Ep.#5 - "Rise of the Corinari" (4 page)

“Wouldn’t it be safer for us to fly straight to the meeting?” Tug asked.

“All of Aitkenna is a no-fly zone right now. Only Corinari traffic is allowed. All traffic to and from orbit goes directly to Aitkenna, or else.”

“Or else what?” Nathan asked.

“Or else they get shot down,” she told him as they continued toward the shuttle.

“I guess they’re taking security just as seriously down there as you are up here,” Nathan commented.

“Actually, yeah,” Jessica agreed. “Now that the dust has settled, there are armed troops everywhere in Aitkenna. It’s like a police state down there. From what I hear from the Corinari on board, you can’t go a hundred meters without being asked to show ID.”

Red lights on the underside of the shuttle started flashing in unison as the shuttle began to spin up her power plant. Nathan could see the flight crew through the cockpit windows as they prepared for departure.

“Ready to go, Sergeant?” Nathan asked as he approached the shuttle.

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant responded, snapping a salute.

Nathan returned the salute in similar fashion. Although constant saluting aboard ship was not normally required, marines tended to be a little more formal about such matters. He also felt that the orderly routine and familiar behaviors would help the sergeant overcome his recent traumatic events. “Very well,” Nathan told the sergeant as he stepped up onto the shuttle’s boarding steps. “Let’s get going.”

Nathan disappeared into the hatch, followed by Tug, the four Corinari guards, and Sergeant Weatherly. The flight technician on board the shuttle closed the hatch, and the shuttle began to slowly roll backward toward the transfer airlock. Jessica watched as the shuttle passed into the starboard transfer airlock, the door beginning to descend from overhead even before the shuttle was completely across the threshold. In a few minutes, after the airlock cycled and the outer door opened, the shuttle would roll out onto the flight apron, where its lower gravity would require only a small amount of thrust for the Corinari shuttle to move away from the Aurora and begin her short trip down to the surface of Corinair.

* * *

“Good afternoon, Prime Minister, Mister Briden,” Nathan greeted as he and Tug took their seats in the Corinairan Prime Minister’s office, across from the Prime Minister and his translator. Although the Hakai Nation’s capitol complex had been heavily damaged by the strikes a few days ago, the primary government complex for the city of Aitkenna had suffered little damage. With much of the city government’s staff either killed or otherwise missing, unoccupied offices were quickly allocated for the national government’s use.

The Prime Minister sat behind a stately desk that had obviously been moved from another office, as it neither matched the other furniture in the room nor was sized properly for the smaller space. The Prime Minister’s translator, Mister Briden, stood at the Prime Minister’s right. Although the Prime Minister did speak some Angla, the nature of his position required precise, as well as documented, translations.

“Thank you for seeing us,” Nathan began. “I apologize for the urgency of our request, but we have become aware of some new intelligence that requires rather immediate action on both our parts in order to be dealt with before it is too late.”

“Please, Captain, go ahead,” Mister Briden urged.

“Apparently, there is a Takaran communications drone headed for the Takaran home world. It is expected to reach its destination in approximately ten days,” Nathan explained.

“And how did you come about this information?” Mister Briden asked before he even translated the captain’s words to his superior.

“One of the communications officers from the Yamaro revealed this to us during his debriefing this morning,” Nathan explained.

“And you believe what he is telling you? After all, he is a member of the Ta’Akar.”

“Actually, sir, he is not,” Tug explained. “The man is actually of Corinairan ancestry, born and raised on Corinair and inducted into service approximately two years ago. He was serving as a common officer, without any of the rights and privileges bestowed upon the regular officers of Ta’Akar nobility. Such officers are usually chosen based on their unique and valuable skill sets. In this case it was for his skills in communications and cryptology.”

“Have you been able to verify this information?” It was obvious that Mister Briden was not convinced that the provider of the intelligence should be trusted.

“That would be difficult to do, given the circumstances,” Nathan assured them. “But I have no reason to doubt the veracity of this man's claims.”

“Just because he is of Corinairan descent?” said Mister Briden.

