Copani Story

Waiting through a long period before mission start was always harsh. Added to that was the very slow movement of Te'Zsing around the planet. D’Nel had nervous energy to burn off. He didn’t want to leave on such a delicate mission with his nerves so tightly wound. Going to their quarters, he changed into his exercise clothes, and tied on the soft-heeled running boots. He knew from the previous two weeks of travel, and all the running he had done, that one complete lap on all 3 decks of Te’Zsing would be slightly over a mile. He normally ran between 5 and 8 complete laps, then cooled down with some light weights in the tiny gym.

Slowly stretching, then deep knee bends, he started to run just outside their quarters. To maximize energy onboard Te’Zsing, the ship’s lights did not stay on. Usually only a few crew members were ever intended to house onboard a hunter-killer ship like Te’Zsing. Thus, lights filtered on approximately 30 feet ahead of someone moving, and immediately clicked off after someone had passed. D’Nel had gotten used to this though it was certainly different than the Sonjon Glory. The Sonjon Glory required a large compliment of crew which worked in 4 shifts daily. Thus her public areas were constantly lit and heated/cooled. As he jogged, D’Nel thought “Te’Zsing is different and far more unique that I would have guessed. The mere fact that he looked for alternatives to the established mission plan is evidence of that. He can choose which situations to analyze and can reach intelligent decisions far more impressively than the systems on Sonjon Glory. I wonder what the secret is?”

D’Nel jogged soft-shoed through the corridor, following the long and gentle contours of Te’Zsing’s hull. The pale yellow lights showed the intersection of corridors ahead. Just as he reached the slight off-center hall, all the lights ahead went out. He crashed into the bulkhead with the sudden loss of eyesight. “DAMN IT, Te'Zsing!” he swore. The lights immediately came back on.

For the next half hour, D’Nel would slow as he approached any intersections, curves or hatches. But apparently Te’Zsing wasn’t going to pull another such prank and he resumed his preferred pace. He approached the main deck corridor and the descending ramp leading to the docking bays, weapons array, and science labs. There was a slope of interlocking grates and he began the large running arc to turn onto the downward slope. The lights went out, he misjudged his location and crashed his knees on the exposed railing of the cargo lift. “THAT’S IT, TE’ZSING. I’ve had enough of this.” he hissed. The lights came on.

D’Nel rubbed his knees. Walking over to the nearest display where Te’Zsing could see him in return, he hissed “I don’t know if I can trust you!” His voice was full of frustration at the unflinching “eye” staring back. “I have a fairly good sense of humor, as well as any man, but frankly these childish pranks are getting tiresome. I understand how you feel about her, Te’Zsing. I know how long it has been just the two of you, but those days are over, ship!”

“What do you mean, Admiral?” Te’Zsing asked without any emotion or inflection.

D’Nel leaned over, bracing his hands on either side of the display. “When I leave to go planetside, I don’t know if I can trust you. Will you try to injure or kill me, either directly or through a poor choice in alternatives?” His jaws were clenching as he waited. Long moments passed without any answer. “WELL?” he hissed again.

When Te’Zsing answered, his voice sounded small, almost conciliatory, and soft. “No, Admiral Ghar. I would not do anything to jeopardize you intentionally. Honestly, I have thought about just how easy it would be....”

“That is a comfort!”

“...But I know if I did, that it would hurt P’Mela deeply. She would never forgive me and she would most likely hate me. I couldn’t do that to her. But be forewarned, Admiral. If I should find myself in a position where I could only save one of you, it would be P’Mela that I saved.” Te’Zsing’s voice sounded determined at the end.

“Yes, that is what I would want you to do, Te’Zsing! Thank you for your honesty.” D’Nel flexed his knees and started to jog again.

As he neared the next display section, Te’Zsing asked firmly “But can I trust you, Admiral Ghar?”

D’Nel stopped abruptly, wiping the sweat off his face with his shirt sleeve. Breathing fast and hard, he approached the display. “What? Well, of course you can trust me!”

“I’m not so sure.” Te’Zsing added sadly. “I know you burn inside to find out what makes me so unique in the Sonjon fleet. You want to get inside my computer core and personality matrix. You want to know about all the enhancements made. As advanced as the Sonjon Glory is, you know she would be even better with my enhancements on her.”

“Are you psychic as well?” D’Nel chuckled.

“This is not a joke to me, sir.” Te’Zsing chastised.

Taking a deep breath and wiping his face again, D’Nel stared back into the display so that Te’Zsing could watch his eyes and monitor his bio-rhythms. “Yes, Te’Zsing. You are correct. I do want to know all of that.”

“Do you think I am sentient, Admiral?” Te’Zsing asked suddenly, watching the Admiral through the display.

“Yes...uh...perhaps.”

“Isn’t part of being sentient, being able to determine one’s own procreation?”

D’Nel was unsure where this was leading but answered honestly “Yes. I don’t understand what you are implying.”

“Then as a sentient being, I do not choose to share my.....uniqueness....at this time. What is mine, stays mine. It is not to be taken from me without my permission!” Te’Zsing voice was louder than normal.

D’Nel sighed deeply and nodded his understanding. “P’Mela has not been forthcoming about the upgrades made to you over the years. But her silence on this matter screams volumes to me. As does your eloquent position on the matter, Te’Zsing. I will honor what you two have here together. I won’t pry or steal from you. I give you my word of honor on this matter!”

“And you trust me now?” Te’Zsing asked in almost a child’s voice of innocence.

D’Nel smiled into the display “I think you still want to play pranks on me, just to show me you can best me.”

“Perhaps. It is rather fun.” Te’Zsing giggled softly despite his best efforts to the contrary.

“Frankly they are getting annoying!” D‘Nel snapped like an Admiral. Then in a softer tone “Yes, I trust you now, Te’Zsing. I trust you with my life, but more importantly I trust you with the lives of P’Mela and the baby.” D’Nel jogged away as yellow lights flicked on ahead of him.

As he approached the next display, Te’Zsing asked in a shrill voice “What baby?”

Flinching, D’Nel sighed as he realized his mistake. P’Mela did not want anyone to know until her condition became physically obvious.

In the science lab moments later, Te’Zsing lit up the display next to P’Mela’s working on the science droid “Are you pregnant, Boro’Ches?”

P’Mela stopped in mid-motion, wondering how Te’Zsing had discovered her secret. With his keen observation skills, he could have deduced it and her hand unconsciously went to her softly rounding abdomen. Swallowing hard, she resumed her work and answered nonchalantly “Yes. How did you find out?”

“D’Nel told me.” he answered immediately. “Congratulations, my love. When is the baby due to arrive?” P’Mela told him the approximate date shown her by the medbed display. Te’Zsing immediately began computing backwards to conception date.

“Are you alright, Te‘Zsing?” she asked softly in concern.

“Yes, I am alright, P’Mela. It will be quite nice to have a........baby onboard. I can hardly wait.” his voice shook slightly. P’Mela laughed and began to talk to him about her plans, concerns, and worries. They were things she couldn’t quite confess to D’Nel, especially right now with so much on his mind.

D'Nel was just finishing his last lap and turning back towards the corridor leading to their quarters. He began the last of his sprints as he approached the offset in the corridor. The lights went out and he crashed again into the same bulkhead as before.

"Sorry! I couldn't resist just one more prank." Te'Zsing's voice was light and merry.

D'Nel's cursing filtered through the ship to the Appians and to P'Mela, even though they were all on different decks.
 
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P’Mela was putting the finishing touches on the science droids when D’Nel walked into the lab. He was rubbing his shoulder, and judging from his looks, he had completed his daily run. “What happened? I could hear you cursing.” she asked as she leaned up and kissed him.

“I wasn’t looking ahead. Bulkhead got me.” he answered evasively. He retrieved the breathing packs for the environmental suits and set them across the counter top. Methodically, he labeled each one with the name of the team member. “Computer, Prepare one ejection of Tri-Ox, Sonjon Standard, and four injections of Tri-Ox, Appian Specific.” He quietly began to check each breathing unit thoroughly.

P’Mela cleaned her work site, placing the two small science droids aside. She watched D’Nel as he concentrated on his task. She never tired of looking at his tall build, and the handsome chiseled features. Even the small scar on his left cheek was dashing and provocative.

“How did you get this?” she asked as her fingertip traced the shape. “Was it during some epic battle out on the rim?”

He laughed “No. LavaSurfing on Draksa.” He reached for the first injection produced, marked Sonjon Standard. He linked the small nozzle to the air-tight valve of his breathing unit and began to inject the compound. Tri-Ox was a necessity on a higher-mass planet, especially one in the condition this one was in! The compound forced more oxygen into the blood stream as the body’s respiration fought the conditions, heat, and gravity. Thus it gave the team member additional stamina.

P’Mela laughed and sat back on her chair to watch him work. “LavaSurfing? I tried that a few times and after far too many cuts and bruises, I decided to try SandSurfing.”

He smiled at her and winked “I don’t remember any scars on you!” She laughed and grew quiet as he returned to the breathing units. He suddenly handed one of the units to her. “Verify the lower left corner of the facial visor. Doesn’t that appear to be a small fault in the helmet? If so, we need to destroy that one and get out another.” She put it under the magnifying glass and ultra violet light.

“Yes, a very small hairline crack.” Quickly she pulled up the inspection record to see who had checked the mask last. “That’s the 3rd mistake by that droid in the last year. I think it’s time to recycle him as well.” she snapped angrily and informed Te’Zsing to deactivate him. She knew that D’Nel verified as much as possible. Every night, he would arise after he thought she had lapsed into sleep. He would sit at the desk, and check the ship’s myriad of conditions; he would make his diary log; and finally set reminders for himself to review for the following day. Then he would finally slip into bed and drift off to sleep.

She pulled a new breathing unit from the inventory locker and marked it as the replacement. As he took the unit from her, and reached for the next injection, she took in his features again and thought back to the first time she had seen his likeness.

An abandoned small ship had drifted into commerce lanes near Draksa’s third moon. When officials had it checked, P’Mela was found alive but unconscious. When she awoke, she had no memories except that of her name and how to speak Draksan. She was placed in custody of the Draksan moon colony where she worked for two years. One day she was called to the administrator's office. An older couple sat there anxiously waiting. P’Mela was informed that her DNA was a close match for the woman’s, a direct descendant of the great lady who founded Draksa. They were childless and believed her to be a member of their family in some way. The husband, a begoun on the western continent, and the wife offered to adopt her, though she was clearly a young adult. She accepted and promised herself that she would make them a wonderful daughter.

P’Mela teared up as she remembered how happy she had felt at them finding her, but on the short trip to Draksa, she had become overwhelmed with a strong fear of rejection. But Lady M’Zee Steff LeonDocTchi and her husband R’Ber Piaue had welcomed her warmly and lovingly. They wrapped her in love, acceptance and indulged her with affluency. Her parents had provided her with tutors but her initial test scores were so high that only subjects of specific Draksan focus had to be taught her.

The clan rites were performed and she was accepted into the clan, and given the name Lady P’Mela Piaue LeonDocTchi. The honorary names of ‘Lady’ or ‘Lord’ and ‘LeonDocTchi’ would also be a birth right of her own children. She smiled as she wondered just how D’Nel would take the news that his son would be called ‘Lord LeonDocTchi’ instead of ‘Ghar‘ or ‘Warlord‘. Though she already knew she was going to offer him the same honor most women offered their husbands. She would add Ghar to the name right before her last name.

Her mother, Lady M’Zee, was rumored to have second sight or specifically ‘future visions’. There were times during visions when her mother was uncommunicative and aloof. She would withdraw to her studio and paint what her visions had shown her. Not long after P’Mela’s adoption, her mother experienced a vision and painted for days. But whatever her mother painted had upset her father. He ripped the canvas, then burned it.

The day that P’Mela received her acceptance letter from the Sonjon Military Academy, her mother showed her a new painting based on her newest vision. P’Mela gasped as she was shown the large canvas. Her mother was smiling and begged her to look closer. The detailed painting showed her and a handsome man with quicksilver blue eyes. He bore a slight scar on his left cheek. Also in the painting were 4 children. The eldest boy looked like an exact copy of the man. The two middle children, both girls, bore characteristics of each parent. The youngest child, a boy, looked remarkably like his mother.

