Part 5
Setting: Queen’s quarters, two weeks later
Max: he crinkled his nose in disgust as he opened his closet: he looked around to see if he could find the source of the offensive odor: he kept sniffing: it seemed to be coming from his shoes: his feet couldn’t really stink that bad, could they?
Liz: she watched her husband sniffing his closet and smirked: it wasn’t really funny: it had been driving him nuts for days and it was getting worse: he just looked too cute on his hands and knees sniffing his clothes and shoes: a very royal sight she thought and a giggle slipped out: okay, maybe it was funny.
Max: his head spun around and he scowled at her apparent amusement…
“It’s not funny, Liz. You wouldn’t be laughing if it was your stuff reeking!”
Liz: “No, I wouldn’t. I’d be tearing my closet apart looking for the source once and for all instead of waving my hand around and temporarily dissipating the smell every morning,” she told him then turned her back to him and headed toward her own fresh smelling closet and selected an outfit: she bit her lip to keep from giggling again when she heard a frustrated growl from behind.
Max: “Stupid cat. I know it’s him. I know it! He’s always had it in for me.”
He continued to grumble while waving a glowing hand around his closet and causing Liz to giggle some more.
Liz: still giggling…
“Max, he’s a cat. How could he have it in for you? It’s just your imagination. At least you know he’s okay if he’s still…”
Snerk…
“Leaving you presents in your closet. Aunt Trudy would be heartbroken if something happened to Charlie.”
Max: “Great. I’m a king who’s supposed to command respect and authority and who is getting ready to meet other heads of state, and I can’t even get a stupid cat to not use my closet as a litter box. He’s been plotting this for a long time. I know he has. It’s revenge for getting him de-nutted.”
Liz: snort…
“He’s a cat, Max. You’re reading way too much into this. He’s only doing what a cat does.”
Max: “Then why doesn’t he do it to someone else? Why pick on me? I’m telling you he’s planned this.”
He frowned as Liz laughed outright and headed into the bathroom to finish getting ready…
“Stupid cat.”
~
Setting: Earth, same time, partially renovated Antarian Embassy
Zan: he grinned from the doorway: there wasn’t anything more precious than the sight in front of him: Little Zanya: his baby girl: she was adorable with her curls sprawled across the pillow and her little arm slung across Blackie, who was lying next to her, both sound asleep: it had been a big day for her, for all of them: moving day: the embassy’s offices and meeting rooms weren’t done yet but the private upstairs residences were finally complete and ready for occupancy: though the décor wasn’t exactly theirs, he noted as he glanced around the pink walls and pink and white Barbie motif his daughter’s room was sporting: he was beginning to understand Max’s dislike of Barbie, all that pink reminded him of Pepto-Bismol: maybe he’d see what he could do about it tomorrow: he quietly closed the door and headed to his and Ava’s room.
Ava: she slipped on a t-shirt and boxers, both were Zan’s of course, no use stretching her things out: she turned as the door opened…
“She asleep?”
Zan: “Yeah. She should be the way she ran around all day.”
He pulled the light blanket and sheet down, slipped off his clothes, and climbed into bed with his wife.
Ava: she stretched out next to her husband of two lifetimes…
“Did you fix the vase she broke?”
Zan: “Yes.”
Ava: “Find all the rare stones that fell out of the bowl she tipped over when she ran into the display case with her trike?”
Zan: “I think so.”
Ava: “Scuff marks on the wall in the lobby?”
Zan: “Mmm, I’ll get to that tomorrow.”
Ava: “That Secretary Greller suggested we keep her out of the display rooms.”
Zan: “Screw ’em. She should get to know her Antarian heritage.”
Ava: “Yeah, I already told him. But maybe it would be a good idea not to let her around the paintings with her crayons anymore.”
Zan: he yawned: he’d used a lot of his powers today and his body was screaming for rest…
“Yeah, that fluorescent green was a killer to get off the five hundred year old canvas of Queen Triana.”
Ava: she yawned in response to her husband: it had been a long day for all…
“Secretary Goober…”
Zan: “Who?”
