The Khruellian Encounter Page 21

  His personal aide and favorite wife-mate followed along at a discrete distance. It was not often he was able to have a private moment without half the court clamoring for his attention. Unlike his father, Karsolomal was a hands-on leader. Much to the dismay of his ministers, he insisted on knowing the minutest details of the workings of their departments. On top of that, he possessed an incredibly good memory and was quick to point out discrepancies from previous reports. The flip side of his involvement was a minimum of time available for his personal pursuits.

  He reached his favorite roost and motioned for the pair following him to come forward. He told his aide to leave them, which he did without hesitation. Looking at his wife-mate, he was again struck by her beauty and gracefulness. “Are you in season, yet?” he asked. Lately, he had become concerned about producing an heir, and he desired to have that heir with his first wife-mate. She was a scion of a well-connected family, and an heir by her would tighten the political bond between their two families.

  “Yes, my lord. I am ready to mate,” she said demurely and ruffled her head crest.

  The movement excited the Absolute, The female of the Khruellian species only mated when they were fertile, which occurred four times a year. The rest of the time they were unable or unwilling to mate. The male Khruellian was always ready, which was why wealthy Khruellian males had a large harem of females who came into a breeding-state on a regular, rotating basis. These females were treated to produce sterile eggs. The Absolute did not want any bastards laying claim to his throne.

  She assumed the position in front of him and the Absolute mounted her quickly. Just as quickly the copulation was completed, and they separated. She resumed her normal position behind him as he sat and let the euphoria of his orgasm spread through him like a wave on a shore. He briefly wondered if his wife-mate was experiencing the same sensation, or was her joy derived from the motherhood that would follow. As the sensation abated, so did all thoughts about his wife-mate’s well-being. They would meet again in two days and repeat the coupling. In a week she would produce two eggs, which would eventually produce an heir to the throne. If two males were hatched, the stronger would kill the weaker and the survivor would rise to assume the role of The Absolute and continue fulfilling the demands of the Legend. If a male and a female were born, the solution was simple. The male would become The Absolute, and the female would be used as a bargaining chip in a politically correct marriage. On rare occasions, three chicks were produced as had happened in the current Absolute’s case. He had killed his robust brother and left his weaker sibling alive, who now served as his right hand in dealing with the conquered worlds.

  He signaled his aide to join him as his wife-mate left to share the news of her breeding. He could not begin to imagine the kind of conversation she would be having with her nest sisters, nor did he have the least bit of curiosity to find out. His overwhelming interest was the empire and The Legend.

  “Are the ministers gathered?” he asked curtly.

  His aide, who had been with him since the day he assumed the Absolute title bowed and said, “Yes, my lord. They await your pleasure.”

  He strode toward the office wing and said in passing, “That will depend on if they have anything pleasing to report.”

  The aide followed and thought, “The breeding certainly did nothing to improve his mood.”

  The ministers rose in unison as their Absolute entered the chambers. No words of greetings were expressed.

  “Update,” The Absolute said without preamble as he took his seat.

  Merkalomal rose from his chair. As the Absolute’s sibling and Minister of Conquered Worlds, he was considered to be the unofficial leader of the assembled group, although no such titled was mentioned or inferred in any correspondence lest the Absolute view his brother as a threat. Merkalomal were acutely aware of how well informed the Absolute was on any matters concerning succession and he did not want to provoke any preemptive action by his nest-brother against him or his family.

  As he stood up, a holographic image of the galaxy appeared in the middle of the table. It was minutely accurate. The galaxy was dominated by two large spiral arms rotating out from the center. Numerous minor arms spread out from these main arms making the galaxy look like a giant swirl rotating around a brilliant center. Conquering these stars had been the goal of every Absolute since the dawn of the Khruellian civilization. Approximately ten percent of the stars at one end of the two main spiral arms glowed with red stars, which marked the Khruellian Hegemony. Each succeeding Absolute devoted his life and the resources of his empire to extend that spread of red stars down the spiral arm until they ran out of civilizations to conquer. From somewhere in that vast galaxy an enemy had launched an attack on the Khruellian homeworld. The task was to find out who and where they came from.

