"This isn't good."
Bioldyon, the Senderian ambassador, had only recently returned to his home planet. Now he stood in his opulent office, high above the capital city, looking out at his most impressive view. Far below him the people of Sender went about their business, unknowing and uncaring of the efforts to which Bioldyon and other governments went for the purpose of preserving their safety."
"No, not good at all," he continued, and he turned to look at the person who was seated in his office. It was a Rizajor who bore a passing resemblance to another Rizajor once known as N'klaraet of Rush. The difference was that he was taller, and wider, and also considerably more well fed, to put it mildly. Not to put it mildly, he was terribly out of shape. But his hair was neatly trimmed, as were his fingernails. His clothes were sinfully fancy, far more so than was usual for a Rizajor. He was clad in deep purples, with his black boots and sword dangling off his right hip. The sword was largely for decorative purposes; the only time he drew it was to show it off for a young lady whom he might be trying to seduce. It was indeed impressive-looking; the fact that it had never been used in combat didn't alter that.
"Your brother," Bioldyon continued, "could make serious trouble for us, Daeq'b."
Daeq'b shook his head in slow disbelief. "They really put him in charge of a starship?!"
"I wasn't happy about this starship business to start with," Bioldyon said. "When I was at the meeting aboard the Universe, I hoped to head the matter off. It would have served our purposes quite well to have the Senderians be the most significant starfaring presence in----what'd they call it----?" He quickly consulted a report that he had produced after the conference. "Ah, yes. On their charts, it's called Sector 332-J. My, the Space Federation has always had a knack for creative names, haven't they?"
Daeq'b said nothing. Somehow he didn't feel that his input was being urged. He was right.
"So our interests have been preempted. Oh yes, we can come and go at will. But we'll have to move stealthily. Subtly. We can't make any overt moves now."
"That might be just as well," Daeq'b finally offered. "At a time when there's confusion and chaos, nobody's sure who's trustworthy, and who isn't. The larger the presence, why---the larger the threat."
"Quite so."
"Yes." He shrugged expansively. "Let the Space Federation come in with their big vessel. Let them stomp around and draw fire and attention from all quarters. And once they're gone..."
And then Daeq'b was nearly startled out of his chair by the abrupt thud of a dagger slammed down into the desk. It'd been driven into it with significant force by Bioldyon, and now it quivered their, a trembling metal representation of Bioldyon's anger. But his expression was placid in contrast.
"That sounds very much to me Daeq'b, like some kind of contrived rationalization for a very unfortunate situation," said Bioldyon, his voice having taken on a dangerously silky tone. "As I said before, your brother is the captain of the vessel."
"I don't understand how they could possibly put him in charge."
"I don't either. And I don't want to understand, because ultimately whether we understand or not, it's not going to make a damned bit of difference. The question is, how do we deal with it. And the answer's simple: You are to talk him out of it."
"Me?"
"Of course. You're his elder brother, aren't you?"
Daeq'b shook his head. "YOu don't understand. It's rather---complicated."
Bioldyon studied him for a moment, and then said slowly, "Daeq'b----we've had a long, healthy and mutually beneficial association these many years. I've helped you, you've helped me. We've taken a situation that could very easily have degenerated into chaos and fashioned it into an equitable, beneficial situation for all involved. Need I remind you that the continued growth and strength of the Rizajor government is not only beneficial for Rizajor, but it also benefits your home planet of Sender? That said, I think you'd best explain to me just how, precisely, it is an overly complicated situation."
Daeq'b slowly rose from his chair and began to circle the office. "You don't know what he's like," Daeq'b told him. "You just don't."
"I don't follow. Are you saying...."
"I'm saying that he's untouchable. That he's got a strong sense of how things should be. And that he'll pay little to no attention to my feelings in particular matters."
"But why? You were freedom fighters together. You fought side by side, won the liberation of your people from my government. Certainly he must feel some degree of indebtedness. Some sense of what the old days were like for you. It can't be that he just doesn't give a damn about you."
"You don't know! You don't...."
Daeq'b leaned against the glass of the window, his palms flat against it. He was struck by how cold the pane of glass was. "We fought for----ideals, Bioldyon. We fought for a certain view of how we wanted Rizajor to be. And more than anything else, we fought for how we wanted to be. But once the basic freedoms for which we'd fought so long and fiercely were at last won, things----changed."
"How did they change?"
"You damn well know how!" Daeq'b shot back, making no effort to conceal the anger in his voice. "Once we won our freedom, we had to get down to the business of governing. N'klaraet, he discovered he had no stomach for it. No interest in it. He left it to me to put our broken planet together, went off on his damned fool career path toward Fleet. And then he came back and he----judged me." Daeq'b felt his blood boiling with the humiliating recollection of it. "He came back to Rizajor, all dressed up in that crisp new Fleet uniform, and he looked down his nose at us. Like he was so much better than we. So much smarter, so much....." He fought to regain control of himself and only partly succeeded. "Nothing we'd done was good enough for him. The government we'd set up, the lives we'd made for ourselves. He accused us of selling out our people to Senderian interests. He saw the lands we'd garnered, the wealth we'd accrued that came as a result of doing business with your people....and it infuriated him."