Ava: “Sorry, Gubea, found a nearby obedience school for Blackie. It might not be a bad idea to finish housebreaking him. Ya know?”
Zan: his eyes were closing…
“Mmm.”
Ava: she flopped back on her back as her temper started to flare at the memory…
“I’m not sure, but I think he mumbled something about finding an obedience school for Zanya, too.”
Zan: his eyes popped open…
“He’s fired. Or better yet, I’ll relegate him to…to…”
He smiled…
“He’ll escort the next shipment of livestock to Antar.”
His smile widened…
“Yeah. It leaves in the wee hours of the morning in a couple of days. I’ll send him back for Max to deal with.”
Asshole: how dare he say something like that about his little princess: he had to admit that she was full of spirit and curiosity, but kids were supposed to be that way: she was perfect, he thought as he started to doze off: it’d been a long day.
~
Setting: Royal Antarian ship, short time later, conference room
Kyle: snort.
Max: he eyed him and frowned…
“Want to share?”
Kyle: snort: why the hell not…
“Heard you’ve been matching wits with a ten pound orange fur ball and losing.”
Snicker.
Max: his frown deepened as he heard snorts from Michael and Alex: he saw Isabel roll her eyes but remain silent…
“Let’s get back to the meeting, shall we?”
Isabel: she cleared her throat to make sure she had all of their attention…
“So Larek’s ship docks at 4 p.m. You and Liz will greet him at the landing bay and guide him to the informal reception at the forward lounge area, which is followed by a dinner buffet, also in the forward lounge, and then a private meeting with Max and Michael.”
Max: “Okay, sounds good. Any questions?”
Trevan: “May I suggest semi-formal Antarian attire for the reception and meetings?”
Max: he shrugged: it didn’t really matter to him, but it probably would make the right impression…
“Okay. Anything else? What about the agenda for tomorrow?”
Trevan: “Since this is an informal visit, I left it rather open with plenty of time for Your Majesty to meet with Chancellor Larek. Prince Tavner’s ship is scheduled to arrive the day after tomorrow at 4:40 p.m., with a similar gathering and schedule in his honor then.”
Max: “Okay, anything else?”
Kyle: he just couldn’t resist…
“Yeah, you might want to…air your suit out before putting it on tonight.”
Snicker.
~
Max: from the viewing deck they watched the ship bearing the insignia of Renularian authority arrive: they waited and watched as the gauges showed the docking tunnel slowly filling with breathable air: he fought the urge to loosen the collar of his tunic: he glanced over at Liz, she was as beautiful and sexy as ever in her long, royal blue tunic dress that was slit just right at the sides, with her hair pinned up and just a touch of makeup: perfection: a loud hissing sound brought his musing to an end, as the tunnel was finally pressurized: Max stood a little taller and he hoped he appeared regal and worthy to be called a king.
Liz: he’s taller than she thought, was her first impression of Larek as he stepped through the heavy door: even though she’d seen him in video communications and knew that he was white-haired with dark gray eyes and a sharp nose and features, it still came as a shock to her that he didn’t look anything like Brody Davis: it just seemed so odd to her, but she had to admit that his features and the way he carried himself suited his position: he was an experienced statesman and leader of his people…
“Chancellor Larek, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
She extended her hand and noted the slight ‘taken aback’ response that was quickly covered by poise and grace.
Larek: they’re so young, children actually: he knew this already, but it was more…pronounced in seeing them in the flesh with his own eyes: shaking hands was not a custom on any of their five worlds, but he understood it was so on Earth so he wasn’t overly surprised when Max, correction, King Zan had done it in greeting him, but the queen was a different story: it was a hold over from ages ago, but it was not customary for a man to touch another man’s wife so casually, at least not until they were considered close friends, family even: but perhaps he was a close friend he thought with a slight smile reaching his eyes, pleased at the thought: he bowed his head slightly as he took her hand…
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty.”
