Rising Tensions

Politics and private concerns...

Justification is often confused with pragmatic rationalization.

- Lord Iqwiloespa

AWAKENING in a daze, the world around him appeared as a dream. Colors and shapes circled around, finally taking form into more lucid perceptions. Standing over his bed was a young woman. Her long flowing hair was lit by some unseen light source, and her face had a sullen expression. For a moment, she appeared to him like Arian, the ancient Ayis folk spirit that was thought to watch over lonely travelers.

After opening his eyes, and adjusting his focus, Shaolu could now see his sister standing over him. Lomaies was not alone. Beside her stood their aunt, Roshuna.

Shaolu closed his eyes, feeling at peace now. He focused within as to feel without, a Saktam exercise. Breathing deeply, and consciously slowing his heart, he now floated within his mental space, and soaked in the essence of his family's presence.

Sensing their pain and fear, Shaolu suddenly realized why. He recalled sinking down into darkness. He had nearly died.

“Shaolu?” his aunt hesitantly called.

“Mother...” Shaolu uttered instinctively.

With that the two women mutually let out a sigh. Shaolu had survived, but just barely. He lied in his bed, stoically motionless, as the two women anxiously chatted in hushed voices. Shaolu's thoughts remained focused on Qwedo now. His anger boiled up inside, but he closed his eyes and let it pass--for now…

Shaolu returned to his meditation. He let his consciousness wander through his body, assessing its condition. He listened to his heart beat, and felt its vitality. With that he suddenly came to a realization.

“My heart,” Shaolu said, his eyes immediately thrust open.

“You… you know?” Lomaies asked hesitantly.

Just then, a medical technician entered the room. Two beady eyes stared out from a dark red visor. The tall man appeared menacing in his all encompassing head gear.

The technician depressed a small switch on the side of his mask, immediately causing the gear to retract into his suit. His face now revealed, the man ran his fingers through his hair. He was clearly exhausted.

“You replaced my heart,” Shaolu said sternly, his eyes fixed in a cold stare on the technician.

“That we did,” the man replied. “Unfortunately, it's not much better than the old one. Your family saw to that…”

Shaolu breathed a sigh of relief, and closed his eyes, again searching through his inner awareness. He reached in and touched his heart, explored its energy. It pulsated with fluid power that could only be organic.

“My job would have been a lot easier with cybernetic implantation. As it is you almost didn't make it,” The technician explained to Shaolu, with a look of disdain. Shaolu's eyes remained closed as he continued to rest.

“How long will it be before he can check out?” Roshuna asked with concern.

“Well…” the technician said while he reviewed his display tablet.

“Right now,” Shaolu stated as he opened his eyes widely and immediately sat up from his bed.

“I'm afraid we can't--”

“I must see Governor Gremoni.”

“You still need time to recuperate. We've only--”

The technician let out a series of exasperated half-verbal sounds, as Shaolu strained to pull himself to his feet. A zeal burned in his eyes as he looked about the room, planning his next actions. There was no stopping him. His mind was fixed now on what needed to be done.

Yashuma was waiting quietly in the clinic's lobby when Shaolu stormed out, quickly dressing. Yashuma rose to his feet immediately at the sight of his brother. He wasn't quite sure what Shaolu was planning, but he could see the determination in his eyes and knew it was urgent.

“We need to see the governor at once,” Shaolu explained, wasting no time for pleasantries.

Yashuma nodded, understanding that he must have had something specific in mind. Without another word, Yashuma followed. Roshuna and Lomaies pleaded with Shaolu as he briskly walked away. Yashuma reassured the women he would look out for his brother, and continued following him. The two then stayed behind to settle accounts, while Shaolu quickly made his way outside the facility, masking his pain and exhaustion with apparent ease.

Once the two brothers made it to their personal transport, Shaolu collapsed onto the large seat inside. He threw aside his cloak and winced in pain. The black cushions seemed to envelop him and his dark cloak. His bright bearded face shone like a painful beacon against the pure black backdrop of his seat.

“Are you certain you’ve made a full recovery just yet?” Yashuma asked with concern.

Shaolu nodded softly, his eyes still closed. “I'll be fine. We need to procure transport off-planet as soon as possible.”

