Sol (The Silver Ships Book 5) (11 page)

BOOK: Sol (The Silver Ships Book 5)
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“But you already have cooperated, Captain. Your destroyer with all crew aboard retreated from the vicinity.”

“That decision I can defend.”

“So be it, Captain, but I do need your help on another matter. I need you to contact the Supreme Tribunal for me.”

“I can send a message for you, Mr. President,” Shimada said. “What do you wish me to say?”

“That’s not what I’m requesting, Captain,” Alex replied, “We have an FTL relay on the Earth’s moon. I want you to comm the Tribunal as if you were in Earth’s orbit. My people will handle the technicalities.” Alex waited for a response, but he heard nothing. “Captain?”

“Sorry, Mr. President,” Shimada finally replied. Her comms officer had mouthed “FTL comms” to her twice as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “This is a bit much to process. I would like to help, but I don’t have direct access to the Tribunal. The best I could do is place a comm to naval headquarters on Earth and request access, but even that might not work.”

“Why not, Captain?”

“They would probably think it’s a hoax or that I’m an impostor.”

“Please try anyway, Captain.”

Alex left the next steps in the hands of the SADEs, who intercepted the captain’s comm and routed it through the FTL relay on the Earth’s moon as Shimada contacted Earth’s naval headquarters.

Naval comms techs challenged Shimada several ways to ensure they were speaking to the captain of the
Conquest
stationed at Idona. They had been warned to expect a comm from Idona, even though the idea seemed ridiculous. The Tribunal was still keeping the foreign device deposited by the Haraken fighter a secret.

Identity confirmed, the captain was passed up the chain of command, and then transferred to the Supreme Tribunal’s location. At that point, Julien notified Alex that the captain’s comm had reached the intended audience, and the SADEs had identified the Tribunal’s physical location.

* * *

The comms officer on duty at the Tribunal’s retreat expected to speak to Captain Shimada. Instead, he heard, “Greetings, Ser. This is the Haraken president, Alex Racine. I would like to speak to your Supreme Tribunal.”

“One moment, Mr. President,” the officer replied. Opening a private channel to the Tribunal’s chambers, he announced, “Tribunes, the comm you’re expecting is happening. You’ve a call from the strangers at Idona Station. The man on the comm says he’s President Racine of the Harakens.”

“Ask him to wait a moment while we assemble,” Tribune Woo ordered. “And hustle Captain Lumley to our chambers immediately.”

The tribunes hurried to gather around a comms monitor and seated Captain Lumley behind them to quietly advise. When they were ready, Woo signaled the comms officer, but instead of the audio comm they expected, the Harakens commandeered both vid and audio signals.

“Greetings, Sers. You have been given my name. How may I address you?” asked Alex, whose head and shoulders filled the tribunes’ monitor. “And Captain Lumley!” Alex exclaimed. “I’m so pleased to see that you made it back safely. How is our mutual acquaintance, Speaker García?”

Lucchesi and Brennan were flummoxed by their inclusion in a two-way vid transmission and the president’s quick switch in topics. On the other hand, Woo, who had studied Lumley’s reports in detail, had taken the captain’s advice about whom he expected would call. Intellectually, she was as ready for the president as she could be. When Lumley looked at her for permission to respond, she nodded encouragingly.

“I’m well, President Racine,” Lumley replied. “I wish to thank you again for sparing my ship and my crew.”

“Always willing to accommodate a reasonable man,” Alex replied with a smile that never reached his eyes. “And how is our unreasonable friend?” Alex pressed.

Woo nodded to Lumley to continue, and the captain said, “There was an accident aboard the
Reunion
, President Racine. Speaker García did not survive.”

“Hmm … I wonder what exchange High Judge Bunaldi and Speaker García are enjoying now,” Alex mused for his audience. “Probably regretting their hasty decisions. Ah well, to business, Sers.”

“What do you want with our station?” Lucchesi demanded.

“And you would be —?” Alex asked.

“I’m Supreme Tribune Giuseppe Lucchesi. These are my colleagues … Tribune Ian Brennan and Tribune Kwan Woo,” Lucchesi said, puffing up in his chair.

Alex took in the tribunes’ robes so similar to the high judge and wondered what had given rise to the affectation. “Tribune Lucchesi, you remind me of an Earther I met. By any coincidence, are you an ex-high judge?”

