The Turquoise Queen, page 7
part #1 of Coalition Series
Cold Child
The Actonertalic boy clung to mother's side for warmth. They wore their heaviest clothes, but it was so cold. Colder than the winters back home. The sky was a light shade of lavender, the dim red sun hidden behind thick clouds. Lazy snowflakes floated down over the white plains, and the solitary spires dotting it. Fog obscured their topmost floors. The capital of Takltlima colony, a pale imitation of the homeworld's endless cities.
His younger sibling held tight to their mother's back. Hir arm pairs were still the same size. Between bouts of sleepiness, shi looked around, a mix of confusion and curiosity stamped in hir little face. Far too young to have any idea of what was happening. All shi knew was that it was cold. And there were a lot of people around, a lot more than shi was used to.
The boy noticed the massive silhouettes high overhead, and gripped his mother tighter. He knew what they were capable of. He'd watched videos of them in action, despite being told not to. Even at such a young age, he recognized his parents were trying to protect him from a terrible reality, and that the effort was futile. Impossible to shield him from a subject as all-encompassing as full-scale interstellar war.
He was old enough to understand why the cruisers and dreadnoughts were floating above him now, why they weren't battling each other as they usually did. He understood the basics of the scene unfolding in front of him. His family had some of the best seats to watch what was going on, atop a small hill, overlooking the crowds.
"Look! There's grandpa!" His mother shook him gently, pointing ahead with a long grey finger. The boy smiled and waved, jumping to try to stand out among the tall adults.
Three Actonertalics had exited the nearest building, all donning blood black formal suits with thin, vividly colored lines following the stitches. Senators. A very tall, middle-aged woman with graphite skin to the right. A pale grey, wrinkly hermaphrodite with short antennae in the middle. To the left, closest to the boy, a man just a little over two meters tall, his back and long neck hunched by extreme old age. Though short and frail, he projected more authority than either of the others, in the boy's opinion.
His grandfather didn't turn to look, just kept moving forward with a solemn look on his face. The child resented being ignored, at first, but later understood that grandpa just couldn't see him with so many people around. Years later, he would replay the scene in his head a few times, switching opinions every time he did so.
The senators walked a few meters into the snowy field, their path flanked on either side by picketing mobs. Ahead, the large flat space of a landing pad. It was covered in a humid sheen. Heaters kept the snow from smothering it. A lonely octagonal grey patch amidst the rolling whiteness. The trio waited.
A moment later, a solitary shuttle emerged from the foggy sky. A golden hull streaked by red lights, adorned by engravings of fearsome ocean creatures. The crowd shouted all their anger at the sight of it. They had stood in the cold for hours, waiting for the moment to explode. As the ship descended, they poured at it all the years of hatred. The ordeals, shortages, sacrifices. The images of rubble and misery they'd experienced or watched for so long. The lost siblings, mothers, fathers, friends.
Guards, clad in heavy riot gear, had been posted around the landing area, forming a short corridor between it and the building. Pistols on stun setting at the ready, they struggled to contain the enraged mob. Struggled not to join it, too.
From his perch, the boy watched the shuttle touch down. The hatch unfolded. Sea monsters disembarked in single file. For that is what they had been his whole life, monsters. They wore armored encounter suits, built to make them as agile on dry land as they were under the waves. Their serpentine bodies slithered upon rows of articulated legs as they moved to form a perimeter around the ship.
The boy's mother held his hand tight, told him not to be afraid, with a slight tremble in her voice. He wasn't afraid. Instead he studied the Sencris, these warlike aggressors he'd heard so much about. Lances in their strong hands, bodies covered in bulky, pompous ornate metal, grim faces. So eager to demonstrate martial prowess. So inherently ferocious. So different from his cold, calculating kin.
The shuttle's passenger disembarked. The Actonertalic crowd bared their teeth, shouted, cursed, clawed at the soldiers holding them back. This was the architect of their woes, the villain. Whenever there had been a new offensive, it'd been him giving speeches, rallying the troops. It'd been his face in the propaganda, clamoring for Senchrien's triumph, for the Actonertalic Federation's downfall. So they raged, a veneer of civilization, thicker than most, shattered open.
