by Ryk Brown
Preto Soray nodded and exited the kor-dom’s quarters.
“What I am about to tell you must never be repeated,” the kor-dom explained, taking another breath before continuing. “Do I have your word on this?”
“You have my word,” Nathan replied after a moment’s hesitation.
“While your attack on Zhu-Anok may have been the trigger, it was not the cause of its destruction, and by extension not the cause of the disasters that befell Nor-Patri.”
Although he tried, Nathan could not contain the grin that formed on his face.
“Not the reaction I expected,” Kor-Dom Borrol stated, one eyebrow raised.
“I had a lot of time to think about this during my trial,” Nathan reminded him. “I may not be a scientist, but I know that moons don’t blow up like that. Come apart sometimes, but not like that. Not with that much force.”
“Then why did you not say as much during your trial?”
“The purpose of my trial wasn’t justice, it was appeasement. For both our worlds to survive, your people needed a scapegoat, and I fit the role.”
“A noble sacrifice.”
“As much as I’d like to accept the compliment, the truth is that I just wanted a way out.”
“Out?” the kor-dom wondered. “Out of what?”
“Everything. The war. The responsibilities. The death and destruction. I wasn’t ready for any of it. It was just thrust upon me.”
“You could have resigned at any point along the way, could you not?”
“I considered it,” Nathan admitted. “Nearly every day of my command.”
“Yet you did not.”
“Just as you have not,” Nathan replied.
Kor-Dom Borrol’s brow furrowed.
“Your world is headed for certain destruction. You can’t even be certain that there will be anyone left to rebuild. Some men would simply give up and enjoy what time they had left. Instead, you are here, going against all that you and your people believe. Only to bet that my skinny ass is somehow able to save both our worlds.”
“It appears to be the only option remaining.”
Nathan laughed. “No insult, Kor-Dom, but I find that hard to believe.”
“Allow me to rephrase. It is the only option I find acceptable. Like many, I find the Tonba-Hon-Venar an archaic concept. It was intended to create fear in the hearts of our enemies, back in the early days of our people, when our conflicts were still limited to the castes of Nor-Patri.”
“If it is so archaic, why do your people hold onto it?” Nathan wondered.
“There is comfort in traditions,” Kor-Dom explained. “Even ones that no longer make sense. Since the Zhu-Anok disaster, favor has been swinging back toward the warrior castes and their philosophy of strength and conquest.”
“And you do not agree with that philosophy,” Nathan surmised.
“It had its place at one time,” Kor-Dom Borrol admitted. “But advances in technology have caused many of the old traditions to become obsolete. The trick is in knowing when to let go. This is where my people have failed. I hope to correct that error.”
“To do so is going to require a great leap of faith on your part,” Nathan warned. “I hope you have it in you to trust me.”
“So do I,” Kor-Dom Borrol agreed. “You may be our only hope.”
Nathan sighed. “Great. So no pressure then.”
* * *
Nathan stepped into the corridor from the kor-dom’s quarters after a lengthy and wide-ranging discussion. Nathan had shared all he that knew about the Dusahn and the various worlds he had visited as both Connor Tuplo and as Nathan Scott. If Jessica had been present, she would have bound, gagged, and dragged him from the room an hour ago.
As much as he had shared, the kor-dom had shared equally as much, if not more. The Jung leader had been in office for more than two decades and had spent the entire time trying to shift the empire away from their expansionist ways. The Jung Empire had grown tremendously during the century that had preceded his administration. While the growth of their fleet had done wonders for their economy and their imperial pride, it had cost them dearly. Infrastructure on Nor-Patri, as well as on several of their older expansion colonies, was suffering from old age, having been long ignored.
The takeaway for Nathan had been that the kor-dom was tired of fighting both the Sol Alliance and his own warrior caste leaders. In facing his empire’s inevitable demise, his only solace had been that, in the end, they would all know his prognostications had been correct. They would not admit it, but they would know.
When the kor-dom had stated that Nathan might be their only hope of salvation, he had been speaking of more than just staving off destruction under the Tonba-Hon-Venar. The course of their conversation brought forth the realization that the Jung leader had been envisioning what his empire could become with jump drive technology for years, possibly since learning of its development. Nathan was actually amazed that the Jung had not yet acquired it, especially considering how quickly it had spread across the Pentaurus sector.
Nathan had thought long and hard about his decision to share the technology with the Jung. In the end, he had concluded that eventually they would acquire it, and that offering it to them now was just as likely to turn them into an ally as it was into the galaxy’s eventual rulers. So many arguments could be made against his decision, as Jessica had pointed out on so many occasions. However, just as many could be made in favor, and she knew it.
“Captain,” Preto Soray greeted. He had been standing in the corridor, along with the two Ghatazhak guards posted outside the kor-dom’s door, the entire time.
“Mister Soray,” Nathan replied.
“I would speak with you,” the preto said. It was more of a statement than a request. The preto shot a glance at the two Ghatazhak. “In private.”
