Storm Clouds, page 22
part #1 of The Guild Wars Series
“You are partially correct. While the Peacemaker Guild did halt the ongoing combat operations, that conflict is still nominally underway. Perhaps, while we are discussing it, we should formally end it, as we have far more important matters to discuss. Do I have a motion to end combat operations against the Humans?”
Nigel chuckled. “I would love to make that motion.”
“I’m sure you would,” the Speaker said. “Unfortunately, as you are involved in the conflict, I am afraid you must abstain from this discussion.” He looked around the table. “Would anyone else like to propose such a motion?”
The Bakulu rep waved a pseudopod. “I would like to so motion. There has been far too much loss of life and equipment already. The conflict has been very bad for everyone’s bottom lines.”
The Speaker bowed slightly. “All in favor of ending formal guild combat operations against the Humans?” Everyone except Nigel and the Veetanho rep indicated assent.
“The motion passes by a vote of seven to one. Formal guild operations against the Humans are to be discontinued and any race participating in them are to vacate the Human systems or risk being declared pirates by the guild. All member races are to send couriers to any participating forces on both Earth and its colony worlds to ensure their withdrawal.”
“You’re making a mistake,” the Veetanho rep said.
“Why is that?” the Speaker asked.
“You think that you will be able to control the Humans. You’re wrong. They are exactly what the guild does not need at the moment—free thinkers who won’t do what they’re told. They don’t know when they’re beaten, and they refuse to follow both guild and Galactic Union laws. You are not only risking the stability of the guild, but you are also putting the entire galaxy in peril.”
“Your accusations against the Humans have already been dealt with in a previous council meeting,” the Speaker replied. “As such, I don’t feel the need to bring them back up again when we have so much else that needs our attention. Thank you for the segue, though, about the peril our universe is currently in, which is the ongoing war against the Kahraman.”
The Speaker paused for a reaction, but there wasn’t much of one. Most sat forward, as if waiting for the real information to be disseminated. Apparently, either all or almost all of the races were already aware of the combat operations. Only the Lumar looked confused, but whether that was because he didn’t know of the conflict or because he didn’t know who the Kahraman were in the first place, Nigel had no idea.
“In fact,” the Speaker continued, “the guild has been at war with the Kahraman for over three centuries while under the leadership of the Veetanho.” He looked at the Veetanho rep again. “Does any of this sound familiar?”
The Veetanho looked away with a shrug, obviously unwilling to participate in the discussion.
“Since the distinguished Veetanho representative has nothing to offer on the matter—” his tone indicated he thought the representative anything but distinguished “—as I mentioned earlier, I found a rather concise situation report from the front.”
“I object,” the Veetanho representative said. “Any information on Seezo’s slate is proprietary Veetanho information. As such, it was illegal for you to search the slate, as it is for you to share any of the information you inappropriately removed from it.”
“Actually, the slate was Merc Guild property, not Seezo’s own, so it is completely appropriate for me to look at it as I am the Speaker, and it’s the Speaker’s slate.” He paused to see if the rep would say anything else, then continued, “The last report I found from the front says everything is going well. The lines are holding, and the Kahraman are being held at bay.”
That got a reaction from the assembled members as a number of them voiced their approval. Although they may have known operations were ongoing—after three centuries of conflict, it would have been hard for them not to be aware—Nigel realized that the other members must have been almost as ignorant of the war’s status as he’d been. Apparently, the Veetanho had been keeping the war away from everyone, not just the Humans.
“However, it is with a heavy heart that I must bring to your attention that the B’zong, one of the merc races fighting in the Fourth Arm, have been completely destroyed; their race no longer exists.” He looked to the back row of the stadium seating of the council at large. “The representative for the B’zong is no longer needed and should leave the council chambers.”
A Goka stood and left the council chamber while a number of the representatives talked among themselves quietly. Nigel watched the Goka curiously. As easily as he’d taken his dismissal, Nigel realized he’d known all along that the B’zong had been eliminated. That he’d continued to attend as if his presence wasn’t in fact a lie indicated the Veetanho weren’t against doing everything they could to continue their dominance of the council, and he wondered what other lies were still in place.
“The thing that I find curious, my fellow council members, is that a race was wiped out, yet we are told that things at the front are going well. There seems to be more going on than we have been led to believe by the Veetanho. Not only have there been losses in battle—including the genocide of an entire race—there have also been losses caused by the willful misappropriation of assets at the front.”
This appeared to get the attention of the Veetanho rep, Nigel saw, as she lost her feigned disinterest, and her head snapped back to the Speaker.
The Lumar rep raised his hand, “Willful misapp—the what?”
The Speaker smiled, and Nigel realized the Lumar made the perfect foil. As they were less intelligent than most races, all the Speaker had to do was use large words or complicated phrasing and the Lumar rep would set the Speaker up for his next point. While Nigel could appreciate how the Speaker used the Lumar for that reason, having worked with the Lumar, Nigel thought the Speaker’s gambit disrespectful to the Lumar rep. While not overly bright, the Lumar were incredibly loyal.