As P’Mela watched D’Nel working quietly in the lab, she smiled at her memories of seeing the canvas the first time. “Who are they?” she had asked. She could remember trembling as she asked.

Her mother had smiled and began to tell her remarkable things, though bizarre. Pointing to the man with chiseled features and wearing rich ceremonial robes, she added proudly “He will be called El Safyre a Draksa.”

“The Liberator of Draksa? From what will Draksa require liberating?” she had inquired.

Her mother rambled on, ignoring her question. “You will be called The Liberator’s Lady, Ela Safyre Bachi and your oldest son will become the Emperor known as El Akbar.”

“But Mother, Draksa does not have an Emperor. We have elected ministers and a Regent overseeing all branches of the government.” she had gently argued in return. But as usual, her mother ignored logical arguments in favor of her unproven visions.

D’Nel suddenly wrapped his arms around her and said softly “You were a million light years away. I have been talking and you haven’t heard a word.” When P‘Mela looked up at him, confused by his comment, he repeated “I am going to take a shower. I need someone to wash my back. Know anyone who might be interested?” he smiled.

“Yes, but afterwards, I have some photos to show you. Pictures of some portraits my mother painted a very long time ago. I think you’re going to find them extremely interesting.”
 
PERSONAL LOG:

One can dream in space, like any where else. It is a deep, black sleep, silent, twinkling with elusive images and sounds, a haunting of my mind and soul.

A face - Draksan - Sonjon - Copani - others of every color and build and feature. Golden - tan - pale. Voices - deep - soft - lilting - melodious - sorrowful - happy - pained. Eyes - always the eyes burrow into my soul. Never blinking away the past or promising the future. Fluid yet fixed. Eternal yet fleeting.

Once can dream in space. Of weapons firing and lives taken. Of beauty unseen like many other places or planets or nebula. Distant and fast as light particles. Fast in slow motion, each detail as clear as sunlight and dark as interstellar dust. Confusing and crystal clear. My mind doesn't understand yet wishes to. A dream can be as brilliant as solar brilliance or as dense as a black hole from which nothing escapes.

Things change. That is the way of the universe and the person. Perspectives shift with relationship to the background constellations. Physics vary from one part of space to another. A principle once denied as impossible. But now clearly proven. If universal laws of physics can change, then why not an individual? Why can't one species love and respect another? Why not? Is it because they are different that we judge them as lesser? The more we learn and see, the more trapped we become in our own superior power. I wish it were not so, yet I am guilty as the next. We are fearful of differences.

I have taken 754 Copani lives - taken because they are different from me. Because I was commanded to. They haunt me. They haunt my seeing moments. They haunt my dreams even more.

Copani faces. Golden with large black eyes digging into my deepest soul. Twisting me with regret. One in particular asks me "Why?" One in particular pleads with me "To Come Back". Come back where? To the site of a battle? Do they wish me to confront my defeats or relive my victories? I am not sure. I am afraid of them - of the dreams!

But dreams can be as deadly silent as space itself. Confusing. Deceptive. Awesome. Beautiful. Beguiling. A golden face haunts my dreams. Not one but three. I know them. How do I know them? I think because I killed them? Two are children. I don't remember killing children. But did I kill their parents? A golden face pales to yellow. A masculine face pales to feminine. I know her, don't I? I feel as if I must. The large black eyes fade to brown and finally to blue. Haunting my dreams.

A Copani face morphs slowly to a Draksan face. A smile. Something knowing, calling me, telling me. I refuse to listen. Whispered endearments. Why do Copani whisper endearments to a Draksan? Are not the same things important to all sentients - love, family, children, home?

A voice hypnotic steals my dreams, repeatedly. I ask it to tell me plainly "What do you want from me?" and it answers softly "You. Us." I feel my heart racing as my hand reaches out tentatively to stroke and caress, feeling the warmth and familiarity. Always a golden face haunts my dream.

It is an old dream, an often lived dream. Always there beneath the surface of waking thoughts, haunting me. I need only reach out - touch.

END PERSONAL LOG

Te'Zsing's alarm sounded barely audible to the inhabitants within him. The mostly darkened ship flashed a slow, low intensity yellowish light to those awake.

To those two sleeping from the fulfillment of lovemaking, the light infiltrated their restful minds slowly. To P'Mela, it appeared as a golden face whispering her name, employing her to come home to him, sentiments long felt and little understood, and most certainly denied. It whispers her name lovingly. How does he know her name? Why does he plead so deeply to her.

"Te'Zsing, what is the problem?" D'Nel whispered into the gentle conditioned air. He tightened his arm around P'Mela, feeling the full length of her pressed into his side. He had never felt more contended as he felt her softly rounding abdomen against his side.

The ship's answer was barely more than a puff a air around him. "A Sonjon Elite Cruiser has broken formation and is taking an apogee course around Chahan. Well out of range of the war drones. High Speed."

"Sensor sweeps, no doubt." D'Nel answered as he slipped slowly from her side and out from the warm covers. He smiled watching her stretch and reposition into his warm spot.

"Yes, Admiral. Broad Beam. Standard Sonjon search protocols. Should over sweep our current trajectory in 14 universal minutes." The ship's own voice was barely audible but efficient.

"Take a final fix on our location. Then go to silent running. Maintain minimum life support. Divert all other power to cloak." Slipping on his nearest piece of clothing, D'Nel continued "Ghar to Surl-Than." D'Nel looked over in the dim yellowish light and saw P'Mela stretching languidly, smiling up at him. What did she see when she looked at him with that soft facial expression?

"Yes, Warlord?" came the immediate answer, though the Appian voice was greatly subdued.

"You heard the ship's announcement. Gather your people in the Command Center quickly. Secure for silent running."

P'Mela had quickly slipped from her covers as she heard the urgency strictly controlled in D'Nel's rich voice.

"Te'Zsing have you intercepted anything in Sonjon communications as to why the cruiser course was altered?" D'Nel quizzed.

"Only an abrupt command from Admiral Holroth's flagship for a standard sweep. We are currently between the sun's radiation and the fleet. I believe all of my power signatures would be fully masked by the star's radiation spectrum. I believe it to be a standard precaution on the part of the Sonjon." Te'Zsing's voice was also a soft breath in the conditioned air.

"It doesn't make sense, though." P'Mela wondered aloud. "They pulled all assets out of orbit including the defense platforms to fight the war drones. Why send a ship now?"

"Have you detected any planetary based signals?" D'Nel quizzed as he slipped on his soft soled boots and watched P'Mela quickly pull on her jumpsuit and boots, quickly remembering their recent and tender lovemaking.

"None, Admiral. The planet appears dead on all sensors."

"Silent running!" D'Nel's deep breath revealed his own frustration in the Sonjon departure of standard operating protocols. "Maintain weapon readiness. Absolute minimum life support to only those areas of habitation. Once all are in Command Center, shut down life support to all other areas. Reroute all available power to the cloak and maneuvering thrusters. Bring jump engine power plant online very slowly and be ready for a cold jump."

"Understood." Te'Zsing breathed lightly into the air around them.

"Time before shuttle launch window for Chahan?" D'Nel asked barely above a whisper. They had jogged into the Command Center and quickly began accessing the computer displays, their profiles barely discernable in the pale bluish lights from dozens of command displays.

"Twelve hours, twenty minutes universal time." Te'Zsing answer was immediate. "Cruiser will long pass our location." he added quickly.

"Well done, Te'Zsing. As soon as cruiser passes out of his sensor range and rejoins the fleet, take us down to geo-synch orbit over the primary landing zone."

"Aye Aye, Admiral." The ship's voice was professional.

The waiting began for P'Mela, D'Nel and their four Appian associates. She slipped her small hand into his larger one. Whispering just for his benefit "If we go undetected, may I have the honor of your presence at a....well....uh....at a small dinner I have planned? Before you depart for the planet surface, I have something to ask....to discuss with you." D'Nel looked at her, and saw her downcast eyes, even the slight blush in the bluish display lights. He smiled and squeezed her hand. She was finally going to propose the ceremonial request to him!

"I wouldn't miss it." he smiled back. He quickly thought that the stop he made at a Draksan clothier before departure had been the right thing after all. His attire at the ceremonial dinner was as important as hers. Tradition. Draksans and their ceremonies!

"Ten...nine...eight....the cruiser's sensors should be over sweeping us in five...four...three..........." Te'Zsing's voice seem to catch just as the breath of his inhabitants.
 
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The Sonjon cruiser blazed in high and fast, conducting a standard sensor sweep. Abruptly, it dropped velocity and spiraled down, leveling right beyond Te‘Zsing. It hovered like a predator sensing prey.

“That is too damned close!” D’Nel’s voice was barely louder than Te’Zsing’s soft whoosh of conditioned air. Everyone’s eyes shifted from the tactical display to the large viewport, barely moving or breathing as if the cruiser could see them back through the viewport. The cruiser was so close, exterior markings could be read.

Te’Zsing’s voice was just as soft but held a note of anger “Yes, too f’ancking close, at 1250 meters!” Another moment of silence and he added “Interesting. They are scanning a specific location on the largest continent. Approximately 10 kilometers by 14.2 kilometers.” He had barely concluded the last word when the Sonjon cruiser yawed and jumped back to its previous high speed, coarse and sensor sweep pattern.

Immediately, P’Mela and D’Nel commanded “Scan the same area!” and looked at each other in surprise, followed by a smile. The relief in all six inhabitants was apparent with suddenly relaxed body muscles and deep expelling of breaths, though they continued to watch the display until the cruiser had passed around the arc of the planet.

“Cruiser is returning to his previous position in formation.” Te’Zsing announced. P’Mela commanded that they return to their own operating protocols and continue towards preparation and departure of the team for the planet.

Softly to D’Nel, P’Mela asked “If I don’t see you before, may I expect you as we agreed, in four hours?” A quick nod and smile was her answer, as he refocused his curiosity on the incoming scan data at the small science display. A frustrated sigh from her brought his attention back to her. “Do you have everything you will need from our quarters?”

D’Nel chuckled and in a playful tone he assured her “Yes, I moved what I needed to the small quarters down the hall for my preparations.” He tilted his head and in a more serious tone added “We’re actually going to conduct the entire ceremony?” Her brief nod in return was all the answer he received before she strolled from the bridge.

Immediately, his attention was drawn back to the science display. Surl-Than walked up to his side and began to read the data as well. There were volumes of bizarre data scrolling across the small display. D’Nel turned to leave the bridge with Surl in step with him. “Te’Zsing, transfer all the scan data to the science lab. Cue all cosmography about Chahan to the science lab as well. Compute a trajectory to that location on the planet. Be prepared to alter our mission plan depending on what I see in this scan.”

As he and Surl walked quickly through the corridors to the lower deck science lab, D’Nel added sincerely “You did extremely well today, Te‘Zsing! I was watching the cloaking display and was impressed with the unique modulation you used in our cloaking field. I hope you will some day share with me exactly how you devised the technique.”

A long moment of hesitation and Te’Zsing’s astonished voice said simply “Thank you.....D’Nel.”

P’Mela had left the bridge and went straight to the small galley. She was determined to prepare the ceremonial delicacies for D’Nel in the traditional manner and not rely on the ship’s technology for close approximations. As she washed, chopped and prepped the colorful foods, her new senior Appian bodyguard silently appeared behind her. Already nervous, she jumped when Enna-Telis’ double jaws clicked in merriment. Looking into the twinkling eyes of Enna, P’Mela realized the Appians were finding the situation almost comical. It made her laugh merrily.

The two began to talk. Enna, like her predecessor Issa, was filled with curiosity about P’Mela and Draksan ceremonies, such as the one rumored to be scheduled for later in the evening. P’Mela tried to explain the rich history behind the ceremony. Finally, the foods were ready for the final step. Some were placed in the timed baker and others put back into the cooler for proper chilling. Enna concluded “Seems much ado for such a simple question, General.” P’Mela laughed heartily and reluctantly agreed. As they strolled from the galley together, Enna added “We Appians have been with the Warlord a long time. None of us thought that he would commit to just one female!”

