Interlude-Delegation
(Starspeak)
“Admiral, you asked for me?”
Hakho glanced at the Adept.
“Yes. You’ve been attached to Cursozi’s fleets, but I know Laranta can recall you to hers. Tell me, did she contact you about this parley?”
“I don’t understand your implication,” the Farnata said implacably.
Accursed Adepts, he scowled. Many Adepts had problems with authority. It came with the territory of having power but a whisper away.
“I don’t want to be surprised by anyone else’s agenda being pushed,” Hakho said plainly. “You, Tane, are security.”
“Admiral, I was under the impression that the…” the Farnata failed to keep her disdain out of her voice when she uttered the next word, “…Flotilla personnel were overseeing security—such as it is.”
Hakho had to bite off the obvious reprimand. She probably wasn’t trying to be snide. But only that: ‘probably’.
The distinction between effective and theatrical security measures didn’t exist for her; it was all theater. Hakho wasn’t surprised to learn that warped her judgement.
“I think you already know this, so please understand why I am impatient with you; your only job is to protect this delegation. If you attempt to harm any members of the Assembly’s delegation, I will spend the rest of my life making sure you don’t make it off planet,” he said. “Mighty as you are, even you have to sleep. So don’t even speak. If you have something to say during the proceedings? Keep it to yourself. That’s an order.”
“Admiral Hakho, Admiral Cursozi is my current commanding—” she began.
“Cursozi is second-chair on this,” Hakho said. “If you really want to be pedantic with me, I can show you the vote the Admiralty Board took on this. But the decision is binding. I am this delegation’s commanding officer.”
“Yes, Admiral.” Tane snapped an impeccable salute before walking out.
Hakho resisted the urge to swear while she might still be in earshot. She hadn’t been dismissed. Ordinarily, it would have been a serious breach of military protocol.
But…well, Tane was without equal.
“...Wow. She’s terrible,” Sturgin commented. Hakho eyed his adjutant. She wasn’t a popular face in the Coalition, but funnily enough, she was even less liked in this system. She wasn’t wrong either, though she didn’t need to be so blunt about it.
“Oh hush.”
“I’m just saying, sir. Leaving with no dismissal? You could court martial her for that.”
“To what end?” he scoffed. “I’m already not very popular outside of Askior. But if I try throwing her in stocks? That’s so petty even my own soldiers would lose some faith.”
“True. But that’s your problem to worry about, sir. I just want to see that imperious scrape brought down a peg or two,” Sturgin said, returning her focus to the mountains of documents before them.
Hakho couldn’t bring himself to reprimand his adjutant. He felt the same way. But feelings made for poor military doctrine, and she was actually chewing through their paperwork more diligently than he, so she’d earned a little lip…especially if it came at Tane’s expense.
An Admiral’s work was never ended, even when they were out of system. The two of them brought their office with them. The ship they were on, the Clark Kent, was rather cramped, so the only paper documents they’d brought with them were the most sensitive secrets, the ones too valuable to risk storing psionically.
Almost absentmindedly, Hakho psionically queried the helm of several things. Their flight-plan, arrival time, Ase Tane’s current location onboard…
It was honestly impressive.
Two years ago, Admiral Hakho had been desperate to see the newly formed ‘Flotilla’ leave his demesne. He could scarcely believe Wolshu Kemon’s little conspiracy had come so close to being realized. Even more embarrassing was that it happened right under Hakho’s own nose. A valuable lesson that: you were never too smart to be fooled.
The only thing more shocking than the insanity of Kemon’s aims had been the architects of his downfall. Caleb Hane and his throng of Humans hadn’t waited five minutes to cannibalize Kemon’s entire operation for themselves.
It was only at Sturgin and Asu Dansi’s request that he’d smoothed over the legal hurdles of effectively stealing Kemon’s ships, bank accounts, and especially personnel. He couldn’t believe how many of the Flotilla’s new crew were flying under suspended criminal sentences.
He understood the theory. Kemon’s conspiracy had been kept small and tight. All the remaining alien members of the crew had no part in it, and they’d even bonded with the Humans. So staying in the Flotilla had provided ideal opportunities to rehabilitate a large number of non-violent criminals.
It wasn’t Hakho’s style to see crimes go unpunished, but his sense of fair play had won out.
Much as Hakho found Caleb and all his Terran compatriots immature lost little children, they had prevented a major terrorist attack that would have seen the war explode with new intensity.
You didn’t see triumphs like that often.