Nathan exchanged looks with the Ghatazhak, nodding at them. “Walk with me?” he suggested to his old jailer.
The two men strolled away, despite the disapproving glances of the Ghatazhak still guarding the kor-dom’s quarters.
“I’m glad to have the opportunity to speak with you,” Nathan said, starting the conversation. “I wanted to apologize for all that you and your family have probably been through. I also wanted to thank you for the kindness you showed me that night. I feel guilty that I betrayed it.”
“You committed no crimes. You were a soldier trying to defend your people against unwarranted aggression. The fact that you surrendered to save billions of lives on both sides, knowing full well that it meant your death, speaks to your character.”
Nathan looked at the preto, surprised. “Your English has improved.”
“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands these last seven years.”
Nathan sighed. “It must have been hard on your family.”
“It has been difficult for them, yes. But they understood why I did what I did and agreed that it was right,” Trever explained. “You see, it is not only the kor-dom who believes our old ways no longer serve us. He is also not the only one who believes you might be our only hope.”
Nathan was surprised again. “You were listening?”
Trever tapped his left ear. “I hear everything the kor-dom hears. Even now, I hear the water running in his bath.”
“Does the kor-dom know?”
“It is standard procedure for an imperial bodyguard.”
“I see.”
“I should thank you for that as well,” Trever added. “Assuming they do not throw me back into a cell when this is over, the position will all but assure the restoration of my family’s honor and their future. Protector of the kor-dom is a high honor.”
“And if I fail?” Nathan wondered.
Trever smiled. “Then it will not matter.”
Nathan said nothing, the weight of Trever’s last statement weighi
ng heavily.
Trever himself noticed Nathan’s worried expression. “May I offer some advice?”
“Of course,” Nathan replied. “I believe you’ve more than earned that right.”
“Try not to worry so much about the result and concentrate on the efforts themselves.”
Nathan looked confused.
“You see, there are so many variables in life that are beyond one’s control. You can do everything correctly and still not achieve the desired result. Even coming close is, in itself, a miracle. So you concentrate on the effort, always striving to do your best, but accepting your own failures along the way.” The preto paused in his tracks, turning to look at the captain. “Most importantly, you learn from your failures and try harder the next time. The only true failure is in the resignation that you cannot do better.”
“Considering the stakes, I don’t see how I cannot worry about the result,” Nathan admitted.
“What you must realize is that even if you fail, life will go on. Unfathomable losses there will be, yes. But there will still be civilizations that will not be affected. Humanity will continue on those worlds, perhaps for the better.”
Nathan smiled, continuing along. “All this wisdom from a jailer?”
Trever smiled back at him. “As I said, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands as of late.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The look in her children’s eyes nearly broke Miri’s heart. “I’ll be back in a few days,” she promised. “Mind Neli, and don’t give her too hard a time.”
“Why do you have to go?” her daughter, Melanie, wondered.
“I have to finish what your grandfather started,” Miri told her.
“What if something happens to you?” her son, Kyle, asked.
“I’ve got the toughest men in the galaxy protecting me,” Miri said, gesturing toward Kit, Mori, and the other Ghatazhak. “Besides, I’ll be on board the Aurora most of the time, with your Uncle Nathan.”
“Why can’t someone else finish grandpa’s work?” Melanie wondered.
“Because I’m a Scott,” Miri replied, exchanging glances with Nathan. “Scotts always do the right thing.”
“Why can’t Uncle Nathan do it?” Kyle suggested. “He’s a Scott.”
“Because I’m the next in line,” Miri reminded him. “We talked about this, Kyle.”
Kyle looked at Kit and Mori, both of whom he knew quite well from their time on Sanctuary. “You’ll protect her?”
“With our lives,” Kit promised.
“You’d better,” Kyle warned, “or you’ll have to answer to me.”
Kit smiled. “Fair enough, little man.”
Miri kissed her daughter on her forehead, then her son. “See you both soon,” she told them.
Nathan took Miri’s hand, helping her to stand again. She had made significant progress over the last few weeks, but she was still not entirely herself, and it worried him.
Miri headed for the door, escorted by the Ghatazhak. Nathan watched her go, then turned back to Kyle and Melanie. “I won’t let anything happen to your mother,” he assured them.
“You can’t promise that,” Kyle insisted.
“No I can’t,” Nathan admitted. “But I can promise that they’ll have to kill me to get to her. And I came back from the dead, remember?”
It wasn’t enough to bring a smile to Kyle’s face. But his niece trusted him implicitly. “I know you’ll protect my mommy,” Melanie told Nathan. “You’re Na-Tan. You can do anything.”
Nathan grabbed them both, pulling them in close. “I love you both,” he whispered. Nathan then stood and turned to Neli but didn’t know what to say. Instead of speaking, he just hugged her as well.
“Like they were my own,” Neli whispered in his ear.
Nathan turned and headed out the door, following his sister.
“Keep Marcus out of trouble!” Neli added as he exited.
