these and many other crimes. Earth has rescinded its agreement to allow Safa to be treated as an independent world under its protection. The Alliance Grand Council has ruled that Safa is a colony of Earth and is now subject to all Terran laws as well as the laws of the Alliance. These actions taken against Safa are a direct result of what you’ve done while you were in power. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
Hadi continued to glare at Tom. He opened his mouth and quietly said, “We will never give up.”
“Never, is a very, very long time,” Tom said. Turning to address the advisers, he continued, “Safa’s new government will be arriving soon. You will be expected to cooperate fully in the peaceful transition of power. In return for your cooperation, you’ll be allowed to live on Safa as an exile. If you fail to cooperate, you’ll be taken back to Earth where you’ll be tried for any crimes you might have been involved in. This is an incredibly generous offer and I strongly suggest you agree to it.”
Tom looked each of the advisers in the eye then yelled, “Sergeant!”
A marine stepped into the room, “Yes Sir?”
“Get some men in here. Take Muhaajir Hadi into custody and have him transported to a ship destined for Earth. When the new planetary governor arrives, make sure these men cooperate.”
“Yes Sir!”
“I’ve been told,” Tom said to the advisers, “that Earth will agree to allow only Terrans on Safa for as long as the people living here wish. But there will be a price to pay for this isolation. Residents of Safa will be banned from leaving this planet for as long as you decide to remain isolated. Someday, the people of Safa will join the rest of humanity in welcoming their association with the galactic community. Personally, I hope to never again meet anyone who claims to be a Purist. If I do, I will personally haul their ass back here where they can join the rest of you. Enjoy the world you’ve created for yourselves.”
Tom spun around and walked out of the room. Lashpa quickly followed. In the hall, they passed a group of marines heading towards the Supreme Sultan’s office. Lashpa’s ship was in the courtyard, hovering a meter off the snow-covered cement, its ramp down, waiting for his owner to board.
/> “Would you like to share a cup of coffee?” Lashpa asked.
Tom noticed a subtle difference in the tone of her voice but couldn’t quite put his finger on what it meant. “Yes,” he replied. “I would like that very much.”
A few minutes later, Lashpa handed Tom a steaming cup of coffee as they sat down in the conference room.
“Did you see the look on Hadi’s face?” Tom asked. “I’ve never seen so much hate in a man’s eyes in my entire life.”
“I’m not sure it was hate,” Lashpa replied. “I saw the eyes of a man who had lost his sanity.”
“You might be right,” Tom agreed, taking a sip of his coffee. “If you believe in something so much that you become a fanatic, it has to do something to how your mind works.”
“You Terrans are a very strange species,” Lashpa said, sipping her own coffee. “Fortunately,” she went on, looking intently at Tom, “the majority are sane.”
“Excuse me,” Krish interrupted. “I have received a message from Biomaster Flothir concerning the status of King Syan.”
“Play it,” Tom and Lashpa both said at the same time.
Chapter 35
“I’m happy to report,” Biomaster Flothir’s message began, “that Syan Hathuna is no longer a dirt-eater. The treatment worked as anticipated and I’ve released him from quarantine. Now that my work here is done, the Churva will be returning to Gwon-Go. I’ve made arrangements for Mr. Hathuan to be aboard when we leave.”
“Short and to the point,” Tom said when the message ended. “Too bad we can’t be there to meet him when he arrives.”
“We should visit him as soon as we’ve confirmed that Safa is now under Terran control,” Lashpa suggested.
“Has anyone told him about Gwon-Go’s new status?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know,” Lashpa admitted. “The new Voice of Gwon-Go should have been briefed by now but since Syan was considered an outcast from his people, I doubt anyone thought about telling him.”
“He’s going to be disappointed,” Tom said, downing the last of his coffee.
“Why do you say that?” Lashpa asked.
“He’s had a chance to see what life outside his planet is like. His perspective of his own people will never be the same.”
“The Mowry have always been exposed to advanced technology without being able to understand it,” Lashpa replied. “They were created by a star-faring people and forced to serve them. The Gwon did not hide their technology from the Mowry but neither did they share it with them. The Purists made the situation worse by giving them access to advanced technology. As far as I know, there’s never been a race that knows so much about what they can achieve without having the ability to achieve it. The Mowry have never had the chance to develop into their own society. The Alliance has to allow them to do so.”
Tom got up and made himself another cup of coffee. “The Mowry are a very resilient people that have been forced to develop in a way no other species in the galaxy has. They accept advanced technology without feeling the need to understand it. Their culture has adapted. We can’t just abandon them to find their own way. Their hospitals and other important buildings are powered by fusion reactors. They routinely use communication devices and other instruments provided by the Alliance and have become dependent on them. We’ll have to maintain a small presence on Gwon-Go just to make sure the technology they’ve been given continues to function.”
“True. But we must limit our influence as much as possible. Mowry are good people. But they’re a people without a unique culture of their own. We must allow them to find their own place in the galactic community. Giving them technology instead of allowing them to develop it on their own could have many unforeseen consequences.”
“I’d like to give the new government a few hours to get things rolling before checking in on them,” Tom suggested. “Chess?”