  As angry as the Absolute was, he was, in the end, a realist and knew he had to keep his legendary temper in check so his ministers could act out of confidence, not out of fear of losing their head. That was still a possibility, but he would reserve that punishment for only the most severe failures.

  Merkalomal picked up a pointing laser and began, “The evidence we examined suggested the attack came from this direction,” he said, pointing to the area between the Khruellian Empire and the center of the galaxy, which was bright white from the concentration of many millions of suns. Between the galactic center and the Khruellian Empire was the beginning of the second major arm of the galaxy. The gap between the two arms was fifteen thousand light years, an enormous distance for a fleet of alien invaders to cross. This gap was not totally devoid of stars, but they were far less concentrated than in the major spiral arms. The distance between stars in the area was not conducive to forming interstellar empires or confederations.

  As Merkalomal explained the dynamics of the region, the Absolute leaned forward in his chair to focus his attention on the area under discussion. The Absolute’s nest-brother continued, “We sent a thousand scout ships to scour this region, but have found no trace of an organized empire capable of launching such an attack.”

  The Absolute looked at his brother then back to the holograph. “What about the inner galactic arm?” he asked pointing with his own laser at the galactic arm beyond the sparsely populated region.

  Merkalomal bowed slightly at his brother’s question and said, “My Lord that is a gap of fifteen thousand light years. It would take one of our ships over twenty jumps and many days to cross such a distance.”

  The Absolute turned to the newest member of the group, Blikor of the Prolok flock who had replaced Balikam, the deceased Minister of the Defenders. With cold, calculating eyes he said, “What do you think, Blikor? It is now your responsibility to defend the empire.”

  Blikor, who was a distant cousin of Burkal-Krilos, the Minister of the Expanders stared back with the brashness of youth and said, “The question that bothers me, Lord, is not how a fleet could cross that gap, but why would they do so, to what gain?”

  “Continue,” the Absolute said, becoming interested in what the young man was suggesting.

  Bolstered by the Absolute’s interest, he said, “Out of all the hundreds of thousands of worlds in our area, this enemy fleet attacked one world, our capital. That speaks to me of someone who has specific knowledge of our empire and who is directly threatened by us.”

  The Absolute sat back in his chair and considered the young man’s words. The assembled leaders waited for him to speak. He stirred in his chair, and after looking at the galactic hologram, he said, “I think you might be correct in your assumption, Blikor.” He turned his gaze to the Minister of the Expanders and said, “Burkal, what do you think of your cousin’s assumptions?”

  Burkal’s only desire was to get away from the capital and the palace intrigue. He puffed out his cheeks in a sign he was pondering his answer before speaking. Then, in his unmistakable rumbling voice, he said, “I believe young Blikor may have a point, My Lord. There seems to be little reason for a flee
t to cross that distance to attack a single world.”

  The Absolute asked the critical question, “Who are they?”

  Blikor spoke up, even though his uncle was still standing waiting to be dismissed. The young Minister of Defense said, “Someone of power who is threatened by our advancing forces.”

  “Exactly,” the Absolute said in a tone that ended any potential dissent.

  Merkalomal, the Minister of Conquered Worlds watched the young Blikor gloat with pride over having the Absolute adopt his point of view. “That one will lose his head if he lets this minor victory fill his brain,” he thought, and then had an unsolicited second thought, “Which might be a good thing.” Merkalomal decided it was time to take charge of the direction of the meeting. He couldn’t allow the Absolute to continually set the pace and direction; he was too volatile to take the measured steps required to run the empire.