His English was quite good thanks to his visits inside his host’s, Brody’s, head, but his general mannerisms remained very patrician: he smiled indulgently as Queen Elizabeth took his elbow and walked side-by-side with him and King Zan as they headed towards the reception: he knew, of course, that Max held Liz as his equal, but it was going to take some getting used to in the diplomatic circles: his smile increased as he pictured Crown Prince Lanua’s reaction, he was even more ‘old school’ than himself: he patted her hand that was currently linked around his arm with his free hand…
“So tell me, Your Majesty, how do you like space travel?” he politely asked to make conversation as they walked: she was charming, and he knew underneath was a will made of steel: she reminded him of Queen Nataria in many ways.
~
Max: he surveyed the room and noted how well Larek worked it: it reminded him of President Wilkinson: he hoped someday he’d be as good at it as they were: his eyes scanned for his missing second, displeased that Michael had chosen this time to go MIA, but he was sure it was for a good reason and that worried him more.
Aunt Trudy: she was fashionably late, as a lady should be, as she stood patiently behind Max, studying him for a moment: she frowned: she could tell from his stance that he was stressed about something he hadn’t had been earlier: whatever Max was worried about was new, but then there was always something new: that was just part of life: she looked past her nephew and spotted that tall elegant man making his way back to Max and charming all he met: obviously an accomplished diplomat: she’d never met an actual diplomat before…
“Nice little party, dear. Sorry I was late,” she commented as she took his arm.
Max: he smiled…
“You’re never late, Aunt Trudy.”
Aunt Trudy: “Only fashionably, my dear. Only fashionably,” she replied with a pleased smile as the gentleman finally made his way over to them.
Max: “Chancellor Larek, this is my great-aunt Trudy Evans. My adoptive father’s, father’s sister.”
Larek: he gave her a respectful nod: he had spotted her when she walked in and had recognized her immediately: he also knew the influence and reported ‘abilities’ she possessed…
“It is indeed a great honor to finally meet you, Ms. Trudy Evans. I have heard many great things about you.”
Aunt Trudy: she, of course, only pretended to ignore the rumors and gossip about her and other things: she was well aware of what was being said and implied: and Larek was indeed a charmer…
“You have? My, whatever in the world would have been worth mentioning?”
Larek: his smile reached his eyes for real this time: he knew he was being played but she was delightful…
“You. But only bits and pieces. I would love to hear the whole story. Do you have a bit of time?” he asked as he gallantly offered her his arm: he was growing used to this Earth custom.
Max: he slipped his arm around Liz’s waist and chuckled a little as he saw Aunt Trudy quickly become involved in what looked to be a very animated conversation, with Larek doing most of the talking: no diplomat held a chance against Aunt Trudy.
Michael: “Maxwell.”
Max: he turned at the whispered sound of his name: Michael looked deeply worried and the fact that Kyle was standing there with him and looking the same didn’t help the acid ball that suddenly sprung up in his stomach…
“What’s up?”
Michael: he continued in hushed tones, for immediate ears only…
“Emergency communiqué from Tavner. Five Cromarian battle cruisers are AWOL. Rumor has it that some smugglers have them, something about illegal deals going down with mercenaries.”
Max: “But…”
Kyle: “When was the last time you’ve heard of any military having five fully armed battle ships stolen?”
Max: “Point taken. So what’s really happening?”
Michael: “My bet, and Tavner agrees, is that Cromar is going to make a power play but wants to cover their ass in case it blows. Saying the ships were the stolen ones and it was mercenaries behind it all.”
Max: “What are they after?”
Michael: “Only one thing worth enough for them to take the risk. Just ask Kivar.”
Max: “The Granolith.”
Kyle: “Bingo.”
Max: “Great. Just friggin’ great. Where’s the Granolith right now?”
Kyle: “About thirty light years behind us on a medium-armed barge with two heavy Antarian cruisers shadowing it for protection. The decoy barge with four lightweight cruisers is taking a more ‘public’ route to Antar. Any chance they’ll go for the decoy?”
Max: “Micheal?”
Michael: “Maybe, but Tavner was leaning toward them knowing the real from the fake.”
Max: “What are the chances of those two cruisers defeating the five Cromarian ones?”
Michael: “Two against five, not good odds. Plus, just to be that much more fun, the ‘AWOL’ cruisers were the latest and greatest in Cromarian design and power.”