The Rageris ignored them, slithering ahead, gaze fixed at the senators awaiting to welcome him, shutting out all else that surrounded him. The cold which his suit did not allow him to feel, the mob fervently wishing his painful death. He focused on the task at hand, and nothing else.
In a near synchronized motion, each of the trio joined their fingertips to form an upward pointing triangle with the larger pair of hands, and a downward pointing one with the smaller. A greeting. The emperor returned the gesture, in his own species' way, by opening his arms wide and bowing his head.
The boy stepped forward, straining his three black eyes to try to catch details he was too young to detect or comprehend. His grandfather was the first to speak. After a brief exchange of words, the senators escorted the Sencris emperor into the building, where they were to negotiate. A few soldiers from both sides followed. The boy wanted to follow too, but mother said they mustn't. He protested, to no avail.
Yet cameras and holographic scanners had been recording it all, from every possible angle, and would continue to do so inside. Every instant of the peace talks was being recorded for posterity. Every minutia, to be studied by academics and diplomats in the cycles to come. All in the hope that the grave mistakes now being rectified would not be committed again. In time, the boy would have the opportunity to learn all that was said in there.
Little sibling had fallen asleep. To hir ears, the thunderous screaming of the angry mob below must have seemed a constant, meaningless droning, perfect for putting a mind to bed. Hir spindly baby arms remained locked tight, by instinct alone, around his mother's upper shoulders. The senator's daughter lingered a while longer, watching as the noise and confusion died down.
Though quieter, the Actonertalics did not disperse. They waited, watching a live feed of the negotiations in their ocular receivers. Waiting to see if their side would be the victor in any way. Ready to resume protesting if the results were not to their liking.
"Time to go," mother whispered, not wanting to wake his sibling. "We can wait for grandpa in the hotel."
Overhead, nearly obscured by the thick cloud cover, the giant silhouettes remained impassive. A sleek, angular Actonertalic Cruiser. A sinuous, hulking Sencris dreadnought. Each ready to leap at the other's throat, should anything go awry. They too anxiously awaited the result of the meeting taking place below.
Young Katrim Nmai felt a snowflake land softly on his cheek. The comforting warmth of a hotel room seemed awfully inviting now. So he obeyed his mother.
Gray Man
Around the regent's shuttle, angular spires of metal and glass, in rows and clusters from horizon to horizon. Thlemotiloni, the largest metropolis in known space, gleamed in the morning sun.
Atop every section of a hundred or so floors, all buildings sported ample gardens. Reconstructed swaths of ocher, orange, and red native vegetation, planted hundreds, sometimes thousands of meters from the ground. Placed at irregular intervals, every new structure was designed with its predecessors in mind, so as to make the most of daylight, making the skyscrapers seem the tallest trees in a vast, lush forest.
Swarms of pods, plus the occasional space-worthy vessel, crisscrossed the lavender sky at dizzying speed. In an intricate ballet, they followed imaginary intersecting lanes, traced from above the pedestrian paths kilometers down, all the way to the clouds overhead.
As the pilot guided it down, past the violet clouds, the shuttle was flanked by six Actonertalic gunships in neat formation. Official escorts, very ceremonial. Unlike Erchtria's previous voyages, this was an official, scheduled in advance and publicly advertised state visit. There would be camera drones hovering, news coverage, formalities.
The slender Actonertalic Senate arcology stood taller than any other in sight, despite being one of the oldest. Its upper floors were a long silver needle, jutting out from the pruned jungle of its topmost garden. They housed the intricate machinery responsible for ruling dozens of star systems, and countless billions of citizens.
In the floors below, the same sort of business and apartments one could find in any of the nearby buildings, though these catered mostly to politicians and government staff.