Yashuma nodded knowingly. He understood that if there was any chance to retrieve the relic, time was certainly of the essence. Of course it would do little good if they managed to track Qwedo down but were unable to wrest the relic from his hands.

After Yashuma had set the coordinates in the transport's system, the smooth black craft quickly accelerated vertically and then started its flight forward. The transport made its way south along the coast of Mova to Nasad's capital city, Shraladun.

If circumstances were different, Shaolu would secure passage at any of the planet’s numerous private spaceports. Unfortunately, on Nasad every spaceport was owned and operated by the Corporate Alliance. With the ongoing trade embargo between the Alliance and the Ayis Empire over the past several months, the spaceports were open to Alliance members only. Shaolu, like many on Nasad had never bothered to acquire this kind of pseudo-citizenship and all the commitment that entailed.

The only way off the planet was with government transport now. Qwedo had his connections in the Colonial Federation. Shaolu would have to rely upon the Empire via the Governor.

Shaolu activated his view screen and gazed out at the sea, as he stroked his short trimmed beard thoughtfully. The trees along the shore rushed by in a green blur, but the expanse of the sea and its large blocks of ice remained steady. As he watched Nasad's sun set, its light glinting off the large drifting glaciers, he let his mind wander in thought.

Shaolu thought back to his uncle's memorial service. It was twilight then too. As the light faded into the cold dusk of night, the service had ended. Idishad, a family friend that had worked with Grafe as a guard, gave the last words and lowered his hood.

When Shaolu arose with everyone, he looked over to Qwedo several seats across from him. Qwedo had insisted on sitting across the aisle from the rest of the family that day. His jaw clinched and spasmed as he returned a cold look to Shaolu, his sharp fixed eyes penetrated him with undeniable malice.

Everyone had joined in song, as was the tradition. Half way through the dirge, Shaolu could sense his aunt's unbearable grief and pain starting to overwhelm her. He opened his eyes and saw his aunt's tears flow through her closed lids as she struggled to sing. He unclasped his hands and reached across her back. With that she collapsed into him and they remained standing in silence, as everyone continued the dirge around them.

Roshuna sobbed into Shaolu’s chest, and as she did he slowly glanced over to Qwedo. Qwedo was already staring back, his eyes burning hotly as ever, even as they welled up with tears. Qwedo turned his head and stared toward the remaining brightness on the horizon, his eyes trapping the light in an inescapable void. That was the last day Shaolu would see his cousin for quite some time. When he eventually returned for the relic, his eyes had grown colder, but still just as dark.

Shaolu returned now to the present. Out across the sea, the sun finally faded beyond the horizon, its light fading with it. As the stars started to creep into the sky, he was once again reminded of the future. Out amongst those celestial bodies, Qwedo was planning his departure into Federation space.

Shaolu couldn't let him escape with the relic. Grafe had entrusted Shaolu with its custodianship and made him swear a solemn vow that he would protect it at all costs. In truth, he was not entirely sure what the relic's significance was. All he knew for a certainty was that it had been passed down to him through countless generations. Always to a Sakatagres. Always with somber ceremony. And always with the confirmed commitment to its safe keeping.

Tapping the corner of the screen, Shaolu brought up an interface overlay and selected an option from the menu for the local news stream. A translucent image appeared, floating above the view outside. Two men sat across from each other, the one interviewing the other.

“What you have to understand is that the Corporate Alliance is not just some novel economic superstructure within the Empire. The reality is that it is really its own society. We are an anarcho-capitalist co-operative that lives side by side with the Empire. Our commerce centers may reside on land under the sovereignty of the Dora and his administration, but that is simply a claim we as of yet have not bothered to refute.”

“So you see this Declaration of Autonomy as--?”

“A long time coming. I mean, look, we’ve long tolerated this kind of oversight and regulation, but there has to be mutual respect and recognition. With the Dora completely disrupting 300 years of unmolested commerce throughout the galaxy--”

“You’re referring to the Edict of Non-Intercession.”

“Yes, that’s precisely what I’m talking about here. The Dora has made it clear he will continue his operations on and around Jeegkhut. The Alliance has been almost unanimous in condemning these actions. And really the Declaration of Autonomy is a formalization of what we have all already believed as Alliance members for some time now.”

When Shaolu and Yashuma arrived in the city of Shraladun, it was night. However, descending into the city's sea of lights, that fact might easily be overlooked. Looking up through the towering structures, the stars were drowned in a dark purple haze.

