The Worker Prince (30 page)

“The rest of you may enter,” Obed said with a wave.

Aron nodded and stepped forward into the room. Tela and Davi watched the LSP men a moment, feeling reticent about what had happened then followed Aron and Joram into the room.

Yao entered last. “I’m sorry. This was not supposed to happen.”

“Perhaps the High Lord Councilor is already up to mischief,” Tela whispered, her eyes nervous.

Davi tried to hide his own worries, wanting to reassure her but she reached out to squeeze his hand and he knew it wouldn’t matter. “We’ll find out soon enough,” he said, watching as Aron and Joram took seats along the center of the table facing the door. He and Tela took the seats next to them as the few aides who’d been allowed in arranged themselves amongst the rest of the chairs.

A bar-bot appeared to take drink orders, its facial LEDs lit up in an electronic smile.

“Let me try and find out what’s going on,” Yao said, worried.

Davi shook his head. “You can’t go up against Obed or Xalivar. Let’s wait and see.”

Aron nodded. “We have little choice.”

“I’ll be back,” Yao insisted. The doors slid open and Yao disappeared into the corridor.

O O O

Xalivar’s Royal Shuttle arrived on the opposite side of campus from where the WFR contingent had arrived. Instead of one shuttle, he came with two—the other filled with security men and aides.

As Xalivar and Lucius stepped onto the landing pad, Manaen and Lucius’ aide rushed forward with rainguards to protect them from the weather. Xalivar looked around—a dreary day, indeed. Soon their mood at least would be brightened. He smiled. So far, everything had gone according to their well-thought-out plans.

As he stepped forward, he saw Lord Obed hurrying toward them with two aides, one of whom held a rainguard over Obed’s head. Xalivar smiled thinking about how easy it had been to convince the Council to make Obed their representative at the peace conference.

“Everything has gone as planned, Lord Xalivar,” Obed said with a smile as he stopped before them.

“They offered no argument?”

“Only your nephew and his friend seemed bothered,” Obed said.

Xalivar smiled.
Of course they were.
“They are waiting in the chamber?”

Obed nodded. “Yes. And their escorts have already been sealed away in a secure location.”

Xalivar chuckled, feeling a lightness in his steps. “Good, good.” His hands clenched into fists and released again. “This will be a triumphant moment for us, Lord Obed. I’m pleased you can be a part of it.”

“The honor is mine, Lord Xalivar,” Obed said, joining them as they continued along the pathway.

Xalivar smiled. He had his most trusted people with him today. They were intensely loyal. The only one he’d questioned had been Lord Obed, but Obed had thrown his support behind Xalivar. It reassured him to have his rival nearby where Xalivar could keep an eye on him. Xalivar’s grandfather had often said: “the safest place for your enemy is right beside you.” It’s why Xalivar had appointed Obed to head the LSP. Since the head of the LSP reported directly to the High Lord Councilor, Xalivar could keep a careful eye on him. If things went wrong somehow at the conference, Xalivar would be sure that Obed took the blame.

He glanced over at Lucius and their eyes met. Lucius nodded. The fleet was moving into position over Vertullis. Xalivar’s fists clenched again. He could almost taste the sweetness of victory. He would make sure his former nephew and friends knew they had been beaten. He wanted them to taste the defeat even as it happened. It would make up in small part for the humiliations and frustrations they’d caused him over the past months. Soon, they’d have nothing but time to think about it.

O O O

The Alliance flagship Victory hovered in position off Jacote, Vertullis’ largest moon, as Admiral Dek and General Pres stared out the bridge blast shield at the gathering fleet.

Dek smiled, feeling relieved to be on his bridge again, a far more comfortable and safer place than facing the wrath of the High Lord Councilor. Here, he was at home and in command, and he could already taste the victory that would soon be theirs. It had been a long time since he’d led a fleet into battle, and he had been much younger then. The only action he’d seen since had been during military exercises. How good it would be for his men to practice what they’d been learning. It would keep them fresh and ready, giving them greater confidence in their abilities and training.

Perhaps there would be a resurgence of reenlistments afterwards. The military had seen increased retirements and resignations over the past several years. They needed to renew the sense of pride and commitment in their forces—something a good victory would help ensure.