Kyle: “Ranjorn has already dispatched four more medium cruisers from Earth, and three more from Antar, but…”
Max: “But it’s too far for either to be too much help for a while. They’ll be sitting ducks.”
Their grievous stance confirmed this.
“Damn.”
He thought some more…
“What if I opened a dialog with the Crevesk? Let him know that we’re onto them?”
Larek: “What’s that bugger up to now?”
He had just escorted Ms. Trudy to the buffet line and into the capable hands of her other nephew, Philip Evans, when he happened to overhear the question.
Michael: he remained silent until Max gave him the okay to fill Larek in: no matter how closely related in blood and war, Larek was still a
foreign dignitary.
Larek: his scowl deepened as he listened carefully: he had been playing the game for a long time, too long it felt like more often now: but he knew the players and Max didn’t so it looked like he was going to have to play it for two, at least in an advisory role, for a bit: he shook his head…
“Crevesk will be only more than happy to have a dialogue with you, and while doing that, adding more resources to securing his objective, namely the Granolith. He won’t give it up until he is reasonably sure of the plan’s failure. And he knows as well as we do that reinforcements are too far away to be of any real help.”
Liz: “But we’ll know it was him and demand the Granolith back.”
Larek: “You may demand all you want but there is nothing you can do to get it back unless you’re willing to go to war, and right now you don’t have the resources for another war and he knows it. No, he’ll hide it away on some barren outpost somewhere and deny any knowledge of it, all the while pumping it for as much information as he can get.”
Michael: passionately…
“So what do we do? Just let him take it?”
Max: very calmly…
“No. We won’t. He can’t.”
Larek: his eyebrow went up just a tad: Lord Michael’s agitation he understood, but he was baffled by Max’s calm demeanor: Max knew something no one else did, but what?
~
Setting: Royal Antarian ship, conference room, next day
Michael: he, Max, and Larek were sitting around a conference table going over various supplies and technologies being traded or requested: they didn’t talk about it but they all felt the tension in the air: the Granolith was a target and Max was just sitting there doing nothing: it was maddening…
“So, Zan has successfully negotiated the increase grain shipments in return for more memory crystals… Max? Maxwell, you there?”
Larek: he had been watching Max very carefully and could clearly see the tension in him, but there was something more: he could almost feel it…
“Are you alright, Your Majes…Max?”
Max: he was startled out of his deep concentration and looked blankly around for a moment trying to get his bearings…
“What? Oh…um, yeah. Zan’s been doing great at the negotiations.”
Michael: he just couldn’t stand it anymore…
“Okay Maxwell, that’s it. What the hell aren’t you telling me?”
Max: “I…”
His eyes closed as he felt it: he was being slammed against hard surfaces: something singed his side: the ship was pitching wildly: alarms going off: caretakers screaming and running: artificial lights blinking into the darkness of space.
~
Setting: Queen’s quarters, Prince Philip’s room
Philip: he woke with a start and cried out in fear.
Liz: she heard her son’s cries from the other room and came running: she already had a good idea what caused those cries: she felt it too.
~
Setting: Earth, Antarian Embassy
Zan: he gripped the table edge so hard it almost broke: he knocked it over, not caring about the priceless vase that sat on top, when he heard his daughter’s cry of “Daddy!”
~
Setting: Royal Antarian ship, conference room
Isabel: she burst in, panicked…
“MAX!”
Michael: he was on his feet and had already pushed the security button…
“Isabel, what the hell is going on?”
Isabel: she felt so cold, and she grew colder as she neared her brother and closer to the cause…
“The Granolith. It’s the Granolith. It’s…calling for help. I can feel it.”
Her eyes never left her brother, who had remained seated with his eyes closed: if she had felt it this strongly, she could only imagine the intensity of what Max was getting.
Michael: “Kyle, get your ass in here!” he shouted into the communicator and then switched channels…
“Captain, I need status of the Granolith transport right the hell now!”
Larek: on the exterior he remained calm, but inside he was a mix of worry, fear, and awe: Max was obviously in direct contact with the Granolith, and he bet he had been for some time and knew exactly what was happening…
“Max, tell us what’s happening? Is the ship under attack? The Granolith?”