Due to local regulations, the brothers' craft was commandeered remotely by Shraladun's transit authority. The small dark transport thus made its way toward a tower bay queue. The massive honeycomb building appeared all the larger as the craft decelerated. The craft approached its assigned storage cell slowly, the large cell door rising silently in the night to reveal a well-lit interior.

After the long quiet of their travel, Yashuma broke the silence with a question. “How do you plan to convince him?”

“The governor will not so quickly forget our family, and its rights yet to be asserted,” Shaolu replied, as he sat upright from his gaze.

“Perhaps you forget that this man is not the steward of old. He is a politician. The first of the people, but second to administrate, second in service term, and second removed from our family and its tenuous claim of tradition.”

“I have forgotten little, brother. However, I am certain Lord Gremoni will keep close in mind that his favor is waning on this world. Besides our near status as heir-apparent with regards to the Council, I am also certain the governor will remember our place of birth. We are of Nasad. All things considered, I have little doubt that he will do anything other than grant this small favor.”

“You speak as though you would take hold of our family's claim in a short while.”

“And that is exactly what we must bring to the forefront of the governor's mind. If he takes the notion seriously, he'll be more than glad to have us as far away from this planet as possible.”

“That's cunning. Are you sure you're not considering public office for yourself?” Yashuma said with a smirk as he turned to Shaolu.

Shaolu let out a laugh, outwardly discarding the notion. Within, however, his father's desire dwelt, resting and restrained but remaining. He quieted his feelings and quickly returned his thoughts to the matter at hand.

The two brothers sat in silence as the craft then secured its place in the cell. After paying for storage dues, they descended through the building via lift and exited out onto the city streets. Sifting through the massive foot traffic of Shraladun's broad paths, they made their way to the governor's palace.

The crowd parted slightly as they walked along, for it was not often that one would see saktagres on the city streets. Their dark dangling cloaks and stern serious expressions conveyed a commanding presence. Although Saktam was still a common practice in the Ayis empire, at least in name, the order's traditional representatives were few in number. On border planets such as Nasad, they were practically non-existent.

The citizenry in Shraladun was almost entirely Thanashun, and like most people on Nasad (or the whole of the galaxy for that matter), they conformed to contemporary standards and cultural norms. Walking amidst the crowd, the two saktagres were conspicuously Ayis and seemingly anachronistic. Despite their alien presence, interest quickly faded and the masses yielded little.

Shaolu and Yashuma finally arrived at the governor's palace. As much as the two saktagres stood out from the crowds of the city, the governor's palace stood out from the city itself even more. Amidst the jungle of towers and lights, the palace was hidden behind a wall of tall trees at the edge of the palace grounds.

As they entered the main structure of the palace itself, the two suddenly felt lighter. “Graviton inversion plating,” Yashuma quietly commented to his brother. Shaolu simply nodded as the two made their way through the massive and ornate abode.

Governor Seda Gremoni was born and raised on Ayis Se. The Gremoni family was a well known and respected family in the Council of Lords. It was largely due to family name recognition that the relatively inexperienced Seda was elected planetary governor on Nasad. When he was, he had not even finished moving to the planet.

As Shaolu and Yashuma walked through the palatial dwelling of the governor, they quietly took note of their surroundings. The governor had his palace lavishly furnished with relics of his home planet, anything and everything to immerse himself in the ambiance of familiarity.

“Ah, Master Shaolu. I was not expecting such a wonderful surprise as this,” The governor said in greeting as Shaolu and Yashuma entered the governor's throne room.

“Yes…” Shaolu simply responded, probing the governor's eyes as he felt for the man's thoughts.

“And… Yashuma is it?” The governor asked as he turned to Shaolu's brother.

Yashuma nodded and everyone then exchanged bows. As the governor sat back down in his throne, he closed his eyes and shuddered a bit as he felt for Shaolu's mental probe. Once he found it, Shaolu withdrew himself from the man's mind and the governor smiled.

“You have me at a bit of a disadvantage, I'm afraid. However, I am a bit familiar with your… techniques… Shaolu.”

“I apologize, ida. Skills of a second nature become habitual,” Shaolu responded bowing once again respectfully. Shaolu would have to rely solely on external factors for his observations now.

