Allied enemies, p.3
Allied Enemies, page 3
When Korvath sat down, he glared at Fygthurn and Ogdurg.
“I hope that answered your question,” Ceda quipped, smiling congenially.
“Then those are our two choices,” Ogdurg said. “Accept your proposal of benevolent protection and confinement or face your wrath.” When no one replied, she added, “We’d like time on Darmian to discuss what you’ve offered.”
With that ending the meeting, a sister flew the negotiators toward the shuttleport.
In the main cabin, Nebulon extended a visual of the surface from her holo-vid. “Is there some other place that you would like us to set down?” she queried.
Ogdurg, who sat across from the sister, pointed a dark claw into the image. Then Fygthurn and she watched the display shift, as the sister in the pilot’s seat headed the ship for the new location.
In short order, the traveler hovered over the rooftop patio of the negotiators’ home.
Fygthurn and Ogdurg bounded lightly through the hatch to land atop their roof. Gazing behind them, they noted that the conclave ship had never disturbed their patio furniture or smaller items.
As the traveler rose out of sight, Fygthurn commented, “Miraculous technology. Why did the conclave have to come to the empire?”
“That’s a useless lament, my mate,” Ogdurg criticized. “If it wasn’t the conclave, it would have been some other race.”
“Why do you say that?” Fygthurn queried, as he led the way off the roof.
“You should have paid more attention to the commanders’ reports on Krackus businesses,” Ogdurg replied.
Fygthurn growled desultorily. “You know that I find those boring,” he said. “What did I miss?”
Ogdurg shook her head. She’d reminded him many times to absorb the commanders’ reports in their entirety. “The commanders continually speak of freighters stacking up, and the frustration of the Krackus whom they protect,” she replied.
Fygthurn stopped and stared at Ogdurg. “Why?” he asked.
“There’s a great deal of conjecture, but not many facts,” Ogdurg replied. “When you read enough reports, you get the idea that the outworld businesses can’t produce enough to fill the Krackus freighters.”
“Which types of shipments are coming up short?” Fygthurn inquired.
“Everything,” Ogdurg replied, raising her arms in exasperation at her mate’s failure to listen to her about reading the reports.
“The Krackus home worlds are running out of supplies,” Fygthurn surmised. His arm was lightly cuffed by Ogdurg, and he knew he deserved something fiercer.
“We know the Krackus have expanded their populations for centuries,” Ogdurg said. “Their home worlds can’t feed their populations, and their systems can’t manufacture a sufficient amount of local products. Much has been outsourced and in great quantities.”
“And the conclave is starting to shut off those resources,” Fygthurn exclaimed. When he regarded his mate, she was nodding as if a child had finally learned a valuable lesson. “I wish we’d had this exchange before we met with the conclave members.” Then he did receive a harsh rip from Ogdurg’s claws.
Grasping the wounds to prevent blood from dripping on the rug, he quickly said, “Apologies, I’ve been a dense mate.”
While Ogdurg gathered the medical supplies to bind Fygthurn’s wounds, she chastised him. “Now is not the time for lament,” she said. “We’ve always counted on the expansion of the empire to resist invasions. However, Imperium expansion has slowed, and the Krackus are at a tipping point.”
Fygthurn’s long tongue licked Ogdurg’s cheek.
“Stop,” she replied, chortling at her mate’s request for forgiveness. “We must ask ourselves if this gives us any advantage with the conclave’s negotiations.”
When Fygthurn’s arm was bound, he walked through a pair of open doors to stand on a balcony, and Ogdurg joined him.
“I don’t think it helps us with the conclave,” Fygthurn said. “But it does tell us that resisting these individuals is foolish.” He regarded his mate, and she replied, “Agreed. Time is against the empire.”
“I wonder if the executors see it that way,” Fygthurn mused aloud.
“Doubtful,” Ogdurg replied. “They’ll resist to the end.”
“Then we should negotiate with the conclave for all the support that we can get,” Fygthurn surmised.
“What about the conclave’s long-term goals for us as expressed by the digital sentients?” Ogdurg inquired.
“Personally, I don’t see that it’s bad for our race,” Fygthurn replied. “However, I think that’s a minority opinion.”
