The Turquoise Queen, page 39
part #1 of Coalition Series
The window glass went opaque, while part of another wall lit up to reveal a screen. The main event. On the screen, Erchtria Kreshalti and the Earthling president stood side by side on a podium, about to address what must be a large crowd. Behind them, as if waiting for their turn, a diverse cast of other heads of state, some accompanied by their top aides, sat in a neat row of different shaped chairs, or on the spindly legs of their encounter suits.
"My friends, today we have victory!" She began, to cheers from the crowd.
A handful of Actonertalic senators sat on the front rows, no doubt, next to rulers of individual planets and other high ranking dignitaries. By all rights, Katrim Nmai should have been there in person. Given his people's limited participation in the war, however, he'd found it more prudent, more diplomatic to send, in his stead, someone whose presence could not be found insulting. A trio of the war apologists who'd protested, in a public senate hearing, his decision to keep the Federation out of the conflict. Nmai had chosen to watch this from a safe distance, as he had watched the war itself.
"When their dreadnoughts filled our skies, and their soldiers slithered through our streets, we did not cower. We fought with all we had. Though the odds were never in our favor, despite heavy costs, we have driven back tyranny, together!"
The event was being held in a large urban park, with lush greenery surrounding the stage and, in the distance, the towering facades of Earthling arcologies. Behind the rows of chairs for dignitaries, stood a crowd of mostly local citizens.
Erchtria and her allies had selected a fitting place for their victory speech. This was where the invasion had hit in full force. This was a world whose skies had, indeed, been filled by enemy warships. So it made perfect sense that the Coalition's triumph be celebrated in one of Earth's largest cities. For Nmai, it felt satisfying to see the result of his investments.
"We shall not soon forget the lives lost in battle, in this very star system. Or the citizens of Sirpratl, slaughtered with vile brutality." Her voice faltered at that, her pedipalps tilted in obvious anguish. "We will rebuild what was destroyed. And, united in the Coalition, we will make sure that such crimes can never be committed again."
News from Sirpratl had spread across the galaxy by now. Fearing the shame they would face at home, the local occupation forces had refused orders from Senchrien to retreat. Instead, they had engaged the Sharizinar Alliance fleet sent to retake the planet, in a suicidal last stand.
Hopelessly outnumbered, knowing defeat to be imminent, the Sencris commander had ordered his dreadnoughts to turn their weapons from the enemy warships to the planet's major urban centers. He'd been acting on instructions from his late predecessor, it turned out. To the horror of the galaxy at large, several of his captains had obeyed. Though most of the torpedoes had been intercepted, too many had still made it to the surface. When the battle in orbit was over, millions of Raiacs and Tcheerazeens were dead, and several of Sirpratl's cities lay in ruins.
That alone was plenty of reason for a leader to express grief. But Nmai knew the matter to be more personal than that, for the regent. From his sources, he knew she had lost someone close on Sirpratl.
After a moment of solemn silence, Erchtria glanced backward for a moment, at Corhadriam. An Aquatic stood next to him. The old woman he'd appointed as governor of Illuminated Ocean, who'd helped facilitate his rise to power.
"Yet, for all the damage the Empire has wrought, we must not grow to hate the Sencris people," she continued. "Even as their brethren on Sirpratl committed mass murder, the imperial captains and soldiers here on Earth chose to leave in peace, despite knowing they'd be branded as cowards. And we owe a special debt of gratitude to our allies of the Sencris-Aquatic Republic. Because, when the time came to make the choice, these brave people stood in defense of freedom and justice, even when it meant taking up arms against their own kind."
She raised a hand in the air, while gesturing at Corhadriam with the other. Encouraging the audience to share in her conciliatory sentiment.
In the meeting hall, aboard the Tolitan Industries shipyard, a pair of antennae coiled around Nmai's, for a moment. They belonged to his longtime partner, the senator from Actonerelt. The old woman embraced him, and let out a mournful sigh.
"It's a shame she's wrong, isn't it Katrim?"