“I hope the environment here has not been too disorienting to you two. I have still not grown accustom to the local gravity here.”

“Perhaps if you spent more time outside, our planet would not be so burdensome to you…” Shaolu responded as he stared sharply into the governor's eyes.

The governor grew irritated slightly at his statement and the implied remark therein. He quickly regained control of himself and let out a slight laugh and a smirk. “So tell me Shaolu… What brings me the honor of your presence now? Family problems perhaps? I've heard your cousin came to visit, but has since left my planet with much haste.”

Shaolu narrowed his eyes and smiled as he penetrated the governor's eyes with his stare. As the two men danced in each others' eyes silently, Yashuma glanced back and forth between the two and then finally spoke up.

“We have a favor to ask of you, ida…” Yashuma suddenly burst out, “As members of the Nibasuma family we humbly request your assistance in securing transport from your planet, ida.”

Shaolu clenched his jaw and looked back to his brother sharply. He then let out a sigh and returned his gaze to the governor. The governor simply smiled, being well pleased with Yashuma's demeanor.

“So, it is a family affair after all, is it?” The governor asked.

Shaolu lowered his eyes. “Yes, that is the crux of it, ida.” He then lifted his eyes and continued, “We plan to be off planet for an indefinite amount of time…”

The governor raised his brow and smirked. As Shaolu had hoped, the governor was indeed anxious to get as much of the Nibasuma family as he could as far away from his planet as possible.

Governor Gremoni looked down to a nearby glass of wine resting on an end table next to his throne and fondled it as he spoke. “Let's see what we can arrange then, shall we?”

-⫷⫸-

Standing on the raised platform, Qwedo looked out to stars. He didn't see the stars, however. He saw nothing but a vast expanse of darkness, broken only by trivial pinpricks of light.

The interior of the large ship was dimly lit. The minimal lighting conserved energy and provided just enough illumination for the crew to work. Toiling away in their cramped workstations, the operators worked silently in front of their various screens.

Qwedo towered above the operators, observing their work from the elevated path between the two rows of workstations. Enveloped in black, he stood aloof, watching the crew closely from afar. In many ways, he was above it all, or so he would have liked to think.

In his short time with the Colonial Militia, Qwedo had quickly risen through the ranks over the past year and a half. He now had command of his own small fleet of carrier crafts. Each carrier was captained by one of his dark elite monks.

“How much longer, captain?” Qwedo asked the man beside him on the platform.

The stout stern monk looked out from his dark hood with cold eyes. “It may be a several days, master.”

“We don't have days.”

“I understand, master. These communication issues are holding us back. It seems the nearest relay station is in disrepair.”

Qwedo let out a frustrated sigh and looked back out into space. “Yet another level of incompetence,” he muttered under his breath.

For all the power Qwedo had, there was still nothing he could do about the quantum fluctuations inherent to the nether regions of extra-dimensional space. Although such fluctuations were easily filtered with working equipment, a single faulty relay station could effectively disrupt all interstellar communication. Lying outside the Colonial Federation's border, one relay station is all his fleet had.

Qwedo turned again to his monk. “I shall retire to my chambers now, captain. Carry on.”

“Yes, master,” the monk said and bowed, as Qwedo then walked away without another word.

Qwedo's footsteps on the metal grated pathway resonated throughout the large open space of the deck hall. Each step clanged in the chamber like the ominous toll of a bell. Some of the operators’ heads perched up as he passed. He simply gave each of them a dark glance, and they quickly returned to work.

Qwedo passed through the crowded narrow hallways of the sparse utilitarian interior of the vessel. The ship’s crew parted quickly as Qwedo passed, making room for the cloaked figure. A cold passing shadow which most would rather avoid.

The small trivial trinket Qwedo held now in his hands seemed so incredibly insignificant. He turned the small strange sphere about with his fingers, inspecting it with quickly passing curiosity. Other than its unusually high density, the device (if it was truly a device as suspected) seemed rather unremarkable.

Qwedo didn't bother to turn on the light when he entered his room. In the blackest of spaces, he lied upon his bed awake, painfully aware of himself. His thoughts turned to Shaolu, whom he thought must surely be dead. He still could feel little else but hate for his brother now, but Shaolu's destruction brought him no joy. It left him only with the void.