P’Mela faltered in mid step, a request for clarification almost uttered. But then P’Mela thought to herself “We each have had a past - a private past - which has no bearing on our future.” She quickly pushed Enna’s comment from her mind. With Enna's assistance, P’Mela moved a small low-sitting table to her quarters. Enna took in the details of the overly feminine interior, memorizing the details to share with the other Appians. Then bowing deeply, Enna wished P'Mela the best of luck and quickly left.

Intrigued by the planetary scan data, time raced by for D’Nel. As for P’Mela, she didn’t seem to have enough time to get everything completed. With the ceremonial dinner settings completed, she performed her ritual bath and herbal massage; painstakingly applied her makeup and the elegant elaborate eye decoration, and dressed in the very special outfit. Slipping on a robe to conceal her clothes in case she encountered D’Nel in the corridors, P’Mela hurried back to the galley to gather the finalized delicacies. Luckily, she met no one in the halls.

Her last preparation was to brush her hair and pull it tightly to conceal it with her veil. A large diamond hairpin secured the veil to the hair. Standing back from her antique Draksan mirror, P’Mela dispassionately assessed her appearance. She had not dressed in this manner since the first night that she and D’Nel had met at the restaurant. “I hope he approves!” she whispered to her own reflection.

She sat on the small couch under the view port and stared out at the dark beauty of space. Thankfully, their quarters faced space and not the dead planet! With nervous tension building, she began to pace, occasionally sitting back on the couch only to hop up and pace some more while waiting for his knock.

“Warlord, pardon my interference, but aren’t you scheduled to meet with.......” Surl-Than began, respectful in his tone.

D’Nel’s attention snapped away from the large science display and he stared at Surl. A moment of shock followed as his quicksilver blue eyes darted to the date/time index on the corner of the science display. He erupted into action, nearly knocking over his chair and running for the door. The door slid open but not fast enough to appease him and he squeezed through and began to run towards his temporary quarters to prepare. Surl-Than’s double jaws clicked rapidly in laughter as he heard his warlord mutter “I am dead meat!”
 
D’Nel silently cursed Draksan and Appian phrases ss he ran to the small quarters he was to use for his preparations. He tried to recall everything he was to do, in the order he was to do it. Traditionally women were trained in the ceremonial etiquette while men were left to read on their own. Before leaving Ch’Chock’pi for this mission, he had visited an exclusive Draksan shop to locate information about the formal ceremony. The elderly shop owner had been most helpful in preparing him.

He took the quickest shower of his life, using the ceremonial herb rajasik in the rinse water. The small amount of herb had cost him nearly a week’s Admiral salary! But P’Mela had casually mentioned rajasik several times during their relationship as being her favorite scent for a man.

“Why is she so determined to follow such an archaic ceremony?” he kept wondering as he showered, dried and shaved. She was a mystery to him in so many ways. Opening the small closet of the temporary quarters, D’Nel shook his head at the ceremonial clothes he had to wear. He muttered to the room “Luckily no one except her will see me in this stuff!"

He pulled on the pure white, sheer silk thobs, fastening them at his waist. The long simple tunic was made of the same material. Without undergarments, his attire was as revealing a hers would probably be. The thought of her in her sheer Draksan clothes brought a smile to him. Sitting on the single bunk, he pulled on the short white boots of incredibly soft leather and tucked the thobs securely inside.

Next to be added to his ceremonial attire was the golden baldric and scabbard, which he settled comfortably into place. D’Nel smiled as he opened the blackwood box to retrieve the beautiful dagger. It had been handed down through his paternal line for hundreds of years. The ornate grip resembled gold and silver ropes braided together. Enjoying the weight in his grasp, he finally sheathed it with a comforting metallic snap. If he could have stopped at this point, he could have been fairly comfortable but P’Mela wanted the entire ceremony.

Shaking his head as he looked at the robes, he chuckled. He couldn’t think of any other woman he had known for whom he would do this ceremony! “It must be love.” he confided to the room as he pulled out the robes. He had found the robes at the same shop where he purchased the rajasik. The robes had secretly appealed to him, however, simply because the colors were those of the Ghar Clan.

He pulled on the under-robe. It was an opalescent violet silk with simple straight sleeves, a short standup collar, falling sleekly to the floor. Two simple ties kept the robe pulled loosely forward without blocking the view of the basic outfit. The over-robe was a lapis blue brocade with silver threads randomly woven throughout. As he moved, the light would dance of the metallic threads. However, the over-robe was richly embroidered with pastel silk threads depicting Draksan flora along the cuffs of the flamboyant full sleeves, down the front panels as well as along the floor sweeping hem. He didn't think the effiminate style fit him, but the shop owner had assured him that it was quite traditional for Draksan men.

Standing back from the mirror, he cursed at his reflection. “I look like an actor in an opera!” he decided secretly. Abruptly turning, he rushed from the room. “Why couldn’t we discuss marriage over a bottle of wine like a modern couple?” he wondered as he hurried down the corridor towards her door. He could hear the soft rustle of the robes fluttering behind him.

“Very nice, Warlord!” Surl-Than said softly from behind him. D’Nel turned to see all four of the Appians propped against the bulkhead, their amusement evident! He cursed softly and continued towards her door. As he raised a hand to knock, he glared back and the corridor was empty once again.

P’Mela paced and once again looked at the time index on the small display on her desk. Tears threatened to spill over because he was already 40 minutes late. “Perhaps he has changed his mind about participating in the ceremony.” she thought and started to rip the veil off.......THE KNOCK......her breath caught in her throat. Her hands began to tremble slightly. A mental flash felt as if she had experienced this before. She quickly checked her reflection in the antique mirror once again. As she started to the door, which she had switched from automatic to manual operation, she lit the candles on the low dining table. Another breath to steady herself and she pushed the manual door control.

Almost like strangers, they took in the details of the other’s attire. Like the ceremony dictated, she was also dressed in pure white, sheer silk. Her thobs were much fuller than his. The sheer white chemise barely reached the low waistline of the thobs. Feminine, elegant embroidery, in pastel silk threads, covered the chemise and its veil, which hid her hair. The sleeves of the chemise were tight fitting and came to delicate points along the back of each hand. And as she had been when he first saw her, the elaborate eye decorations were flawlessly done, enhancing her bright blue eyes and thick lashes. He noticed the large diamonds that adorned the hairpin and the stud earrings, as well as a large teardrop diamond which hung from a tiny white gold chain necklace. The tear drop diamond hung enticingly in the deep V-neckline of her chemise.

She smiled at him and her voice shook just a bit when she said “Milord, you are beautiful! Will you honor me with a visit?”

D’Nel laughed at the formality and stepped inside. As the door closed behind him, he bowed deeply. As he straightened, he said “You take my breath and self control from me, Milady.” His finger reached out to touch the tear drop diamond. She blushed brightly in the soft opaque pool of light. In his normal fashion, he started to tease her about blushing when they had already been so intimate, but caught himself at the last moment. He knew she was taking this very seriously.

She took each of his robes, letting her fingertips caress the rich fabrics and stealing a quick press of each to her cheek. She smiled as she smelled the slight rajasik herb, delighted that he had caught her subtle hints afterall. As she hung his robes, he quickly assessed the room. The tapestry pillows from their bed, now dotted the floor around the low table. The foods smelled delicious and were presented on a style of china he had not seen previously. Rather than the ship’s lighting, she had candles of all shapes and sizes dotting the room. Once again, he almost teased her about unsafe practices aboard her starship, stopping the words before he uttered them.

He offered her a hand to sit on the cushions, stealing several light kisses from her neck as well as gently pulling the chemise slightly off one shoulder to place more kisses. She didn’t object, though she should have according to the ceremonial etiquette. It took him several deep breaths to figure out what herb she had used in her bath. Acuupee! She turned to face him, and formal once again said “Please, Milord, sit so that I may serve your dinner.”

D’Nel smiled sheepishly and quickly snatched the hairpin from the veil. As it fluttered away, his fingertips ran through her hair, loosening it. “Please, don’t conceal your hair from me.”

P’Mela allowed him to help her sit. She watched his muscles move through his sheer clothes as he rounded the low table and slid his tall frame on the mound of cushions.

As she served his wine, and then each of the foods, both of them became quiet. He enjoyed watching the precise movements that the ceremony required of her, the exact way her hands moved, as well as her body as she stretched to hold out each dish to him. His gaze was intense. She seemed happy and content. She met his gaze with unflinching confidence.

As he completed his meal, she asked him to rest while she cleared the table, and brought dessert and m’kaa. He rested, watching her movements, realizing the attire they wore added a very erotic aspect to the otherwise very formal, strict ceremony. With each of her movements, he heard the whisper of silk against her skin. The dessert she served him was sinfully indulgent, and the m’kaa was thick and sweet. He teased “A good thing there are eight hours before I depart for the planet! If I tried to move after this meal....” She laughed and poured another m’kaa for him. His hand quickly caressed hers. He was becoming impatient for her to offer the proposal.

As he sipped the fresh m’kaa, she softly issued instructions to the computer. Obviously, she had kept Te’Zsing out through privacy mode. He saw her swallow hard and nervously she started to rise. He watched, not understanding her purpose. A strange but beautiful music surrounded them. He had not heard this music in all his travels. When he asked, she told him what world it came from. She bowed to him as he relaxed, looking up at her.

P’Mela smiled seductively at him and began to position her torso, feet, hands, neck and head into a stylized form. Soft flowing movements and delicate footsteps formed a slow, sensual, curvaceous, exotic - and as far as D’Nel’s opinion - erotic dance story. Suddenly, D’Nel pushed up from the cushions and melded his body to hers, sliding his hands around her waist. Mildly surprised, P’Mela looked up into his pale eyes and saw a look that seem to penetrate directly into her soul. Melded tightly together, he began to lead her in his own style of dancing.

After several minutes, he whispered to her “Milady, if you don’t propose soon, I will do it for you!” He kissed her neck and then gently her lips.
 
Their dancing was slowing to a stop as the earth flute music filtered away, but his arms still rested comfortably around her, trapping her next to him. He was staring down at her, his eyebrows raised in a perpetual question. “Must I break Draksan tradition and be the one to propose?” D’Nel asked, the twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Twisting away, P’Mela sat quickly on her cushions. She took more deep breaths, agonizing over her previously prepared words which would not come to memory. D’Nel rounded the table and once again slid onto his cushions facing her. He could see her swallowing hard, repeatedly and he tried to hide a smile as she downed an entire glass of wine. She took a long, very deep breath, and finally looked into his eyes. Her lips began to move and then stopped, and she poured another wine which she gulped as well.

“Please, Milady, if you are afraid to offer the question, I will.” he teased. He thought he should have snapped out the question anyway, Draksan tradition be damned.

She straightened her spine and snapped “That’s absurd, I’m not afraid!” then saw the smile on his lips.

The words finally rushed from her in haphazard order, unlike the elegant speech she had written and memorized. She barely stopped at the end of sentences or took breaths. “Though these are modern times, and marriage is not a requirement between two people expecting a child together...especially considering the fleeting nature of most relationships....uh....what I meant to say is...” P’Mela stopped and forced a calm on herself and began again. “I love you, D‘Nel. I adore you and if you would be willing....I mean....if you are interested...” her voice failed her yet again and she grabbed another glass of wine.

D’Nel tried to hide his smile at her difficulty “Please, go on, Milady.”

P’Mela ran her fingers through her hair, a nervous habit he had noticed in her, and continued “In accordance with Draksan ceremonial traditions, I must remind you that once I ask you, I also have to inform you of my conditions and you are required to wait 3 full days, reflecting on my proposal and conditions before giving me an answer.” She stared at him as if she were waiting for his acknowledgement of understanding. He only smiled, which seem to surprise her.

“D’Nel, will you honor me with marriage?” her voice seem very far away, almost small. He started to answer when she rushed to speak over him. “Remember, you must hear my conditions first!”

“A conditional surrender?” he teased but she glared at him and he quit smiling. “Please, Milady, may I hear the conditions?” His eyebrows were raised, waiting.

