“Their vids support that supposition, Councilor.”
“A divided people who vote by Klatch line are not worthy of the stars. Look, the Speaker!”
All eyes went to the Speaker of the Assembly. The clash of voices subsided.
“You will take the news to Tlomega? It would be unseemly were another Hunter spotted doing this. Cries of politics would emanate from the losers.” Rennelt seemed to have no doubt as to the outcome.
“I leave immediately after the vote,” Sab confirmed in a whisper. “The Fleet Admiral awaits the report of her junior. No cause for outcry exists.”
“Good.”
The Speaker called the session to order and the final speeches, diametrically opposed yet each claiming to champion the truth, called to the hearts and minds of the representatives. Sab paid close attention, considering her vote.
Second Casull spoke truth: this vote would decide between war and continuance of the Peace of Tlenfro. With Warrior lives at stake and her fleet under Tood Tlomega’s direct command, she needed to decide wisely. Tlomega wanted action, might care little for loss of lives—warrior lives. Yet Rennelt also spoke truth: too long had they been denied the hunt. The Tox had drifted far from Tlar’s words. Tlar had foretold the drift, yet said: “In the end you will return to me.”
Sab’s stomach jumped as the last representative sat and silence fell across the chamber. No warrior had spoken. The Tox would find that unseemly, as if the matter of their lives or deaths deserved comment. Warriors had but one duty: to serve.
Lights flashed alive on her console, calling for the vote. Sab pressed a claw into either side of the console. Would it be left for war or right for peace? A slight pressure from a claw to decide the fate of the Empire.
Numbers climbed in each column as representatives voted for the Tox. Another chance would not occur during her career, yet a yes vote would bring death to uncounted numbers of her klatch. Humans were prolific breeders; Tlartox were not. And that had been the lesson of Tlenfro. Sab pressed. Ears forward, she watched the numbers mount, each side gaining and losing the lead.
Undisciplined faces told the story. Sab prided herself on her discipline.
The Chair stood, and the excited whispers that had followed the casting slowly faded until silence filled the Tlartum.
“By a counted vote of 268 to 265, Motion 154 of the 2438th Tlartum has gone down to defeat.”
The business of the Tlartum finished, Sab stood without expression and, keeping her ears at a neutral angle, entered the elevator. She licked the errant tuft of fur back into place again and prepared herself for the meeting with Tood Tlomega. Outside, she ignored the journalists who awaited their briefing. They knew better than to question a member of the Tlartum.
Her landcruiser waited at the curb and her driver saluted and opened the door.
“Fleet Headquarters.” The result of the vote became public in one half hour. By that time, those who needed to know would know. In five minutes she would face Tlomega’s fierce eyes. Tlomega wouldn’t bother asking how she voted, she would assume. And that suited Sab.
* * *
Tood Tlomega glared from behind a massive wooden desk. Souvenirs from a hundred different worlds sat on the desktop and on shelves around the room. Behind her, paintings depicted the glories of the past. Tlartox cruisers and frigates engaged the Others in victorious combat; Tlartox commandos battled through planetside colonies, hunting the despised enemy. Sab affected to not notice the fresh claw marks on the arms of Tood’s chair. In contrast, patches of green grass in corner trays lent the room familiar and comforting aromas.
Tlomega bared her teeth. “We won!” She had seen it in the set of Sab’s ears, cocked at just that angle which she’d come to know. Only those very familiar, and observant, could read her. Sab likewise bared her teeth, fangs exposed and vaguely threatening.
“We won, Fleet Admiral,” she confirmed. “The Tlartum, in its wisdom, has voted down the continuation of the peace with the Confederation. The glories of the past,” she looked at the wall behind her superior, “may now continue into the future.”
The slash of white across Tlomega’s nose and muzzle caused her to look even fiercer than she was, were that possible. Age had faded the dark grey and black stripes on her face, but the white shone.
Tlomega stood and stretched. She bared her teeth again, then spoke. “We have work to do, Star Admiral.”