He looked back at her with fondness. All that talk about the few Sencris who had done the right thing. They both knew it to be an illusion. As long as it was allowed to exist, the Empire would always be a threat. However, like the Idao-Vedaulken director had pointed out, it had all gone better than expected, the war. Better than his analysts' most optimistic projections, in fact.
"Yes, a shame," he said with a sideways smile.
On the screen, after finishing her speech, Erchtria Kreshalti ceded the podium to president Holt. He was accompanied on the stage by his new secretary of state, Natalie Kadomodo, the woman who, he claimed, had convinced him to keep fighting to reclaim their homeworld. The Actonertalic senator knew that to be a half-truth at best, but it was the end result that counted.
They would all have their moment to speak. Nmai had a good idea of how it would go. The representative from the hives of Nill, for instance, would lament that there had been a war at all, as if that was not obvious enough already. The Eletlim patriarchs would gently remind all those present of their need for a habitable planet to call home, of how one could be wrung from the Empire, once talks for a peace treaty began.
And so on. Katrim Nmai's interest began to wane. He turned to the still opaque window and what lay just outside. To his own vision of the future.
* * *
Natalie Kadomodo lay down on the beach, took off her sandals and dug her feet into the sand. Fine, white sand, green-leaved palm trees, a sunny blue sky and ocean. All so very earthly, yet so foreign. She had grown up under a dim red sun. For years afterward, she had lived on a world of red beaches and endless, neon-lit seas. Yet white sand, yellow sun and green leaves felt familiar all the same.
Another figure walked up to her, sharp, turquoise toe tips leaving a clear trail in the sand behind her. It had been a short pod flight from the city to get here. Despite being off the beaten path, on a regular summer day this shoreline would have its share of tourists. Today everyone was too busy elsewhere, celebrating.
Erchtria sat beside the Earthling, taking a moment to enjoy the view, to listen to the waves' soft ebb and flow. In the distance, a small group of people talked loud, and a couple watched their kids play in the water. Aside from that, they were alone.
The official speeches had concluded a little while ago. Earth had been declared free of Sencris occupation. The war was over, galactic leaders of all shapes and sizes had declared. It was only the beginning of a process. They still had to open official communication lines with the Empire, to negotiate a peace treaty. After that, hopefully, they would move on to elaborate agreements between the Coalition's member states, to begin further integrating their economies and militaries. To make official what Erchtria had proposed at Saint Veshirra. She looked forward to that long, intricate effort.
For the moment, the two could afford a break, to soak in the sun. Natalie hadn't spoken at the podium herself. She didn't need to. Being on that stage, next to the president as he declared victory, had been enough for now. Enough to get pundits mentioning her name on the news.
She'd become high profile. More than ever, she could not afford to be seen talking to the likes of Three Purple Screams, her old friend from Illuminated Ocean. Except she had also received a promotion, to a high ranking position in an allied power. So they had talked recently, one government official to another.
Natalie had made the call from her hotel room, using the secure communicator more out of habit than anything else. The assassin had thanked her for making good on her promise. The contract on Four Curved Daggers had, indeed, proven to be a sound long-term investment. This new job, the Aquatic had exclaimed with glee, allowed her to do what she did best out in the open, with the government's backing. A luxury very few in her line of work had. Better than any cash payment.
After that brief chat, the Earthling had changed from her formalwear into a coral bathing suit and shades, and headed to the beach, safe in the knowledge that her old friend would not be coming after her with a sniper rifle.
It took her a while to acknowledge the regent's presence, though not for any particular reason. After all that had happened in the past few days, under such scorching weather, acting in slow motion felt almost unavoidable.
"Regent," She said with mock formality.
"Madam secretary," Erchtria retorted in the same tone. "Congratulations on your new position. Maybe people should act behind their leaders' backs more often."
She laid her head down on the sand too.
"Holt had to reward me," Natalie said with a smirk. "It was the only way he could pretend rejoining the Coalition fleet was his idea."
"You agreed to this?"
