The turquoise queen, p.5
The Turquoise Queen, page 5
part #1 of Coalition Series
A big cage took up about a quarter of the space. In it, three females softly growled. On occasion, a man would prod or taunt them, almost getting a hand bitten off in return. The females were much larger than their male counterparts, quadruped and devoid of rational intelligence. Animals, for all effects and purposes. Still, the conditions the creatures were kept in made Erchtria grimace.
At the center of it all, a figure leaned over a table covered in projectors and screens, a communicator attached to one ear. The way the others addressed him made it clear he was their leader. One took a bow and whispered in his ear, announcing her presence. At that, he dropped all the multiple things he was doing, giving her his undivided attention.
"Erchtria Kreshalti, welcome." Again, a bass voice, though one made raspy by age.
He looked almost forty, but it took close inspection to notice it, for he concealed all that age as best he could. Several metallic prostheses dotted his body and face, replacing long crumbled dermal plates. Under them, bulging muscles and an impressive stature. His teeth were as blue as a youngster's, probably dyed. And his body armor was top notch. A champion of the downtrodden dressed in the elite's trappings, the regent concluded. An easy type to profile.
"Please, have a seat, make yourself at home." He offered her a chair by the table, making sure to first deactivate the embedded projectors and screens. Trying to hide something, perhaps. Adorable, she thought with barely contained arrogance.
"Uljer Nourdolvi, a pleasure to finally meet you in person." Erchtria had already decided she despised him. But she needed to work with him regardless. They took their seats.
"You said you had a proposal for me. I was surprised to hear that. What interest could Raichr possibly have in a small, unimportant Sencris colony such as ours?"
Around them, the movement had died down, all attention turned to the two leaders at the table. In their cage, the three females paced, breaking the silence with the occasional, timid growl. Fercharst stood like a statue beside her mistress, weapon always at the ready. The two other Raiac guards watched their Galxij counterparts, calculating how to subdue them, should the need arise.
Erchtria carefully considered her response. She did not wish to reveal any unnecessary information to what she'd concluded was an untrustworthy ally.
"I want the same as you. An independent Galxij nation, free from Sencris interference."
"And for my people to be treated fairly. That is my true objective." His tone had gone instructional, like a teacher's.
The others cheered at that. From what Raiac intelligence had gathered, they were something between a guerrilla and a mafia. A very powerful and well-organized one, with this old man at its center. As Erchtria spoke again, she took that audience's presence into account. Keeping face was crucial to Uljer. If she convinced them the deal she offered was in their best interest, it would make convincing their leader that much easier.
"Yes, the Urvasatij have suffered long enough, and together, we can put a stop to that." Every word sounded utterly sincere. "So tell me, how can I help you take Arjostat from the Sencris?"
After that, they went into tactical details. The Free Galxij Nation, as they called themselves, had considerable numbers. It would be a tough, bloody fight, but Uljer was confident they could triumph over the planet's standing Sencris garrison. The regent promised, loud and clear, to provide them with as many weapons as they needed, as well as other equipment and supplies. Another wave of cheers, this time aimed at her, was the room's response.
The real problem, both leaders concluded, were the dreadnoughts in orbit. Only two of them, at present, but their arsenal could level the planet's surface ten times over, making any ground movements futile as long as they were there. No weapon at the guerrilla's disposal could make even the smallest dent on the warships' golden hulls.
At the mention of such insurmountable odds, the small crowd gathered around the table went silent and grim. A young, brash, solitary voice offered a solution. A kamikaze run using hijacked civilian transports. An older soldier was quick to correct him. They'd be shot down before getting within fifty kilometers of the dreadnoughts. Silence again, as all tried to find a solution and failed.
For Erchtria, it was nothing more than a dramatic pause. A chance to make a single idea sink into the minds of those obtuse freedom fighters. That their cause was hopeless without her help, her resources. She was setting them up to see her as a savior.
After a while, feeling the hopelessness of the situation had done its work, she spoke again. Her tone was triumphant.
"I'll take care of the Dreadnoughts."
She'd made plans for them long ago. Otherwise, contacting rebellion leaders on the surface would've been pointless. The Galxij surrounding her looked surprised. Uljer included.
"How?" He asked.
"Six Raiac frigates should be enough. Maybe eight, just to be sure."
There were whispered comments. All were taken by surprise, including their leader. So far she'd been only a financer, a shadowy supporter. To commit to full-fledged military action against the Sencris was another thing altogether.
A thing the regent had no intention of actually doing. All her efforts so far had been about preserving her own resources while depleting Senchrien's. About evening the odds between her people and this gargantuan enemy she felt they must soon face. Therefore, she was not about to sacrifice precious warships to liberate one single colony of marginal strategic importance. She continued.
"When you see us strike, when fires burn in the night sky, that will be your signal to act! To retake your world!" A call to arms. The crowd erupted into cries of support. It was all Uljer could do to participate.
It took a bit for them to calm down. The Galxij leader stood up, arms raised, palms upward, his gestures broad and theatrical. At that, what little chatter there still was quieted. He was reasserting dominance.
"I was but a young man when I first came to Arjosat." The start of a speech. He was talking to Erchtria, but it was mostly to the others he spoke.