Max: he slowly opened his eyes: he was only partly there, the other part was far away at the moment, on a ship being torn apart in space: like before, his pupils were as huge as saucers…
“The ship is under direct attack. It will be destroyed shortly.”
He turned and looked at his second-in-command…
“They need to vent the cargo hold into space and eject me…the Granolith.”
Michael: “Are you crazy?”
Max: “I…the Granolith is but a machine. It does not require air or warmth. The cold vacuum of space will not harm it. They must eject it…and leave at the fastest speed possible.”
His eyes blinked and he took a ragged breath and looked again at his best friend…
“Do it, Michael. I can’t stay in this deep for too long without getting lost. Do it or they’re all dead.”
Michael: he hated it: it went against everything his inner being was screaming, all except one voice and it was
that voice, the one that reminded him that Max was his lifelong friend and that he trusted him: he punched the communication button for the bridge…
“Captain, I need direct communication with the Granolith ship. NOW, Captain!”
His eyes swerved to the door when Liz walked in with little Philip glued to her hip: he watched as Larek rose and guided her to his seat and she slipped her hand over Max’s: a view screen blinked to life with images of a battle and destruction: a lone battered and bleeding captain took center screen.
Captain: “I’m under…attack…heavy loses…casualties…sixty percent…climbing…about…be boarded.”
Michael: he stood his tallest and most commanding…
“Captain, eject the Granolith. Do you hear me?”
Captain: there was confusion all around: he knew their cause was lost but he was determined to see it through to the end: he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing…
“What? Give up? The Granolith? NEVER!”
Michael: he sucked in a deep breath and tried again…
“Captain, I am Lord Rath of Byral House, King Zan’s second-in-command. His Majesty is not capable of breaking contact to speak to you therefore I am issuing the command. I ORDER YOU to eject the Granolith into space and then get the hell out of there. RIGHT NOW!”
Captain: he was astonished but he didn’t doubt the person who was issuing the command: Lord Rath’s image along with the rest of the Royal Four was well known to all: he couldn’t be certain but he thought he caught a bit of a glimpse, off to the side a bit, of King Zan himself: but was this really what His Majesty wanted, to abandon the Granolith to space and the enemy: but he was King Zan’s second and from all reports extremely loyal, hadn’t Byral House always been: he pushed a button on a control panel and an alarm sounded in the cargo hold: anyone still in there had thirty seconds to get out or be sucked into space: the cargo door blew, taking everything and everyone in the hold with them, including the Granolith…
“Confirmed, Lord Rath. The Granolith is no longer onboard and we are now underway at best possible speed.”
He bowed slightly before the view screen went blank: he’d failed: the Granolith was to fall into enemy hands: the people of Antar wouldn’t tolerate such a thing and he was to blame: he’d failed.
Max: he felt the strange sensation of…nothingness: there was nothing below or above, nothing touching: he hung there in space, a void of nothingness: his senses reached out and felt the vague gravitational pull of a far off star: he reached in another direction and detected the approaching ships: he waited patiently: he was in no hurry, he was a machine: he waited until the closest dispatched a probe and another launched a shuttle: he waited until the farthest ones were well within range, and still he waited, ever so patiently until the first touch of the tractor beam.
Liz: “Max?”
He was so pale: a sheen of sweat dripped down his cheeks and from his brow over his closed eyes: he was sitting right next to her but he was so far away, light-years: she could sense only a small piece of him sitting there, the rest was gone and he was blocking her way: he wasn’t letting her follow: that scared her more than anything she’d seen or heard on the screen: she clutched Philip closer to her as he fussed and felt the supporting hand of Isabel touching her shoulder: whatever Max had to do, he wanted to do it alone.
Larek: he’d remained silent but he hadn’t missed a thing: he was relieved and worried that the captain had capitulated to Michael so easily, but then he supposed it was reasonable: the Royal Four were legendary, how could a direct order issued by such not be obeyed: but it was the Granolith: he glanced up in surprise as an image of space appeared on the viewer: the door suddenly opened and Princess Isabel’s fiancée walked in.
