Valkossa Prime
The Lord of Valkossa's Office
"Sebastian, is Admiral Garrin here yet?" Lord Gatreaux asked his secretary.
"His air car has just arrived, my lord," Sebastian replied. "He is on his way down with his aide. Shall I bring refreshments?"
"Please do," Marcel replied, leaning back in his brown leather chair. He picked up another datapad, and tried to absorb yet another of Garrin's reports on the Colonial Alliance. "Why I put up with that paranoid idiot," he mumbled. A few moments later, a chime at his door sounded. "Enter," he said, not looking up.
Admiral Hephaestus Garrin stepped in, all 1.71 meters of him trying to be resplendent in a black uniform trying to look like a Fleet Admiral's property. Most of the dozen decorations he had the right to wear were missing. In fact, the only ornamentation on the synthetic tunic were his Twin Suns on each shoulder (for his rank) and a combat ribbon for some obscure border clash some twenty years ago.
"I greet you, Lord of Valkossa," Admiral Garrin said, glancing around at the neat, ornate furnishings of an office that looked exactly like a Valkossan Lord's office should look.
"I greet you, Fleet Admiral," Lord Gatreaux replied. "I waive formality here, Hephaestus," he said. "Have a seat." He put the pad down and leaned forward over his desk. "Heph, your report on the Colonials is quite fascinating, but really..." He shook his head. "I'm reluctant to call it fantasy, but there you go. You seem a bit out of touch with reality."
Hephaestus Garrin also leaned back in his chair, taking in Gatreaux's words. Part of his brain tuned out his cousin's inane droning, focusing on the rustle and rattle of the twenty-seven decorations that Marcel had "won" during his "glorious military service", and somehow managed to fit them all on his silly purple jacket.
"...in fact, the Colonial Ambassador was in here a short time ago," the Lord of Valkossa replied. "He said that the leaders of the Alliance deplored this terrorist incident, and offered the Alliance's assistance in filling in the hole in our defenses."
Garrin almost snapped to attention in his chair, eyes wide. "WHAT did you do?!" he demanded.
"What?" Gatreaux asked, casting an inquiring eye on him. "They offered aid, asked what we want. I told them what we need, and they've offered to help us."
Garrin put a hand to his face, numb with shock. "You realize what you've done? You've killed us all," he said, voice hoarse. "We're all dead."
Gatreaux barked out a laugh. "Heph, you're crazy."
"Crazy? Is it crazy to trust your safety to a people who've sworn your annihilation?" Garrin tried to pull his thoughts together. "Remember why the Colonial Alliance was formed? To end the Valkossan Empire once and for all!"
"Didn't they?" the Lord of Valkossa asked dryly. "I note the absence of the word 'Emperor' in front of my name, and I also note the treaty of 3610, freeing the Colonials from all subservience to the Empire, and setting in place a peace that has lasted a hundred years."
"When the War lasts four hundred years, I'd prefer to withhold judgement on a peace that's lasted for a quarter of the time. People don't forget easily, Marcel," Garrin pointed out. "There are still factions in the Alliance that want us dead."
"And end their biggest trading partner?" Marcel smiled. "They wouldn't. And anyway, we have the largest fleet in the sector," he continued, flashing a second datapad.
"That doesn't do much when in the next sector over you have an even bigger fleet," Heph countered.
"Heph, you've been working too hard," Gatreaux said. "Why don't you take a few days off? Kornax has assured me there's nothing untoward about the Colonial offer. Your second in command can handle things until next week."
Garrin shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. "It's just that I don't think this course of action is wise. Add that to the fact that you've told the Colonials about a massive hole in our home system's defenses, and I think you'll admit I have a right to be worried."
"Nonsense," Gatreaux smiled. "You're living in the past. You'll see - one of us will be proved right. Dismissed."
Garrin stood up, saluted, and left. A few seconds after he left, a hidden door opened, and a tall man stepped out of the Lord of Valkossa's bathroom.
"Sit down, Kornax," Gatreaux indicated. "You see what I mean?"
Kornax sat in the still-warm chair and smiled patronizingly. "I'm afraid I do, my lord," he said, steepling his fingers. "What a pity that history is held up so often by men of limited vision."
"And I have that vision, Kornax," Gatreaux said, pounding his desk. "And I will not see this peace broken for a few more generations of war!"
"It's simple enough, Lord," Kornax nodded. "They won't break it if we won't. And they'll help us."
Captain Jon Bjorn stood up as Admiral Garrin emerged from the Lord of Valkossa's office. "Any luck?" he asked the Fleet Admiral.
"None at all," Heph replied. He made a flat gesture with his handd, and the aide fell silent. All the way up to the carpark on the roof.
Garrin relaxed slightly as the door hissed shut behind him. "Back to the office, Akkad," he said to the pilot. "We're up a creek," he added to Bjorn. "Gatreaux's stuck in some kind of fantasy world...thinks that everyone wants to be our friend. He's even told the Colonials about our defense problems. The Colonials have offered aid."
Captain Bjorn smiled. "Why am I having trouble believing that?" he asked rhetorically, as the car lifted off.
"The same reason I am," the pilot called back, as he pitched the craft violently over. "Hold on!" he yelled.
Garrin winced as a missile blasted past the car, seemingly close enough to touch on a cone of scarlet fire. It winked out of sight as the car slewed around, but a bone-jarring thump announced a detonation.
The car jerked, and Akkad screamed. And all Garrin and Bjorn could do was watch the streets of the city grow closer and closer...