“Troop ships have launched and will arrive on schedule,” Pres said, interrupting his thoughts.

Dek nodded. “Thank you, General. I am pleased you are here for this historic moment.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Pres said, glancing at her chrono. “The negotiations should commence momentarily.” She stood next to him, also looking at home and relaxed in the same way Dek himself was. She found Xalivar’s moods just as difficult to endure. It felt good having her there. She’d become Dek’s right hand and close friend, and although he knew she looked to him as a mentor, he’d come to trust her as a valued peer.

“And they will last but a few moments, I’m sure,” Dek said with a grin. They both laughed at the thought of the disappointment and surprise the WFR leadership would experience.

“The planetary radar is jammed?” Pres asked.

“All the jamming ships are in position awaiting my command,” Dek said with confidence.

Pres nodded. “We await your orders, Admiral.”

Dek nodded, moving to the rail lining the walkway where they stood, and looked down on the bridge. “Captain, order the Century ships to begin jamming the radar.”

Below them on the command deck, Captain Colson turned to nod at them, his crisp, clean uniform so tight it fit him like an outer skin. “Lieutenant, issue the order.”

“Yes, sir,” a Lieutenant said from a nearby comm-panel. “Century craft: commence jamming at once,” he said into the comm-channel, his face full of anticipation.

Captain Colson turned back to Pres and Dek, nodding.

“All ships full ahead,” Dek ordered.

Colson turned to his men and repeated the order as the two leaders turned back to the screen. Soon it would all be over.

O O O

The WFR contingent waited around the large conference table for forty-five minutes before the doors opened and Xalivar entered. He wore the ceremonial robe he reserved for Council ceremonies and important events, walking as if he’d already won. He was accompanied by General Lucius, whom Davi had met at the Academy, as well as Lord Obed, Manaen, and other aides. They moved to the opposite side of the table and spread out—with Xalivar across the table from Davi and Aron.

Xalivar remained standing as the others sat, a smug smile on his face as his eyes met Davi’s. “Well, the prodigal nephew returns. You look well. But I’m afraid I cannot say you’ve been making us proud, can I?”

Davi smiled. “It is good to see you again, un—” He stopped himself.
Don’t call him that any more.
“High Lord Councilor.”

Xalivar frowned. “Ah, so soon we forget our family, is that how it is? A bitter sting upon my heart.” He actually touched his fist to his chest a moment before sliding into his seat at the table, eyes still locked onto Davi’s. “And after all our efforts to raise you with honor, give you the finest things in life …” His voice trailed off and a sad look came upon his face.

Davi knew the emotions were all for show. He tried to detect something in his voice—a clue to his frame of mind—but, as usual, Xalivar stayed controlled.

Davi allowed a bit of emotion to creep into his own voice. “I am grateful for all you have done for me, uncle. I have not forgotten. I owe you a great deal.”

“Ah, I see, so you call me uncle when it’s convenient then,” Xalivar said. Davi kept his eyes locked on Xalivar, trying not to flinch. “You did, however, turn out to be somewhat of a disappointment.” The last bit was pure accusation.

The words stung. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Davi said. “I have always tried to live by what you and mother taught me. My sole desire was to make you proud.”

Xalivar laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Make me proud? By betraying the Alliance? Betraying your family? Betraying me?”

“By following my conscience, upholding my sense of honor, and serving with bravery and integrity,” Davi said.

Xalivar’s face changed to fury as he clenched his fists atop the table. “There can be no integrity in betrayal, Xander.” He looked away, taking in the others.

“I can assure you, High Lord Councilor, your nephew has distinguished himself well by his service to us, as a pilot, an instructor, and a leader,” Aron said with a smile. “You can be very proud.”

Xalivar’s head whirled toward Aron, locking eyes, fists clenching. “Honorable men take no pride in acts of rebellion!”

“I believe we have come to discuss the cessation of hostilities,” Aron said, still smiling as if unphased. They’d expected Xalivar’s hostility and his mental games, and Aron apparently was more prepared than Davi.

Xalivar pounded his fist onto the table. “I will decide what we do or don’t discuss!” He looked away a moment, appearing to collect himself. You could have heard a pin drop as everyone waited in silent anticipation, hesitating to even breathe. Xalivar turned back toward them. “You realize, of course, I could have you executed?”