“Yes, Fleet Admiral.” The Hunt would begin again. The prey waited out there among the stars. This time, there would be no Tlenfro. Sab considered the Others. Wily and without honor, furless and weak, yet their starships equaled those of the Tlartox. How had they accomplished so much, this prey species, these humans?
* * *
Across the city, a similar meeting took place. Shads Efdur reported the vote to the one known as ‘The Master’. Shads, a large Tlartox whose eyes gleamed with infinite curiosity, had markings much like those of Tood Tlomega, grey and black stripes and a white chin, but his gentleness and compassion set them far apart. Shads Efdur had never used his great strength to the despair of others.
“I’m afraid they outmaneuverd us, Master,” Shads began. “The situation in which the Confederation finds itself, with respect to the Combine, did not help. Their apparent weakness became the deciding factor. Tood Tlomega and her hunters picked their moment well.
“Forty years of war with the Combine has pulled resources away from the Confederation’s border with the Empire, and the necessity of keeping the better part of their navy on their Combine border leaves them vulnerable.”
The white-furred head shook gently and Shads found himself mesmerized by the ovals of dark fur near the Master’s ears. “The Confederation has more strength than it seems, with fleets experienced in war, Shads. Appearances deceive; weakness does not exist.
“Unfortunately, the Empire has gained comparatively more in recent years.” He sighed. “You speak truth, though. The Confederation is heavily engaged far from our borders. A pity they didn’t learn from their past.” The Master cocked one ear in self-mockery. “A shame we have not learned from ours.”
“Then we will see war?” This came from a hitherto silent Tlartox, black-furred and narrow of jaw. She stepped closer, away from the Avga plant she’d been examining, sniffing at its grey-green leaves and red flower.
“We will see war, Miz,” the Master agreed. He considered the pair, noting their subtle movement closer together. A fine couple, he thought, pleased at the luck that brought another one of the Hunters over to their side.
Shads felt himself quite naked before the wisdom of The Master. A jolt went through him as The Master said the fateful words, “And we know what we must do.”
“If they find out, they will brand us traitors. It will not matter that what we do, we do for the good of the Empire as well as the Confederation,” Shads said wearily.
“I know,” soothed the older Tlartox, “yet we must do so, regardless. A claw to the throat will not be so sharp should we succeed.” He paused and drank from the goblet which sat on the bare desk. “We need to convene meetings with the cells in, say, ten days. Tell Tlantho to set it up.” He lowered the goblet. “I had hoped it would not come to this.”
CHAPTER 2
CONFEDERATION SPACE FREIGHTER CARIEL
A Captain’s main problem, Larrsh thought as he stomped up the narrow passageway to the bridge, rests in the fact he is never off-duty. He yawned as he buttoned his shirt. A closed hatch confronted him, and he growled his disapproval, though standing orders required just that. While one hand entered the code to open the bridge hatch, the other rubbed at his eyes.
“What gets me out of my pit at this ungodly hour?” Larrsh demanded as he entered the cramped quarters of the bridge. His first glance took in the navtank, whose holo showed the Kendar star-system. The faint yellow track that depicted Cariel’s course ended near the second planet of the system. No silver track detailed their projected course. The ship stood at a complete relat
ive stop. The monitors showed the shifting greys of hyperspace. No red alarm lights lit any of the comp panels.
First Mate Elnar Ecovin, singularly fixated on the holo, spun about at his voice and surprised Larrsh with his obvious relief at his Captain’s arrival. Ecovin fingered the medallion hanging about his neck, clearly displaying his worry to any acquainted with his mannerisms.
Larrsh made the effort to focus and become Captain.
“Why have we not dropped to normal space, Mr. Ecovin?” He completed the buttoning of his jacket.
Ecovin, his voice pitched higher than normal, replied, “Sir, Kendar’s beacon doesn’t respond on any frequency, nor does the station itself. Our detectors can’t even find the beacon.”
Larrsh raised an eyebrow. “I see. Navigator?”
Janny Trumnor looked up from her seat beside the holo, her worry less evident than Ecovin’s. Lack of experience, the Captain decided. Her composed young face radiated confidence, the blonde hair pulled back and clasped behind her head.