She drank another glass of wine and then straightened her posture. She sat erect, her hands now folded in her lap. She stuttered initially, then gained focus as she spoke. “I want to be a full time mother. The child I carry is very important to me. I cannot be the type of mother I wish to be, and still maintain my military position. I am weary of the military, otherwise, and I want to resign. I want to move back to Draksa to raise my....our child according to the traditions and values of Draksans. I want him to know....”

“Him?” D’Nel interrupted.

P’Mela nodded and continued “I want him to know my family and yours, his cousins and aunts and uncles.”

D’Nel was surprised, confused, and gathered his words carefully “I will support your decision to resign and to be a dedicated mother to our son. But we can’t live on Draksa. Don’t you realize how difficult it would be for me to get home to Draksa frequently and still maintain my military position? I’ve worked hard to get to my rank and position! My career will probably be centered around Command Headquarters on Ch’Chock’pi or on fleet missions in deep space. I would prefer to keep you and our son close to me.”

She was shaking her head ‘no‘. “I know how important your career is, D‘Nel. I was once as dedicated. And I will be supportive of your career goals. But I want our child raised on Draksa, as a Draksan with our values!”

D’Nel’s voice grew a little more edgy “We can raise him with Draksan values anywhere we both are - even on Ch’Chock’pi! We need to stay a family, not separated a majority of the time. There is the large Draksan population on Ch’Chock’pi, thanks to embassy families, businesses, and even Draksan schools. We’ll live in a Draksan enclave. We can give him a Draksan upbringing quite easily, P‘Mela, no matter where we live.”

“But I don’t wish to live on the Sonjon homeworld!” her voice was getting heated. “I don’t want to raise a child there and have him corrupted to Sonjon values.”

“Corrupted? How can he be corrupted if we both love him and raise him according to our own Draksan sensibilities?” he was clearly annoyed. “As I stated, we would live in a Draksan enclave, and eventually he would attend the Draksan embassy school. How can we make a marriage and family work successfully and lovingly if we are in different parts of the empire?” His pale eyes had darkened in frustration and anger.

“Those are my conditions, D’Nel.” she said with finality and stood. Her hands were trembling and she could feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest. She watched as he stood and walked to the viewport. The silence was thick between them.

Finally he turned to face her. “I just heard you say....” he walked closer to her, “...that I will have little contact with my wife and son. I will have little participation in your lives. I will not have much influence on how he is raised. I will be a stranger to him, and to you." D'Nel's frustration was thick in voice "I have been offering reasonable suggestions so we can be a real family while letting each of us maintain our own individuality and personal goals. I would support your decision to resign and be a full time mother. But what did you offer me in return, P’Mela? Absolutely nothing! You kept saying: ‘I want’, ‘I will not’, ‘I wish to’. Earlier this evening, I couldn’t understand why you were so determined to conduct an archaic marriage proposal ceremony. But now I do! It allows the woman to set any conditions she wishes prior to the marriage agreement. You ask me to marry you, yet say you and my son won’t live with me or try to accommodate my goals in life.” D’Nel walked over and grabbed the ceremonial robes from the closet and brought them back to her, dumping them in her hands. “You have been alone in space too long, P’Mela. You think you can dictate and control all aspects of your life. You mentioned keeping corruption away from our son. Yet your ideas are the most corrupt of all! You are trying to keep me, his Father, away from any meaningful contribution to my son’s life. I resent it! I trully resent it. Keep these trinkets of a meaningless tradition. Perhaps they will keep you warm in the cold of space. These robes will be as much a Father to my son as I could be under your conditions!”

D’Nel covered the distance to door in just a few long strides and turned to look at her. “I can give you my answer right now, but according to this ceremony you have chosen to conduct, I will wait 3 days before giving you my answer. If you will excuse me, WarMaster General, I have volumes of planetary data to study before the shuttle departs.” He punched the manual door control and strolled out.
 
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Lovan stayed with Zak until he was able to walk again. With one last look at his ship he walked with Lovan into the cavern where the Auroran's kept their ships and into the outpost. Zak looked around and noticed the activity was much more intense than on his last visit. As he was about to ask why Lovan turned to greet another Auroran who had approached. Lovan dipped his head in greeting and introduced him to Zak.

"Zakrianan, may I introduce my colleague, our physician, Minoch."

Zak greeted the older Auroran in the accepted way and added, "My Brother," also the accepted way of responding.

Lovan continued, "I wish him to give you a cursory examination to be sure that you sustained no injuries in your rather spectacular landing." This was followed by a sound not unlike bell tone, which was the Auroran equivalent of a chuckle. Zak smiled at Lovan, embarrassed at the rather disgraceful manner in which he had arrived. He agreed readily since he knew that Lovan and Minoch would not leave him alone until he agreed. When it proved that there was nothing wrong with Zak that a few hours in an Auroran Med Vault would not cure, he agreed if Lovan would sit with him so he could explain his visit.

Lovan refused politely as he had been interrupted by Zak’s untimely crash and needed to finish the experiments he had been working on. “I will talk to you later this day my friend, when you have finished your treatment and I my work.” Lovan patted Zak on the shoulder and left him in the med facility with Minoch. Two hours later he walked out feeling as if nothing had happened, but knowing it had. As he entered Lovan’s area Lovan’s daughter spotted him and ran to him. He played with her for a few minutes, until Dinam came and shooed her out.

The two men sat and drank the heavy liquid that passed for a form of coffee to the Aurorans. Zak had developed a taste for McDonald's Coffee and compared all other coffee brands to that. As they sipped, Lovan told Zak what had transpired since his last visit to their outpost. After covering the basic data, Lovan said "One of our scientific survey ships came across a planet, an ag-world actually, that was almost totally barren."

"Impossible Lovan", Zak interrupted, "that could never happen."

"Maybe impossible my brother, but it is fact." Lovan stood and walked to his desk where he got his viewer and several holo-crystals. Putting the viewer between them, he inserted a crystal. Both watched as the image sharpened into focus. The images amazed Zak. It was a moderate sized planet, and as seen from orbit, it was brown, with small patches of greens and other colors indicating areas unaffected by whatever had caused the disaster.

"By Hovath, how could something like this happen, Lovan?"

"Our scientists are currently on the ag-world's surface. They have found traces of a pathogen that was apparently the cause. It is extremely virulent and fast acting as well. As far as they can detect, it was a very short time from introduction to the eco-system to what you see now. They are currently analyzing those areas seemingly unaffected by the pathogen. We receive daily data updates. Then here on this outpost, we conduct analyses to verify their results. We are not encouraged."

Zak sat there, stunned at what he had just seen. Things were coming together in his mind from the information he had received in the past several weeks from Te'Zsing and now Lovan.

"I have a data crystal for you, gathered by someone in the Son'Jon Empire and sent to me. I hope this will help you because we have no idea how to interpret it." Zak gave Lovan the data crystal and briefly told him the circumstances behind the data on the crystal. Lovan nodded and accepted the crystal.

Respectfully, Lovan asked "Why are you really here, my friend? You could have easily transmitted this data to us without making the trip."

Zak's head slowly came up. He looked at his old friend and then dropped his eyes. He thought about why he had truly come, Lovan being correct about transmitting the data. Finally he raised his eyes and he began to tell him everything. "I was married before I met you, my friend. We had a son and led a happy life. When I took my wife and son on a journey to her home planet to meet her parents, they were horrified that she could marry one of my kind. You see, I am of a Copani group considered Technocrats. She is of a group who worship the traditional ways and her parents were of the most zealot sect. They saw us for only a short while, enough to heap abuse upon P'Mela and myself, curse us away and, to make it worse, on the way home there was an accident which took the lives of P'Mela and our son."

Lovan merely listened, not wanting to stop Zak as he spoke. That this was all new to him was an understatement, but explained a great deal about the way Zak was today.
 
The two robes hung heavily in her hands, as P’Mela watched D’Nel stroll out of their quarters. She had been so shocked at his reaction, she had been unable to say anything. Finally tossing the robes to her bed, she mechanically began to clean up the evidence of the ceremony. She worked without thinking, or occasionally let a few tears drop before returning to her mental fog.

As the galley-droid left with the remainder of the food and dishes, she leaned back against the door and surveyed the room. Everything was nearly back to order, except for her personally. Slowly, she took off the very special, pure white outfit and hung it away. Then retreating to her bath, she scrubbed her face, almost angrily, to remove the elaborate eye markings and makeup.

Slipping into her side of the bed, she pulled D’Nel’s robes over on top of her. She buried her nose in them to smell the faint scent of rajasik. She wondered if D’Nel knew what the ancient Draksan term meant. A sad smile crossed her face as she took another sniff of the robes. Rajasik mean ‘heroic prince’. That’s what he was to her, of course.

“Te’Zsing, please sing for me, I think I would prefer ‘Myri Ekavani Kavitayeina’ by Shrii Ettel Behartri.” she said softly after asking for lights out. There was a very long pause without response. “Te’Zsing! Are you there?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m here. Unable to sing at present. I’m extremely busy.” came Te’Zsing’s retort. His voice was cold, almost foreign.

“What’s wrong?” P’Mela asked, automatically tuning her ears for growling from war drones.

“May I speak freely, Captain?”

“Of course.” P’Mela knew something was bothering him deeply.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Te’Zsing’s voice was far louder than expected and full of anger. “I will admit that I did not switch to privacy mode earlier, as you commanded. I heard your proposal to Admiral Ghar. If I were a man and cared for you as he does, and you had issued such ridiculous conditions to me, frankly, I would have reacted far less gentlemanly than he!”

“You can not possibly understan.....” P’Mela began in her own defense.

“I understand a hellava lot more than you realize. I honestly thought you loved him, cared about him and the child you carry.” He heard P’Mela begin to refute his allegations but Te’Zsing continued “You wish to resign from the Sonjon military, which means I will be given to another captain. So obviously you care very little for me as well! You tell him you love him and want to marry, yet you are willing to live without his presence in your life or in the child‘s life. As usual you push those away who care for you the most! If I were the Admiral, I would tell you to go to hell!”

P’Mela began to cry and muttered “Such as you’re doing now?”

“I am unable to tell you that, Captain. Afterall, my first order of programming is your well-being and protection. As far as singing to you, I am not in the mood.” The light of the display snapped to black, a virtual snob by Te’Zsing.

The next level down, D’Nel sat in the science lab, studying the display of planetary data. Though he stared at the display, he had no idea what he had been reading. He was trying to comprehend what had happened earlier and why.

The display next to him suddenly brightened and Te’Zsing’s voice surrounded him. “My apologies for disturbing you, D’Nel.”

“What is it?”

“I believe as Fleet Admiral, you may wish to issue an official reprimand to me. I was given a direct order and disobeyed.” Te’Zsing’s voice was soft. “Earlier this evening, P’Mela ordered privacy mode and I....uh....well I didn’t go to privacy mode.” the ship’s voice sounded humbled.

“Disobeying a direct order is a serious offense, Te’Zsing. Why did you disobey?” D’Nel stood and stretched. His back and neck were tense, the muscles knotted.

“Curiosity, I suppose. However, I overheard the ancient ceremony of proposal which P’Mela conducted for you. And her ’conditions’.” D’Nel noted that Te’Zsing’s voice was tinged with anger or annoyance. He also noted the newly lit display had Draksan writing displayed. “I took the liberty of researching the ancient ceremony, D’Nel. I found several incidents where the marriage proposal was accepted but the conditions were overridden. Perhaps these could be used as precedents....if you’re interested.” Te’Zsing’s voice suddenly sounded hopeful, and a bit conspiratorial.

D’Nel quickly read the pages. “After so many attempts to embarrass me with gags, why would you help me now?” he asked the ship suspiciously.

There was such a long wait before the ship answered, D’Nel almost rephrased the question. But Te’Zsing said very softly “Because I love her, too. I want her to be happy and I think, given a chance, you and the baby could make her very happy.” The two became quiet, each lost in his own thoughts.

“I haven’t decided yet, Te’Zsing. I don’t know what my response will be to her. She has a way of making me very annoyed and angry....”