“The peace conference was arranged by the Council of Lords,” Davi said as firmly as he could manage. “You are in no position to even arrest us.” His eyes locked on Xalivar’s.

Xalivar’s stare was like a knife slicing meat. “Do not tell me about my position, Captain.”

“Why was our security contingent refused entry to this conference?” Aron asked, his voice revealing the tension inside him. “It was agreed upon in the terms.”

“You are in Boralian space, not locked behind your stolen energy shield,” Xalivar said. “I determine the arrangements for this conference, not you.”

“So this conference was a ruse to lure us here under false pretenses?” Davi said, letting his frustration show.

“Ah, now who feels betrayed?” Xalivar said with a laugh. “The Borali Alliance does not negotiate with rebels. It’s a long and proud tradition. I’m sure you studied it at the Academy.”

The WFR contingent stood, chairs squeaking against the floor as they scooted back from the table. “In the name of interstellar law, we demand just treatment,” Aron said, more irritated than Davi had ever seen him.

“Oh, you will receive just treatment for your actions,” Xalivar said with a smile, “In prison. Take them into custody.”

The doors opened and Bordox entered with a squad of LSP troops, weapons held at the ready. Davi’s nemesis’ sneer had never been bigger or more menacing.

O O O

Klaxons blared throughout the complex as controllers and technicians raced to their stations around Uzah and Matheu.

“What is it?” Uzah asked, the worry on his face matching his voice.

“The Alliance fleet just came around from the far side of Jacote,” Matheu said.

Uzah’s face showed immediate understanding. Jacote, the planet’s largest moon, was the perfect place for a fleet to conceal itself before a surprise attack. “How many?”

“Four flagships, twenty Defenders, and thirty other craft of varying size,” Matheu said, motioning to the large radar at the center of the room.

Uzah saw red blips on the screen moving toward the planet.

“Plus, whatever squadrons of fighters they can hold.”

The moment they’d feared had arrived. Uzah hoped they were all ready. He took a deep breath and nodded, steeling himself. “Pilots to their fighters,” Uzah ordered over the comm-channel on his headset. He heard the command repeated three times by the combat computer. “Our fighters won’t be able to handle them all.”

“They’ll have to break through the shield first,” Matheu said, raising his voice to be heard over the clamor around them as technicians and controllers exchanged data and checked their systems in preparation for the imminent attack.

“How long will it take them?” Uzah asked, dreading the answer.

“With a fleet that size? A matter of an hour or two, if we’re lucky,” Matheu said, his voice betrayed his lack of confidence—something Uzah had never seen before in the stern military man. Matheu had always been a steady source of strength among the leadership—his bitter past experiences fighting the Alliance hardening him to the realities of war.

“Ground troops are setting up the shield reinforcers at key points,” a controller said from nearby.

“Very good,” Matheu said, nodding to the controller. “They will help protect the shield control center once the Alliance breaks through. It’s going to be a long night.” He turned to a nearby controller who’d been motioning to them.

Uzah moved toward the communications center to his right. “Try and get a message out to our contingent at the peace conference.”

“I’ve been trying, sir. They’re jamming us,” the controller said, shaking her head.
So it begins.

O O O

Dek and Pres stood together on the bridge of the Alliance flagship Victory as the fleet moved into full view of the planet. “The shield is coming into solid range of our cannons now, sir,” a radar technician nearby said.

Dek nodded at the man and smiled to Pres. “Let the fun begin.” He was enjoying himself.

Pres chuckled. “I imagine the worker rebels must be in a bit of a panic already.”

The Admiral laughed and raised his eyebrows. “It would be fun to see their faces, wouldn’t it?”

Red lights flashed and klaxons blared as the battle stations alert sounded throughout the fleet. The command center filled with commotion. Everyone hurried about their final preparations for the attack.

Dek was proud to serve a leader with the strength and clarity to do what it takes. Those kinds of leaders had been the ones he’d always admired in history. Given the track record of the Borali Alliance over the past fifty years, he’d always doubted he would serve under one. He didn’t know why others in the Alliance couldn’t see how lucky they were.