  He looked at the still standing Bukal and understood the Minister’s desire to get away from all this and join one of his battleships. A warship was a far safer place to be than the corridors of this palace. At times, he wished he had a ship of his own to retreat to, but fate had made him the younger brother of the Absolute. He asked the Minister of Expansion, “Do any of your impending targets fit the description of the aggressor proposed by the Minister of Defense?” He was careful not to cast any doubts on the Absolutes’ endorsement of the Minister of Defenses’ claim.

  Bukal was in his element when the discussion turned to his arena of expertise. His comfort level showed in his answer. “We have three empires with a total of twenty star systems ready for conquest. They cannot, nor do we expect them to offer any significant resistance. One of the three has already signaled its intentions to surrender peacefully. Beyond that, we have fifteen other civilizations under surveillance. Of the fifteen, only one has a significant space force that might be capable of executing this kind of raid.” He paused to let his information sink in but continued before anyone could question him. “We have performed a survey of their warships to see if any matched the recorded version of the ships that struck our capital. There was no match to be detected. We are expanding our search another thousand light years along the spiral arm.”

  The Absolute listened without comment. When Bukal was finished, he asked one question, “And the Legend?”

  “It is being fulfilled, my Lord, but more slowly than originally planned,” Bukal answered without apology.

  Everyone in the room tensed in anticipation of the Absolutes’ reaction, but none came. Instead, he said in an unusually calm voice, “I understand your dilemma, Bukal, but I expect you to find and destroy this threat.”

  “It will be done, my Lord,” Bukal said, understanding that the Absolute had given him some room to maneuver, but there was no doubt about what he expected to happen, soon.

  Chapter 36

  Aboard Islandia II

  Samantha McKinnah, the CSF Ambassador to Earth and her aides, took up all the guest wardrooms aboard Islandia II. Annika shared a wardroom with Lt. Burns. She teased Jon about bunking with him during the trip to Earth, but, as much as he would have enjoyed it, it was against regulations.

  “What, no “orbital notch’ on your gun?” she said seriously, enjoying the look of embarrassment on his face.

  He grinned at her and said in his most officious tone, “Regretfully no, Ma’am, not on my ship. It would be bad for morale if the crew knew their captain was rutting away while they were required to live like hermits.”

  She got the last shot in. “Well, just wait until you’re a guest on my ship, buddy. You will be expected to perform.”

  Samantha joined them in the officer’s mess and said, “What are you two negotiating about?”

  “Sex,” Annika said, with an impish grin on her face. “I want the Group Captain to make love to me in space, but he’s expressing reservations.”

  The ambassador didn’t bat an eyelash at Annika’s brashness. “Ah yes, the ‘orbital club,’” she said with a certain amount of wistfulness. “Don’t worry girl, he’ll come around. He’s a McKinnah male, and if nothing else, they enjoy a challenge.”

  Lt. Burns stuck her head in the door and broke up the party. “We’re ready when you are, Sir.”

  “I’ll join you on the bridge,” Jon said, glad to get away from the situation.

  “Coward,” Anita muttered as he walked by. She winked at Samantha and decided to join her husband on the bridge.

  Seated in the command chair, Jon completed his visual inspection of the crew and checked his display board. All the lights were green. “Take her up, Lieutenant,” he ordered and watched as the screens shifted in motion. He never got tired of seeing the land falling away and the sky turning darker as his ship climbed toward the space boundary. Islandia II, like all modern CSF spaceships, did not have portals to look out. Instead, high-resolution screens, arrayed in a three-hundred-sixty-degree arc around the command center gave them an unobstructed view of all the area around them. On command, the screens could be changed to display the scenes in ultraviolet, motion only or a wide variety of other resolutions to assist the captain in making his battle decision. On takeoffs and landings, Jon always had the displays on high-resolution color.

  All thoughts of their recent repartee about sex were gone as Annika watched Jon command his ship. As soon as they returned from earth, she would journey to Fairworld with her crew to get the CSF Sparta ready for duty. She admired Jon’s command style and knew she would copy a few of his methods. From the reports she had read about the raid on the planet Khruel, she also knew he was very collected under fire. Aside from being her husband, she decided he was a good role model,.