“Navtank confirms us in position to the 99 point 99th percentile, sir. We are in Kendar’s emergence zone. I’ve rechecked the comp.” Her voice contained no trace of worry.
Larrsh turned to the third member of the bridge crew, the Comm-op tech. “Sil?”
“Comm reads green, Captain. I’ve sent the emergence signal twice on each frequency. No response.”
Not good. The three looked at him expectantly and, as Captain, he could not allow his own growing apprehension to show. “Probe?”
“Dropped,” Ecovin replied. A probe, like an emergence beacon, existed partially in normal space, partially in hyperspace, thus allowing communication between the two. “Reads clear, Captain, but no beacon in normal space, either. It hasn’t dropped completely—unless they’ve taken it in for repairs. Wish we had a naval probe or two; damn civilian probes are only good for several thousand kilometers.” He was now chewing on his scraggly moustache, a habit that Larrsh hated. He also wore his hair just a bit too long, an irritant in that Larrsh’s own hair had been reduced to a thin band about his head.
“Good work,” Larrsh said easily as he dropped himself into the Captain’s chair. “Web in.”
Ecovin took his chair, and the rest of the bridge crew fastened their emergency restraints. “Sound Emergency Emergence Stations, First.” He smiled as the three turned their heads. “Only a precaution.”
A klaxon sounded, and the tech acknowledged incoming comm. “Sir, everyone has checked in.”
With greater calm than he felt, Larrsh gave the order. “Drop, Mr. Ecovin, if you please.”
Ecovin grimaced, then entered the emergence sequence into the comp, and the grey of hyperspace disappeared from their monitors to be suddenly replaced by the blackness of normal space, lit by its background of stars.
Navigator Trumnor’s eyes went wide as she checked her scope against the navtank. She turned, white-faced, towards the Captain and First Mate who appeared frozen in their command chairs. She swallowed twice before attempting to speak.
“Captain, sir, we are not where we are supposed to be.” In the sudden quiet, all could hear the tremor in her voice.
“That is patently obvious, Navigator.” Years of practice allowed the Captain to maintain an even voice. “The question is: Where are we?”
Navigator Trumnor swallowed once more. “I have no idea, sir. I’ve never seen the starfield from this position before, not even in sims.”
“Action Stations!”
“Sir?” Ecovin was chewing at his mustache again.
“I will not be taken by pirates, First. Action Stations!”
“Sir!”
The action stations alarm sounded, and within moments a red-faced woman appeared on the bridge. Heavyset, the run from her emergence station had her breathing harshly.
“Second Mate Bevortin relieving First Mate Ecovin, sir.”
“Good. Quickly, now, First, to the auxiliary bridge.”
The First Mate rushed through the hatch, giving a brief shrug to the Bevortin’s questioning look before passing her by.
“The situation, Captain?” Bevortin queried as she strapped herself into the chair Ecovin had vacated.
The Captain wiped the sweat from his bald pate and replied slowly, “I wish I knew, Second, I wish I knew. Set the alarm to go off at the first sign of an emergence wave.”
For three tense hours the crew remained at action stations as their officers searched for an answer to their problem.
Cariel, her weapons heated and ready, hung in space, a victim in waiting. Her detectors, set at maximum range, showed nothing. Although the small weapons they carried would be of little use against a well-armed pirate, a spirited defense had saved more than one freighter from pillage.
“Captain.” Trumnor’s relief was evident.
“Navigator?”
“The navtank self-calibration test board is faulty. It has corrupted the database. I’ve never heard of this happening before. Other boards may also have taken damage. We’ve likely been off-course for two weeks, maybe more.”
“How long to repair it?”
“I, I’m not sure, sir.”
“Keep me informed. Second, you have the bridge; I’ll be in my quarters. Cancel emergency stations; go to standby stations; recover the probe.” If he noticed the bridge crew breathing a sigh of relief, he affected not to.
* * *
Trumnor bent over the circuit boards.
“How long to repair the navtank, Janny?”