Lashpa hesitated a moment, then said, “I have a better idea.” Standing up, she said, “I’ll be right back.”
She left the conference room and returned a few minutes later carrying a large box. Setting it down on the table, she said, “This is a Rouldian game called maruchka. It has characteristics similar to chess, but instead of trying to capture your opponent’s king, the goal is for one player to get two specific pieces to a specific area of the board while the other player tries to prevent this from happening.”
“Sounds interesting,” Tom said, pulling the top of the box.
Inside, he found a large folded board divided into small triangular, variously colored areas. Lashpa began pulling pieces out of the box naming each one as she did and explaining how it was allowed to move. Like chess, the rules seemed simple enough to comprehend but the game itself would require a lifetime to master.
After explaining the rules, Lashpa asked, “Would you like something to eat before we play?”
“From your kitchen? No thank you.”
“Let me state my question in another way,” she said, sounding annoyed. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, she returned with a tray of food. Hers was a pile of raw vegetables without any hint of an odor that might be offensive to a non-Rouldian. Tom’s was a chopped salad complete with many vegetables he recognized.
“That looks good,” he said, grabbing his bowl. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s play a training game; I’ll be the opponent and you can play the part of the wanderers. As we play, I’ll tell you why I’m making certain moves and give you feedback on why a move you might chose is unwise.”
Tom took a bite of his salad. There was a hint of some type of dressing. Although he couldn’t identify the taste, he found it to his liking. “It will be like when you and I played our first game of chess together.”
“Yes,” Lashpa replied, staring at Tom with an odd look on her face. Tom noticed that her tail was twitching; it was barely visible, but he knew her so well he could see it as plain as if she had come right out and told him she was anxious.
Sensing he was missing something important, Tom focused his thoughts and sent a silent message to the Orion. The reply that came back through his cybernetic ears was not from Orion but Krish. “Today is the one-year anniversary of your declaration of gragrakch,” the ship told him. “It’s a special day among Rouldians. It’s customary for the two individuals to spend the entire day together undisturbed by others.”
Feeling like a complete fool, Tom leaned back in his chair and said, “Do you remember when we first met?”
“Of course I do!” she replied.
Tom smiled. “It was your first time away from Fanish and you looked like a kid in an amusement park. I took an immediate liking to you.”
“I remember asking if you were Terran,” she said. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure, even though I tried to memorize what all the member species of the Alliance looked like.”
“Who would have thought we would become gragrakch.” Tom reached across the table and grabbed Lashpa’s hand. “Having you in my life has been and will continue to be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Lashpa squeezed Tom’s hand. “We were born light-years apart. We are of two very different species. Yet, you and I share a bond that cannot be described by anything other than gragrakch. We will always be two bodies, one soul.”
“Let’s give the new government until tomorrow to sort things out. Today is a day to celebrate our declaration.”
“He told you, didn’t he?” she asked.
“I knew something was bothering you,” Tom replied. “I asked Orion and Krish told me. I’m sorry.”
“You would not have known,” she replied. “The annual celebration is based on the Rouldian definition of a year. I wasn’t sure if you would be comfortable spending- - -”
“We are gragrakch,” Tom interrupted. “I’m as much Rouldian as you are Terran. I don’t and I can’t know everything there is to know about your
culture and you don’t and can’t know everything there is to know about mine. We have a responsibility to talk to each other about such things so we can help each other enrich our lives.”
“You know,” Lashpa said, pulling her hands back, “nobody else would have noticed I was anxious. You knew. That’s gragrakch.”
“So,” Tom said, “Teach me how to play.”
* * * *
“My friends!” King Syan exclaimed as soon as the elevator doors opened. Tom and Lashpa stepped out as the King rushed to greet them. “I was so glad to receive word that you were coming to visit me,” he said, reaching out and touching the side of Tom’s cheek in a traditional Mowry greeting.
Tom returned the gesture. “We were surprised to hear you’ve been reinstated as the Voice of Gwon-Go,” he said. “Congratulations!”
King Syan did not hesitate to put his hand on the side of Lashpa’s jaw. “When it became known that I’d been cured, the other kings voted unanimously to return my title as well as my position as the Voice of Gwon-Go. And I have you to thank.”
“We’re glad to have been able to find a cure,” Lashpa replied. “But we could not have done it without your help.”
“Or mine,” Flothir added, stepping through the office door.
“It’s a time to celebrate!” the King practically shouted. “Come, I’ve prepared a special meal for you.”
Knowing it was Mowry tradition to celebrate even small events with food, Tom and Lashpa had skipped their last meal. King Syan led the way to his office and then into the conference room. The long table had been pushed back against the far right wall and filled with almost every type of food imaginable. To the right of the table, sitting in the corner, was a shallow tank of water containing a large number of fish.
A noise from behind caused Tom and Lashpa to turn around. A large group of people had suddenly appeared. “These are the members of my staff as well as four kings from the surrounding area. I would have invited all of the kings but there was not enough time.” Raising his voice, King Syan announced, “Our honored guests have arrived! Join us in a celebration of friendship, trust, and prosperity.”