  The jump went without a hitch and Space Station Alpha with the blue-green ball of earth in the background appeared in the monitors. Jon relinquished the command chair and turned the docking duties over to Lt. Burns. He and Annika watched Space Station Alpha grow in size as they approached.

  Over the com came the announcement, “Welcome to Space Station Alpha, Captain McKinnah. Admiral Blockmeir has requested the pleasure of your company and that of Ambassador McKinnah in his offices after you dock.”

  Jon said, “Acknowledge the message and tell the admiral it will be our pleasure to join him.”

  The docking went smoothly, and the McKinnah party was offloaded without delay. Lt. Burns took command of the ship and left to put the Islandia II into a parking orbit. Talor drew a considerable number of stares from the station crew. The original Talo was something of a legend on Earth, and its citizens were continually curious about the few androids in existence. Jon was amused to discover that one of the most popular sitcoms on Earth’s public vid system was a series about a heroic android similar in size and shape to Talor. “We have a vid star with us,” he kidded Talor as several news organizations flashed pictures of them disembarking their ship. All the news organizations ignored the McKinnahs, including the ambassador and focused only on Talor.

  Security escorted them to the executive level where a broad-shouldered officer greeted them warmly. He was especially kind to Annika and reacted in pleased surprise when he saw her name tag. He turned to Jon, and after taking in his falcon emblems, he said, “Congratulations Group Captain McKinnah, I dare say you married the crème of the Terran Space Force’s bachelorettes.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” Jon said proudly. “But I’m not sure I had all that much to do with it,” he added, remembering how his family had plotted behind his back.

  They settled into comfortable chairs, and Talor took his position behind Jon. Admiral Blockmeir had been a young ensign the first time he saw Jon’s grandfather and the legendary Talo. The image had left an indelible mark on the young officer’s memory. Now seeing this young man with his own version of Talo standing silently behind him reminded him of that occasion and the admiral knew that this McKinnah was also destined for greatness.

  He turned to the senior McKinnah in the party and said, “Madam Ambassador, I understand you are retiring, i
s that correct?”

  Samantha McKinnah flashed that famous smile that she had used for years to help her negotiate with difficult opponents. “Yes, Admiral Blockmeir, since Earth is now a member of the Confederation of Independent Planets, my position will be replaced by Earth’s own representative to the General Council.”

  The admiral smiled in return. “We shall miss your gracious negotiating style, Madam.”

  Samantha accepted his words with a small nod of appreciation and said, “Oh, I’ll be around, Eugene. Besides, you still owe me a dinner at the Himalayan Restaurant on Mt. Everest.”

  The admiral got a gleam in his eye and replied, “I look forward to paying my debt, Samantha.” His expression turned serious when he asked, “Is this an official visit, if I may ask?”

  Samantha returned to her position as ambassador and replied, “Yes it is, Admiral. I have a matter of pressing interest that must be resolved if we are to defeat our common enemy.”

  Admiral Blockmeir’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Let me guess, it has something to do with Hector Andreas Gavito.”

  Samantha said, “Why Admiral Blockmeir, how perceptive of you. Perhaps you should be the politician instead of me,” she added with a smile.

  “No thank you, Madam. I would rather lead a ship into battle than fight with politicians,” the admiral replied with certainty in his voice. “I suppose it has something to do with his insistence on having a Terran commander lead the allied forces.”

  Samantha had her poker face on. “Yes, it does. The real problem is he threatening to use his influence to block weapons shipments until the CSF complies with his request.”

  The admiral said with a trace of feeling, “Your real problem, Madam Ambassador, is his underlying scheme to eventually control the CSF so he can get started on his pet project, the mass exodus of humans from Earth to ease her population pressures.”