“Willful misappropriation. The Veetanho commander at the front lines sent back a contingent of Biruda to aid in the defense of Earth. While this unit was away, the Kahraman claimed another system and moved closer to the galactic core. Once they get there, they will be able to spread throughout the galaxy, and we will no longer be able to hold them off.”
“So that’s where they came from!” Nigel said. “We had no records of them, then they popped in and destroyed a number of our forces before unexpectedly leaving again.”
“I dispute that any of these events happened,” the Veetanho rep replied. “I have yet to see any proof.”
“I have the proof,” the Speaker replied. “The request from Peepo to pull them from the front lines was on Seezo’s slate, as well as the orders to the Front for them to detach. As such, the loss of the planet is solely due to Veetanho misappropriation, and reparations are due to the Katrong, whose system was lost.”
“What about reparations to us?” Nigel asked, his temper rising. “If the Biruda were there illegally, anything they did would be the Veetanho’s responsibility, too, right?”
“Bah, you stupid Human,” the Veetanho rep replied. “The next thing you’ll be looking for is reparations for the entire conflict, even though it was sanctioned by the guild.”
“As a matter of fact, yes, we would like to be compensated,” Nigel said. “We did nothing to warrant—”
“What? Like one hundred million credits?”
“Sure. That would be a good—”
“Done,” the Veetanho interrupted. She sat back with a smile on her face. “We will pay the Humans one hundred million credits to settle all the damages from the conflict.”
“Wait!” Nigel said. “I was going to say that would be a good start, not that it would be the final payment for the war!”
The Veetanho rep turned toward the Speaker. “Let the record reflect that the Human representative replied in the affirmative when I offered one hundred million credits as reparations for the war.”
“Wait!” Nigel exclaimed again. He looked to Alexis for help, but she shook her head and rolled her eyes. It was already too late. A sick feeling came over him as he realized he’d singlehandedly just cost Earth hundreds of billions—maybe even trillions—of credits.
“That is what the record indicates,” the Speaker replied, “and—as distasteful as I find it—I am going to have to agree with the Veetanho rep that an offer was made and accepted.”
The Veetanho sat back in her seat. “Stupid Human,” she muttered. “So easy to manipulate.”
A red haze covered Nigel’s vision, and he fumed, unable to concentrate on the discussion as he worked to control his temper. By the time he had, the discussion had left the reparations due to the Katrong and had moved on. Nigel forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths, and he vowed to not let the Veetanho take advantage of him again.
“I would like to propose an independent fact-finding mission to go to the Front and find out the true status of the ongoing conflict,” the Speaker was saying. “Unfortunately, due to the nature of the hostilities, the ship that is sent will have to be modified to survive in that environment and, as such, must remain as part of the forces engaged in the war.”
The Bakulu raised a pseudopod. “We volunteer a cruiser, along with crew, for this mission. As the war is primarily space-based, we are well-equipped to evaluate the current state of hostilities.”
“All in favor?” the speaker asked. Everyone but the Veetanho indicated assent, and—since the Veetanho seemed to be against it—Nigel raised his hand as well.
“Very well,” the Speaker replied. “Your proposal is accepted. You are authorized to send a cruiser to Lacabo Prime to get it modified for the front lines. A contract will be forthcoming from the guild for this mission.”
Nigel looked over to Alexis, who shook her head and then shrugged; she had obviously never heard of the system, either.
The Oogar representative raised a paw and was recognized. “I would like to make a motion that we break for lunch.”
Several heads—and other parts of the representatives’ anatomy, where appropriate—nodded around the table. “That is a good morning’s work,” the Speaker said. “In fact, I would like a little more time to go over some of the things Seezo left behind for me. Let’s adjourn until tomorrow morning, same time. Any disagreement?” He paused for a couple of heartbeats and then said, “Done. See you tomorrow.”
The representatives all got up to leave, as did the members in the audience. Nigel flagged down the Bakulu representative. “Hey, Tegalpooka, do you have a minute?”
One of the alien’s eye stalks turned back to regard Nigel. “Yes?”
“I was curious about that system…Lacabo Prime? Neither Colonel Cromwell nor myself have ever heard of it before, and I was wondering what the Speaker meant about being modified for the front lines.”
“It is very simple. Warfare on the front lines with the Kahraman is very different than what we practice here. They have access to additional weapons they can use.”
“Wait…additional weapons? Like what?”
“Like the meson weapons the Biruda used against the battleships under the command of Admiral Galantrooka in the Battle of Earth. That was most unfair.”
“Wait. How do you know about that?”
“I, of course, read the after-action reports put together by our survivors. If we don’t study battles that happened in the past, how else are we to not repeat them in the future?”
“Good point, but how is it that Admiral Galantrooka didn’t know about the meson weapons?”
“That is quite simple. Need to know. Most people are happier fighting the normal battles we fight without knowing advanced weaponry exists. Therefore, it was decided a long time ago to limit access to information about the weapons which we are forbidden to use, outside of battle with the Kahraman.”
“So…there are Bakulu ships that are armed like the Biruda ships we fought?”
“Only a few, as our race has not been responsible for fighting the war. You will never see them, though, because once a ship is modified, it has to go to the front lines and remain there until destroyed. Sadly, for our ships, that normally hasn’t taken very long.”