As the Raiac ship approached to land, the six official escorts broke of, tracing smooth arcs away from their ward, then proceeding to fly in circles around the building, where they would remain for the duration of the meeting.
Erchtria disembarked, accompanied only by Fercharst and another guard, so that most military power on display was the host's. A customary gesture of trust. Awaiting her was a single elderly, dark-skinned Actonertalic. Senator Katrim Nmai, who, on this day and many others, spoke for the Federation itself.
The two heads of state exchanged greetings. He made a double triangle her single pair of hands was unable to fully mimic, she took a small bow with arms crossed behind the back.
They posed smiling side by side for pictures, as the longtime allies that they were. He invited her inside, showing her past the hangar's wide, plain glass doors, leaving behind the military and media people and machines.
The previous day, she'd given a short speech at the Senate, broadcast for all to see. Representatives of the largest Raiac companies had followed her into the Federation as well, all expecting to have their pressing issues addressed, or take advantage of the opportunity to create new commercial ties. On the last day of her visit, however, the two politicians were scheduled to have a more private conversation.
Nmai led her through an ample, straight corridor, with glossy white walls lit by bright, bluish fixtures along the ceiling. She knew this featureless, artless minimalism to be typical of local architecture, yet it still felt too cold. Like his jet-black suit with electric blue lines along the seams.
She, in turn, was dressed in a flowing purple skirt with floral embroidery, her neck and arms covered in tinkling, labored gold and gemstones. The usual, excessive ornamentation of her kind. It must bother his eyes as much as the straight lines and flat monochromes bothered hers, she reasoned.
The corridor ended in a small room, with two comfortable looking armchairs made of dark crimson wood, with black cushions, facing a glass topped hexagonal table. He offered her the smaller seat, took the larger one for himself, as he was nearly a full meter taller than her.
Before they began, however, he reached into his suit pocket, producing a small, beautifully labeled glass vial. It contained a teal and transparent biphasic liquid.
"I have a gift for you. A traditional delicacy of our people." He extended his long upper left arm, offering her the item.
Erchtria picked it up, read the label. "Mapva Tu Kirati." It was written in a beautiful font of vertical cursive, surrounded by elaborate geometrical designs. Then, in smaller writing, "Brewed and bottled by the New Runmactal Priesthood of Kirati. Deiodinated for Raiac and Earthling consumption. May all peoples experience the bliss of the god of spirit."
In finer print, which she left to read back in her ship, there were instructions on how to consume the substance. Ten drops diluted in a half liter of water were ideal for recreation, while drinking the whole vial at once would induce hallucinations. There was also a short list of additional species who could consume that particular variant of Mapva, cautioning that any others would either suffer from harmful side effects or experience nothing at all.
She thanked him, contemplating the item a while longer. Its label was a far cry from the oppressing blankness encompassing her. Maybe these people had some sense of aesthetics after all, she thought as she attempted to find some hidden meaning in the gift.
"I take it you know why I am here," she said. Her tone was far different from the one she'd used with the petty leaders of the Sencris colonies she'd recently visited. Respectful, devoid of pandering. Here, amid this towering metropolis, she expected an equal at last. It was at once refreshing and intimidating.
"I believe so." It took him a pensive moment to speak, yet when he did his voice was perfectly level, his face inscrutable. He nodded to let her continue.
"A terrible war is in the making. Together, we could end it very quickly." Behind golden masks adorned by nirchrei wings, her eye halos wrinkled in anxiety. "Maybe even prevent it."
Nmai tilted his head down at that possibility. "Have you ever met the Rageris personally?" He said, as if disappointed with his own words. "Or one of his inner circle?"
She waved her hand backward, in a single circular motion. One of several local gestures she'd learned prior to this visit. It meant no. Detecting the hint of embarrassment on her, he continued in a mending tone.
"It would be unusual if you had. You are only starting your first term, and the Sencris elite is more reclusive than most. In my long years in office, I've only had the experience thrice. I do not recommend it."