Which is why it was so surprising to see the Flotilla not just persist, but thrive. Two years of hopping through the cosmos, tracking down Humans in hard-to-reach places, trading favors wherever they went, bringing with them new computer technology and cutting-edge psionic expertise…
Hakho still thought Caleb was reckless, dangerous, and immature—and he certainly wasn’t going to let him know how he’d helped the Flotilla first coalesce—but they were useful for his current purposes.
“What do you think?” he finally asked Sturgin, gesturing to the ship they were riding and the Flotilla in general.
Sturgin was still hunched over her documents and missed the hand gesture.
“I think back home the League of Opera, Symphonic Productions, and the Performing Arts is making a mistake trying to close their smaller venues across Hexiam,” she said honestly.
Hakho gave an annoyed click, and Sturgin respected his rank enough to look mollified.
“I meant…about the Flotilla,” he said. “You saw them much closer than I did last time. What do you think we’re in for?”
“Exactly what they say,” Sturgin said. “The Humans are desperate more than anything else, but not just in general. They’re desperate for recognition, specifically. Every day they eat constant reminders that they live and die by food aliens produce for them. Admiral Laranta and the rest of the Coalition have treated Humans favorably—the Flotilla’s Humans, at least. They aren’t going to burn that bridge. So you can rest assured that they’re going to have looked at this summit inside-out, upside down, forwards and backwards, inside and out. They want the credit that comes with giving you exactly what they say they’ll give you.”
“…You said ‘inside out’ twice,” Hakho observed.
“Sure did,” Sturgin said without missing a beat. “I bet the Humans have looked at it twice. More than that, probably.”
The whole summit was a dubious prospect. Proper negotiations were to be held on neutral ground. The Vorak homeworld was anything but.
Hakho consulted another of the personnel files they were analyzing in advance of the summit: Peudra Cuvay.
It was her machinations and arguments that had even created this summit in the first place. Oh sure, the Prolocutor’s office extended the formal introduction, yes, a Fleet Marshal or two gave their voices in support. But at the end of the day, it hadn’t started with them.
It was the lowly ambassador to Tisenni C-4, one of the few Casti systems to not join the Coalition’s secession attempt. Strange.
There was precious little in Peudra’s file to explain why one Vorak would go to the lengths she had to put a peace summit together…though it did mention that she—they were raised a Vorak traditionalist. It might be wise to heed more impersonal pronouns with Peudra.
Hakho was too used to Sturgin—hardly a typical Vorak.
“So the Flotilla will do their due diligence, but what do you make of the Vorak?” he asked.
Sturgin simply knew him too well to think his question was asking her for some special Vorak insight. No, she’d been adopted by Casti when she was young. He was asking his adjutant with military expertise, not the closest Vorak at hand.
“Our delegation makes for an absurdly high value target,” Sturgin conceded. “Three admirals, two vice-Admirals, plus the [queen bitch]? It would be a crippling blow if this did somehow turn out to be a trap…and yet?”
Hakho ignored the English slang he could only assume she picked up from the Human crew and made motion demanding she elaborate.
“The Assembly would be shooting itself in the foot, knee, and hip,” she said. “It would galvanize the entire Coalition population. Recruitment would skyrocket, some of the neutral systems might throw their lot in with us, but most importantly?”
“The Humans,” Hakho recognized. “The Assembly would utterly ruin their relationship with them.”
“Yup. It’s why the Prolocutor’s office accepted Tane’s presence. They don’t care about posing a threat to us. The security the Assembly’s delegation brings will be just as desperate to keep us alive as their own. This thing might be happening on their home-turf, but they’re the ones actually putting themselves at risk.”
“Everyone’s at risk,” Hakho snorted. “Do you know how some of the fleet group captains would react if they knew we were even flirting with the idea of a peace summit?”
None of his, that was for sure. But some of the hotter tempers on the admiralty board had voted against this summit in the first place. Including Hakho.
He didn’t consider himself a war hawk, but he was aware of his own reputation—at least in military circles.
Negotiating peace was a risky move for the Coalition at this stage. For the first time in years, they were actually gaining ground rather than simply holding it. Momentum was swinging their way. But, in his mind, it hadn’t swung enough their way to justify peace.
Rushing to negotiate signaled weakness and fragility in their war footing, and that was a little too close to the truth for Hakho to be comfortable in the idea.
But it wasn’t a clear-cut situation, and the rest of the Admiralty board had outvoted him. The look on Laranta’s face when Hakho had volunteered to lead the delegation…priceless. If they were going to entertain peace, Hakho wanted to make sure he was the one leading their negotiating position. The other Admirals were too likely to bungle it.
Well, maybe not Cursozi. But there was a reason he was coming along.