Alex: he took one look and walked over to the viewer: he pushed on the wall and a control panel appeared: he proceeded to push and turn various knobs as the image came into better view…
“We got lucky and hit the right frequency and are piggybacking this image off another one passing nearby. This should let us see what’s going on.”
Larek: he stood to get closer and counted the cruisers…
“Five. All Cromarian design. All with blacked out insignias.”
Kyle: “The five ‘stolen’ ships.”
Larek: “Undoubtedly.”
This was going to be a mess: the Antarians, and Renularians for that matter, were going to demand the Granolith’s return: Cromar would play dumb but would probably just happen to ‘find’ the Granolith after the right amount of a ‘finder’s fee’ was offered: a fee neither world could afford: that was if they were lucky: if they weren’t…war: he was so tired of war: he watched with sick fascination as the enemy closed in: he saw the Granolith start to move, obviously caught in a tractor beam, but then…
“What’s happening? It looks like it’s…spinning?”
Liz: she grabbed Max’s hand as it began to tremble: she kept glancing at the screen and then at her husband: she knew from the increased strain on him that whatever the Granolith was doing, Max was directing: the Granolith’s spinning increased: streaks of energy began to shoot out wildly: a probe was hit and blew into a million pieces: the Granolith spun even faster: it looked like the most incredible lightning storm ever created had erupted in the darkness of space with the Granolith at the vortex: the closest cruiser and the smaller shuttles never stood a chance: the Granolith began to glow red hot as it became a firestorm of energy, feeding back unto itself: the remaining three ships tried to pull away but it was too late: she watched as the ships became nothing more than little specs of debris being hurled and flung wildly through space: when there was nothing left to destroy, the Granolith stood still: she heard her husband gasp for air…
“Max? Are you okay?”
Max: he panted for breath: he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs…
“Y-yeah. G-g-give me a…minute.”
Michael: the scene he’d watched play out was terrifying in its destruction but also strangely beautiful…
“Maxwell, what the f*ck did you do?”
Max: he felt a cool cloth being pressed against his forehead: he glanced up and gave Maria a grateful smile: he didn’t remember her being there earlier: he wiped his face and gulped a couple glasses of water.
Liz: “Do you need to lay down?”
She remembered how tired he’d been the last time he did anything like this: but this had been different: he’d done this completely on his own, without her or Zan or Isabel: what had he done.
Max: he heard her thoughts and smiled…
“You’re right. It was different. The Granolith didn’t ‘become’ anything. I simply triggered its self defense systems.”
Larek: he was impressed and quickly grasped what had actually happened right before his eyes…
“That’s why you wanted it dumped into space. So you wouldn’t have to worry about controlling the energy, just let it fly and destroy everything in its path.”
Kyle: he and Michael both whistled in awe…
“Hell of a light show there, Evans. Uh, by the way, I’ve got an emergency call from Zan. He wanted to know what the hell was going on with the Granolith. I guess he and Zanya both felt it.”
Max: he nodded…
“I’m sure they did. Tell him that it’s safe now and I’ll contact him later to explain in detail. Right now I have another call to make.”
Isabel: “What was that, anyhow? I mean it felt like…like…”
Max: “An SOS for anyone that has the DNA to feel it. It’s only partially aware. It knew it was under attack but needed guidance to tell the good guys from the bad guys.”
He glanced over at his friend…
“Michael, could you get in contact with that captain again and ask him if he’d be so kind as to give the Granolith a ride back home.”
Michael: he grinned…
“Consider it done.”
Max: he returned the grin for a moment but then scowled: he still had work to do: he turned to Larek…
“I need to make a call. Do you want to be present for it?”
Larek: unlike the others in the room, as a head of state, he knew the call that King Zan needed to make and it wasn’t going to be easy: did he want to be a part of it, would it help or hurt him and Renular: what about King Zan, he can’t be seen as a puppet king to Renular, but at the same time if King Zan did this right, he would be seen as more than a young upstart king: he would be someone whose words had some teeth to them and could even bite hard if needed: he also knew that the other heads-of-state and advisors were bristling at the thought of a mere boy taking the chair at the council: this could change that perception: but he was untrained, or maybe semi-trained would be the better description since that President Wilkinson had been mentoring him: but was it the same thing: he wasn’t sure but he needed to find out…
“Yes, I would be honored to be present.”