-⫷⫸-

Sitting in his large comfortable chair, Saktefya closed his eyes and relaxed. In the cool dark of space, his sleek craft slowly--comparatively speaking--made its way to the system jump gate. Inside the craft, soft blue light shone against Saktefya's face from several display panels.

Saktefya kept his eyes closed as he downed a small glass of sakaimva. The warm orange liquid burned his throat slightly, like cleansing--yet somehow refreshing--acid. Immediately his senses started to numb, as the intoxicant made its way through his body. A little dribbled down his stubbly chin like orange drool as he leaned back with his mouth agape.

He couldn't help but turn his thoughts to his plight. If he did make it to the system jump gate and somehow pass without incident, he still would need to refuel yet again once on the other side. He wasn't entirely sure how many credits he had in his account, but he knew it wasn't much. Fortunately, his connections allowed him to store funds outside the government's control. Hopefully, he would be able to covertly exchange currency once he crossed the intragalactic border.

He thought about suicide, but only briefly. He figured if he drowned himself in sakaimva, perhaps he could just die a little. A little death is all he really needed. Like the calm vacuum outside, he swept away his problems into the void.

Saktefya wasn't a particularly spiritual man, but he often wondered if anyone truly was. Esumala, Saktam, Nasradhu. They all equated to pretty much the same thing to him: human constructs grasping at some highly debatable transcendent and ineffable reality of which much profound insight was nevertheless claimed. Saktam was perhaps different, but despite Saktefya's obsession with his Ayis roots, he never bothered to give it much thought.

“What do you think about the death question, Sao?” Saktefya asked, as he sipped another small glass of sakaimva.

“I do not understand the nature of the query, sir.”

“Do you think death is just the end? Or is there something more?”

“I think death can be synonymous with 'end', sir.”

Saktefya let out a sigh. Sao didn't really think. The “I”, just like “sir”, was nothing more than a polite word used by the system's engineers to emulate a conscious entity. Alone in the emptiness of space, Saktefya would sometimes let himself forget, and get caught up in the anthropomorphic fantasy.

In the nearly 2,000 years of the Ayis empire, no one had yet to create an artificial system capable of passing the Ubqwed test. It was truly remarkable that in the ancient times of the Galactic Confederacy, the first mechoid was created. It was a feat that could not be duplicated ever after. All mechoids since sprung forth from this first being's virtual loins.

Sufficiently inebriated, Saktefya was now bored. He therefore decided to watch the latest news on his crude receiver. If it wasn't entertaining, the propaganda would at least be good for a laugh.

“Sao, find the news for me would ya?”

“Which stream would you prefer, sir?”

“I don't care, just pick one.”

Sao then connected to the nearest intragalactic relay transponders and displayed the stream out to the main view panel. The vast view out to the sea of stars was immediately replaced with the large image of a woman's head.

“Tensions continue to rise as the Congress of Vendors convened today to discuss the Corporate Alliance's official stance toward imperial oversight of Jeegkhut planetary affairs. Some people say the Dora's recent military operations in Alliance territory may violate the Edict of Commercial Non-Intercession…”

“Heh. ‘Some people say…’” Saktefya muttered under his breath. The phrase was a common one on State-sanctioned broadcasts and was a subtly deceptive way for the station to express its own commentary on current events under the facade of vaguely citing anonymous sources.

“…The Minister of State Affairs for the Ayis Empire is expected to meet with the President of the Corporate Alliance later today. Depending upon the outcome of this meeting, the entire future of interstellar commerce could be drastically affected.”

Saktefya raised his brow for a moment, before closing his eyes and letting out a chuckle as he downed another shot of sakaimva.

-⫷⫸-

“Choose your words wisely…” the young man said sharply as he glared into the gray-haired Minister's eyes. Inside, Yoshuru's anger flared as much as his nostrils, each breath bringing in more fuel for the fire.

“My words…? Forgive me… ida… but…”

“Don't patronize me, old man. We both know how you feel about your Emperor.”

The Minister clenched his jaw. He was incensed by the pointed remark, but it was not one to which he could easily respond, so he bit his tongue and glared at the young man in silence. This was not the first time he had encountered the Dora's hot-tempered displeasure.