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Of their own delegation, Admiral Cursozi was probably the least inclined to peace overall. Unlike Hakho, he didn’t believe the Assembly would truthfully entertain the possibility of ending the war. But he was at least level-headed enough to find out for sure. Vice-Admiral Shor on the other hand…Shor was a hard-liner. Unlike Cursozi, the Vice-Admiral didn’t have the temperament to curtail their political passions. No one would admit it out loud, but every person on the Admiralty board knew Shor had already received the final promotion of their military career. It would be suicide to make Shor a full-blown admiral. The third proper admiral of their number, Fute, went the other way. He was a vocal proponent of peace which had made him unpopular for several years now. Including him in the delegation was a symbol to the Assembly and the Vorak that they were taking the prospect of ending the war seriously.
The last member of the delegation, Vice-Admiral Tockunot, was hand picked by Laranta. Of all of people on the Coalition side of the table, Hakho knew the least about Tockunot, but her file indicated she was a consummate moderate, following Laranta’s example.
“What do you know about Tockunot?” Hakho asked.
Sturgin checked the file before answering.
“Idealist,” she replied. “She dabbled in Coalition politics a few years ago, but it didn’t take. She’s been commanding the sub-fleet out of F2 for the last few years. Minimal combat experience for a vice-admiral, but she’s widely known to be competent. No major blunders, and relatively few minor blunders too.”
Hakho grimaced. That didn’t tell him much that he didn’t already know. Laranta wouldn’t have tapped Tockunot without a reason, but he couldn’t see it right now.
Sturgin and Hakho went back and forth like that for hours, trading guesses and hunches about the different delegation members, their motivations, their leadership history…the full delegation would do all of this a second time, agreeing on the best strategies to employ haggling with their enemies.
But Hakho and his adjutant knew that their own allies could be just as problematic in negotiations as their opponents. He could only hope some of the Assembly delegation had to deal with similar issues.
The two of them were hours deep into a dissection of the Asssembly’s war footing when an announcement rang out over the ship PA.
Ike was his name, Hakho was pretty sure.
Hakho sent an ‘acknowledged’ ping, and grunted “Good” aloud.
“…See?” Sturgin said. “They might be kids, but they learned from us. They run a tight ship.”
“They learned from our allies,” Hakho disagreed. “…And our enemies. But I take your point.”
·····
Madeline and Vez were not friends.
She was once an energetic California high-schooler with a passion for mountain biking and an almost classic teenage rebellious streak aimed squarely at her parents…while she was a secondary-ed dropout from Farnata’s moon who managed to escape a dead-end fate as a drug addict by going into the smuggling game.
Not too similar at first glance, but the more Madeline talked about ditching school to hang out with college stoners on biking trails, the more Vez started to think about how many of her issues stemmed from her own people’s conception of adolescent rebellion.
They got along well on duty, but they just reminded each other too much of themselves. But they were the most accomplished Adepts still on board the Siegfried.
They had to work together a lot.
“Admiral Cursozi’s on deck seven?” Madeline asked.
“I heard he doesn’t get along with Fute,” Vez nodded. “I doubt they would fight, but…”
“Figured we can avoid it on the off chance?”
“The two vice-admirals and Hakho are on deck eight.”
“What about Sturgin?”
“Who?”
“Hakho’s adjutant,” Maddie said. “She’s a Vorak? Hell, she’s from Askior. How do you not know this?”
“Give me a break,” Vez said. “Kemon was the one who brought me to Askior; I wasn’t raised there. Why would I know all the Coalition people there?”
“I mean, fair…but she was still on the passenger manifest. Where did we put her?”
“Up with Fenno and Erggen,” Vez said. “Apparently they got to know each other whay back then.”
Maddie nodded thoughtfully. None of them were going to be on board the Siegfried that long, but still. Serral had tasked them with making sure the Coalition VIPs had a smooth stay on board.
But…come on. They were talking about admirals. Of honest-to-God militaries. Maddie knew adults could be as immature as children but…surely these flag officers weren’t going to bicker and snipe with each other.
“If you think that agreeing to talk about ceding colonies is at all the same thing as actually giving them up, then you’re a vacuous moron!”
The raised voices boomed out of the Siegfried’s mess hall.
“Coming from the incompetent, vapid, wavering dunce that thinks numbers are the only factor in battle?” Admiral Cursozi’s voice was the more distinct of the two.
Admiral Fute, on the other hand, was no less bellicose.
“Only an arrogant, snide, callous, masochist like you could be so wasteful with lives to the point where you think combat statistics don’t matter!”
…Was Fute really supposed to be the pacifist between these two?
“Ah,” Vez noted. “I see our mistake. Quarter them separately…”
“…But the same meal times,” Madeline noted. “Right.”