"You did what you thought was right," Bioldyon said, not unsympathetically. "You did what was right. Treaties were signed, deals were made, understandings were entered into. Rizajor is free, and everybody prospers."
"Not everyone. I prosper. Some of my peers and associates prosper. Others....."
"Others eke out livings, I grant you. But they didn't take the risks you did. You're a leader, Daeq'b. You and your peers, all leaders." He walked around his desk and intercepted Daeq'b, who was still pacing furiously. He clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Leaders earn more consideration, more rewards. Why else become a leader except to get some special consideration?"
"That was always the difference with N'klaraet," said Daeq'b bitterly. "He became a leader because the people needed a leader. The concept of accruing anything aside from danger and risk---it never occurred to him."
"And he's angry because it occurred to others." Bioldyon made a dismissive wave. "It's far more his problem that yours."
Daeq'b heard the words, but somehow they did nothing to take the sting out of the recollections.....recollections that he had thought he'd long since managed to bury. N'klaraet, tall and straight and proud, looking contemptuously at Daeq'b. Accusing him of selling out his people's interests, of becoming that which they'd fought against. Telling him that Rizajor was free in name only; that Sender had managed to sink it's interests into Rizajor in a far more insidious manner. And that this time, those who'd fought for Rizajor's freedom had virtually given it away all over again.
And all during that confrontation, Daeq'b had barely said anything. He had withstood N'klareat's tirade because, deep down, he'd known it to be true. It'd only been after his brother's departure that Daeq'b had permitted his anger to build, had thought of everything he could have, or should have said.
Bioldyon was quiet for a brief time, and then he said, "But----even though it is his problem----it now becomes mine. I'd hoped that I could count on you to control him."
"Bioldyon----if the entire Senderian government was unable to control him----what hope would I have?"
Bioldyon nodded thoughtfully. "Good point. But let's be blunt here, Daeq'b," and his tone grew harsh. "We Senderians have, for the most part, been rather generous with you. We've asked little in return. As of this point, however, our interests are such that we need to ask a great deal. We need to ask you to exert whatever influence you've got to convince your brother that our interests are his as well."
"And if I may be equally blunt," replied Daeq'b, "I don't think I have a prayer in hell of accomplishing that. I'm curious, though, as to just what those Senderian interests might be. It'd surely help bring the larger picture into better perspective."
Bioldyon looked up toward the stars, as if he were capable of picking out the exact location of the Centauri homeworld and fixing it with a gaze. "I've been candid with you thus far, Daeq'b. I've no reason not to continue to be----do I?" He watched Daeq'b's reaction, which amounted to nothing else than a strongly held poker face. "The planet Centauri Prime," he continued, "in all of our most holy books, is a source of great power. The most learned and mystic of the Senderian elders call it Restworld."
"Restworld? Why?"
"The reasons are somewhat lost to obscurity. It's our guess, however, that centuries ago, great fleets may have used the Centauri homeworld as some kind of resting and refueling point. Why, we don't know. As I noted, it's only conjecture. The point is, however, that we have waited a long, long time to have the chance to explore the secrets that Centauri Prime possesses, whatever they may be. Perhaps some new source of limitless energy. Maybe weaponry left behind by a tremendously advanced race that could be of use to us. The possibilities are endless.....provided that the Sesnderians need not worry about interference from the Space Federation."
"From my understanding, it is the Fleet mandate that there be no interference."
"Mandates are one thing. Nevertheless, the fact remains that we have to deal with a starship being captained by a Rizajor. A Rizajor, moreover, who was key in disrupting Senderian interests in the past, even when he was a know-nothing teenager. And he's quite far-removed from that relatively lowly status. Now he's a knowledgeable adult with the power of a starship at his beck and call and the authority of the Space Federation covering his backside. If he desires to make life hard for us, he can do so very, very easily. We'll have to skulk about and proceed with extreme caution as it is, and that will be a major inconvenience. We want to make sure that our inconveniences are limited to their current status. The fall of the Cenaturi government is the best time for the Senderians to consolidate power. Your brother should not---must not---get in the way of that, both for his own good and ours. Are we clear on that?"
"Perfectly clear, Bioldyon. But I do not, as of yet, know exactly how to proceed."
"Then I suggest you find a way, Daeq'b." He turned to his desk, sat behind it, and then in a great show of confidence which he didn't quite feel, he brought his feet up and placed them on the desktop. "For if you fail to find a way, then we shall have to. And that'd be most unfortunate for all involved." He paused and then repeated for emphasis, "Most unfortunate."
ns 15.158.61.39da2