He told her of his humble early high summers as a pauper in Urvasat. About being recruited by a local mining company. He told her the story of old man Dazr, of the fateful days he'd spent at that destroyed rig. He told her of his colleague's, no, his friend and mentor's death, and the lessons it had taught him. Uljer told his tale with trained eloquence and emotional heft.
The regent glanced around at the transfixed guerrillas surrounding her. Trained, experienced killers, gone sensitive of a sudden. She understood, then, that he'd told this tale a hundred times. It was his formative moment, the beginning of Uljer Nourdolvi's legend. She patiently waited for him to tell it. He wanted to reclaim ownership of this moment of triumph, and she saw no reason to stop him.
The story went on as expected. He'd stowed away in a cargo ship, nearly freezing from the limited life support, eating rations from a bag, facing starvation after they'd run out, resisting the drive to become feral. He had arrived at Arjosat expecting to find new opportunities, a better life, only to face the locals' prejudice and contempt instead. Locals who were Galxij just like him, yet thought themselves superior simply for their place of birth.
The fighters gathered in that dim-lit room savored every word. Most were either Urvasatij or their direct descendants, no doubt. It was all too relatable to them. They had no choice but to love this man, who had risen from the homeworld's cruel sands to claim a place for himself and his kind in the promised land.
"And now our time has finally come! As their warships burn, we will drive the Sencris, and their Arjosatij lackeys, from this world!" He raised his voice and hands high. An exclamation, with an inflection of despise at the mention of his traitorous brethren. A war cry. The crowd roared. Startled, the females retreated to the back of their cage.
Feeling her mission was complete, Erchtria stood up, her guards gathered around her in a peaceful but protective stance. Uljer approached her, his broad gestures completely friendly.
"Please, my friend, allow me to show you back to your pod." His expression conveyed a different message. He wished to speak to her in private. Away from his people, to be exact.
She nodded her consent and the two left the meeting room. On the way out, pats on the back, nods of approval, words of encouragement from his brothers in arms. Most were far younger than their leader. Some sported with pride the very sort of scar he'd used pricey technology to conceal. Their equipment and weapons, worn in plain sight, were of visibly lesser quality. Still, those small gestures as he passed them by made it clear that he was one of them. Their champion, what they aspired to one day become.
The climb back up the ladder was quiet. Someone might still be listening. Irshte led the way, as usual, with the other Raiac guards forming a perimeter around the two leaders. It was probably unnecessary. No one would dare attack Uljer in this part of town, and Erchtria was his ally now, with plenty of witnesses to confirm it. Still, it didn't hurt to be careful, her old friend Irshte always insisted.
It was only after they were outside, with plenty of distance between them and the bouncers at his hideout's door, that Uljer spoke again, his tone far colder than moments ago. It was no longer a speech. He was a negotiator at last.
"Do I have your guarantee that the Sencris fleet in orbit will be dealt with?"
"Yes."
"I am betting my future, my people's future, on this partnership of ours. So I must know how you plan to accomplish that. The truth, I mean."
So he'd seen past her small lie after all, she thought, amused but concerned. Her real plan was to use double agents. Such tactics met little use in interstellar conflicts between different species, for obvious reasons. Now, however, her alliance with Corhadriam presented an opportunity to use them once more.
Three of the officers in those ships' crews were absolutely loyal to him. He'd even named them, during their meeting on Illuminated Ocean. Not enough for a mutiny, but their posts and internal knowledge gave those three officers the means to destroy both Dreadnoughts. The influential viceroy had such agents embedded throughout the imperial armada, ready to spread chaos when the time came.
Uljer stared at her, restless, awaiting a reply. Erchtria could, under no circumstances, reveal all of this to him. She did not trust him, nor did she trust his ability to keep secrets from his underlings. Yet, without a satisfying answer, she risked losing his support.
The night air was hot and dry. She drew a long, deep breath from her respirator mask. They stood there in the street, alone under the ugly, oppressive silhouettes of Arjosatij apartment buildings. Fercharst's orange eyes darted between the few Galxij present and too many dark corners and alleys. No, the regent decided. She would not risk her alliance with Illuminated Ocean, a far more important piece of her strategy, for this glorified thug's support. She didn't need to.
"Simply trust that I will eliminate the dreadnoughts in orbit, as I trust you to seize control of this planet. We are both committed, there is no turning back now." She had stripped her voice of its usual carefree charm.
It took Uljer a while to respond. When he did it was in defiance.
"Good point. How do you know you can trust me? How do you know I won't tell on you to the Rageris the moment you turn your back?"
"Simple." Her response was quick, confident. "Your own men will see to it that you do exactly what we agreed on."
He looked surprised. Erchtria did not wait for him to make the connection on his own.
"You agreed to this plan in front of them. They cheered you for it, roared! When those Dreadnoughts explode, and they shall, you will lead your people to victory against the Sencris. Do anything else, and they'll tear you to shreds with their bare claws."
She didn't need the translator or body language manuals to see anger, then acceptance, play across his face. It was dawning on him that the time for boasting and telling inspiring stories was at an end. Soon he'd have a full-blown rebellion to manage. And he wasn't sure he was ready for that.