"As long as he keeps giving me credit for it, sure."
After Earth's invasion, the president had withdrawn his support of the Coalition, and was about to begin peace talks with the Empire. Fortunately, a resourceful former ambassador to a Sencris colony had gotten a hold of him first. Through her long experience living amongst the enemy, she had persuaded him to stay in the fight instead. After the homeworld's liberation, Rajendra Holt had rewarded this ambassador, for her role and obvious skills, with the position she now held. That was the official story, and it suited Natalie just fine.
"Thank you for what you did," Erchtria said. "We couldn't have won without your people."
Natalie knew how much of an exaggeration that was. The Earthling forces had played an important role in the Battle of Zalooridar, but not a decisive one. Far from it. Except she remembered hearing about how close the Ctriashiat had come to being destroyed. Maybe those extra torpedoes and drones she'd secured had made the difference between Erchtria surviving or not.
"Nonsense," she said despite that thought, "you would've managed just fine. I saw the reports. Everything went exactly the way you planned."
At that, contentment drained away from the Raiac's face. They stayed quiet for a long while, until the silence between them grew loud, until it drowned out the waves and far off chatter. Erchtria had something stuck in her throat, yet could not find the right words to express it.
"I lost someone on Sirpratl," she said at last. "Irshte, my head of security, she was in the capital during the bombardment."
Natalie tilted her head to the side, to get a look at Erchtria. Were she an Earthling, there would be tears running down her cheeks. And she saw guilt there too.
"I know you sent her to Sirpratl, and why you did it." She sounded dispassionate. "I am so sorry, but you made the right call. The Sencris would not have believed anyone else."
At that, Erchtria turned to face her too, crimson eyes studying her of a sudden, wondering how she'd learned all of that, and what else she might know.
"I am building a network of informants, like the one I used to have on Illuminated Ocean," Natalie continued with renewed satisfaction. "Since I'll be living here on Earth for the foreseeable future, it seemed like a good idea."
The two lay back again, eyes closed, listening to the waves, feeling the sunlight. Both thinking of relatives and loved ones lost in battle. That silence began growing loud again.
"What matters is we won," Erchtria declared. "Neither of us shall have to make this sort of choice again in our lifetimes."
* * *
With a brusque hand wave, the Rageris turned off the throne room's holographic projector. The image of that stage in a park on Earth dissolved, replaced by the familiar high relief murals of scenes from Senchrien's history.
The Raiac regent had just finished speaking. She'd made a point of exulting the traitors from Illuminated Ocean, and the cowards who'd fled Earth instead of fighting to the end. Her words felt like a final, personal slight against him. Against everything he represented.
Most troubling of all, the orders to retreat, issued to all occupation forces, had not come from his person. Someone, members of the Ree no doubt, had decided to take matters into their own hands, to subvert the Rageris' will. And, aside from those on Sirpratl, all his admirals had followed these illegitimate orders without question.
As for the atrocities perpetrated by his people on Sirpratl, on any other tide the emperor would never have sanctioned them. To fight to the death was noble, yes, but to massacre helpless civilians went against all the Sencris stood for. They were a force for order and civilization in the galaxy, the heirs to Sankhron. Not mindless savages.
Now, however, Flameridrail caught himself approving of their fanaticism. He wished every other occupation force had had the courage to do the same, to scorch worlds and immolate themselves in the Empire's name. The sentiment lasted for only a second. Just long enough for him to realize how disgusting it was. He covered his face with his hands, and let out a long, pained growl.
His armada lay in ruins, its wreckage orbiting Zalooridar or burning in its atmosphere. His ambitions for a renewed, galaxy-spanning Sencris Empire had been crushed once again, in catastrophic fashion.
He recomposed himself, bracing for the monumental challenge ahead. He must convince both the Sankhron Ree and his people that he was still a worthy ruler. That he would be able to conduct the peace negotiations and save them from this crisis of his own making. He had done it before. He had secured the Takltlima treaty after the long, great war with the Actonertalics.