Nathan walked out the door and down the path to the front landing pad, where their shuttle was waiting. Kit and Mori were standing on either side of the hatch, keeping watch on the surrounding area, more out of habit than necessity. Nathan went inside and headed aft to sit with his sister for the ride up to the Aurora. As expected, he found his sister teary-eyed. “You’ll see them again,” he promised.
“I’d better,” she joked, taking her younger brother’s hand.
* * *
Nathan had instructed the pilot to cruise all the way up to the Aurora instead of jumping. Miri was still rather upset about having to leave her children behind, and the extra time would do her good. She was stepping into a completely different life now. Not only different from what she had known for the last few months, but also different from the years she had spent as their father’s chief of staff. The responsibility for trillions of lives was about to be placed squarely on her diminutive shoulders.
But Miri was strong; she always had been. And she possessed the ability to see a problem from all sides, with perfect clarity. Growing up, Miri had been the one Nathan had always turned to when facing an important decision. He often wondered what she would have advised had he consulted her before enlisting.
“We’ll be landing in a few minutes,” the pilot’s voice announced over the cabin speakers.
Miri watched out the window, taking in the view of the Aurora as they approached. “I still marvel at how big she is.”
“The Aurora?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s not even that big,” Nathan reminded her. “Not in comparison with some of the other ships we’ve seen. Heck, the Glendanon’s nearly twice her size.”
“Yes, but we didn’t build the Glendanon,” she pointed out. “Pop always said the Aurora was an example of how much we could accomplish when we all worked together toward a common purpose.”
“Funny thing is, the Aurora is only as big as she is because of the limitations of the technology used to build her.”
Miri looked at him, skeptical. “How so?”
“Well, for starters, she’s got an incredibly thick hull because we didn’t have shield technology at the time. Because of the extra mass, she needed massive engines to get her to accelerate at an acceptable rate. If you took her internal deck space and stuck it inside a ship built with current technology, you’d have a ship half her size. She’s actually a terrible design for what her mission turned out to be. In fact, I’m finding the Voss to be better suited for our current needs.”
Miri looked out the window again, appreciating the graceful lines of the Aurora. “But the Voss is ugly and doesn’t inspire confidence when you see her.”
“I suppose not,” Nathan agreed. “But her smaller size and modularity make her far more flexible.”
“You just miss the Seiiki,” Miri teased.
“Damn right, I do,” Nathan agreed. “She was a fine ship.”
“And a hell of a lot more attractive than the Voss.”
“Okay, fine, the XKs are ugly,” Nathan conceded. “But they were free, and we really needed some decent expedition ships.”
“I just thought of a benefit of exercising my heir-to-office rights,” Miri decided.
“What’s that?”
“You’ll finally have to do what I say,” she explained, smiling.
The cabin darkened as they entered the Aurora’s starboard landing bay, their shuttle no longer bathed in the light reflected off of SilTek. Moments later, their landing gear kissed the deck, and they started their entry roll. The starboard flight complex had yet to be fitted with pressure shields and still relied on transfer airlocks to move ships in and out.
“Stand close as I disembark,” Miri told Nathan. “I still have a little trouble going downhill.”
“Always,” Nathan promised, taking her hand.
A few minutes later, their shuttle came to a stop.
Miri said nothing, merely rising from her seat with a little help from her kid brother. The two of them moved forward as Kit and Mori headed down the side ramp. Miri followed them out but stopped at the hatch, taken aback by what she saw outside.
The entire crew of the Aurora was assembled in the hangar bay. Their uniforms were mixed, but they stood as proudly as any unified group of people could. In front of them stood the Aurora’s command staff, fronted by Captain Taylor and General Telles.
Miri glanced to her left as Kit stepped to the side of the ramp. The Ghatazhak, clad in full mark two combat armor, had formed a line on either side leading from the base of the debarkation ramp to the assembled crew.
“Company, ah-ten-shun!” Cameron barked, causing all assembled to snap to attention.
“Company, sah-lute!” she added.
In unison, every man and woman assembled snapped their hands to their brow in salute. Though half the crew was not Terran, the Aurora was a ship of Earth, which made Miri their leader.
“President of Earth, arriving,” a voice announced over the loudspeakers.
Miri looked at Nathan. “Are you trying to make me cry again?”
“Don’t look at me; I didn’t arrange this,” he assured her.
Miri smiled, taking his arm as the two of them started down the ramp and into her new life.
* * *
Kor-Dom Borrol stared at Nathan in disbelief, then at General Telles and Miranda Scott-Thornton. “This is your plan?” he asked. “Twelve six-man teams, jumping into small compounds from several light years away…in spacesuits?” He looked to Cameron next. “Please tell me there is some element you are not disclosing at the moment. After all, I am hanging the fate of my people on it.”
“The fate of our people,” Cameron corrected, “and no, there isn’t more to it.”
“We have successfully executed insertions before,” General Telles assured the kor-dom.
“One time, and from a much closer range,” Kor-Dom Borrol reminded him. “Unless the intel you provided me was incomplete.”
General Telles nodded, confirming the kor-dom’s point.