“You have no more words. Your words have failed me. The time for words... is over.” The Dora's own words were sharp and directed. He flung them at the Minister like darts, penetrating in their scathing rebuke. He held his gaze at the minister, stabbing away with his eyes. And then, he turned his back to the old man. In a cold quiet whisper, he spoke again. “You are dismissed.”

The Minister was shocked. Later he would reflect that ultimately it was inevitable, but for now the Dora's dismissal came as an assaulting surprise. It was unprecedented for the Minister of State Affairs to be dismissed in the middle of negotiations--especially negotiations as important as these. What was the Dora thinking?

The shocked old man looked to the Chancellor of the Treasury on the other side of the table. The Chancellor averted his eyes to the floor and let out a sigh. The Minister's mouth agape, he turned back to the Dora who stood stoically, back turned, cape fluttering ever so slightly in the silence.

The Dora calmly grasped a small glass of water upon the table and sipped, his back still turned. With quiet resignation, the Minister of State Affairs left the room. Yoshuru continued to drink in silence as the doors to the conference room slipped shut.

The Dora turned to the Chancellor, and gazed for a moment. The Chancellor raised his eyebrows slightly in quiet anxiety, and then averted his eyes. In this way he let the young Emperor know he would give the Dora no challenge, despite however much he may have privately questioned the dismissal. Yoshuru turned to the large view screen and took another sip from the glass in his hand. “Put him back on.”

“Yes, ida.”

After a moment, an image of a board room appeared upon the screen. A dozen chairs surrounded a large marble table. Around the table there were men and women dressed in formal--but contemporary--tunics. The standard business attire within the Corporate Alliance.

At the head of the table was a confused conspicuously bald man. With furrowed brow, he gazed back at the young man now before his eyes. Moments ago he had been speaking to the Minister of State Affairs and this sudden change came as a shock.

“Dora... Yoshuru?” the President asked tentatively.

“President Busasda, I presume.”

“We were just speaking with the Right Honorable Lan--”

“Yes, and you’re speaking with me now. Any business you wished to conduct with my Minister you can now conduct with me.”

“Well, it is certainly an honor to speak with you, sire. This is an unexpected pleasure.”

“You may dispense with the pleasantries, Master President. I’m here to move this discussion along.”

There was silence for a moment as the President coughed nervously and several fidgeted in their chairs. The Emperor gazed with half-open displeased eyes. After a long cold pause, the negotiations began...

Nearly an hour had passed, and the discussion had not been fruitful. Amidst numerous groans, moans, and exasperated sighs, the President and board members could not hold back from expressing their frustration at the Dora’s unyielding obstinance.

“Look, with all due respect, that’s simply not the way things are done.”

“Are you taking issue with procedure?”

“Ida, I’m simply saying that it’s unprecedented.”

“I am the Dora. I set precedent.”

The President closed his eyes and issued no reply. The strain of having to deal with this brash youngster was getting to him. He rubbed his temples and wished it could be over somehow. If only he could talk with one of the Dora’s ministers again.

Yoshuru himself was extremely irritated. He felt disrespected at every turn, and he would have ended the conversation nearly as soon as it started, but he knew better. As much as he hated it, he needed these insolent men to end the embargo.

The Dora was walking a fine line. On the one hand making too many concessions would establish a posture of weakness. On the other, he needed their cooperation, and the Alliance had the upper hand economically. In truth, he was in a little over his head at this point, but who could he trust?

The President finally spoke up, “Gentlemen, perhaps if we all recessed for th--” Before he finished his thought, a woman tapped him on the shoulder, having recently entered the board room. She paused momentarily before whispering something in his ear and handing him a display tablet.

The President furrowed his brow as he quickly read over something on the screen. His face relaxed and his pupils ever so slightly enlarged, and his mouth slowly opened. Concern? Awe? The Dora was desperate to read his face.

Yoshuru narrowed his eyes. “Master President...?”

The President concealed a smirk with his hand, and then coughed, before once again furrowing his brow. “Ah, yes, as I was saying, it may be best to recess for the time being--In fact, perhaps we should reconvene... uh... next week? Yes, perhaps some time would afford us some clarity of thought.”

Yoshuru was in a panic now. The Alliance should have been just as anxious to get this matter out of the way as he was. A week? No... Something was not right. What was on that blasted tablet? Was he bluffing? That face. It was too genuine, brief as it was. Indeed, the man had no respect for the young emperor’s powers of observation. He was definitely hiding something. But what?