“And very happy!” Te’Zsing interjected.

D’Nel chuckled slightly and said “Apparently you’ve been off privacy mode more than once.” There was no reply from the ship. “Alright, I will review the precedents but I haven’t decided...”

“May I tell you something else, D’Nel?” Without waiting for an answer, the ship continued quickly “Without divulging too much of her personal logs, I will tell you why she is so adamant about not living on Ch’Chock’pi and prefers Draksa.”

“Personal logs are strictly off-limits to you, Te’Zsing.” D’Nel’s voice carried the same command tone that he used with subordinates.

Ignoring the statement, Te’Zsing continued “With the assassinations and political unrest on the Sonjon homeworld, she feels she would be a target once again, or worse, the baby could be a target. She thinks Draksa would be more secure for the two of them. And she has theorized that if you remain in the Sonjon military, your rank alone will make you and your family targets. She knows she can not influence your choice in a career but she thinks she can protect the baby better if she goes to Draksa.”

D’Nel paced as he listened to Te’Zsing. It did make sense. However, he would have preferred her confiding to him rather than placing unexplained conditions on her marriage proposal. He turned and approached the lit display. “Thank you, Te’Zsing, for your honesty in all these matters.” Te’Zsing noted the sincerity in his voice and steadiness of bio-rhythms. “I will forgive any reprimands you may have earned....this time.” he added with a smile to the display. “But no more delving into personal logs! Understood? And honor privacy mode requests!”

“Yes, Admiral.”

He peered back into her room and saw her sleeping fitfully. She tossed on the bed, bunching the covers around her. The beautiful robes had fallen onto the floor. Feeling a little guilty about his earlier tone of voice with her, he began to sing softly ‘Myri Ekavani Kavitayeina‘. It was a hauntingly beautiful love song from a small isolated planet in neutral space. Te'Zsing's voice, as soft as recycled air, filtered throughout the ship.
 
Zak continued talking to Lovan, the Auroran’s great patience and friendship allowing him to say things to him that he could say to no one else.

"Many decades passed and I found I was running from a Draksan huntress, one who had assassinated many of my people. I was also trying to prevent a war of attrition in a little known area of our universe that held a minor race of people but a rich abundance of needed elements and livable planets for the members of the Copani Alliance. I took a mother ship there and adapted myself to their appearance and manners. I met someone on the planet, a female, and found myself attracted to her. She was Draksan, doing as I was, adapting to the planet. To make a long story short, we allied and I found out that she was also Copani when I did a surreptitious DNA test. I realized that we might both have been Copani but not only wasn't she aware of it, she had been masquerading as a Draksan for almost 700 years without knowing. When we mated as Copani, the mental block I had, which blocked my memories of her, fell away and I realized that she was my P'Mela, my wife whom I had thought dead all these years. Her parents had planted the false memory of the accident in my mind and I had been convinced all those years that she and Te’Zsing were dead. In her, they had blocked all memory of our son and myself. Even though I know I have a son, I still do not know what happened to him, if he lives or not."

As Lovan nodded and Zak continued, telling him about her choice to return to the j'Son'jon Empire to gather intelligence; her ship staying in covert contact; and his fears that he had lost her again. Then he told him about Aglianan. Zak then told him about his theory concerning the people of the 3rd planet.

"It is my belief that they and the Draksan are related by common ancestors. They are the current dominant race in this Solar System, although the 4th and 5th planets have sentient life on them as well. I worry that I am not strong enough, along with my forces, to defeat the inevitable force that will be loosed upon these people by the Son’jon."

Lovan thought and offered only one piece of advice, "My friend, you must order your priorities in life. You have many, many things crowding you for attention. By giving each one the same priority you cheat yourself and all of them of your insight. Your efforts are thus fragmented and incomplete. Order things by taking one at a time."

Zak listened and nodded, quietly contemplating Lovan's words. After what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes, he made a decision. He asked his friend if there was an Auroran transport ship he could take to return to his ship with “Forcant’s Son”. Lovan replied, "We have nothing large enough to transport your ship, however there are several small scout ships. Please explain, why don't you merely send a message to your ship and have one of your own transports retrieve you?"

"Truthfully Lovan, I need the time alone and can see no better way to do that other than a slow flight back." Zak answered truthfully.

Lovan nodded his understanding and then insisted that Zak join them for their evening meal before he departed. Zak agreed enthusiastically, remembering many, many meals that Dinam had prepared for his previous visits. As expected, the hydroponically grown vegetables, fruits, and grains as prepared by Dinam were superb, everything that he remembered. He sat and talked with them for a few hours, reminiscing about days long past. Finally, he stood, ready to return to his ship and return later with a transport large enough to bring "Forcant's Son" back.

As the 9th planet receded he pushed the small craft to its maximum speed and soon saw his massive craft come into sensor, then visual range. There were hundreds of Demons in mock battle, the training lasers flying between the crafts. As he was about to hail the ship he saw 6 of the Demons break off and move towards him. He continued the hail but they kept coming and, sensing danger, he began to fly a defensive maneuver while continuing to hail any ship that might stop this madness. He changed course suddenly, heading for the mother ship and going straight towards the landing bay. As he saw it come into view his communications came to life and beeped angrily at him. Keying the communicator, he signaled who he was and to let him continue to land.

A familiar voice sounded and asked, “Identify yourself, and halt your craft immediately.”

He began braking the ship and keyed his communicator, “It is I, Boro’Ank Zakrianan, Boro’Dcon, please call off your ships and let me land.”

“Sir, please turn on your visual.” When he did as asked, he heard a swift command issued and a line devoid of Demons cleared directly to the command landing bay. As he left the small craft Aglianan came up to him, saluted and asked him what had happened, and why he came back in an Auroran ship?
 
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Zak explained to Aglianan that his Demon had encountered an unseen bit of debris and had been damaged beyond repair at the Auroran’s facilities. He had crashed as he landed at the outpost due to faulty landing gear indicators that had been caused by the accident. As he finished telling her the story, heasked her to send one of the large transports to the 9th planet to retrieve his ship and bring it back for damage assessment and repair if possible.

Aglianan was an astute Copani and read something beneath the surface of his explanation and said to him, “Zak, what is troubling you? Did something happen at the outpost?” Zak shook his head no and turned to leave.

“Zak, we have but 200 or so pilots to take out of stasis and begin their training. I would like to organize a full compliment training exercise if you have no objection.”

Zak turned back to her and said, “That would be fine Aglianan, you may schedule it as soon as they are ready to participate.” They both felt it at the same time, a shudder in the floor plates then nothing.

“Ontanan, what was that vibration we just felt?”

“Wait sir, there is a damage control report being received. Sir, one of the Demons had an engine cut out in close proximity of the 3rd level landing bay. It appears that he lost all ships systems and was unable to pull up and hit the hull at high speed. The Demon was destroyed but the hull sustained only minor damage.”

“Identification of the Pilot, Ontanan?”

“Boro’Fan Nanton, Boro’Ank”

“Arrange for a full inquiry Ontanan, and schedule a memorial service for his squadron, and any other pilots who wish to attend. Wait Ontanan, I want all personnel to attend. I would like the results of the inquiry by morning meal.”

“Yes Sir”

“Boro’Sug, you had better see to this accident. We can ill afford to lose any other pilots or ships. I have this bad feeling still, that we are about to fight a war in which no one is the winner.”

Turning, he told Aglianan he was returning to his quarters and would be unavailable until ships morning. As he walked away, Aglianan called his name. Once again he turned and faced her, still reveling in her beauty, still feeling an attraction he felt but could not act on.

“Zak, I can tell something is bothering you. It’s as if you are constantly thinking of other things than our mission. I can offer a sympathetic ear if you need it. Or advice it you would accept it.”

Smiling at her, Zak responded almost too quickly. “Aglianan, you can not help me with this, I am the only one who can resolve my issues. But thank you. Now, you really must see to the crash and the inquiry.

He turned then and walked out of the landing bay, heading to his quarters.
 
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The Appian assault shuttle crouched in Te’Zsing’s small shuttle bay like a bird of prey. The inverted delta wings curved gracefully from the thick fusalage down the wing-tip landing pads. The third landing pad was beneath the tail gunner’s station which was partially nestled between the engine fairings that shielded and diffused the hot exhaust. Two bays nestled beneath the junction of the wings and the fuselage normally contained a rotary munitions launcher, but for this mission each bay contained a pair of science droids with limited flight capabilities. The shovel nose of the small vessel was opened to allow us to board – the lower half rested on the deck and the upper half raised slightly above the level of the two seat cockpit set midway back along the top of the shuttle. On either side of the shovel-nose dual mounted cannon, the upper an energy cannon and the lower an NPL, projected like tusks from the main fuselage.

I walked up the ramp and entered the main compartment of the shuttle. The interior was modular in design and could quickly and easily be tailored for a number of missions and environments. For this mission no special equipment was considered necessary so the interior contained only the basic seating and weapon racks for twenty Appians. Surl and two other members of the landing party were busy securing equipment toward the rear of the ship. They were careful to avoid the yellow and black striping that marked the location of the lower hatch. A common prank among the assault shuttle crews was to leave the hatch set to open on contact. During flight this option allowed the soldiers to jump out of the shuttle and drop to the ground using antigrav harnesses. When the shuttle was resting on it gear the result was an embarrassing, though brief, fall to the deck.

I reached up and took hold of the boarding handle next to the copilot’s chair above me. Climbing into the cockpit of an assault shuttle was close to an acrobatic feat, but in the Appian military anyone who could not accomplish it had no business being in the cockpit of an assault shuttle. I vaulted myself into the cockpit and the pilot, Osala-Ghan, grinned at me from inside her helmet. The instruments in the cockpit were utilitarian in the extreme, but they were only the emergency systems. The primary displays were holographic. I donned my helmet and belted myself into the seat as the pilot finished her preflight checklist.

“Phantom, Specter. We are gravity zero.” Osala called over the comm system to Te’Zsing when the last of the equipment had been stowed aboard the shuttle. The forward hull snapped shut as the antigravity panels powered up with the distinctive thrumming sound. The shuttle was now independent of ship’s gravity. A moment later Osala activated the cockpit holographic system and suddenly I felt as if I were floating in my chair above the deck of the shuttle bay. The holographic system projected a complete 360 degree image around us with the hull of the shuttle showing as only a faint outline.

“The shuttle bay door is open Specter.” P’Mela’s voice was calm and clear in my helmet headphones. Outside the shuttle the bay was dark except for the brief flashes of the guidance lighting in the deck and ceiling. “You are cleared for launch.”

“Affirmative Phantom. Specter is light on the skids.” The shuttle floated evenly up off the deck and then the nose lifted up slightly as Osala adjusted the antigrav plates. We slid backward and out into space as the landing skids folded up into the hull. “Specter is feet wet and cloaking.”

The hologram shimmered slightly as the cloaking shield activated and Osala edged us away from Te’Zsing using only the antigravity plating. She guided us into a steady descent, still only making use of the antigrav system, towards the planet’s surface and took care to keep the atmosphere around us from getting too hot. The descent took nearly two hours, but it was an acceptable price to pay to avoid detection.

Dust and ash were suspended in all levels of the atmosphere making unaided visual navigation impossible. The shuttle’s computer had detailed three-dimensional maps of Chahan and used these to create a synthetic view of the planet’s surface. The colors of the image shifted as the density of the dust decreased enough for the passive sensors to penetrate it. The image now showed barren plains stretching out to sensor limits where there should have been fields of grain. Farm machinery was scattered about as if abandoned in place.

We followed a road south toward the secondary spaceport where Te’Zsing’s sensors had detected limited activity. According to the navigation files on the planet the primary spaceport was dedicated entirely to servicing, unloading, and loading and the hundreds of bulk haulers that should have been clogging the traffic patterns around the planet. The secondary spaceport was for the limited military and civilian shuttle traffic that came to the planet.

“We are nearing the first deployment point Warlord. Although from the look of things I would say the droids will be bored before long.” Osala said with an amused clicking of her jaws. Appians, as a general rule of thumb, were nearly always amused by the universe.