“And a dangerous one,” Ogdurg warned.
“Undoubtedly,” Fygthurn commented, “which makes our ability to sell this concept to the council about zero.”
“The outcome might be worse than that,” Ogdurg suggested.
Fygthurn turned toward his mate. He saw concern, if not a hint of fear, in her eyes. It was a rare sight. “You think we could be attacked by the chiefs,” he said. When she nodded, he turned to look across the horizon at the mix of structures, new and derelict. “You could be right,” he murmured.
“There is an alternative,” Ogdurg suggested.
“I don’t know if your thought is the same as mine,” Fygthurn replied, chortling. “Let the chiefs argue with Z and Miranda.”
“What about the concern that our race shouldn’t see the chiefs defeated?” Ogdurg asked. Then she suddenly grasped Fygthurn’s unmarked arm. “Yes,” she exclaimed. “That might be just what we need.”
“Again, we’re on the same path,” Fygthurn responded. “If the conclave is intent on seeing a milder nature developed in our race, then the chiefs have become anachronisms. Our warriors must see that the chiefs’ prowess can’t compete with the conclave.”
“Then we have a path,” Ogdurg stated definitively. “Now we must contact the tri-hull above and plead our case.”
In the event the negotiators would be aboard the tri-hull for an extended length of time, they packed clothes and personal items. Then they made their way to the control tower near the shuttleport.
“Call the tri-hull,” Fygthurn requested of the warrior on duty.
“How?” the warrior requested.
“Broadcast in the open,” Ogdurg replied.
The warrior shrugged his thick shoulders. Then he opened the planetwide channel and said, “This is Darmian control requesting the tri-hull above the shuttleport.”
Fygthurn and Ogdurg refrained from rolling their eyes at the idea that the warrior thought he had to specify which tri-hull he wanted.
The warrior indicated Fygthurn with a sharply clawed hand, and the negotiator said, “Fygthurn and Ogdurg wish to continue the negotiations.”
“We’ll be waiting,” Fygthurn replied.
When the connection ended, the warrior eyed the negotiators. “It’s a waste of time,” he commented.
“Why do you say that?” Ogdurg inquired.
“Radags are meant to dominate,” the warrior replied. “One day, we’ll have our chance again, and we’ll replace the Krackus at the head of the table.”
“Is that a common thought among your companions?” Ogdurg asked.
“I’ve never heard a dissent against it,” the warrior replied, as if the negotiator was foolish to suggest otherwise.
By the time Fygthurn and Ogdurg were out of the shuttleport tower and headed for the landing pad, they could see the traveler high above them and dropping fast.
Aboard the conclave ship and headed for the Trident, the pair was quiet, and the sister who’d stood by at the hatch chose to join Nebulon in the pilot’s cabin.
The conclave members and the negotiators assembled in a small conference room.
“How to begin?” Fygthurn asked rhetorically, spreading his hands in apology.
Ogdurg interjected, “We’ve come to understand what your offer is meant to convey. In addition to a way forward for our race, it speaks to the precariousness of the Krackus supply routes.”
“You’re referring to the overexpansion of Krackus home worlds, and the empire’s dependence on the conquered worlds,” Korvath offered.
“Yes,” Ogdurg replied.
“What Kreus and Korvath didn’t know, we’ve gathered from the databanks of Krackus ships,” Z assured the negotiators.
“Then you understand that we’re convinced that the conclave will eventually be successful in displacing Imperium control,” Fygthurn said. “That’s why we wish a future for our race in the new order.”
“Why do we sense the rest of your conversation will be full of negatives?” Bethany inquired.
“We’ve serious impediments,” Fygthurn admitted.
“Detail them,” Z directed.
“We’re confident our council of chiefs won’t accept your proposal,” Fygthurn replied.
“It’s worse than that,” Ogdurg quickly said. “It’s highly likely that the chiefs will see the proposal as an affront, and Fygthurn and I will be disciplined.”
“Explain disciplined,” Escher requested.
“Killed,” Ogdurg replied.
“Then, perhaps, we should present the conclave’s options to the chief,” Miranda proffered.