The Dora longed now for the insight of a Saktagres. He knew stories of their purported powers when it came to truthsaying and reading the minds of others. Even if such stories were true (and he had his doubts), the Saktam Council kept its secrets--even from the Emperor. He would have to seek counsel elsewhere.

The Dora did his best to simply lift his brow and nod in agreement. “Let us arrange for a time then. Meanwhile, if you all will excuse my absence, I will return momentarily...”

The President smiled and nodded before the Dora calmly placed the picture feed on hold.

“Get me my spymaster! Now!”

The Treasury Chancellor nodded fervently and immediately arose from his seat in haste. As soon as he opened the door, a dark figure already stood on the other side. Like a quiet shadow the figure glided into the room swiftly.

Yoshuru breathed a sigh of relief. “Karreth.”

From beneath a dark hood, the Dora’s spymaster spoke in a dark voice, “The Alliance is lying to you.”

“So you’ve been watching?”

“What? No. I have reports from men in the field. The Alliance has been amassing resources, stockpiling weapons, and reinforcing infrastructure. All of their cities. Across all territories. Shadow operations outside our surveillance for months. They’re preparing for something. Likely war...”

“That tablet...”

“Ida?”

The Dora shook his head before continuing. “How could they be doing all this for so long? The amount of capital alone...”

Karreth waited for the young emperor to put two and two together.

“They’re not doing this alone are they?”

Karreth simply nodded.

“Treasonous b******s! Who is it? Swingali? D’hinajat?”

“I cannot say for certain at this time, ida, but if I were to venture to guess I would suggest a more well-established power. Something large enough and powerful enough to evade our detection for this long, while covertly funneling the kind of vast amount of resources we’re seeing...”

“The Federation...”

“It bears its scar. I know it well.” Karreth pointed to the sharp scar over his right eye. He never had it treated; he never wanted to forget.

Yoshuru nodded solemnly and thought for a while. “If that’s what they want, that’s what they’ll get.” The Dora then turned to the Chancellor, “Get them back on the screen, would you?”

When the President appeared on screen again, he was smiling. “Have we a time then, Ida?”

“I’m afraid your time is up, Busura.”

“Excuse me?”

“You will be hunted. Your cities will be leveled. Your storehouses raided. Henceforth, your petty Alliance is no more. All that was yours is now the Empire’s and your lives are forfeit! We do not negotiate with terrorists, insurrectionists, and worthless scum such as yourself.”

The board was dead silent. The President quietly scowled and gritted his teeth. Yoshuru stared the man down in return, and slowly smiled before continuing: “Oh yes, this is how things will be done.”

With that, the Dora killed the transmission. With that, the war had begun...

-⫷⫸-

When the alarm had sounded, Grashaomo took immediate action and leapt into the air. Engaging his epidermal cloaking system, he was nearly invisible. He was now a thin outline of spectral distortion high above the floor, easily unnoticed as he clung to the ceiling of the massive commerce center.

Crowds by the thousands were rushed away, this way and that. Visitors were escorted outside the gates of the center, while resident members were moved indoors. Those who were fortunate enough to be close enough to their domiciles when the alarm sounded simply made their way inside to their homes. Others were forced into emergency shelters on the subterranean levels.

The immense multi-tiered interior of the facility stretched on for miles, and could easily be considered an enclosed city. Shops, living quarters, exhibits, transit stations, all and more were contained within that shimmering edifice of glass and steel. For all intents and purposes it operated autonomously as well. For over 300 years now, commerce center grounds were considered the exclusive sovereign territory of the Corporate Alliance, and the Empire had not involved itself in any of its operations.

Entering the complex unimpeded required Alliance membership. Non-members, regardless of class or station, could only enter through a limited set of visitor gates scattered along the perimeter every mile or so. The Empire had quite literally never set foot anywhere inside. But that was all about to change…

The thunder of a thousand boots trembled through the walls, reaching up to the ceiling. Hundreds of men scrambled on every level of the center, while hundreds of other men made their steady progressive march toward the large doors of one of the center's perimeter gates. Their scrambling slowly faded, as they found their positions and made themselves ready, weapons in hand. Now, there was just the persistent beat of the march outside the thick metal enclosures barricading the glass doors.

