The Turquoise Queen, page 21
part #1 of Coalition Series
"Since our situation seems to elude some of you, I imagined a clever visual metaphor might be helpful." He turned to the regent. "You have Irlestria's support."
After that, the speaker from Nill agreed to listen to the details of what she had to say. The green-feathered patriarch of clan Lenidra followed suit.
"My people demonstrated their commitment to the Rageris' defeat when we seceded from the Empire." Corhadriam, who'd been a silent observer, decided it was a good moment to reiterate his position. "The Sencris-Aquatic Republic is with you to the end!"
"Some twigs are easier to break." It was the yellow and dark orange leader of clan Meveda. Nomads with no world to call their own. Nearly as adept at piracy as their Neltlis counterparts. "Our ships are our homes. We will not throw them into a war we cannot win."
"We're not asking you to." The president of Tcheerp responded. "Only those ships you can spare, the ones your people already employ in your more unsavory enterprises."
He caught a glimpse of disapproval from Erchtria. One that said she hadn't liked his tone, that this was not the time or place to point out that clan Meveda were criminals.
"Frankly, I'm more interested in your expertise than your guns, patriarch," she added quickly, massaging the ego of a man she saw as a glorified warlord. "No one knows how to fight a better-equipped enemy than the Eletlim."
Shiredveeari suppressed a chuckle. Raiac transports and frigates had been that better-equipped enemy on numerous occasions. Aside from the more civilized Lenidra, the Eletlim had a history of defying the odds and playing dirty. Asking for their support felt no better than bargaining with Galxij guerrillas. But it was necessary.
The compliment worked on the Neltlis patriarch. With a firm nod and a spreading of wings, he declared his adhesion to the cause. Peer pressure, or warrior's honor, ensured Meveda did the same. In return, the regent mimicked the gesture with her arms.
Rajendra Holt adjusted his blue tie and wiped the sweat from his brow with a wrinkly hand.
"Alright, regent Kreshalti. I will listen to the terms of your proposed alliance. However, keep in mind that my first priority is to protect my people's interests and safety." His voice was gruff and quick. He paused, looked around at the others. "I am sure I speak for all who are gathered here, even you."
A crucial victory for Erchtria, as his was the third largest military represented in the room. Only the Bruzon-Dunvortog Combine had not manifested any interest. Both its representatives had yet to utter a word, in fact. But she didn't expect them to. That was a conversation for later, off the record.
"You may be wondering why I arranged for this meeting to take place here, in this exact meeting room." All eyes were on Erchtria, anticipating a continuation of the speech the Earthling had interrupted. Thin gold chains and a jeweled bracelet slid down her arm as she raised her hand towards the transparent dome overhead. It was the middle of the space station's minutes long day. "A lot of reasons, but the most important was the view."
Another reason was climate control. In an orbital facility, it was easier to find accommodations for members of several species, should the need arise. She also wanted the leaders of other worlds to experience a hint of danger, as her home system was the primary target of the Rageris' campaign.
Above all, however, she wanted them to look at that particular view. She pointed, across the chasm of space, at the ancient habitat outside. Minuscule next to the modern giants surrounding it, yet still visible. In fact, from this angle, the semicircular arrangement of the other habitats looked ceremonial, as if they were bowing in honor of their ancient predecessor.
"There, in the distance. That collection of interconnected white cylinders and wide, glinting solar panels. Hopelessly outdated, hazardous. That is Saint Veshirra. The original one. My ancestors built that after the unification, thousands of years ago. The faithful have been restoring and preserving it ever since." Her pedipalps tilted up as she spoke. "It survived the first Sencris Empire, even the Scourge. A symbol of unity!"
Emotion visible on her face, she paused. Shiredveeari, who knew her kind best, saw it was genuine, as did all the others. The history itself, the weight of the challenges facing her, were more than sufficient to make her emotional.
