Consortium of Planets: Alien Test Page 17

  “Well, it turned out much better for the Consortium as a whole than the Warrior Caste in particular.” Apparently, the commandant hasn’t gotten the word about his ship and crew yet. “Searcher Wystl approved the species for admission into the Consortium.”

  Reggiald paused again, but not for the commandant’s reaction. He had to choose his words carefully so as not to implicate Wystl in the crew’s fate. “Unfortunately, there was some kind of weird feedback that destroyed the vessel while the Searcher was outside doing research.”

  Ban’yr’s eyes narrowed as he considered the doctor’s explanation. At this point, he would maintain the doctor’s confidence by picking up his Searcher.

  “That is very...convenient that your searcher wasn’t on board with the rest of her crew when the ship happened to blow up.”

  Both of Reggiald’s stomachs began to churn. He suspects!

  “Your Searcher sounds like a survivor we must save, Doctor. I will immediately dispatch a shuttle to pick her up.”

  Reggiald couldn’t believe his ears, but he had to remain calm. He couldn’t let the commandant know that there was anything other than a professional interest on his part in getting his subordinate back.

  “Doctor, do you have coordinates of her location?”

  “She was on the planet’s only moon but was taken to the planet’s surface by its inhabitants. The planet’s leader, Jonathan Visen, should know where she is. Have your captain contact me for his coordinates when they’re ready to go.”

  Reggiald lowered his voice conspiratorially again and warned, “You must caution your Warriors that the inhabitants of Earth look exactly like the Chn’maa but have none of their old technology. They must have been a colony that lost contact with the rest of their kind long ago and are no longer a threat. There isn’t even anything in their mythology that connects them to their Chn-maa ancestors.”

  Ban’yr blinked rapidly as he considered what the new species meant to his plans. A faint warning nagged at the back of his mind. Is it coincidence or some form of irony that more Chn-maa showed up at the very time that I am preparing to use them in my plan? No. Nothing would stop him now. It was not a sign from the gods, and he would find a way to use it to his advantage. In front of the Senate, he would use the Humans as more proof of the Chn-maa threat.

  “Well, Doctor Reggiald, we’ll save your Searcher, and I want you to know that you have confirmed my fears. I always felt that the terrorist activities were too well organized for the Chn-maa to be acting alone. I was afraid that they had help. I just didn’t know that their help was coming from my own people. Even more disturbing, those people are specifically trained in warfare and tactics. Doctor, depending on how experienced those Warriors are...well, let’s just say that we could be in for the fight of our lives. Bring your records and the Warrior to my office this afternoon so I can review the information.”

  “Commandant, I don’t think we can wait. We need to present what we know to the Senate immediately!”

  Ban’yr smiled to himself. This is too easy. “Of course we do, Doctor. Trust me. When we get in front of those diplomats, we’d better keep it simple and straightforward, or they’ll talk their way right out of the existence of a threat. We have to be prepared.”

  The old soldier watched the doctor’s eyes grow in fear and disbelief that the Senate might not react to their information. The commandant tried to reassure him. “Listen, Doctor, with your assistance, we can force them to act. So let’s meet this afternoon at my office, say right after lunch?”

  “I hope so, Commandant. I hope so. After lunch then.”

  Both Consortians stood up from the table, turned, and walked away in opposite directions. Each pulled their linker and made a call.

  “Alont, it is Reggiald. I just met with the commandant.”

  The young Warrior had never met the commandant. He had only heard amazing stories about his military genius and how he used it in unique ways to defeat his opponents.

  “What did he say?”

  Before Reggiald could respond, the anxious Warrior quickly asked another question.

  “Do you think he is angry about what I’ve done?”

  Reggiald frowned in alarm at the linker in his hand and the fearful voice coming from it. “You’ve done nothing wrong! You have exposed a terrorist threat that we were unaware of until now. The commandant should think of you as a hero. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Alont breathed a sigh of relief and was able to listen quietly.

  “The reason I’m calling is to let you know that he wants to meet with us to examine our evidence and then prepare it for Senate review. I’m headed back now to pick you up and get the recordings. See you in a bit.”