“And because he led the mutiny aboard the Yamaro, and because he led the volunteers that defeated the boarding parties on both the Yamaro and the Aurora. In fact, it’s quite possible that his actions saved the world of his birth, your world, from complete destruction.”

Mister Briden offered no rebuttal, instead taking a moment to thoroughly translate the conversation for the Prime Minister. The two spent several minutes discussing the matter, which to Nathan seemed a curious thing to occur between a Prime Minister and a mere translator. Finally, Mister Briden offered a response. “You spoke of a need to take action, Captain. To what action do you refer?”

“We believe that the interception of this comm-drone is critical. Doing so would prevent word of our presence in your system from reaching the Ta’Akar and could possibly buy us weeks if not months of additional time in which to prepare.”

Mister Briden looked confused. “Captain, the weekly comm-drone was not due to be launched until tomorrow. We are preparing false reports to mask recent events as we speak. Exactly where did this drone come from?”

“It is our understanding that it was sent by a Ta’Akar officer stationed on your world,” Nathan explained. “He received an anonymous tip and immediately dispatched a priority message to his command. The Yamaro intercepted the message as she was passing. That’s why they came here. They were looking for us, and my Karuzari friend here.”

“Then there is no word of our involvement in this message,” the translator pointed out.

“Maybe not,” Nathan conceded, “but when the Ta’Akar come to investigate and they find the disabled Yamaro orbiting your recently bombarded world, what do you think they’re going to do? Do you really think you can put that genie back in its bottle?”

Again, Mister Briden exchanged words with the Prime Minister, this time for nearly a full minute before responding. “How much time are we discussing?”

“There are too many unknown parameters to be sure, but our best estimates indicate anywhere from a few weeks to several months. It all depends on the position of the Takaran ships at the time their home world sends out orders to respond.”

“I see.” Mister Briden again exchanged words with his superior in their native Corinairan language. With some understanding of the language, Tug concentrated to covertly overhear their whispers, hoping to gain some insight into their position. “Captain,” Mister Briden began, “has it occurred to you that this could be a trap?”

“Excuse me?”

“While it may not have occurred to Captain Scott,” Tug interrupted, “it has to me, as I have a better understanding of the ways of the Ta’Akar.”

“Yes, as the leader of the infamous Karuzari rebels, I would expect that you might.”

Tug ignored the translator’s obvious disdain for the Karuzari and continued. “While it might seem like a way to lure the Aurora into an ambush, such a plan would have required considerable forethought and planning, as well as more rapid communications capabilities than the Ta’Akar currently possess. To be more direct, sir, it would be logistically impossible.”

Nathan fought back a smile, realizing that while Mister Briden had inferred that the Karuzari were undesirable, Tug had just accused the translator of being stupid. “I assure you, Mister Prime Minister,” Nathan began, subtly reminding Mister Briden that the conversation was between them and the Prime Minister, not his translator, “we have analyzed the logistics and motivations of this information and are quite convinced that it is accurate and should be acted upon with great haste.”

After another moment of discussion with the Prime Minister, Mister Briden asked, “And what do you require of the Corinairan people?”

“Do you know anything about the fabrication systems used by the Ta’Akar?” Nathan asked.

“Yes, we have heard of them, but while we understand the technology we do not have any of our own. They are a closely kept secret of the Ta’Akar.”

“Well, apparently the Yamaro has four of them. We believe that they could be used to quickly repair the damaged components that are preventing us from intercepting the drone. Unfortunately, we do not know how to use them.”

“Cannot your informant explain them to you?”

“He cannot. Apparently, they were controlled by one of the noblemen who died attempting to retake the Yamaro. The common crewmen were not versed in their operations. But our informant seems convinced that your people could easily figure them out.”

“I see,” Mister Briden said. “I am sure he is correct in that assumption. However, I have to wonder, Captain, should we provide you with what you need to repair your jump drive, what is to prevent you from simply jumping away and leaving the entire Darvano system to its untimely demise?”