The steady thump of the marching Imperial troops reached to a roar, as the Alliance Security men waited in fearful expectation of the imminent battle before them. High above in the steel rafters, Grashaomo looked on in quiet cold apathy. He surveyed the landscape beneath him. Polished walkways, tranquil plants, water features. He counted the number of the men, recorded their physical features and bio-readings, and tabulated the information together and stored it away for future reference within his built-in memory.

The roar was abruptly silenced. The men inside continued to hold their positions anxiously. It would not be long now before the troops would inevitably blast away the outer barriers and make their way inside.

In the midst of the silence, a quiet cry suddenly went up. A small tiomo--a furry creature commonly kept as a pet--slinked past the line of men. It cautiously approached the glass doors, sniffing as it went oblivious to its immediate peril.

Several men quietly snickered to themselves as they watched the little beast waltz right up to the barrier doors. It perked up its ears for a moment as it listened to the distant shuffle of several men on the other side of the doors planting the charges.

Grashaomo was generally disgusted by human beings. He found nothing particularly redeemable about them. He hated the crude “name” they had given him--a series of sounds produced by spit-filled fleshy face holes which was then used to identify him--and he hated the facade of humanity he was forced to use in his endeavors as a spy and assassin for the Mechoid Collective.

Yes, Grashaomo was a mechoid. An artificial lifeform born of a race of artificial lifeforms who had long since separated themselves from the affairs of men--Ayis and Thanas alike. His real name was a completely abstract thought incomprehensible to men that could not be expressed in words. Mechoids had moved beyond the use of traditional language.

The little beast still sniffing at the doors was in precarious position of being blown into pieces once the troops outside had managed to secure the explosives and detonate them. How long would that take? If Grashaomo’s estimate was right--and he usually was about such things--it would be another 12 seconds. Factoring in the distance, estimated performance level based on recorded averages for Alliance Security field operatives, as well as the inhibiting factor of body armor, it would take one of the troops below approximately 17 seconds to successfully retrieve the animal. This was all assuming that one of these humans would actually bother in the first place. Suffice it to say, Grashaomo was quite certain the little creature was more than likely going to die shortly in the explosion. That is unless...

Grashaomo let out a sigh--a human expression which had become a habit of his own despite not having to breathe--and reluctantly released his grip upon the ceiling. After quickly falling halfway to the floor, he then extended a towline from the inside of his palm back toward the ceiling at a 45 degree angle. 2 seconds. He then swung toward the tiomo, still cloaked. 4 seconds. Reaching the point of contact, he then released the line and grabbed it. 2 seconds. The hapless creature now wildly screeching as the confused Security troops looked on yards away, Grashaomo fired his line back to its starting location. 4 seconds. 12 seconds in total. The screeching beast was now clinging to his back, burying its tiny claws in his invisible shoulders.

A second passed.

“Hmm...” he uttered to himself.

Boom!

Metal and glass exploded down the polished corridor of the entry way into the complex in a maelstrom of flame and debris. The creature dug its claws deeper and let out a cry of confusion and fear. Grashaomo remained unphased as he continued to gaze on at the scene below.

He watched the ensuing battle for several moments more as the Imperial troops rushed down the corridor and engaged Alliance Security in a firefight. The hail of laser blasts, pellet discharges, and explosions stirred the little tiomo on his back into a frenzy. Out of sheer anxiety and panic, it leapt from his back and attempted to grapple on to the ceiling itself. Grashaomo immediately snapped his arm out to grab the little beast, and held onto it by the scruff of its furry neck.

The battle quickly ended, with most of the Security forces dead. Several men broke ranks and retreated, as the Imperial troops killed all who remained and made their advance farther into the complex.

Seeing all that he wished to see, Grashaomo secured his tow line to the ceiling and glided down to the floor of the complex. Amidst the flaming ruins with no one in sight, he disengaged his cloak. The shivering tiomo turned its head and glanced at Grashaomo, who was now looking down at the furry bundle of a beast with his cold gray eyes. While holding the creature to his breast, the creature sniffed his hand and then proceeded to lick it. Grashaomo tilted his head ever so slightly, before returning his attention to his surroundings. He then proceeded to walk forward through the wreckage and the flames and the mangled corpses. He casually sauntered through the complex, delicately stroking the little creature in his arms as he went.