It was settled, Erchtria concluded. Better to leave it at that, say their farewells, and give him no chance to change his mind. Before leaving, she added with a smirk:
"Look on the bright side. You are a true leader now." She thought of the guerrillas back in the hideout. How they cheered Uljer. How they'd feed him to the females at the slightest sign of failure. "Every leader should have a gun pointed at their head. It keeps us honest."
The Boney King Of Nowhere
A heavy gust of wind shook the shuttle as it made its descent. Erchtria knew she was aboard a piece of cutting-edge Raiac technology. It would take a direct hit from a tornado to really threaten it. Still, she could not suppress a small flinch. What she saw outside her window was intimidating on a visceral level. It almost never happened in Raichr but, here, it was as frequent as the changing of the seasons.
A convulsing storm front in shades of orange, yellow and white. A hungry, massive wall of dust, crawling over the city below, block by block. They were flying straight towards it, something the more primitive portion of her brain strongly objected to. Another blow from the wind, as the pilot pressed downward.
In moments, the sky turned from blue to the color of sand, as what few landmarks there were disappeared from sight. With nothing but instruments to guide him, the pilot pinpointed the spaceport, managing to land the small ship with the customary smoothness, despite the circumstances.
In the middle of the day, it was dark. Surrounded by her guards once more, the regent disembarked. This time, however, a Galxij envoy stood ready to receive her. No shady dealings to be conducted here, this was an exclusively official visit.
Not by choice, however. Her spies had scoured the inner workings of this planet's society, as they had many times before, for malcontents and insurgents, for possible allies. To Erchtria's dismay, they had found none worth mentioning here. Just so-called freedom fighters who, in reality, were no better than common street thugs, and only slightly better armed and organized.
Therefore, her only remaining alternative was to contact the local government itself, somehow persuade them to turn against their masters. She was not hopeful.
"Greetings, your majesty! Welcome to Urvasat!" The Galxij sounded overexcited, his body language that of a trained sycophant. It made sense, since she was probably the highest ranking person he'd ever been tasked with receiving. "Please, follow me."
The honorific was wrong. "Majesty" applied to absolute rulers, such as the Rageris, or the Eletlim patriarchs, not to her. She had been elected in a public vote, for a finite mandate with clear limitations. The title of regent was a mere vestige of ancient traditions her people still held dear. She didn't correct him though. It didn't matter, and it would've been impolite.
With an exaggerated flourish, the envoy extended his hand to point the way. Erchtria complied, allowing the young man to escort her to his masters. Irshte Fercharst, and her troops, all fully armored, followed closely. Official meeting or not, this was still hostile territory.
Goggles replaced the regent's usual ocular masks, and the breathing gear was a necessity here, especially in this weather. Upon seeing a nearby Raiac guard draw a deep breath from his respirator, the Galxij spoke again.
"I do apologize for this horrible sandstorm we're having. Low summer is ending, they are too common this time of year." His voice, while still deep, was by far higher pitched, and friendlier, than that of any Galxij Erchtria had met.
"Don't worry," she told him. "When you travel offworld as much as I do, you get used to dealing with climates your body wasn't meant to survive in."
After descending from the spaceport to street level, they embarked on a truck. It was a short distance to the governor's office, and all pod traffic was grounded as long as the storm was on. Nothing smaller than a shuttle could fly in those conditions.
Architecture here was even barer than on Arjosat. The streets were even narrower and filthier, the buildings more stunted and decayed. It was an empty, pale monochrome. Most people had retreated to the safety of their homes.
The strong winds and the antiquated engine roared together into a deafening mix. The windows were narrow, the space too small to accommodate her and her entourage.
The discomfort made it easier for her to question the whole point of this final voyage to a Sencris colony. She had already secured Illuminated Ocean's support, and with it, the support of dozens of other major star systems. And she was very confident that the rebellion in Arjosat would succeed. So why bother with this forsaken desert, she asked herself as she felt Irshte's shoulder armor poke a soft spot between her arm's exoskeleton plates.
"Please don't pay attention to our city's state of disrepair. Sandstorms blast the facades so often that people don't even bother trying to make them look good."
They were sitting opposite to each other. He waited for a show of interest from her, then continued despite the lack of one.
"Nevertheless, I assure you we have taken steps to make your stay as pleasant as possible."
Erchtria remembered Uljer's hideout, that dark meeting room on Arjosat. It reeked of booze, dried blood, and leavings, yet no one there seemed to mind. Maybe Galxij just didn't have enough time in their short lives to worry about such details as basic hygiene or decoration, she theorized.
After a few unpleasant minutes, they arrived at the office building which served as seat of power for the native half of Urvasat's government. The local viceroy had his own, separate palace in the depths of the small northern polar ocean, and did not bother to leave it very often. After all, such a hot, dry place must be unbearable for a Sencris, even when wearing a full encounter suit.
The engine stopped, the envoy slid open the heavy metal hatch. From the outside, very little differentiated the government offices from the adjacent edifices. It was a bit larger, a bit better looked after, but no greater care had been taken in its design or construction.