Nathan locked eyes with the translator. At that moment, he was quite sure that not only was Mister Briden more than a simple translator, but that he was also not speaking solely on behalf of the Prime Minister. There was undoubtedly another agenda in play, and it was not necessarily the Prime Minister’s.

“My honor, sir,” Nathan answered without missing a beat. “The very same honor that forced me to risk myself, my ship, and my world in order to defend yours.” While maintaining his steely gaze, Nathan added, “You be sure to translate that for your superior… word for word.”

Their eyes remained locked for another moment before Mister Briden turned to the Prime Minister and translated Nathan’s words, speaking loud enough for Tug to easily understand his translation. Nathan continued watching him until he finished his translation, then turned slightly toward Tug for confirmation.

“It was not word for word, Captain,” Tug told him, “but I believe he delivered both your message and intent accurately enough for our purposes.” Tug’s words were also spoken loud enough for Mister Briden to understand.

The Prime Minister began speaking in a more official tone to his subordinate, as if he were stating an official position. After a moment, Mister Briden began his translation. “The Prime Minister states that while the people of Corinair are free to join you in your fight against the Ta’Akar, committing the scientific, technological, and possibly even natural resources of this world to your cause, thereby forcing such support upon the already overburdened people of Corinair, might not be possible, unless…”

Ah, here it comes
, Nathan thought. All his years of listening to his father’s political speeches and public statements, as well as the summers he had spent as his intern, had taught him two things; a politician always wants something, and a politician never gives anything away without getting something in return. Nathan waited without any change in his expression as the Prime Minister continued speaking.

“…the Corinairan people are offered something with which to protect themselves. Perhaps something that would give them a significant technological advantage over the Ta’Akar,” Mister Briden added.

“And that would be?” Nathan asked, already knowing the answer.

“The specifications of your jump drive technology,” Mister Briden stated.

Nathan took in a deep breath before continuing, thinking—in rather uncharacteristic fashion—carefully about how he would respond. “You ask a lot, sir.”

“I do not believe so, Captain,” Mister Briden disagreed. “The Prime Minister believes that a mission to intercept this drone poses significant risk. Should your vessel be destroyed, or worse yet captured, the loss would be catastrophic to the people of Corinair, as we would be left with no means of defense.”

Nathan realized he had been played, and quite expertly. The Prime Minister was no fool; that much was clear. “Point taken,” Nathan admitted. “However, I am not sure that it is within my authority to grant your request. I would need to consult my legal officer.” Nathan rose smartly from his seat, Tug doing the same. “I’ll try to return with an answer shortly,” he added.

“Of course, Captain,” Mister Briden agreed.

The Prime Minister stood, offering his hand to Nathan. For a moment Nathan thought he saw a look of satisfaction creeping into the old politician’s friendly smile. “Thank you, Captain Scott,” the Prime Minister struggled to say in Angla, the words nearly smothered by his heavy Corinairan accent.

“Good day, sir,” Nathan told him as he shook the Minister’s hand before turning and exiting the room.

Nathan and Tug walked down the corridor and out into the main lobby of the bustling capital building, all without speaking a word. Tug followed Nathan out the main doors into the afternoon sun.

“Well, that went well,” Nathan commented as he took in the fresh air and sunlight. The smell of rubble and burnt buildings still tinted the breeze in Aitkenna.

“I was not aware that you had a legal officer on board the Aurora, Captain,” Tug commented.

“We don’t,” Nathan admitted, “but we have Cameron, and that’s just as good.”

* * *

Sergeant Weatherly entered Commander Taylor’s hospital room, making a visual inspection to be sure it was clear of any threats before allowing the captain and Tug to enter the room. Cameron was sitting on her bed, dressed in a thick hospital robe and reading a data pad when the sergeant entered.

“Sergeant,” she commented with surprise as he slowly eyeballed the room, “can I help you with something?”

“No, ma’am, just checking the room,” the sergeant informed her. He turned and nodded to Captain Scott, who was still waiting outside the door in the corridor. “It’s all clear, sir,” he reported, stepping aside to assume a watchful position just inside the door.