She stepped into the mess, ready to roll up her sleeves.
“What are you doing?” Vez asked fearfully.
Maddie just nodded to the handful of aliens and—more importantly—younger abductees in line for their food.
“Excuse me,” Madline started. But the two Admirals continued to bellow at each other at the top of their voices.
“Don’t bother,” Hakho said, picking at his own meal. “This is healthy. Let the two of them drain their venom. Better now than over the negotiating table.”
“I appreciate that in principle,” Maddie nodded. “But in practice, not so much. EXCUSE ME!”
The two admirals didn’t even blink at her.
Madeline actually double checked to make sure she wasn’t crazy here. She was on duty. De-facto Chief Security Officer on board right now…
Yeah. She wasn’t crazy.
Serral replied.
Madeline materialized a small and deafening mote of explosive before crushing it under the heel of her boot.
The sharp blast made everyone freeze for a moment including the two admirals.
“Excuse me,” Madeline said, doing her best to ooze politeness. “But there are children present. You two are Admirals. Please set a good example while you’re on board.”
Somewhere behind her, someone snorted.
Madeline turned to see a Farnata she didn’t recognize shake her head and walk out of the mess. But the two Admirals glanced around the mess and saw the awkward and uncomfortable glances from kids no older than fifteen. Their eyes flicked to the badge pinned to her chest too.
“You’re right, of course, Chief,” Cursozi said.
Fute nodded, similarly mollified.
“If you’d really prefer to tear each other’s throats out, I can recommend the gymnasium on deck fifteen, or the private conference room under the bridge on deck two.”
“…I actually wouldn’t mind beating you to a pulp,” Admiral Fute admitted. “Hand-to-hand equipment?”
“Not a broad selection, but yes,” Madeline nodded. “Deck fifteen, above Cargo One.”
“Thank you,” Cursozi nodded. “Shall we?”
The two flag officers left promptly, and Madeline was feeling cautiously optimistic about handling that.
“…You blew up the heel of your boot just to make a point?” Hakho asked.
“I materialized these boots,” Maddie frowned.
“Bah. Adepts,” he muttered.
The look on his face and the glance he shot out of the mess drew Madeline’s attention to where the mysterious Farnata had left. Wracking her brain, she remembered the passenger manifest listed the only Farnata coming aboard in the delegation as…Tane Ko-Jon-Tav. Security.
Huh. Maddie hadn’t picked her out as an Adept. But since she was security, and with Admiral Hakho’s attitude, she probably was.
“Anything in particular about us?” Madeline asked.
“No, the Flotilla has given a fine showing,” Hakho said. “Especially considering how low my expectations were. My compliments to Ase Serralinitus…and his choice in subordinates.”
Hakho nodded toward Madeline, though it seemed like an afterthought just to avoid offending her.
“Thank you,” she said. “But I meant anything in particular about ‘Bah. Adepts’.”
Hakho eyed her.
“…Oh sit down already,” he gestured to the seat across from him.
Testy, she thought, and Madeline failed to keep that reaction off her face.
“We’re all on edge,” Hakho said. “We admirals are used to having the support of our whole staff. Dozens of officers we’ve hand picked to help us carry out these duties. Plus, we’re working outside our normal roles here.”
“How’s that?” Maddie asked.
“Three admirals, two-vice admirals, my adjutant, and Tane,” he said. “There’s something rather obvious missing from our ‘delegation’, isn’t there?”
“What?”
“Diplomats,” he said. “These are supposed to be negotiations, but our delegation isn't bringing along skilled negotiators.”
“You don’t count?” Madeline asked, surprised. “I would have thought military leaders negotiated prisoner trades, territory concessions. That kind of thing.”
“We have experienced negotiators,” Hakho said, “not skilled ones. There’s a difference. The Assembly delegation is bringing…well, I can’t actually tell you—”
Madeline told him, adding the psionic certification to the message.
“The Assembly is bringing at least one Assembly Senator, the Margatha Prolocutor, along with their Marshals. I know the Prolocutor used to be a diplomat. I also know the Assembly’s Void Fleets have more negotiating latitude than we do. Coalition Admirals negotiate in coordination with the civilian governments offices…only we can’t bring civilian diplomats to black-blood and tides-strewn Kraknor. They’re bringing a wider range of expertise. I don’t like that.”
“I don’t mean to point out…” Madeline said cautiously, “but aren’t you an admiral? Couldn’t you have gotten diplomats to come with you?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Well, no. It’s…”
He let out a weary sigh.
“It’s complicated. It shouldn’t matter. These aren’t truly peace talks. They’re more like the prelude to peace talks.”