But he knew this tide was different. That war had ended in a stalemate, the result of two evenly matched superpowers wearing each other down to exhaustion. This tide, he faced total defeat. Worse, he thought, remembering his brief conversations with Katrim Nmai. This time, the Sencris had a mighty, unharmed adversary who might be willing to finish what the Coalition had started.
Flameridrail looked at one of the murals. The one where a high priestess emerged from the Cathedral's ruins, after the Scourge. She had the Shard of the Eye of Sankhron clutched in her hands, and hope on her face. That priestess had become empress, and led her kind into their second golden age. He could do that as well, overcome adversity, rise from the ashes.
At that moment, the throne room's heavy doors slid open, though he had locked them before watching the transmission from Earth. Just outside, the armored silhouettes of two elite soldiers. In swam an old, familiar face, his dark copper scales worn to a matte finish. This man had entered into the priesthood after a short stint as colonial viceroy. Through cunning rather than charms, he had climbed its ranks to the top. Still, his devotion to the Empire was beyond question. In the system Flameridrail used to categorize the high priests of the Ree, this one fell, without a doubt, among the zealots. The ones who truly believed the Sencris to be the heirs of Sankhron, destined to rule the galaxy. He had been one of the first to support his invasion plans. At nearly ten thousand tides of age, he was also the Ree's oldest living member.
The old man swam up to the throne, and greeted the Rageris with the appropriate solemnity, despite having trespassed into the inner sanctum without his consent. He held a small, rectangular box in his hands.
"Your eminence," he began in a small, frail voice. "I hope you can forgive us. This decision I must convey to you, the Ree did not come to it lightly."
The old man extended his thin, faltering hands, presenting his ruler with the rectangular box. Flameridrail took it, removed the lid. Inside was a very shiny, very sharp dagger.
"We ask of you this final service to your people, your eminence," the old man continued. "You have made grave mistakes. Terrible mistakes. Please, allow someone new to repair them."
The emperor recoiled, a horrified look on his face, struggling to believe what they demanded of him. He held out the dagger in a defensive stance, half expecting the guards outside to march in at any moment.
"No. No, I will not! I will lead us out of this crisis, as I did in the past. I will not do what you are asking!"
He threatened the old man with the weapon he'd just been given, to no effect. To deliver this message, the Ree had sent someone who'd lived long enough to be unafraid of death.
"Understand, your eminence," the old man said, shaking his head. "If you don't do it yourself, come next tide, someone else will. Be it a blade in the dark, a tainted meal, or a ship engine's malfunction, someone else will. Then, to a fanatic minority, you will become a martyr. It will only cause the Sencris people more suffering. And you, your eminence, have caused them suffering enough."
The Rageris swam forward of a sudden, coming within centimeters of the old man. As expected, the guards outside twitched at that. No longer loyal to him. Not even here, in the Cathedral's heart.
"You priests of the Ree, you all encouraged the invasion. You demanded that I send a message to Corhadriam, that I crush the Coalition quickly. You are all as responsible for this defeat as I am. All of you!"
The old man looked away, with a tinge of remorse.
"Perhaps we are. But you, Flameridrail the Third, were our Rageris. Our absolute, unquestionable ruler, in both triumph and defeat."
Flameridrail looked around, as if searching for a solution, or an escape, and finding none.
"Who will be my successor?" He asked.
"Young Ordengrifal is the strongest candidate," the old man answered. "He is a pacifist. Some even accused him of sympathizing with the Illuminated Ocean separatists. He seems the ideal choice to lead us in the peace talks, to secure through diplomacy what we can no longer maintain through military might."
The Rageris risked a smile, though he gripped the dagger's handle firm.
"I could resign then. Ensure a smooth transition." When the old man's face showed no change, he insisted, his voice ever more desperate. "I could serve as an advisor, perhaps. Or retire, swim away from public life for good. Please."
The high priest took the emperor's hand in his. The hand that was holding the blade. When he spoke again, it was in a tone of pure consolation.