Max: he almost smirked: he knew Larek would: Larek was obviously as curious about what the Royal Four were really like as everyone else: he also wasn’t blind to what was being said in certain circles about him and the intergalactic council: he was being tested and he couldn’t afford to lose face or he’d never be taken seriously in the council…
“Thank you. I think we should do this from the bridge.”
They rose to follow him: he took Liz aside for a moment…
“Liz, I want you beside me but…it’s not a place for Philip.”
Liz: she was torn: she wanted to be with Max, but Philip was upset and fussy and would be more than a handful if both she and Max were out of his sight…
“I’ll watch from the side chamber.”
Max: he entered the bridge with determination: it was the only thing keeping him upright at the moment as fatigue was trying to settle…
“Captain, I need direct visual communication with the Cromarian Ambassador to Antar…”
Larek: he whispered in Max’s ear…
“The Honorable Klignat.”
Max: “The Honorable Klignat.”
A few moments later the main screen winked to life and…{‘what the hell is that?’ he wondered as he observed the strange being on the screen.}…
“Ambassador Klignat.”
The ambassador rose from his bow: {Oh, okay, that’s better. There is a head after all.}
Klignat: “Your Majesty, King Zan. I am honored. How may I be of service to you?”
His face remained cordial and passive, but his eyes (all three of them) missed nothing, not the momentary surprise of King Zan or the underlying anger that was practically pouring out of his skin, or the likewise fury on those surrounding the king, including, much to his surprise, Chancellor Larek: now this was indeed interesting: perhaps it was true and Larek was pulling the strings after all.
Max: “Ambassador, a few moments ago the ship transporting the Granolith was attacked…by five ships that are of Cromarian design.”
He let the statement hang in the air, trying to detect anything interesting from the reaction: it would probably help if he knew the basic anatomy of the being in front of him: he looked like a…lizard with extra…arms.
Klignat: he did his best to portray the appropriate amount of shock and indignation…
“YOUR MAJESTY! That is indeed…unfortunate. But surely you don’t think Cromar had anything to do with it? We design many ships for many planets. We will, of course, assist in identifying the suspected ships and who purchased them.”
Max: his reply dripped with sarcasm…
“How very kind of you. We will transmit the coordinates so that you may examine the… pieces.”
Klignat: all three eyes blinked in surprise…
“Pieces?”
Max: he gave in and smirked slightly…
“You certainly don’t think that I would allow
anyone to actually steal the Granolith do you? No, the Granolith is quite capable of defending itself, and
I am quite capable of directing it to do so. Something you might want to pass on to any other prospective…
buyers that may come calling.”
He bowed his head slightly…
“Good day to you, Ambassador Klignat.”
Klignat: his demeanor had not changed all that much, but inside he was reeling: he had been aware of the attempted grab on the Granolith: he didn’t know the new king all that well and so had not been able to advise for or against the plan, but it had never occurred to him that the ships would be obliterated, damaged perhaps, maybe one or two beyond repair, but not blown apart: no, this he had never thought of: he would relay the message, both spoken and unspoken, that King Zan, while young and still cutting his teeth, has a bite that could be lethal: and how was Larek playing into all of this, and who else was involved: these questions needed answers before they made any more attempts.
Larek: it was all he could do not to grin like an idiot: he had many dealings with Cromarians over the years and knew how to read them: the Honorable Ambassador Klignat was undoubtedly rocked to the core, which meant he knew about the plan and who was behind it…and had never foreseen this possible outcome: hell,
he’d never foreseen this possible outcome and he knew King Zan better than any other being outside the King’s immediate circle: plus he was sure Klignat was going to go nuts trying to figure out Larek’s role in all of this and what it might mean: too bad Tavner wasn’t here for it, now that really would have thrown the ambassador for a loop.