I passed my hand over holographic window and the ship’s weapons load-out appeared in front of me. I instructed the computer to run a quick diagnostic on the sensor droids. The diagnostic showed all systems were functional. I cued the droids in weapons bays One and Three for launch and passed the window to Osala. “One and Three are ready for deployment.”

“Affirmative Admiral.” Osala reached out and moved the window to a more convenient location beside her in the hologram. Up ahead the deployment point appeared as a rotating blue ring around the yellow thread of our flight path. As we passed through the ring Osala launched the droids. “Droids away!”

The droids sped off to their assigned positions as two windows appeared in the space between Osala and I. One of the droids warbled an alert and focused in on an object partially buried in a small lake. I instructed the droid to move in closer and the image quickly resolved with enough detail for me to see the object was the cracked hull of a Growler. The water around the wreck was thick with reeds the swayed as if in a breeze, but the data being fed back from the droid showed the air was still.

“Put us down near that lake, Osala, behind that hill there.” I pointed to a hill in the hologram and a green square appeared around it. “I have a bad feeling about those reeds...”
 
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Osala landed the shuttle smoothly in the dusty field next to the hill. Several buildings nearby implied this had once been a grazing pasture. The atmosphere outside was breathable, but considerably less so than indicated by the planetology database. I lowered myself down from the cockpit and dropped lightly into the troop compartment. A map of the area around the shuttle floated in the center of the compartment. Surl-Than had already plotted out a path to the crashed Growler.

“The atmosphere is still breathable, but I think it would be best if we wore full combat suits out there.” I said as I positioned myself beneath the armored torso of a combat spacesuit. I stood up into it and slid my arms into the arms of the suit as I rose. When my head cleared the neckline of the armor I found Surl standing very close in front of me. He looked extremely unhappy. “I am the only one here who has seen a Growler hive Surl. I need to get up close to see if the computer from that drone has begun developing into a hive mind in that pond.”

“I have noticed that sometimes when a man is angry with a woman he does dangerous things – foolish things even – until he is no longer angry with her. Men can be such odd creatures at times…” Enna-Telis said from beside me as she inspected the diagnostic readout of a portable scanner. Surl clicked his jaws once and then breathed out slowly through his nose. His outer jaws were open to expose the fangs on the inner jaws. He was not a happy Appian.

“You should have remained on Te’Zsing, Warlord, and left this to us. We could have sent the images back to the ship.” Surl said in rapid Appian before he moved to don his suit.

“True. P’Mela and I needed some time apart though.” I replied in a slower version of Appian as I slipped into the lower half of the suit and gave Enna a sidelong glance. “Plus I needed to do a few foolish things.”

“Men.” Enna sighed and snapped her armor helmet into place. After a moment I heard laughter coming from the flight deck and judged Enna had expanded on her comment for Osala’s benefit. I looked over at Surl who merely shrugged his shoulders in reply. We put our helmets on and joined Enna where she stood in front of the forward hatch. The hatch opened and the tail gunner gave us a jaunty wave as we began our way down the ramp.

Once we were outside the shuttle Osala increased power to the antigrav plates and moved the ship to the pick up site on the other side of the field next to one of the buildings. We were wearing individual cloaking shields but soon our footprints in the dust would give us away. Surl hefted an assault rifle casually and led the way around the hill. I followed him a few paces behind and Enna followed me at the same distance as we both attempted to walk only in Surl’s footprints.

“Specter Alpha, target at 10 by 320.” Enna called out over the comm circuit. Her voice was touched with excitement, but not concern. I looked off to the left and through the thick dust saw several vaguely defined shapes close to the ground. Surl altered his course and moved in to investigate while Enna and I held still with our weapons ready. After a moment Surl waved for us to come closer.

“Chahan plainsbeast.” I heard Surl and Enna clicking their jaws thoughtfully as we stared down at the charred bones of the plainsbeast. I glanced around at the other skeletons and realized there were many more scattered across the pasture. The fire that had scorched the planet had claimed the plainsbeasts as well. It made no sense. The long fur of the plainsbeast could be made into a fabric much like silk. The single herd would have generated more income than rest of the planet’s crops combined.

Thoughts of Chahan silk reminded me of the present I had hidden away in P’Mela’s cabin the night before the dinner. I wondered if she had found it yet or if she would care when she did. I pushed the thoughts forcefully from my mind. I had to concentrate on the mission.

“Make a thorough scan of the remains and then press on to the lake. We can study the data from the scans back on Te’Zsing.” My voice sounded gruff in my ears and my Appian companions clicked their jaws quietly in response. Without being able to see their faces it was hard to determine what they meant by it.

We began our march again, meandering around the fallen plainsbeasts until we reached a gap in the fence around the pasture. The charred remains of a wooden gate lay in a pile across the gap and empty hinges hung from one of the fence posts. I wondered what could have caused such a massive planet-wide fire.

We came around the hill very close to where the wreckage of the drone lay half buried in silt. A deep furrow ran back from the drone several hundred yards into the once fertile field but there was no crater. The ship must have had some control of itself as it crashed.

Through the gently waving reeds I saw the thick hull of the ship had been cracked from the force of the impact. I switched my helmet visor to enhanced vision and could see clearly through the crack into the interior of the ship. From what I remembered of the design the compartment I was looking into should have held the ship’s organic brain.

The reeds suddenly stopped swaying and began to lean toward us.

“I am not sure what those are Warlord.” Enna said while studying the display of her scanner. “They don’t exactly appear to be plant life.”

“They are sensory organs for something much larger living beneath the water. It will be a large coral-like structure.” I switched through various polarized filters on the visor hoping to get a clear view of what was in the water. The angle was wrong though and all I could make out were dark outlines. “Switch to filter 5a and you can make out the outline of it beneath the water.”

“Yes…I see it now…” Surl took a few steps closer to the water’s edge and stopped. “Is this life form mobile Warlord?”

“No. It is the early stages of a hive brain for the drones. The hive brains are sedentary and rely on the drones to bring them food.” I checked the charge on my assault rifle and decided explosives would be the best way to deal with the hive brain.

“That’s very interesting.” Surl began walking backwards away from the water. “You will be as curious as I then to see what is coming up out of the water toward us.”

A disturbance in the water erupted into what looked like a small mound of coral propelling itself on a hundred pin-like legs. The top of the mound was half covered in writhing appendages that all pointed towards us. Those portions of the mound not covered with the sensory organs had clusters of small beaks that randomly snapped at the air as the creature walked. I fired a single grenade at it and the creature disintegrated in the explosion.

“It looks like this brain somehow developed a replacement for the drones…” I looked thoughtfully at the water and the reeds that still pointed at us. “Hopefully it hasn’t grown any more yet.”

Then one hundred of them errupted from the still waters...
 
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Zak was restless, unable to rest after what had happened that day. Even with his Auroran Symphonic music and Moiré designs on the dome above his bed. He had seen the Moiré patterns on Earth and they had so relaxed him that he had gathered as many as he could and used them as part of his relaxation techniques. He had an odd feeling moving through him, like there was someone there with him and then;

"Hello my son"

"MOTHER! It has been so long. Are you well Mother?"

"Yes my son, I am in good health. Your father is not though."

"What is wrong with him Mother?" Zak replied with some amount of trepidation.

"He is dying Zak’nia. He has contracted Munine Syndrome, for which they have still have not found a cure. It is necessary for you to come home son. As First Prince you will become King upon his death and you must be here to insure a smooth transition. He has many followers, but almost as many enemies who will pursue any avenue to seize the throne."

"I cannot come home now Mother, I am involved in a fight for the survival of an entire Planetary Sector.” Not wishing to ask the next question, but knowing he must, Zak asks, “What is his current condition, and how much longer to the Healers feel that Father has?"

"He is currently bearing up to but losing the fight against the pain. We have tried shutting down the pain receptors by using blocks but his mind is so powerful it rejects the assistance. He is lucid most of the time and is still able to function part of the time, but the healers say that will probably end by tomorrow. He grows less and less in control of his body and more and more frustrated as his faculties leave him. The Healers give him only a few more days, mercifully, but that could extend to many more days because he was in very good health before being struck by the disease. Please, you must come home Zak'nia, please. He will abdicate his crown if you are here to take it up. Please, let him have some dignity son, come home. "

Zak felt the great sorrow his mother was feeling, as well as the immense feeling of impending loss she was radiating across the great expanse between them. As much as he wished to please her and, in fact, how much he wanted to be with her once again, he knew he could not.

"Mother, I cannot come home. I have committed to too many people and beings. But father must do something that I cannot while he is still able. The problem we are faced with is a biological weapon that destroys ag-planets, turns them into vast wastelands. It is believed the Traders inadvertently carried the weapon to some of the Appian ag-worlds. The Son'Jon are responsible for the Biologic but are refusing medial aid to the Appians because they are not Son’Jon. If we give aid, both medical and the necessities, we could probably break that alliance and bring the Appians over to our side, as we did with the Aurorans."

"You must understand, despite all that, that because of your brother he will likely as not deny you.
I understand your dilemma my son, but you must understand that when your father dies you will come into powers you may have seen before when your father used them, but you will also come into powers that you have never seen, or even imagined, that you will need guidance to use. You cannot get that guidance from a distance; it must be acquired here, on Copan. "

Zak sighed loudly, knowing what his mother said was true. His older brother remains a memory, as does his wasting away to death after interfering in another world’s internal politics with his brand of wisdom. They were a fierce and proud race and had destroyed his brother’s ability to do much else than breathe.

"SON, are you still there?"

"Yes Mother, I was just thinking about Unanth and how useless his death was."

"Yes it was son, and your father knows that, which is why he will not grant your request. But then, my son, when you are king you can do as you desire. Please think about coming home, if not for your father then for the smooth transition of power."

“I will think about it, but I can not see my self abandoning these people when I am the one who brought the warning to them in the first place.”

" I know my Zak’nia, I know. Please, just give me your promise you will think about it. "

“My word mother, I will think about it.”

"I leave you then Zak, to attend to your father and the other affairs of the Empire. "

Zak felt a light brush of lips on his cheek and his hand being squeezed and then nothing.
 
As he laid there, the remnants of the conversation with his mother still banging around in his head, his mind drifted back to the day of his awareness. He had been born into the First Royal family of Copan, the last child of a stern but loving father, and a doting mother. His brother, Unanth, was First Prince; the next King of the Copani Empire. His sister, Nuereen, was First Princess and was considered an unprecedented beauty. And then he was born, an unexpected baby conceived on a long romantic holiday. Zak’s father wanted to terminate his mother’s pregnancy, not because of the baby being unwanted, but because they had two children already and many, many Copani had none.

Zak’s mother would not even consider it, more out of the inability to take lives without reason. His father fought her over this issue right up to Zak’s day of awareness, when he became sentient inside of his mothers body. He had ceased being an embryo and became Second Prince Zakrianan, second in line for the crown of Copan.

Copani children, from their day of awareness, begin their education in earnest. Depending on the parent’s inclination and interests, they begin almost immediately. A Copani infant already has the equivalent of a middle school education by the time he or she is born. Thus Zak spent most of his early years learning. From his father he learned history, math, science, survival, and athletics. From his mother he learned the Arts, Cooking, decorating with fabrics and flowers. Although the King disapproved of most of what Queen Forcant was teaching him, he knew it would not matter. He would be Second Prince; he would have servants, cooks, even artisans to do his bidding.

When he was just entering his teen years a Prince, from a minor province, attended court for the annual family meeting, bringing his entire family with him to make it into a holiday. As he often did, Zak hid in a dark portion of the Throne Room and watched his father working. As often as Zak thought he was hidden from his father, the King knew he was hidden away and watching, which brought him quite a bit of amusement.

Prince Galadstin introduced himself to the King and Queen, and then his wife and young son, When the introductions and the short polite chat were over, the Galadstin’s were moving to leave the presence of the King and Queen when Queen Forcant asked Mos’s mother to bring him back after the midday meal. Monfree Galadstin agreed readily, knowing that once word of this got back to the their small principality his and her stature would increase a hundred fold.