“The chiefs will know that we sanctioned the presentation,” Fygthurn said.
“You needn’t be present,” Z said.
“We fear the chiefs’ response for us will be the same,” Ogdurg said. “After you leave, we’ll be severely punished.”
“Are there replacement negotiators?” Stacey asked.
It was a question that caught the attention of the other conclave members.
“Multiple families raise young to behave and communicate as we do,” Ogdurg explained. “These families live in an enclave with us.”
“Are negotiator families in danger from other Radags?” Ceda queried.
“Accidents have happened,” Fygthurn replied. “An angry warrior cuffs a young one and breaks the child’s neck.”
On the conference link, Miranda sent,
Korvath focused on the negotiators. Then he asked, “Do you have children?”
“We had two,” Ogdurg said despondently.
“Warriors?” Korvath queried.
“Yes,” Fygthurn replied. “Both were young and unable to understand the nature of our planet’s warriors and commanders.”
“Was there no recourse for you?” Stacey asked sympathetically.
“In what way?” Ogdurg inquired.
“Your two children were murdered,” Stacey insisted. “Surely, there must be some way for you to obtain justice.”
“Now you see the gulf between your worlds and ours,” Fygthurn said. “There is an inviolate hierarchy. It starts with chiefs. Then commanders and warriors.”
“I take it that negotiators are at the bottom,” Escher surmised. When the negotiators nodded, he added, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Ogdurg regarded the assembly. She could read the pain in their faces, which surprised her. Other negotiator families had offered their condolences, but no other Radags. Now, many annuals later, aliens heard of her children’s deaths, and they were stunned and hurt by the tragedies that Fygthurn and she had suffered.
“Could the negotiator families be the future of the Radag race?” Korvath asked.
Fygthurn and Ogdurg were taken aback by the question. They’d never perceived themselves as anything but the bottom of the social hierarchy.
“How many Radags live in your enclave?” Bethany inquired.
“About a hundred and sixty adults and some five to six hundred children,” Fygthurn replied.
Z commented via the conference links.
“Do the children mate with those who live in the enclave?” Ceda asked.
“It’s required,” Ogdurg replied. “More than likely, a young negotiator female wouldn’t survive the mating night with a warrior.”
“Please excuse us,” Miranda said. “We’ll let you rest in your cabin, while we talk. If you require food or have needs, a sister will handle your requests.” She gestured toward the room’s exit.
3: Alternate Plan
In the cabin, Ogdurg regarded her mate, and queried, “What just happened?”
“I was asking myself the same question,” Fygthurn replied.
“The mood in the room shifted when we talked about the enclave and the loss of our children,” Ogdurg noted.
“It was an unexpected turn,” Fygthurn agreed. He paced, while Ogdurg sat in a chair.
“I think the conclave members might be more flexible than we gave them credit,” Ogdurg mused. “We heard two options, but they might have recognized additional possibilities through our discussion.”
“I believe that to be true,” Fygthurn responded. “But what is this other thought that they might be considering?”
In the conference room, many conclave individuals sent their thoughts at once, which had them laughing but only briefly.
Miranda replied.
The sisters passed numerous comments among themselves. It had been quickly realized that they would have control of a conclave warship and its travelers. There was deep satisfaction at the level of trust that they’d received from the protectors.
Nebulon’s final comments to her kind were,
The sisters chorused their intent to do just that.
Miranda pulled up the telemetry scans of the planet for the table’s holo-vid. Based on the sisters who returned the negotiators to their enclave, it was easy for her to locate the place. Unlike the planet’s other structures, which appeared open to the public, the enclave was heavily walled. Furthermore, a detachment of warriors occupied the four access gates.
In response, five mask-helmets simultaneously fell into place, and Miranda tipped her head in acknowledgment of the signals.
The protectors had observed the intricate maneuvers that the suited figures had originated. They found many of them to be amusingly inventive.
One technique involved breaking a companion free of multiple adversaries. The rescuer would sprint at the mass of bodies. A signal to the endangered individual would have that person dropping to the ground, if they weren’t already there. Then the rescuer would leap, curl into a ball, and slam into the throng, freeing the majority of the force against the companion.