"Unity is what I hope to build here," Erchtria continued, arms spread to encompass her audience, eyes measuring if their moods were favorable. "An alliance not just to defeat Senchrien, because I assure you we will defeat them. Beyond that. United, we are a power to be reckoned with. Today and in the future."
She spent the following hours exposing a blueprint. While the threat from the Sencris was a recent, terrible catalyst, it was clear the design had been in the making since her teens, for all its complexity, all the time and effort she had poured into it.
The image of the galaxy changed several times, into maps, schematics, graphs, and pictures, to illustrate her words. Aside from joint military operations, there were intricate, long-term plans for integration of finances, commerce, borders. She made it clear, however, that there was no need to negotiate those, for now. Those were just seeds of ideas. She took advantage of a favorable moment to plant them, hoping they'd germinate later, once the shadow of invasion no longer loomed over them all.
At the end of a Raichr day, each representative retired to their quarters to rest. Most went back to their starships. They'd remain in orbit for the following days, reconvening multiple times to hammer out the specifics of a treaty.
Shiredveeari and Erchtria were the last to leave the room. The Dunvortog representative stayed behind too, his holographic projector still active. Less than half a meter tall, he climbed on the table and walked across it, to address the regent and the president eye to eye.
"We have a proposition for you, mutually beneficial." His speedy voice had an unexpected low pitch. "We cannot take official part in what you're trying to build here. The Actonertalic Federation has declared neutrality, we must adhere to that."
Shiredveeari recalled the regent's account of her bad day with Katrim Nmai. "Sitting helpless in that aseptic white room, twirling a fancy vial of Mapva between my fingers." Those had been her words. She nodded once, to signal that she understood their position.
"An unfortunate decision to be sure. With Thlacton on your side, this would have been a very short war." It was another voice. Slow, artificial. Infrasound transmuted into audible words. It came from the face in the projector. In hologram form, the Bruzon was small. In real life, she was four times as wide as the Raiac was tall.
"We can provide unofficial assistance. Just like Nmai himself must've promised." The tiny man continued after his associate, smirking. "We are prepared to lend twenty mechanized squadrons to your cause. On the record, they would be hired mercenaries, without any affiliation with our government."
They had discussed this and were prepared to accept. Any help counted. The representatives' tone, however, made clear they expected something in return. No point being coy about it.
"Thank you for your generous contribution," Erchtria said. "Is there anything Sharizinar might do to repay you?"
"You would just need to pay these mercenaries well." The Bruzon's answer came quick. "Beyond that, consider this a gesture of goodwill to an ally."
"So we'll owe you one," the president of Tcheerp thought to himself, but said nothing. That was an issue for another time. With luck, he might even leave it for his successor to handle.
"Have their commander contact our admiralty," he said with a smile, bending the legs of his suit to give the pair a small bow. The regent repeated the gesture.
The Dunvortog leaped from the table, landing smoothly beside him on three limbs, while the fourth held up the projector.
"I will not be staying for the remainder of the negotiations. It would draw unwanted attention. My apologies." He motioned to leave. The hologram interrupted him.
"Besides, floating in this encounter suit any longer would be very uncomfortable." The Bruzon was joking, but it was easy to tell that having the meeting in a small, confined space had truly inconvenienced her.
Hours earlier, a civilian vessel had emerged near Saint Veshirra. It was angular and graphite colored, nearly as long as Corhadriam's dreadnought, and much wider. A massive core aperture took up all of its aft, giving it the silhouette of a slim, hexagonal torus. On its side, in mustard, the Actonertalic letters "I" and "V," with reddish pink margins over a dark purple background. The logo of Idao-Vedaulken Shipping.
After retrieving its diminutive second passenger, the Bruzon senator's encounter suit flew into the transit ship's range. Both soon disappeared in an opalescent flash of light.
* * *
The Eletlim patriarchs also disliked low ceilings and confinement. In a separate room, they took a moment to convene before going their separate ways. The room was by the building's private docks, with a wide window overlooking their anchored, crescent-shaped corvettes. Parked next to them, the sinuous Nihailon vessel, its metal-glass surface refracting sunlight in awkward angles.