“I have that honor,” Lucchesi said.

“Thought as much,” Alex replied, but the look on his face said he wasn’t pleased to hear it. “Well, you asked a question, Tribune. I intended to use your station as a resting point, while I decided my next course of action, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind about what?” Lucchesi asked.

“I’ve decided to make Idona my temporary headquarters while we speak about our mutual problem. Did you know your station is in horrible disrepair? How can you let such a strategic exchange point lapse into such a sad state?”

“We have it on good authority, President Racine, that the station is being properly maintained,” Lucchesi replied. He hated letting the president continue to lead the discussion, but the man refused to stay on topic.
Like talking to a mindless idiot,
Lucchesi thought.

“That’s interesting. Perhaps you’ll believe your own people.” The vid on the station’s end widened, showing a nervous Lieutenant Morris sitting next to Alex. “By the way, I have placed Lieutenant Morris here in charge of your militia. She is much more levelheaded than your Major Lindling … a most disagreeable and unreasonable man.”

Morris nodded at the tribunes and cleared her throat, twice. She summarized the station’s financial trends for the past three decades — docking fees, bay fees, service fees, and distribution of those funds. While she spoke, Cordelia ran a series of vids that the repair teams were collecting of pre- and post-repair jobs.

“I’m sorry to report, Tribunes, that much of the funds for station maintenance has been diverted,” Morris said, ducking her head.

“Diverted where?” Ian Brennan demanded, leaning forward onto the table.

“Your Major Lindling and his family have become wealthy individuals, while your station suffered,” Alex said. “From the records we’ve recovered, the past four senior militia officers have all participated in the looting of station funds. When was the last time any of you sent an accountant to check on station finances?”

Lucchesi and Woo looked at Brennan, but he was staring with disgust at Woo.

“I see,” Alex said. “Well, at this rate, you probably would have lost this station to catastrophic accident in another decade or so. As it is, I’ve decided to turn it back into a going concern.”

“Looking at those images, I would surmise, President Racine, after decades of neglect, you don’t have the workforce to manage the extensive repairs that have accrued,” Brennan challenged.

“Oh, but I do, Tribune Brennan, with the shop owners, the militia, the rebels, and my people working side by side, we’re making great progress,” Alex replied.

“What?” Lucchesi cried, disbelieving he heard correctly. “The rebels?”

“Um … I meant to clarify that, Tribunes,” Morris stammered. “In the recordings you saw, most of those working with the militia aren’t stationers. They’re … um … they’re rebels.”

“It’s actually working out quite well,” Alex said cheerfully. “We’ve had a few incidents, but nothing more than fistfights.”

“And you expect us to believe this?” Lucchesi asked.

“It’s as the president says, Tribune Lucchesi,” Morris replied respectfully. “My people have been assigned work details, and we are cooperating with the rebels, the station personnel, and the Harakens.”

“How many of your people survived the fight, Lieutenant?” Woo asked. “And I presume that Major Lindling and Captain Yun are dead.”

Alex gave Morris an encouraging smile, which Woo interpreted as the victor lauding over the captured.

“Major Lindling had us build a barricade in the main corridor admin area and ordered us to fire on the Harakens when they breached our admin doors,” Morris explained.

“And?” Woo pressed.

“Nothing, Tribune. Our guns were rendered inoperable. Something about nanites,” Morris replied and shrugged her shoulders. She appeared apologetic and confused.

“Nanites, Sers,” Alex said. “Just another piece of technology we possess that triumphs over your great forces. We don’t need size to defeat you. Although, we have twenty-eight more carriers, just like the two here at the station.”

Alex’s people kept their faces carefully schooled, but implant comms were burning the air.

“Julien, what is our latest fighter total?”

Julien calculated the minimum number of fighters that twenty-eight nonexistent carriers could land and came up with approximately 13,000, but he decided to join in Alex’s game. “As of the latest count, Mr. President, we have 32,319 fighters.”

Tatia sent to the room’s Harakens.

“Apologies, Julien,” Z added, “but that number doesn’t take into account the pending production of the newest version of our fighters.”

“True, Z,” Cordelia chimed in. “Production will be completing 116 fighters a day by now.”

