Valkos Prime
Later That Day
Marcel Gatreaux was not a happy man. One of the richest citizens on Valkos Prime, he owned hundreds of ships, shares in dozens of companies, and had millions of working men and women who waited for his every command and whim.
Unfortunately, the job title on his business cards read "Lord of Valkossa", and as far as he could see, it wasn't a very good time to be the Lord of that system just then.
A soft chime sounded. "My lord?" a voice asked.
Marcel looked up from the report on his touchpad, and ran a tired hand through his thinning hair. "Yes, Sebastian?" he asked, seeing his secretary at his office door.
"The Defense Minister is here to see you," the fresh-faced youngster piped in.
"Send her in," Marcel commanded. "And ask Kornax for the latest intelligence reports."
He placed a finger to his pad, electronically turning a page as the door hissed closed. "They keep getting younger every year," he sighed. "Or something."
The door slid opened on silent tracks to reveal Ariane Hudson, Valkossan Defense Minister. "Greetings, my lord," she said.
"Yesterday at dinner it was Marcel," Gatreaux commented, looking up wryly, taking in her rich mahogany hair, and a body most of her social equals (and inferiors) had been after for years.
"Yesterday at dinner you were serving your grandfather's old brandy, my lord," Hudson replied, evenly. "His liquor isn't any gentler than he was."
"All right, we won't drink tonight," Marcel smiled. "Now. Have you brought the contingency files?" He waved at the swivel chair in front of his desk.
In response she opened her case and pulled out a faded, dusty folder and placed it on the desk. The Lord of Valkossa blinked. "What on earth is that?" he demanded.
"It's the contingency reports," the Defense Minister replied. "As you required. From the archives."
"No, no, I mean, what is that?" he asked, pointing at the folder.
"It's a paper folder, my lord," she replied. "From the military records of Emperor Stannix IV."
"What on earth is it made of?"
"Tree fibers, my lord. Quite rare, and immensely valuable."
"I can imagine," Lord Gatreaux admitted. "I've never seen this paper material before."
"Not the paper, my lord," Hudson snapped. "The contents!" Immediately she looked contrite. "I'm sorry, my lord," she said.
"No, no, we've all had a long day. This is the first time those lunatics in my command staff have left me alone all day," Marcel grumbled. "But enough. Tell me the worst."
Wordlessly, Minister Hudson pushed over the file. Carefully, with two fingers, the Lord of Valkossa began reading through it. After a few moments, he began smiling. "Ariane, you've been holding out on me! This is excellent! Precisely what we're looking for! Now, I assume we'll have to do a little juggling to get the Seventh Fleet in from patrol, but I'm sure that idiot Admiral Garrin can pull that off, if nothing else. In fact-"
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Three miles away, a thoroughly frustrated Admiral Heph Garrin slammed another manila folder down on his briefing table. "I told that idiot Marcel this would happen," he swore, stomping back and forth across the inlaid Orkanii marble floor of his ready room. "But no, we're at peace. No, the trade flow is too valuable. No, they wouldn't dare disrupt the Valkossan domination of the trade routes. Of COURSE not!" he shouted. "Do you see this piece of excrement they give me to work with?" he exclaimed, whirling to face his aide-de-camp, knocking over a chair.
"Heph, sit down," his aide-de-camp, Captain Bjorn said. "You'll give yourself an aneurysm doing that."
"All right, all right, Jon," Admiral Garrin said, taking a deep breath. "Twenty years you've been working with me, and I still haven't learned to take good advice. Let's take it from the top. Losses?"
Captain Bjorn took up a datapad from the table. Pulling up the chair Garrin had knocked down, he sat down and cleared his throat. "Spectroscopic analysis of the blast suggest a huge load of antimatter was detonated. Way more than anyone needs for anything. The data feed from Station Six doesn't show any hostile attack. They'd just tractored in a broken down freighter with reactor problems. The Troy."
"Jon, a bad reactor doesn't turn a five hundred kilometer station into debris the size of my dandruff," Garrin snorted. "They've pulled a fast one on us...and a faster and bigger trick I've never seen in my life."
"Who would have thought they could blow up a moon?" Captain Bjorn asked rhetorically. "I didn't know you could keep that much antimatter stable, for that matter."
"Well, they could, and they did," Admiral Hephaestus Garrin replied. "And now we have to stop them."
Captain Bjorn smiled. "Well, at least Minister Hudson has sent us a plan," he chuckled.
"Of course. Thank you for reminding me. Let's recall the Seventh Fleet, shall we?" Admiral Garrin inquired. "Oh, wait, that was disbanded three hundred years ago. Goodness me, what now?" He sat down heavily on his chair and stared at his office ceiling. "My head feels like it's being beaten by the reality that seems to have evaded Lord Gatreaux, Jon," he said. "Ask someone to get me a painkiller, would you?"
(edit: put in a little more detail, but I don't want to overdo it. More in the next installment, as soon as I write it.)
(This message has been edited by ElGuapo7 (edited 03-10-2004).)