"I went along with you two in there. Against my better judgment," Meveda spoke. "Tell me, what can we possibly gain by entering a war that doesn't concern us?"
"There are plenty of hubs between us and the frontlines. Even if the Sencris win, they'll be busy for decades taking over this and the other big, relevant star systems, before coming after us. My world, and your rock collections, are perfectly safe." Lenidra's tone was conciliatory, despite the jab at his less fortunate peers. "Joining their alliance costs us little, and earns us their favor."
In the distance, a formation of Raiac frigates came into view, the silver filigree on their wings glinting in the dusk light, above the station's spiraling skyline and the vast blue crescent of Raichr. The void always tempted Eletlim to spread their own wings, to soar into its limitless expanse. An insane sentiment which crawled out from under their crests whenever they stared at such a view.
"Can you not see the opportunity this represents?" The Neltlis patriarch followed the three warships with his great grey eyes until they moved out of view. He was by far the oldest of the three, with small patches of mottled skin showing under his thinning plumage. He turned to face Meveda, and away from Lenidra. "If we win..."
"The odds are not good," the yellow and dark orange man interrupted. "Even if everyone in that room flies together, the Empire still has the largest fleet."
"If we win," Neltlis insisted, ignoring that pessimist observation. Numbers did not ensure triumph. He had many years of experience at proving that. "There will be spoils. What is the one thing we don't have, that the Sencris have too much of?"
Meveda's four black, interlocking mandibles parted slightly as, in his head, he began to piece together the elder patriarch's long-term objective. It would be difficult. It would require much war and negotiation. Even after conquered, it would require perpetual vigilance to maintain. But it was possible.
"A world," he whispered.
"Mountains, vast fields of silvery grass, blue skies to fly in. A warm wind on our feathers. How long has it been?" Neltlis spread his red and orange wings to take in imaginary updrafts.
"Too long." Meveda mirrored the gesture in agreement.
They both turned back to the window, contemplating the vast blue oceans and islands far below. The patriarch of Lenidra smiled to himself. Whatever far-fetched objective guided his peers did not matter. They were in agreement. The three stayed there a while longer, enjoying the open space.
* * *
Shiredveeari left the meeting room a little before Erchtria. He went into the lobby, interrupting a heated conversation between his head of security and Fercharst. From what he gathered, the two were debating if their skills were being utilized to their fullest. "The girl's like family to me, but still, sometimes I feel like a glorified bouncer," he heard the Raiac say, before they noticed his presence and went into respectful silence. The other entourages had already left.
The four guards who had escorted him in approached, reporting for duty. He informed them he'd be returning to the hotel for the evening. Back the way they'd come. The captain acknowledged the order, keeping a straight face. Before turning to leave, however, he spared Fercharst a glance that said he was not happy at all to have to, again, protect a high-value asset in the middle of a crowded public space. She gave him a sympathetic smile in return.
The main plaza was emptier now. Despite living in orbit, Saint Veshirra's denizens still adhered to the planet's day and night cycle, for their biologic functions' sakes. Fewer passersby under the statue's shadow, fewer suspicious hands for the guards to keep track of.
It was dark when they took the monorail this time. Artificial light dotted Raichr's islands, in the few places where the underground cities' tunnels opened into the surface. From this far above, it seemed a sparsely populated world, rather than the thriving capital of an interstellar civilization.
In the monorail, the president made a quick call. He smiled after turning off the communicator.
Soon they were back to that first train station, the megastructure's branch where they'd started their day. Most of the shops were closed, their neons and windows dark. Others had just opened their doors. Raiacs and visiting land dwellers of a dozen or more species formed small groups around these. They sat on stools or foldable chairs and tables, sipping colorful drinks, eating finger food and talking loud. Ambient illumination had been dimmed to emulate a street at night. Unlike in the station's main plaza, with its glass dome ceiling, here there was no natural light to disrupt this illusion.