  “Dev’kall, its Ban’yr. I’m meeting with the University’s scientist this afternoon at my office to review what he has. We just met, and I think I can use him to help sway any Senate hesitation regarding the significance of the Chn-maa threat. It appears that there is a whole planet of Chn-maa that we never knew about.”

  “What? We’ve provoked modern-day Chn-maa? How could we have gone this long without running into them? What kind of fleet do they have?”

  “Relax. Apparently, it’s a lost colony of them that one of his Searchers just found. They can barely get to their moon, let alone launch a fleet. I’m sending a ship to retrieve his Searcher and pick up the colony’s leader. We’ll put him in front of the Senate, along with everything else we have. By the time we’re done, all warship will be back in my hands, where they belong – and the Consortium’s fleets will vanquish the Chn-maa once again. There will be no glory for the University this time. They won’t even have a part.”

  The little alarm went off in Dev’kall’s mind, the one that normally kept him out of trouble. He wasn’t sure if it rang because of the Chn-maa or the sudden sound of power that resonated in Ban’yr’s voice. Either way, Ban’yr did tell him about the doctor this time. He decided that he had complained long enough. It was time to ante up or go home.

  “So the doctor is sure that they are benign?”

  “Yes, he is absolutely certain.”

  “Let’s hope so. Do you want me to contact the Chn-maa for you while you’re preparing for the Senate?”

  Ban’yr almost screamed, and then caught himself. “No! I mean, I can handle it. Besides, the less everyone knows, the more secure the mission.”

  The sound of power had disappeared. The commandant sounded shaky now. Dev’kall wondered fleetingly what it was like to really be able to trust someone but quickly dismissed the thought as totally unrealistic. “Well, thank you for the update and let me know what’s next. I’ve already contacted our Warrior for Change leadership, and they’re ready.” “Thank you, Consul. I’ll be setting up things with the Chn-maa next. Goodbye.”

  Tilcas covered his ears to block out the sudden burst of noise. It shook the subterranean tunnel in which he stood. It didn’t bother him; he was used to the loud routine. In a newer tunnel, just a few meters above his head, a huge, clear tube-shaped transport was screeching to a halt, right on schedule. All three stories of the massive, bloated-looking “worm” extended a full kilometer down the tunnel; it barely fit in its confined space. It came within a meter of the tunnel’s arched roof and had metal platforms filled with wiggling passengers within its bloated belly. Surrounded by transparent glass, the worm had two shiny silver floors that separated all three of its levels. They looked like stripes from the outside.

  Almost as noisy were the thousands of Consortians who exited and switched places with thousands more entering the worm underneath Consortia City. They were going to work, to shopping venues, or to places that Tilcas could only dream of. He was one of the janitors who kept the tunnels clean and, even if he had the wealth to travel, they would never allow him to do so anyway, for he was also Chn-maa. What they didn’t know – and there was much that they didn’t know – was that he was the elected leader of the two billion Chn-maa who lived and toiled on hundreds o
f planets throughout the C.O.P.

  It wasn’t really necessary, but force of habit made him look over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. Seeming to be uneducated and practically a slave in their eyes, he went about his menial tasks and could not remember a Consortian ever noticing him. That was exactly the way he liked it. His dirty, gray coveralls blended nicely with the drab, concrete walls. He kept his section spotless, just like the other Chn-maa janitors, so that even their Consortian supervisors would not have to notice them.

  He leaned the handle of his ion cleaner against the wall and stepped into one of the tunnel’s many supply rooms. In the back of the small, two-by-three-meter room stood neatly stacked shelves. They held everything that the Consortian supervisors thought a Chn-maa might need to clean up their mess.

  Tilcas locked the door and pulled off the janitor’s cloths. He stepped up to the stainless steel sink that sat on the floor against the side wall. He moved the lever above the sink to the right with his left hand and watched the water dampen a cleaning rag in his right hand. Satisfied that the rag was damp enough, he looked in the mirror and wiped spots of dirt from his face that were intended to make him even less noticeable.