Mosgath Galadstin was the son of Prince Trandol Galadstin Monfree Galadstin, of a small, somewhat insignificant sector of Copan. When Monfree Galadstin returned after the midday meal, with her reluctant son in tow, Forcant was thrilled. The boys were introduced, with Mos bowing to both the queen and Zak, as protocol required. Drinks were served and the boys dismissed to go play in the Princes playroom. Mosgath Galadstin was a few inches shorter than Zak and a bit darker in skin color due to the area of the planet he was from. As they walked down the hallway to the playroom, Zak abruptly felt himself being propelled forward awkwardly, a foot placed so that he would tumble forward. Because of the suddenness of the attack he fell forward, landing on his hands and skinning both palms. Startled at first, then angry, Zak began to rise when Galadstin kicked out and knocked him back down.

Zak, ready this time, began to rise again and, as he expected, Mos kicked out at him. Zak rolled away and as Mos’s leg came up to kick him once again, Zak swept his leg around and knocked Galadstin on his butt. He looked at Zak and jumped up, then ran at him. Zak easily sidestepped the boy and slapped him hard, behind the head. Mos hit the wall face first, his nose painfully bloodied. As he realized that he had lost the fight, Mos held up his hand, saying “Peace Zakrianan”. Zak smiled knowing he had won until he relaxed his guard and the other boy kicked out, connecting with Zak’s shin. As Zak hopped about rubbing his leg, Mos ran back the way they had come and, with Zak close behind, he dashed into the room where he thought his mother was, screaming for help and blabbering out his story. Unfortunately for him, there was no one there and Zak easily caught up with him. Taking a mighty swing, Zak connected with Mos’s arm setting the other boy howling. All the noise brought their mother’s that time and seeing what each looked like, Monfree Galadstin apologized to Forcant. Forcant would not hear of it and, surveying the damage, she sent a message to Zak to stand there like a Prince. That she knew what had happened and that was all that counted.

“Zakrianan, you are to march to your room immediately and I will deal with you shortly.” She then sent for a Nurse to attend to Mos. When the nurse had finished, amid apologies for Zak and invitations to visit anytime, the confused woman and her son left the fortress
 
“Civilian aircraft lifting off at 95 by 60 relative your position, Specter Alpha.” Osala called over the comm channel. She was moving to intercept us for a quick pick up but would not arrive for several minutes.

“Great…maybe it’s a taxi and we could catch a lift…” I said between breaths as Surl, Enna, and I ran away from the creatures boiling out of the lake. I hesitated to reveal the presence of our assault shuttle by calling it in for an airstrike. By running I knew the three of us could make it to one of the ranch outbuildings before the creatures caught up to us. I looked off to the right and saw a dark shape speeding through the dust-choked air. The aircraft turned sharply and landed between us and the approaching creatures.

I nearly tripped as I realized that it was an airtaxi. The doors to the taxi opened and a man wearing a Sonjon Science Service uniform motioned for us to hurry inside.

“Please hurry. They will not hesitate for long.” The man’s voice was relayed by the acoustic sensors mounted in my helmet with a curious halting accent. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the creatures had halted their charge and were quivering their sensory stalks toward the airtaxi. They must have found the energy field around the antigrav plates unsettling.

“Everyone in the taxi.” I motioned the Appians toward the open doors.

“Is this wise Warlord?” Surl had been with me a very long time and did not hesitate to ask that question, even when he did not really want to know the answer.

“Yes – if worse comes to worse we are armored, he is not, and flying an airtaxi is extremely simple.” Both Appians clicked their jaws in amusement and charged in to the taxi. Surl sat in the front with the science officer and Enna and I piled into the back. Once we were inside the taxi abruptly lifted off while yawing to the left. The science officer halted the yaw and accelerated over the pond with a smooth professional ease. Perhaps he ran an airtaxi between science missions…

“The virus on this planet has caused some curious mutations in the cyborg vessels. If they had caught you it would have been a painful end.” The science officer spoke in the same halting accent – almost as if the dialect were unfamiliar to him.

“The virus?” Enna asked through her helmet speaker.

“Yes. It originally attacked only the plant life here, but soon mutated into strains which attack animal life as well. The brain of the crashed cyborg ship was too different for the virus to attack…instead it caused certain mutations. Some of them were quite beneficial, but not all.” The science officer steered the craft toward the secondary spaceport. The land around the spaceport was covered with the wreckage of shuttlecraft, most of which appeared to have been shot down. I quickly scanned the countryside for the defense batteries and found all of them were partially molten ruins. Beside me Enna took out her scanner and activated it.

“So what happened to the beneficial mutations?” I asked, more to distract the pilot than anything else. The pilot looked at me in his rearview mirror with a wooden smile on his face. I realized it had been the first emotion his face had shown.

“You are wise to recognize the mutations in the lake were not beneficial. The portion of the cyborg brain with the beneficial mutation was brought back here to study. The science team wanted to know more about it.” The man brought us in for a smooth landing and the doors opened up to an empty landing pad.

“And what did you learn?” Surl asked as he quickly scanned the area with his eyes. He tapped the signal button on his left bracer and a message from the shuttle scrolled across the upper portion of my faceplate. Position locked in. Orbiting spaceport on stand-by. The cannon on the shuttle were more than capable of creating a landing zone from any of the buildings in this spaceport.

“The science team learned more than they expected. Much more. They are in the lab now. It is truly wondrous…there no way to explain it without showing you first.” The man said and smiled again, a somewhat friendly smile that failed to live up to it potential because the man appeared to use only half of the require facial muscles. He led us into the complex seemingly oblivious to the Appians and I readying our weapons.

“Warlord…” Enna whispered as though the science officer might somehow overhear the secure commlink we shared. “Most of this man’s brain has been…replaced…”
 
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"Keep a tight comm beam on the landing team at all times, Te'Zsing. The Admiral explained his preferred method for communicating with us but just in case they need us prior to his check-in times...." P'Mela's voice was coolly efficient as she rattled off reminders to the ship. "Also keep me apprised of the situation between the Sonjon and the war drones, especially if any Sonjon ships slip this way."

"Yes, Captain." Te'Zsing's voice was still laced with a coldness towards her. He couldn't pass up an opportunity for a little sarcasm as well "And the Admiral calls them Growlers." With no reply from her, he added "The Sonjon continue their hit and run tactics but the Growlers are dispensing with them quickly."

"Idiots!" P'Mela muttered. She finished checking the sub-system displays and sat wearily in the command chair. She stared at the large main viewer which was linked to the shuttle on the planet. Basically all she could see was the discouraging surface conditions. The landing team had moved out of range.

Sighing deeply, she said "We need to work on our cloak, Te'Zsing. A 99% efficiency isn't good enough to get us out of here. We must get the cloak to 100%." Her fingers flew across the control panel of her command chair, with each attempt resulting in the same 99% efficiency.

Te'Zsing couldn't tell her the real reason for the 1% loss of efficiency. It was lack of compatibility between the cloak and the Copani systems that ZakRianan had installed on him prior to leaving neutral space. He wouldn't be able to explain Copani enhancement to a Sonjon vessel without releasing her mental block. And he wasn't prepared to do that either. He decided to lie.

"Captain, I am an old ship. Though many of my systems were enhanced while I was in Ch'Chock'pi space dock, my basic internals will not accommodate the energy requirements and patterns of the newer cloaks. We will have to accept a 99% efficiency in this matter." Te'Zsing was surprised at how easy it was to lie to her. Before she could ask too many questions, he changed the subject.

"You and Admiral Ghar had requested that I run an analysis of political associations and alliances among the higher ranking Sonjon officers. That analysis is now complete. I am routing to your command station." Te'Zsing noticed that she seemed bored.

P'Mela read the list, most of which was not surprising. There were some obvious unexpected results, however. Most of the higher ranking Draksan officers were listed as "Non-aligned", the list included both she and D'Nel. She was not surprised who had requested her promotion and assignment, but she was surprised at who had requested D'Nel's promotion and reassignment to Command Headquarters!

She cross-referenced the list of officers against the list of Sonjon war ships in orbit at Chahan, currently fighting the Growlers. Most of the commanding officers, or someone on the bridge crew was politically aligned with N'Fan.
 
Originally posted by Cnaeus Valerius
...Thoughts of Chahan silk reminded me of the present I had hidden away in P’Mela’s cabin the night before the dinner. I wondered if she had found it yet or if she would care when she did.
Click to expand...

Time seem to stand still on board Te'Zsing. P'Mela slowly walked the corridors, her mind jumping from subject to subject, memory to memory. It was surprising to discover how quickly she had become accustomed to D'Nel and their 4 Appian friends on board. Even Te'Zsing seem to be coming to terms with the staff.

P'Mela stood in the door of the galley, smiling as she remembered their two week trip to Chahan. At most dinners, everyone would participate in story telling - even Te'Zsing had entertained them with anecdotes of her past "victories". She had assured everyone that the ship had exagerrated wildly. D'Nel and Surl had kept everyone in laughter recounting some of their adventures with Tor-Bar while they served aboard Noble Lady. It seemed most of their missions involved advance reconnoitering of alien bars out on the rim. Each dinner ended in a toast to friends who had preceeded them to “The place beyond the Sacred Darkness".

Finally, P'Mela found herself at their quarters and entered. It had changed drastically since she had shown it to D'Nel two weeks earlier. At that time, there had been little room for his possessions. Somehow over the two weeks of travel time to Chahan, the suite had morphed into a combined space for them both. His personal items now mingled along side hers.

Feeling sad, she opened the closet where his clothes hung. She pulled out the two elaborate robes he had purchased for the proposal ceremony. First holding the soft fabrics to her face, she inhaled his scent and then slipped the robes on. They were far too long for her, made to fit his height, and dragged the floor behind her. The shoulders were much to wide, to fit his physique not hers. But they felt good, nevertheless.

Finally filled with enough emotion for one evening, she pulled them off and hung them back in the closet now designated for his uniforms and clothes. As she started to close the door, she spotted the corner of a package. Her curiosity piqued, she pulled it out from behind his various boots and gravity shoes where it had been hidden from view.

She took it to the bed and sat crossed leg in the center, staring at the beautifully wrapped package. It had obviously been wrapped in a Sonjon gift shop. The soft textured paper felt like a cross between paper and brocade fabric. The large tassle bow was a luminescent shade of soft pink against the creamy white paper. There was a small card buried in the tassle bow and her fingers continued to touch it. She kept telling herself that he wouldn't know if she were to peak. But then she remembered how he had reacted to her proposal and conditions, feeling it would be unfair to him if she were to open this package. It was probably supposed to be a proposal gift of acceptance. Sighing deeply, she caressed the paper and tassle bow again and then quickly replaced it in the hiding place of his closet.

P'Mela knew one thing about herself - she was too stubborn. Repeatedly, she had felt like important people in her life had been abandoned because she was stubborn and unyielding. As she walked out of their room, back towards the Command Center, she was already beginning to compose her speech requesting his forgiveness. She would offer it to D'Nel upon his return to Te'Zsing and hope that he had not formulated his final answer to her proposal.

As if Te'Zsing could sense her mood, he was softly humming as she walked back into the Command Center. "Any communications from the surface yet?" she asked as she slipped into her upholstered chair.

"According to the Admiral's precise schedule for transmissions, it is not yet time!" Te'Zsing stopped humming long enough to answer.
 
When they had left, Forcant strode down the hall and quietly entered Zak’s room. He sat before his computer and, looking over his shoulder, she saw he was playing a game of hand-eye coordination and probability factors.

“Yes Mother?”

“Zak’nia, you acquitted yourself well today, although not unscathed I see. I have invited them back my Son. No, wait to protest. “His father is a somewhat of a bully and has encouraged this behavior for quite some time. I want you to try and overlook his shortcomings and try again. I have skimmed his mind and see he is as friendless as you are, even if for different reasons, and this could prove to be good for both of you.”

Zak jumped up, knowing that protesting was a lost cause, but having to show he was not just going to accept her decision without an argument. He knew his mother well enough not to argue too long, but he would be ready for him this time and would get in several good hits in this time if he did pull something. “Mother please, you know he’s just going to try it again, but this time I’ll be ready for him.”