"Whether I'll have more than one term in office may depend on how the next few days play out," Erchtria said almost playful. The implied message being that the results of her actions were more important than her political career.
Katrim Nmai proceeded to tell her of his own experience with the man his grandfather had defended the Federation against. He'd first met the Rageris during the final days of his first mandate as senator, many cycles ago. That Sencris he remembered watching as a child, from a distance, in ever snowy Takltlima.
Flameridrail the Third's face remained the same as in the old footage from the peace talks. As the Actonertalic's own features had gone from infancy to adulthood to respectable seniority, the Rageris' had stayed almost exactly the same, the few signs of age only a bit more visible. Nmai described how unsettling it had been, to see an adversary so unfazed by the passage of time which ravaged his own body. At that, Erchtria wondered if she'd had a similar effect on the short-lived Galxij she'd met.
The meeting, Nmai explained, had been to revise the terms of the then decades-old peace treaty. A routine meeting held every few cycles. Still, its gravity demanded the presence of both parties' highest authorities. Of the three Actonertalics present, he'd been the lowest ranking. So during the long, dull proceedings, he'd listened more than talked.
What he learned that day was that Thlacton had healed from the scars of the war. They accepted peace, embraced it as the natural order of things. Senchrien, and its centuries-old leader, had not. To the Rageris, a truce forged in mutual defeat, such as this, was as unbearable as utter defeat itself. Something to be tolerated only as long as it could not be undone.
"Flameridrail does not want peace. At least not the one we have now. So no, regent Kreshalti, we cannot prevent this new war," he concluded.
Her own intelligence reports validated his opinion. The emperor was committed to a new offensive, obsessed with it, as was most of the Ree. The Dreadnoughts were on the move, positioning themselves to strike. Even the Federation's involvement would unlikely persuade them to pull back.
"Then help us defeat him quickly, before he does any real damage."
Katrim Nmai looked away from her, for just a moment. Erchtria knew that whatever position he was about to declare had been debated to exhaustion with his peers, beforehand. Yet, in this matter, he held the final say. When he faced her again, it was with renewed conviction.
"My people have only just recovered from our last confrontation with the Sencris. And while it is clear they think very little of the Takltlima Treaty, we intend to enforce it as long as we are able. I am sorry, but Thlacton must remain neutral."
The statement left no margin for negotiation. Its finality shook the regent to the core, and it was all she could do to not let it show. In the space of a few sentences, her plans for a grand alliance to push back the Sencris had been shattered.
Her military advisors had done the calculations. Even in an optimistic scenario, her other potential allies did not have the necessary combined strength to accomplish the task. Left no other choice, she insisted.
"I have a present for you as well." From a pocket in her belt, she extracted a small bluish crystal, perfectly spherical and smooth. She held it between her index finger and first opposing finger, raised it up, let it catch the light. She allowed the Actonertalic to take a good look at it, before dropping it on the table in front of her. The crystal sank slowly, as if submerged in water rather than air, hitting the table's flat surface gently and without sound.
"High purity Krimensali, lapidated to a half nanometer tolerance," she continued. "Enough for the core of a passenger transport, or a small science vessel."
Her final, aggressive move in this negotiation. One she'd hoped not to need. A reminder that the rings of Tcheerp, on her home star system, were the only known source of that particular, irreplaceable commodity.
"Fusion plants, starships, artificial gravity, oh how dependent we've grown of these little gemstones," she mused.
Nmai's confident demeanor evaporated, like he was, for the first time since they'd met, choosing carefully what to say next. Because the regent had a point. She didn't give him time to respond.
"There are seven mining barges presently operating in the Sharizinar system. Five of those are Actonertalic." A hint of desperation, noticeable only to one paying very close attention, had started to contaminate her usual calm voice. "I don't think the Rageris, your old enemy, would allow them to stay there. You must act to defend your interests now, while you still can."
He must have discussed this crucial matter with the other senators. Still, she hoped dangling that tiny crystal orb in front of him, that thing that made interstellar civilization possible, would change his perspective.