  In the mirror, his freshly shaved face looked nothing like a Consortian’s: both of his eyes had a brown iris surrounded by white; his lips were pinker than the rest of his pale skin; centimeters above his square jaw, a prominent nose protruded just beneath his eyes; straight dark hair half-covered an ear on each side of his oval shaped head.

  He put down the rag and grabbed the right side of the shelves beside the sink. A small lever underneath the third shelf on the left side slipped easily forward. Hidden wheels dropped down and the shelves rolled out of his way and to the left. The entrance and stairs were revealed to a vast underground system of forgotten transit tunnels. The old passages had fallen into disuse once the new transit system had been built.

  The Chn-maa had kept to themselves in these tunnels for thousands of cycles; ever since the Battle of Trinity. Hidden from Consortian eyes, they had quietly grown in number and maintained their culture since the Massacre at Trinity as they call the event. They continued to educate their young in their own traditions and in the C.O.P. expanding technology. They occupied the abandoned tunnels soon after the Consortians closed them down. The tunnels now provided quarters, classrooms, and working space for the Chn-maa to prepare for their eventual return to power.

  Tilcas walked past one of ten large classroom auditoriums in their makeshift school. It had stadium seating and a wide stage. The entire auditorium comfortably held about eight hundred students – these days, they were squeezing twelve hundred students into a class. When the tunnels were in operation, the classroom had been part of a waiting area and still had some of the directional signs on the gray concrete walls. Now a simulated warship bridge sat on the stage, and eight to ten students at a time took turns learning how to operate various capital ships. The other students watched the simulations and mentally prepared for their turn.

  He paused as the students and instructor listened intently to an exercise critique that came directly from the Warriors’ school for training new bridge crews. It was easy to capture training information like this by tapping into data conduits that were buried under the city and right above their heads. They were using the Warriors’ own computer simulations for training during times when the Warriors were off duty.

  He jumped slightly when the instructor came back to life and barked at the class. “You heard the computer analysis. Run it again and don’t make the same mistakes this time!”

  Yes, they had studied Warrior tactics and added their own strategies for warfare. This time they would be ready.

  Tilcas’ linker went off. He checked the caller announcer as he walked away from the classroom. It was time to act dumb and subservient for the commandant. Early on, after the fall at Trinity, the Chn-maa had decided to take on a docile persona so that they would not be perceived as a threat to the Consortians. The beaten and compliant act had worked well. It had resulted in their survival and had given them time to prepare for this day.

  “Is that you, Commandant?”

  “Yes.” Ban’yr hated dealing with the Chn-maa and sounded annoyed. “Didn’t you check your caller announcer?”

  Tilcas intentionally kept quiet to act like he didn’t understand the question.

  “Never mind.” Ban’yr didn’t have all day and had to break the silence. “You remember what we talked about, correct?”

  Tilcas paused again but not as long. “You mean the surface? It is hot, dry, and made purple by that big sun in the sky.”

  “No!”

  Tilcas smiled as he listened to Ban’yr explode with frustration.

  “I’m talking about letting you and five thousand of your friends ride on our warships.” Dev’kall is wrong about these fools. They could never be a threat. I’m talking to their leader, and he sounds like he is about twelve cycles old.

  “Did you hear me?” Ban’yr demanded.

  “Oh, that will be fun, but scary, too!”

  Ban’yr couldn’t hide his sarcasm. “Don’t worry, my Warriors will be right there to protect you. And don’t forget, the Senate wants to say hello to you and your friends after you’re on board.”

  “Will I be able to talk to my friends in the other ships?”

  “Sure, I don’t see any problem with that.” Ban’yr quickly grew tired of the conversation and got to the purpose of the call. He wanted to be clear, so he calmed himself and spoke slowly. “I need you to have the number of friends that we talked about report to their designated star station at the very next sunrise. Can you do that?”

  Tilcas wanted to be careful not to come across as too stupid to accomplish what the commandant wanted. He didn’t want to take any chances with the commandant changing his mind when they were so close. The initial five thousand had to get on board the warships so that, ultimately, he would be able to get on thousands more.

