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Chapter Sixty Nine “Scanning
report coming in now, Sir.” Shouts his junior bridge officer, Lt. Brizer.
Silvas responds to the call by stepping down from his command chair to witness
the report himself. “Has
there been any movement in the sector where the Kuati’s were last spotted,
Lieutenant?” The
young man carefully reads through the streaming data and begins shaking his
head, “No Sir… They seem to be just sitting there waiting for something.” Silvas
Orian is now the one shaking his head. He begins walking back to his command
chair, all eyes on the rapidly aging commander. As he takes his seat he brings a
hand to his chin, stroking it a bit before speaking again, “I was afraid of
that…” His words trail off and his officers begin to fidget restlessly at
their stations. After a minute or two of silence, the great man speaks once
more, “Continue the security patrols, all units to remain on alert status. The
next wave will come without warning, and it will strike harder and deeper into
Chandrillan Space… Take the command ship into Grid One, Sector Alpha.” Upon
Commander Orian’s orders, the bridge officers perform their tasks, but their
location is causing a ripple of whispered prayers to roll throughout the command
room. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Reaching
over his massive desk, Toman Higaeri flips on the media transponder, hoping to
catch the latest financial reports from the news broadcast. The static slowly
fades away as he adjusts the frequency. “aaarrrrrhaahahhaaaaaa…
And now this late breaking report from our correspondent on Chandrila…” “It
has taken me a while to confirm this fact, but Chandrillan Space has been
invaded! A Kuati fleet arrived yesterday and ambushed a Chandrillan Interstellar
Navy patrol. There have been no reports on casualties as of yet, but talk is
that they were high. No one here on the surface can be certain that the planet
itself is not the next target of this unprovoked aggression. Unfortunately, this
move by the Kuati’s comes on the heels of the assassination of the beloved
Chandrillan ruler, Elassi Mehand, fueling further suspicions that the Kuati
leadership is behind this despicable act-…”
A blast of static cuts the correspondent off. “We
seem to have lost our stream from Chandrila. However, in related news, the
Corellian Ship Builders Union stock continues to sink even further in value as
word of the Kuati Fleet’s attack on the, CSBU built, Chandrillan Navy, further
leading to speculation that they have fallen behind in technology to the Kuati
Drive Yards Corp. And as more information becomes available, we will bring it to
you live, but for now, we return you to the financial report with Tusarn Kamodd-….” Toman
switches off the transponder, and now he knows at what price he has been sold. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The
bright, warm rays of Corel shining down onto the garden terrace reach the small
table where Meklin Suul enjoys his morning meal. Happily devouring the tiny
terbit sausages drenched in gravy, the graying man swims in pleasure during his
meal. On the table before him are multiple reports of the growing strife in the
Chandrillan Sector, the stock reports from the Corellian Ship Builders Union,
the news reports of the Kuati Fleet, and short little snippet from some
Commenorian news agency telling of the many woes for the Tryashoenu Corp. Today
is a good day for Meklin Suul. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Seated
in front of a dozen vidscreens, the once vibrant Xaxan Tryashoenu stares off
into the streams of data pouring across the screens. His reddish-blonde,
formerly closely cropped, now hangs to the right side of his head. His goatee,
vanished behind two weeks of unshaven cheeks. A once well-pressed man now dons a
rumpled and soiled, gray tunic. With no less than twenty lights flashing on the
receivers and comm stations around him, he continues to sit in careful silence. The
only movement detected is the occasional blink of his tired and blood-shot eyes.
So, when a dark reflection appears in one of the vidscreens, he knows all too
well whom it belongs, “Come to finish me off, Orion?” His
answer is silence, and so he slowly turns around to find himself staring down
the barrel of a slug-thrower. “I suppose the answer is ‘Yes?’” Vic,
without a trace of emotion on his face, simply shakes his head. “Then
what is it? I have no patience for games today, and I have no energy for
fighting.” Xaxan slumps back into his chair. Vic,
with his free hand, pulls a folder from his jacket and tosses it down onto
Tryashoenu’s desk. “I know who you are… And what you’ve done…” Xaxan
leans forward and retrieves the folder, as he opens it, all hope drains from his
face and hangs his head in his hands. “Well, it was bound to come out
eventually, but may I ask how you came by this information?” “Common
associate,” is all Vic says. Looking
up from the desk he just nods his head, “Of course… And you mean to ruin me
with this information, I take it? Well, you are too late… The Kuati’s have
already seen to that, as I am certain you are also aware.” Xaxan throws down
the folder, sending it sliding off of his desk and onto the floor. Never
lowering the muzzle of the gun, Vic answers plainly, “Yeah.” Slamming
his hands atop his desk, Xaxan jumps to his feet, “THEN GET IT OVER WITH AND
SHOOT, DAMN YOU!” The fury in his eyes should have been enough to make anyone
flinch, but not Vic Orion. With
his free hand once more, Vic pulls out another folder and throws it down on the
desk. Still raging from his outburst, Xaxan pauses a moment before snatching up
the folder. “There isn’t anymore that is not already widely known, Orion.
You have no more hold over me. You have nothing on me now.” “Only
your life.” His cryptic words cause Xaxan a moment’s worry, but then he
begins to flip through the second folder. It contains only a listing of his
ships and a set of coordinates. Confused
by this information, he looks to Orion for explanation, “I do not
understand.” “Keep
reading, and do it. Otherwise, I’ll personally deliver that other folder to
the last people you’d want seeing it.” Vic’s words are dark and full of
dire importance to Tryashoenu. Looking
further into the folder, he finds something he wants clarified and when he looks
up to question Orion once more, he finds that he is once again alone. His choice
has been made clear. He
quietly walks over to his private comm station, “Tainer?” “Yes,
Sir.” Comes
back the voice of one of his men. He
takes a steadying breath before continuing, “Issue an alert to all of our
ships.” He begins keying in the coordinates listed in the folder, “Have them
rendezvous at these coordinates in thirty-six standard hours. No exceptions.” There
is a moment of silence before the man returns, “Sir… ALL of the ships?” “No
exceptions, Tainer. Failure will result in extermination…” Every ounce of
Tryashoenu’s intimidation is poured into that response. “Is that understood,
Tainer?” “YES
SIR!!!” Walking
out of his office and on his way to his chambers, Xaxan mutters under his
breath, “Failure is not an option here.” Creator: PtrsonsZOO (Jennifer)
*SPECIAL NOTE: Due to circumstances beyond our control, the rest of the story will be written by PtrsonsZOO (Jennifer)
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