Trumnor turned to the Comm-op and smiled at him. “Not long, Sil, maybe a couple of hours, but I don’t want to do that yet.”
“What?”
She had shocked Sil. Trumnor could read that in his face. Had their new navigation officer deliberately sabotaged the navtank? Should he report this to the Captain?
She laughed at his expression. “First we need to find out where we are, Sil. If we run a sim of our run, maybe, just maybe, we’ll find out what course—or courses—we’ve taken these last three weeks. If successful we can figure out more accurately just where we are and take the shortest line back to where we want to go. If not …” she shrugged and returned to her work. It took all her concentration.
“Janny?” Sil interrupted her just as she began to get somewhere. She turned back to him, eyebrows raised. “Janny, have you seen Jimmy-the-One? He looks like he’s seen a ghost. Staring into the detectors almost non-stop, and when he does leave them he just hurries out and then hurries back.”
“Ecovin? I hadn’t noticed, Sil, I’ve been kind of busy. Speaking of which …” Trumnor ignored his plaintive expression. She didn’t need the distractions, especially if the sim confirmed her suspicions. No one even mentioned Sivon sector without a quick look over one’s shoulder, though she’d never known why. She did know that all who could avoided it.
“Captain to the bridge!”
Trumnor looked up to see the First Mate positively white, staring into detectors, eyes flitting from screen to screen. His right hand grasped his medallion and his lips moved in silent prayer—or blasphemy, Trumnor didn’t read lips well enough to tell. She headed towards him, then dodged out of the way as Captain Larrsh barreled through.
“They’re back. This time off the port bow. Extreme range.”
“They?” The Captain squinted into the detectors.
“Three of them, Captain.”
“And how long would it take for a vessel to get from the position of the last sighting to this one?” A trickle of sweat ran down Larrsh’s face.
“Too long, Captain. They haven’t had the time.”
“Can you read an outline—anything to tell us who they are?”
“Maybe now. Let’s see.” Ecovin played with the controls and the image on the screen faded, blurred, sharpened. Sharpened some more, grew in size, though still fuzzy.
“Starfire!”
“Blood and Bones!”
Ecovin started shaking and hastily sat down in the closest chair. “Vand
oo,” he whispered.
“Who are the Vandoo?” Janny asked. She had never heard of such a race.
The captain turned as if he hadn’t heard her. “Where are we, Navigator?”
Trumnor gave her best guess. The information staggered him.
“Never mind your damn sim. Get that thing fixed. No, first lay in an approximate course to Kendar. We go to hyperspace as soon as you have it. Then fix that damn navtank.” He glared at her. In her surprise, she had frozen. “Move, damn you!”
Never before had Trumnor heard him upset, let alone angry. No, she amended as she began the careful computations she hoped wouldn’t land them in the nearest star, never before had she heard him scared.
Fifteen minutes later they jumped to hyperspace, and Trumnor busied herself repairing the navtank. With relief she watched it cycle through the checks. All systems showed green.
“Want help?” Sil asked when she began the tedious job of rebuilding the database.
“Thanks. We’ll start with the major nav-points, then our itinerary, Kendar, Prelax and Bravo II.”
Bevortin entered to relieve Ecovin. Trumnor bent to her task, warning Sil with her eyes. Sil ignored the warning.
“What do you think Fleet will say when we get to Space Dock Bravo II?” he asked Ecovin.
“Fleet?” Ecovin answered with scorn. “When have they ever listened to us?” He kept walking, but Trumnor heard the shaky whisper as the hatch closed, “Vandoo.”
CONFEDERATION REPAIR DOCK BRAVO II
“I do not find vindictiveness an admirable character trait.” Commodore Taglini’s dark eyes dared any to respond.
Heads came up around the table, eyes questioning, but no one giving voice to the questions. The subject on the agenda had been ship dispositions.
“Commodore Taglini, perhaps you could elaborate.” Captain Martok, as second-in-command, placed himself forward to take the weight. The other officers sat expectantly. The routine status meeting had turned into something quite different.
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