Alex sent, cautioning his people. “Incidentally, Tribunes, every one of our fighters can traverse your system indefinitely, without resupply of fuel or armament, and our pilots can trade off to eat and rest.”

Woo glanced at Lumley, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was possible.

“So you’ve advanced technology, you’ve a powerful military force, and you have our station, Mr. President. What’s next?” Brennan asked.

“What’s next is we negotiate a resolution to rectify this incredulously poor diplomatic start by your people. We negotiate a peace.”

“There’s no reason that can’t be accommodated,” Lucchesi replied, smiling.

“And there lies the problem, Tribune Lucchesi. I don’t trust you,” Alex replied, leaning toward the vid pickup. “Your two most senior people, the speaker and the high judge, were two of the most duplicitous men I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. And, I have it on good authority that they are symptomatic of your political hierarchy, which puts me in the difficult position of deciding how to deal with you three.”

“I would like to know how you can make statements like that without even knowing us. Good authority, indeed!” Lucchesi replied.

The Harakens’ vid pickup opened wider. Arrayed behind Alex was a group of senior people.

“Olawale!” Lumley exclaimed, forgetting in whose company he sat and jumping up.

“Francis, my friend,” Olawale said, standing as well, his huge smile a blaze of white in his dark face. “It’s good to see you well.”

“That Ser Wombo and these other senior scientists would rather risk fortune with a strange civilization than stay with their own people speaks volumes, Tribunes,” Alex said.

“If you can’t trust us, then why even come here?” Woo asked.

“To prevent you from sending a fleet to my worlds,” Alex replied. “If we see any sizable fleet forming or ships heading out of system in the same direction as our worlds, for whatever reason, we will destroy them. No warning; no questions asked. In the meantime, I’ll continue with my experiment.”

“And that experiment is the station,” Brennan pursued.

“Exactly, Tribune,” Alex replied.

“After you repair it, then what?” Woo asked.

“You don’t understand, Tribunes. I’m not going to just repair this station. I’m going to return it to prosperous operation.”

“But for what purpose?” Lucchesi asked.

“It’s a lesson for you, Tribunes. When you figure it out, please comm me. Have your comms personnel place a call to Idona Station as if it was in your planet’s orbit. Our SADEs will do the rest. I’ll be in touch,” Alex said and cut the connection.

Realizing he was still standing, Lumley sat back down, a small smile on his face. He couldn’t be happier for his friend, Olawale, who had found the better way of living that he was hoping to discover.

Lucchesi shoved back his chair and hurried his bulk out of the room as fast as he could. He had no desire to participate in the after-comm analysis he was certain his colleagues wanted him to join.

“Are you hungry, Captain?” Woo asked. “We would like you to join us for some dinner and extended conversation.”

* * *

Lumley was allowed to eat his entire meal in peace, and a generous meal it was. Dessert and a port were served and consumed before the conversation began.

“Could the Harakens have twenty-eight carriers of the size reported at Idona Station?” Woo asked Lumley.

“Consider, Tribune Woo, that the
Reunion
entered a system with a reportedly single colony of just a half million people and one of those monster carriers was present. A single carrier on station, armed with 256 fighters, for one small colony,” Lumley said, posing the rhetorical question.

“My guess,” Lumley continued, “is that the
Hand of Justice
met several of these carriers at New Terra. Twenty-eight carriers and tens of thousands of fighters spread among their home worlds would suggest why the president has the assurance to come light years to our system with only two carriers.”

In the quiet that followed Lumley’s statements, the captain took the opportunity to ask the question that drove him to be on his best behavior with the tribunes. “What about my crew?”

“The Haraken president’s call, a no-delay comm from Idona Station to Earth, will be around the globe by morning, if I know my military grapevine,” Woo said. “There’s no more need to hold your crew. They’ll be released in the morning. We’ll expect their cooperation, of course. The story will be that isolation was necessary to ensure that no microorganisms were carried back to Earth after contact with the aliens.”

When Lumley’s eyebrow rose in question, Woo amended, “After contact with these distant humans.”

“Why resurrect the station? What’s the lesson we’re supposed to get?” Brennan asked. He looked at Woo, who just returned his stare, before Brennan turned to regard Lumley.

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