~
Setting: Royal Antarian ship, atrium, late the same night
Max: he wandered through the strange trees and plants: he heard the slight rustling of Isabel’s snake, now named Ralph, slithering around his enclosed area, and took a seat on a bench and stared out at the passing starscape: his mind and heart were heavy with what he had done earlier today: there had been between three and five hundred beings on each of those five ships, two thousand five hundred beings were gone: all because of him: he knew many, many more, hundred of thousands, if not millions, had lost their lives in the last few years in the war: he’d even taken some of them out last time in defending Earth, but this was different: he wasn’t directly threatened, his loved ones weren’t going to die today if he didn’t take action, he’d done it for a machine: granted it was a very powerful machine that was a national treasure, an icon of Antarian civilization, but was it worth twenty-five hundred lives: somehow he wasn’t at all sure that it was: he suddenly heard some more rustling much closer and louder, a snap of a twig, and…crash.
Charlie: grunt…
“Umph…”
He hit the bench with a thud: he carefully stretched, checked for damage, and was glad that Dad’s lap had been there to break his fall: he stretched again and laid out on Dad’s lap: he needed a good scratching to relieve any possible soreness from that stupid branch breaking.
Max: “What the hell?”
He almost laughed as Charlie looked around with a ‘what? I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ look and then stretched out on his lap: he automatically started scratching Charlie’s back and laughed despite his melancholy as he hit a particularly itchy spot near the tailbone and Charlie began to wildly gnaw on his paw.
Charlie: gnaw…
“Dad….”
Chew…
“S-stop…”
Gnaw…
“grrrr….puurrrr…”
Chew…
“L-left, Dad, to the left.”
He shifted over to his back, legs up in the air…
“Chest, Dad, get the chest. But I’m warning you, stay away from the belly.”
Max: he started at the chin and worked his way down the neck and the chest: he felt claws wrap around his arm as he started towards the belly, and then release him as he reversed direction and moved back towards the chest.
Aunt Trudy: she walked over and joined her nephew on the bench…
“Well, look who was ready to come in from the cold. I had a feeling he’d been hanging around here. Probably playing with Ralph,” she said as she began to scratch Charlie’s belly: Charlie just purred in reply.
Max: “He won’t let me do that.”
Aunt Trudy: “You don’t do it right,” she replied with a wink: they sat there quietly as they both petted and scratched the cat…
“Isn’t it amazing how relaxing something so simple as a good scratching can be? Helps ease away the worries of the day.”
Max: he cast a glance at his aunt…
“Are you talking about me or Charlie?”
Aunt Trudy: “Both, actually.”
Max: he took a deep breath and looked up at the stars…
“I killed twenty-five hundred people today. Today was the last day they got up in the morning, had breakfast, and began their day. Today they lost their lives over a…machine…a thing. How is that right?”
Aunt Trudy: she scratched Charlie’s haunches and wondered how he’d gotten so fat…
“Who said it had to be? Max, if you’re looking for clear-cut, right and wrong, you’ll never find it. It’s all shades of gray, some are lighter or darker than others.”
She stopped and looked him in the eye…
“They got up today and decided to gamble with their lives over a machine and lost. You can’t control that, only react to it. It wasn’t easy and I hope it never will be.”
She felt a cold nose rooting her hand up for more scratching, which she obliged.
Max: “That’s it? No, it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t kill them, they did it to themselves, think of all the people that might have died if they’d succeeded? None of that?”
Aunt Trudy: “Nope. No need to tell you what you obviously already know.”
She patted his leg affectionately…
“The fact that you’re not taking the loss of their lives casually tells me that you are the right man for the job.”
Max: “Am I?”
Aunt Trudy: “Yes, now I’m old and tired and believe I’ll turn in. When you get to be my age, you need all the beauty sleep you can get and I have another diplomat to…chat with tomorrow. Need to be on your toes for them, don’t ya know. Good night dear.”
She patted him on the knee again as she rose and secured Charlie in her arms.
Max: he rose and gave her a peck on the cheek: after a moment’s thought, he called after her…
“Wait, what exactly did you and Larek chat about at the reception yesterday?”
Aunt Trudy: she gave him a slight wave of the hand and called back…
“Good night, dear. Sweet dreams.”
Ah, like a lady, the Fates can’t reveal all their secrets, it’s more exciting to keep them guessing.