“What’s the difference?” Maddie asked.
“Peace talks are what happens when both sides agree that peace might be a good idea,” Hakho explained. “This kind of secret summit is what happens when only parts of both sides agree peace might be a good idea.”
“Your own side might not like the idea of a ceasefire?”
“That’s a very complicated question,” Hakho acknowledged. “But, simply? Yes. The Coalition systems all want to break away from the Interstellar Congressional Assembly. They want more independence. They also want peace so they can be more prosperous.”
Hakho began tapping out a psionic illustration, showing each planet wanting to pull away.
“But the Assembly can’t just let systems and planets and moons quit the group whenever they want. Membership has to be meaningful, see? If you can just join up when the times are good and there’s plenty to go around, but then also bow out when times are tough and you’re called to share your lot…”
“I follow,” she nodded.
“Well the Coalition has a unique problem the Assembly doesn’t,” he explained. “C1 might think peace is a great idea. It might be very good for them if the fighting stopped in their system.”
“C1 wasn’t a contested system, I thought,” Madeline said.
“It’s not. Hush, it’s a metaphor,” Hakho said. “C1 might want peace for themselves. But if all the Coalition worlds stop fighting, then the Assembly can just drag any one world back by force. Any given Coalition system wants the fighting to stop in their own system, but they want the war to continue everywhere else.”
“…So the Congressional Assembly can’t afford to bring them back into the fold,” Madeline nodded.
“It’s a delicate situation,” Hakho nodded. “We had problems last year where talks were more or less sabotaged by our own negotiators. They almost—well they didn’t really get close to making that happen. But they got far further than they should have.”
“Kinda sounds like any one Coalition system can keep the others hostage,” Maddie said.
“They can, in a way,” Hakho admitted. “It doesn’t quite happen that cleanly or overtly. But it makes negotiating…complicated. The point being, plenty of Coalition aligned extremists might be willing to stage attacks if they knew these talks were going on. So the reason to exclude civilian negotiators was twofold.”
“I think I know what you mean about ‘Coalition-aligned-extremists’,” Maddie said.
“Oh do you, Human?”
Madeline gestured to the ship around them.
“Who owned the Siegfried before we did?”
Hakho blinked and then tapped his heart.
“[Touche.]”
“Well, don’t worry about anyone attacking the summit, Admiral,” she said.
“Why, just because it’s on Kraknor?”
“No, because we already know who’s going to try,” she said. “And the Siegfried? We turned her into quite the beast of a warship.”
“This ship…is going to conduct combat maneuvers in Margatha space?” Hakho said, disbelieving.
“Scope support, technically,” Maddie said. “The Red Sails and system law enforcement are going to do the actual shooting if it comes to it, but we’ll be ready and waiting in the wings.”
Maddie couldn’t tell if she was trying to be encouraging or not, but the Admiral nodded thoughtfully, digesting the news just like his bowl of meal.
“Well, thank you, [Miss] Chief of Security,” Hakho said. “I’m going to track down my adjutant now though. There’s still plenty of work before the summit itself, and very little time to complete it.”
“Good luck,” Maddie nodded.
Hakho trudged back to his quarters imagining his fellow Admirals pummeling each other into the mat, dreading the complex tangle of bluffs and concessions that went into negotiations like this. It wasn’t until he stood at the doorway to his quarters that he realized that he hadn’t gotten the Human’s name.
He’d read it. Mad…something. Madeel? Mad line?
Drat. That was just poor form.
·····
The Siegfried formally withdrew from Hashtin without incident, and the Flotilla chugged into the outermost reaches of Kraknor orbits before releasing the Clark Kent and the John Brown toward the planet before settling into its own orbit around Thamunekiad, the Vorak homeworld’s only moon.
The Admirals in question rolled their eyes. Ase Serralinitus had a lot of lip for someone of his rank…but they had embarrassed themselves rather badly on his ship.
They were all at least honest enough with themselves to admit that they probably deserved worse vitriol than what Serral had given them.
Funnily enough, the two vice-admirals seemed to take more offense than the full-blown admirals. Then again, why shouldn’t they? They did nothing wrong.
The two A-ships carried their delegation toward the planet and its Ogi region. But not a single one of the delegation on board recognized Serral’s announcement for what it was: a warning.
Because even making perfect time?
There wasn’t a single planet in the cosmos with weather that catered to flight schedules. Not until the rain and wind howled outside the windows did anyone give the word ‘hurricane’ the proper attention it deserved.
Life and death went through their minds every minute of the descent.
Hakho thought to himself that was a good thing too. Because that was exactly what would be on the line in the next three days.