“But what about the crew?”
“They must remain there, too. We wouldn’t want word of the weapons getting out. Then there would be a big rush for everyone to get them, then mass killings as those who had them wiped out those who did not. Warfare is much more civilized this way.”
“So, killing people by the dozens or hundreds is more civilized than killing them by the thousands or millions? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Of course,” Tegalpooka replied. “Do you dispute this?”
“Well, I guess society will endure longer if you do it that way, anyway.”
“Is that all?” the Bakulu asked.
“Well, no, not really. Can you tell me any more about Lacabo Prime?”
“Well, if you understand everything I just said, there’s nothing left to tell. Lacabo Prime is where ships are modified to fight in the war.”
“Modified? Modified how?”
“With the new weapons. How do you suppose the meson weapons get on the ships?”
“Well, we install weapons as part of the manufacturing process.”
“Sure you do…for your run-of-the-mill weapons. But how do you think the advanced weapons—like the Biruda used against us on Earth—get installed? Where do you think those came from? Have you ever seen tech like that before?”
“No, never.” He shrugged. “Okay, I’ll bite. Where do they come from?”
“Those get fitted out at the Weapons Conglomerate manufactories.”
“The Weapons—the what?”
“The Weapons Conglomerate. It is a sub-guild that is responsible for one thing—adding advanced weapons to certain ships.”
Nigel smiled. “How do I get them added to my ship?”
“In a word? You don’t. Like I said, only ships going to the Front get them.”
“Where is this Weapons Conglomerate? Lacabo Prime? Where is that?”
“I don’t know, nor do I know anyone else who does. The Weapons Conglomerate is a subsidiary of the Science Guild, like the Unified Credit Exchange is part of the Information Guild. When the contract comes out to support the conflict at the Front, it includes the coordinates to where Lacabo Prime is. Anyone who passes on the coordinates will be terminated.”
Nigel looked to Alexis, who was standing nearby. “And you thought the security to get to New Warsaw was tough.” He turned back to the Bakulu. “The Science Guild runs it, huh?”
“Yes.”
“And no one else ever goes there?”
“Never.”
“Well…shit.”
* * *
Visitors’ Quarters, Merc Guild Headquarters, Capital Planet
“You know, there’s an awful lot of shit that goes on that we never got the memo about,” Nigel said when they got back to their quarters.
“Which part? The major war going on with the Kahraman? The fact that there’s technology we don’t have? The fact that, ‘Everything is on the GalNet’ was a bunch of lies?”
Nigel smiled. “Yeah, pretty much all of that. I wonder what else we haven’t been told. It’s like I’m sitting here waiting for the other shoe to drop, and then it drops, and then another and another, like I’m dealing with some sort of Tortantula. There are a whole lot more legs—and shoes—than there ought to be.”
“Yeah, it’s easy to become overwhelmed…and settle your planet’s debts for pennies on the dollar, as the old saying goes.”
Nigel looked down at the floor, sighed, then looked back up with a crooked smile. “Yeah, that wasn’t my finest moment. On the good side, though, at least I didn’t strangle the Veetanho next to me. My abilities in the alien relations’ department are improving.”
“If that’s what you want—”
The door chimed, interrupting her, indicating a visitor. Nigel crossed to the door and opened it. “Thorb, is that you? What are you doing here?”
The otter-like individual swaggered into the room. “Nice room,” the SalSha said. “It’s a lot better than mine. I guess this must be what colonels get. Lieutenant colonels only get a small room in the sub-basement.”
“You got promoted?” Alexis asked. “Congratulations.”
Thorb smiled. “Well, sort of. I’m not actually here to represent the Golden Horde; I’m here to represent the SalSha. I didn’t think the rank of major would get any respect, but with less than a company’s-worth of SalSha pilots remaining, it was hard to take the rank of colonel.”
“Represent the SalSha?” Nigel asked. “Represent them for what?”
“Union membership, of course.” Thorb cocked his head and looked at Nigel. “You didn’t think we would remain your minions forever, did you?”
“Well, I…uh…I guess I never really thought about it.”
“The only way we will receive status in the Union—and protection from annihilation—is to be recognized by the Galactic Union. As it looked like the easiest way was to get sponsorship from the Merc Guild—and we didn’t really have anything meaningful to contribute besides mercenary forces and grahp meat—here I am.”
“Welcome,” Nigel replied, trying to fight down the blush from his earlier response. He never would have conceived of blushing to a talking otter…yet, here he was.
“It’s good to have you here,” Alexis said, covering for him. “As it turns out, we may be able to help with your membership.”
“Oh?” Thorb asked, turning to look inquisitively at Alexis. “How’s that? I thought I had to petition the Inner Council or something like that.”
“Well…as it turns out, we were made members of the Inner Council. I don’t know how it works, but we ought to be able to sponsor you…once we figure out how to do it. Are you here by yourself?”
“Yes. I sent the second-ranking member of our society with the ships Sansar loaned us to get more of our people. If we are to be a mercenary organization, we will need more members in order to take on contracts.”