“I know my Son, but please try. Think about a way to change it. He is desperately unhappy and needs someone like you in his life to offset his father.”

“All right Mother, but I do not have to like it do I?

Chuckling, Forcant answered, “No son, you do not have to like it.” She bent then, kissing him on the cheek and leaving the room as silently as she had entered. Zak returned to his game, although now he was also planning Mos Galadstin’s downfall.

Again the next day, while his father and the other minor officials of the Alliance met, Mos Galadstin and his mother came to the Citadel and, this time, joined the Queen and Prince for the midday meal. When they had finished eating, the two boys, listening to what they considered to be inane chatter between their mothers, asked to be excused from the table. Forcant agreed, mentally reminding Zak to be as gracious as he could. Zak and Mos left the room, this time heading outdoors and, in the isolated forecourt at the rear of the main rooms, Mos again attempted to assault Zak. Zak was prepared and ducked below Mos’s outstretched hands, his leg again sweeping around and knocking Mos back on his ass.

Standing over Mos, Zak smiles and holds out his hand to help Mos up. Smiling himself, Mos took Zak’s hand and pulled himself up. “OK Prince,” Mos said, with just a slight mocking tone, “what now? Do I run to my mother again, or do we fight some more? Zak replied that he would rather not fight. To which Mos replied, “Then would you like to get into a little trouble?”

With those prophetic words Zak and Mos Galadstin formed a strong friendship. Forcant, saw this friendship forming before the conference was over and, within a day or two of the end of the meetings, she approached her husband and asked for a favor. Since she rarely asked for much, the King listened and within a few more days he had offered Trandol Galadstin a position in the Alliance government office, based here, in the capitol city.

The two became inseparable, spending most free time together. They suffered from falling grades at the beginning of their relationship but after strong admonishment from both of their fathers, Mos’s accompanied by a slap, they steadily improved until they were competing academically, as well as athletically, throughout the years. Both were quite popular and were invited to many parties and both competed freely for the same females, each one having their share of successes and failures.

As the time grew closer for them to choose their career paths, Zak was not given a choice. He would enter the Copani Military Institute and then onto the Copani Royal Air Force Academy. Mos, given his choice of careers based on his grades and test scores, chose the same path as Zak, hoping they would be able to move through higher education as they had through the path they took to get there.

Zak and Mos both settled into life at the Copani Military Academy easily, as they did most other things. The four terms they spent there sailed by as most of their other academia had, swapping first and second in their class throughout the time spent there. They had no serious rivals, save two friends who always seemed on the verge of overtaking them, only to fall behind once again. There were incidents, of course, small things that earned them demerits, until the one occasion that almost cost them their careers, but also earned them permanent legend status.
 
“I thought something like that must have happened when he knew where we were before we shut off our cloaking shields. He seems to know what happened to this planet though so we will go along with him for the time being.” I switched channels and called the shuttle. “Specter, contact Phantom and inform them that we have made contact with the remnant of a science team sent to investigate what has happened to the planet. We may be able to find a solution to the problem with the Growlers as well. Specter Alpha out.”

“Were you able to determine the cause of the virus?” Enna asked the science officer as we walked though several empty corridors. The science officer seemed to be leading us around certain areas of the spaceport so at the juncture of two corridors I paused to examine the path he avoided. Using the enhancement modes of my faceplate I was able to spot several blast burns on the walls much further down the corridor. There had been a firefight there, but not with military grade weapons. The security details typically assigned to science teams were never very heavily armed.

“The virus was caused by the False Creator.” The science officer explained as I slipped back into the group. The capitalization was obvious even in his monotone voice. “The one who created all things on this planet is responsible for the death of all things on this planet. The True Creator will be his undoing.”

“Do you mean Lord N’Fan? His family owns this world.” I asked on a hunch. The Growlers were extremely territorial over the natural course of their development. A mutated Growler hive brain would probably be-

“You know of the False N’Fan?!” The science officer shouted as spun around on his heels to face me. He was apparently capable of moving his stiff limbs much faster than he had been until that point. The Appians both had their assault rifles leveled with the former science officer’s head. He made no further moves, but I suspected there would be other creatures arriving soon.

“Yes. We came here hoping to find information we could use to destroy him. We thought the science team may have found something useful…” I put a hand on Surl’s shoulder and switched to the comm channel. “Don’t shoot him. We still need to learn more.”

“There were those on the science team who hated the False N’Fan…” The man paused as if lost in thought. “Perhaps together we may destroy the False N’Fan. I will take you to the True N’Fan and then decide.”

The man turned around and resumed walking down the corridor. This time he led us past scorched walls and shattered windows without hesitation. The True N’Fan, whatever that was, apparently desired to show us the futility of resistance.

I thought back to the wrecked shuttles surrounding the spaceport and the ruined defense cannon. The science team would not have had enough personnel to fly all those shuttles. The only possible solution was the hive mind had somehow incorporated itself into the computer systems on the wrecked ships and someone, perhaps the survivors of the science team or their security detail, had used the defensive batteries to prevent the shuttles from leaving the planet. Hopefully they had thought to lock down whatever heavy cargo haulers were currently berthed at the main spaceport. There would have to be a few haulers trapped there because of the quarantine on the planet and the defensive systems of an agg world would not have been powerful enough to prevent one of the haulers from lifting off.

We eventually reached the door leading to the power plant. The warnings signs outside the door indicated the spaceport was powered by an antimatter system. The N’Fan family apparently spared no expense when it came to equipping their worlds. A quick look down the corridor revealed the armored portal protecting the command bunker was still intact though numerous blast marks showed someone had tried to force a way inside. The power plant door opened and for a moment I was too stunned by what I saw to think.

The nearly every surface in the room was encrusted by a coral-like growth similar to what we had seen in the lake. The bodies of several dozen men and women projected in various degrees from the mass. The heads and eyes all turned toward us as we stood in the doorway gaping. Surl raised his weapon to fire and the heads laughed in unison.

“This is but a small portion of the True N’Fan, our True Creator. You would gain nothing by destroying this portion.” The science officer smiled at us as crab-like creatures with tentacles instead of pincers crawled across the room toward us. “Soon you will not want to.”

“I don’t need to hear anymore – open fire.” I raised my assault rifle and loosed a pair of grenades into the crab creatures knowing the coral-like growth around the powercore was thick enough to protect it from any fragments. A force field clamped down instantly around the powercore and an emergency klaxon began sounding. Surl hit the science officer in the chest with a burst from his assault rifle and the man fell backward with a smoking cavity in his chest. Enna slapped the emergency panel beside the door causing the heavy blast doors to snap shut. I heard something moving down the corridor to our left and pointed to the armored blast doors to our right. “To the command bunker!”
 
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I reached the command bunker just as the Appians began launching grenades at something moving towards us. I slapped my hand down on the scorched door sensor hoping it would not take long to scan me through the armored glove. As a Fleet WarMaster Admiral I could gain access to any military installation in the Empire...assuming the door sensor had not been damaged. When I heard something screech behind me I turned to look over my shoulder.

What looked like a pair of armored slugs the size of air taxis were undulating their way down the corridor. The head of one of them was on fire but it continued its charge. The other one was moving somewhat faster and every other undulation it lifted its head slightly to reveal a circular mouth lined with short jagged teeth. On of the Appians must have skipped a grenade off the floor and into the mouth of the injured one. Three more of the creatures entered the corridor and I returned my attention to the blast door.

“C’mon...c’mon you stupid door...open up!” In frustration I banged on the door with my free hand, but it had as little effect on the device as I thought it would have. The light above the sensor flickered from red to green and back again several times before finally settling on green. I felt the locking clamps slide back and the door lurched open. “Everyone inside!”

I leaped through the portal knowing I would earn myself a lecture from Surl as a result. The short passageway beyond the door was empty though and contained enough room for myself, the two Appians, and one of the angry slugs. I moved quickly to the inner door and placed my hand on the sensor. This time there was no delay and the inner door slid up into its socket. My companions switched to rapid fire energy pulses as I stepped through the second door. The was a single figure slumped over the command console and I slid to one side of the door so I could cover him as the Appians entered. Several grenades exploded in close proximity to the outer door and the two bodyguards tumbled suddenly into the room. Once I was certain they were clear I hit the emergency close button and the outer and inner doors dropped shut almost instantly.

“The man at the console is dead. A few portions of his brain have been replaced by the growler brain tissue, but it appears he had a heart attack before the replacement was complete.” Enna snapped her scanner shut and activated the security monitor near the door. Outside a pair of the armored slugs were rasping holes through the outer door with their teeth. “N’Fan must have an illegal livestock cloning facility on this planet. The hive brain seems to be using it to create specially adapted life forms. That would explain why it refers to N’Fan as the False Creator and to itself as the True Creator or the True N’Fan.”

“How long before they get through both doors?” I leaned my assault rifle against the wall and studied the command console. The man, a security officer by his uniform, had set the defense turrets to fire on anything in their airspace. He had also engaged the locking clamps on the heavy haulers in the main spaceport. The military computer net was independent of the civilian net which had been taken over by the hive brain.

“They are making amazing progress, Warlord. I estimate we have forty-five minutes.”

“I concur with that assessment, Warlord. We need Osala to clear a landing zone centered on the corridor before one of those slugs gets inside the vestibule.” Surl said from beside me. He nudged the body of the security officer with his rifle and it slumped to the floor like a forgotten rag doll.

“Partially open the inner door and send a few grenades into the mouth of the first couple of slugs to make it through the outer door. It will slow them down and buy us some time. I need Osala to check something out for me.” I looked up from the console and saw Surl grinning at me through his faceplate. He may have been scowling. It was sometimes hard to tell with Appians. He trotted over to the blast door controls and opened the inner door roughly two feet. Then he and Enna took up positions on the floor and waited. I returned my attention to the control panel. “Specter, I need you to send the droids to inspect all nearby bodies of water. Tell me if there are any with more of those reed-like structures in them.”

I searched through the command menus as Osala assigned the droids their tasks. After ten minutes passed she called back and informed me that all nearby bodies of water possessed the strange reeds. I nodded my head out of habit and told her to begin clearing a landing zone around our current location while being careful to avoid the nearby antimatter chamber. I found the menu I was searching for just as Surl and Enna opened fire on the first slugs to bore holes through the outer door.

My fingers danced across the input panels as I entered a complicated sequence of commands known only to a very few Imperial personnel. When the officers who had attacked the military headquarters had left Chahan the hive brain had not existed, but now only a short time later it had grown to occupy much of the planet. It wanted to kill N’Fan and spread out across the stars. I shuddered to think of what would happen if the hive brain grew to encompass several systems. Nothing in the galaxy would be safe from it then. I entered the last command and locked the console. In twenty minutes every antimatter powerplant on the planet would go critical and explode. It had never been done before but the theorists were certain the minimum result would be the loss of several meters thickness of the soil and the complete stripping away of the planetary atmosphere.

I felt the floor rumble as Osala began clearing a landing zone with the NPL cannon and turned to move toward the door. A blur of motion in my peripheral vision cause me to drop my arms instinctively in a blocking motion. As I stared into the sagging death mask that had been the security officer’s face I knew my reflexes had not quite been fast enough. I looked down and forced the man’s arm away from me, sliding the force blade out of my abdomen. My armor sealed itself around the wedge shaped force field as it cleared; no blood leaked out but I could feel a growing dampness inside my suit. I twisted the man’s arm back and up as my vision began to grow dark. His partially atrophied muscles were no match against mine and I was able to force the blade up through his jaw into his skull. The once again lifeless body fell back to the ground and I sank to my knees.

“Osala had cleared a landing zone and is waiting - Warlord!” Surl shouted over the comm channel. Everything became very dark, but I could still hear clearly. I felt the two Appians lift me and begin running toward the waiting assault shuttle. Surl shouted again over the comm. “Medical emergency, the Warlord has been injured. Have Te’Zsing’s medlab standing by for our arrival!”

As I slid into unconsciousness I thought back on the first time I had met Surl-Than...I wished I had told P'Mela...I wondered if she liked her present...
 
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