From there, a short walk to the hotel, then up the elevator to the suite. At the door he parted ways with his guards, who skittered away to their rooms, eager to remove their military exoskeletons. Other guards on the same floor would take their place for the night shift, ready to act in seconds if necessary.
The president passed through the airlock, undressing from his encounter suit in the process. He bent his tail to one side, then the other, flexing its muscles. They were stiff from disuse. He felt the cold water on his exoskeleton, swam around a little.
Then he accessed a control panel on the wall, tapped in a couple instructions. The bluish lights grew less dim. Just bright enough for a diurnal creature to see their way around. The water pressure began to lower, from a comfortable one-kilometer depth to a tolerable ten meters. Too much exposure to the shallows would make a Tcheerazeen dizzy, even kill him. But a few hours would be fine. At the same time, it was shallow enough that a surface dweller could stay there without any special equipment. It also got warmer.
The doorbell rang. After confirming who it was, he unlocked it. A light turquoise Raiac woman swam in. Not much younger than the regent, she wasn't clad in her kind's usual opulent jewelry or flowing skirt. Those would've been a nuisance underwater, dragging and floating about. Instead she wore high waist, form-fitting red pants, with holes near the joints, where her exoskeleton's pointier bits jutted out, and plain platinum ocular masks and bracelets. A breathing mask covered her mouth, and her shoes had retractable fins.
"Shired-zah!" She exclaimed, arms open to embrace him.
"Thriaf!" He wrapped her thin body with his, stroking her face with a long finger. "Missed you."
They stayed like that for a long time until, wordless, both loosened their grip, floated apart just a little, holding on to each other's mismatched hands.
"You make history today?"
"Yeah, I think we got them all." He felt a tinge of disbelief saying it aloud. From pirates to pacifists, he and Erchtria had convinced them all to work together. With a little help. He remembered Nuhdi Mirmaian and his speech. He would have to tell her about the chain-smoking Irlestur later. "But it'll be a long negotiation. We'll be up here for many, many days."
Both smiled at that prospect as they swam together to the bedroom.
"Liking Saint Veshirra?" He asked.
"It's amazing up here. Not like Raichr at all. Not like a planet in general. So many different people walking around, so many aliens." She lingered on that last word, sliding a hand to his left side, dragging her sharpened fingertips along his translucent exoskeleton.
He coiled around her legs, tighter this time.
* * *
The interim emperor of the Sencris-Aquatic Republic returned to his new flagship. A cutting-edge dreadnought, in orbit near the archipelago of Saint Veshirra. It would remain parked there for the duration of the negotiations. The maritime predators adorning its prow had been replaced by ones indigenous to Illuminated Ocean. In place of the long-muzzled, horned serpent with rows of sharp teeth, a typical motif on Sencris vessels, a beaked, fuzzy, many-tentacled leviathan had been etched.
He relieved himself of his encounter suit still in the shuttle, replacing it with a golden helm and shoulder pads. Formal wear, because his work of the day was not complete. There was one more person he needed to talk to.
Corhadriam proceeded to his lavish cabin. A very augmented version of the standard captain's quarters, complete with a small, separate room for official transmissions. It contained a more modest version of his seat in the capital, with a faithful replica of one of the throne room's murals in the background. This mural showed a Sencris and an Aquatic exchanging greetings, with a vista of Scarlet Reef in the background. It had been selected for duplication from among scores of depictions of imperial triumph and military prowess. "One of few artworks in this decadent palace to accurately portray our new, egalitarian relationship with the Aquatic people." He'd described it like that to reporters, upon presenting the replica to the public.
He sat down and used the warship's powerful secure transmitters to make a call. The signal didn't have to travel far. On the screen in front of him, Erchtria's face appeared. She was sitting in a room not too different from his, aboard the Ctriashiat. Behind her, a stained glass window margined by delicate silver filigree. It containing depicted two winged, colorful chitinous creatures, in flight above a blue forest. Nirchreis, birds of prey from her homeworld's jungles.