  He tried to sound a little more focused for the commandant. “Absolutely, everyone is very excited! I have notified everyone of where they need to go, and now I will tell them what time to be there. This will be fun!”

  He could feel Bany’r look to the heavens as sarcasm dripped in his voice again. “Yes, it will be fun.”

  Tilcas knew the commandant was preparing to finish the conversation and took a deep breath to settle himself. The next part of the plan was critical for success, and he was betting on Bany’r’s tremendous ego that he would agree.

  “Commandant, we want to give you a gift for being so nice to us.”

  “A gift? What sort of gift?” he asked suspiciously.

  Tilcas’ heart was beginning to beat too fast. He struggled to control it. “It’s not much, just a gold bust of you to display on each ship that we will be on.” He took a hurried breath to maintain a calm voice.

  Bany'r instinctively started to say no, but the thought of his statue on every ship in his fleet suddenly sounded good. “What does the bust look like?”

  “Exactly like you. It is one meter tall, and you’re in battle dress. It’s very inspiring.” Tilcas waited anxiously for the commandant to respond.

  “What about the other fleets?”

  He wants them on all four fleets, ten thousand ships! Tilcas was speechless, he couldn’t believe his luck. “Well,” he began slowly, “we had only planned on five thousand. We have to make them by hand, so there isn’t enough time to make more before the morning.”

  “That’s no problem. I’ll give you access to as many synthesizers as you need. I want those statues on all my ships in the morning! Make sure that they get there on time, along with your people!”

  The connection went dead. Tilcas smiled again. He had fifty thousand Chn-maa trained to take the capital ships away from the Warriors and two million more to take control of the fighters on the ground at the star stations around Consortia. He had stepped up the training when the commandant first contacted him two
cycles ago with a plan to put a Chn-maa on two of the Consortium’s four battle fleets. That had given them plenty of time to prepare for this moment. They would finally take back what had been denied them because of the deceit at Trinity. He wanted to celebrate, but he had to set an example, and there was too much work to be done anyway. All of the Chn-ma would celebrate soon enough. For now, they would stay focused. All the planning had to be followed closely for them to defeat the Consortium of Planets.

  The instructor stepped out of the classroom and pushed the light brown hair away from his blue eyes. “Leader, was that the commandant?”

  “Yes, Conlar. Let everyone know that we report to our stations tomorrow morning.”

  His number two man nodded and began to brief Tilcas on their status. “This is our last capital ship class. The fighter classes finished last week; nevertheless, they have been riding the simulators nonstop ever since, and they’re still getting better. I’m almost afraid the Warriors will catch us,” he said facetiously.

  “Conlar, they would never believe that it was us using their equipment. They would believe anything but that. You are no longer a teacher. Now, you become Chairman of the Joint Admirals. Remember, once we’re on board, everyone waits for my signal before they act.”

  Reggiald sat on the firm, practical, gray couch. Bored, he estimated that the commandant’s waiting room was about four meters long and three meters wide, surprisingly small for such a powerful person. It was very austere. No art decorated the pale green walls trimmed in darker green. Unadorned windows let in the sun’s violet glare unimpeded. The harsh light did nothing for the plain-looking clerk who sat at her gray desk diligently guarding the entrance to Ban’yr’s private office.

  I guess that’s what happens when a scientist has too much time on his hands, he thought quietly to himself. He starts guessing the size of the room that he finds himself in.

  Alont sat dutifully beside the scientist and fidgeted. He had never been so nervous. Sitting still for any amount of time was not one of his strong suits, anyway. Now he and the doctor were about to enter the lair of the Warrior Caste’s most legendary person – heady stuff for the young Warrior. He planned to sit quietly and let the scientist do the talking; that way, he wouldn’t say something stupid. What if the commandant asks me something? He wouldn’t do that, Alont assured himself. He wouldn’t ask a rookie for an opinion. Yes, I will simply say, yes sir or no sir, survive and escape. No, that doesn’t sound right. That sounds like I’m a prisoner!