Page 2 of Advance and Retreat (Dark Empire #6)

He kept it at that. Clajak’s Matara, Empress Jessica, was human. Although she was an impressive woman, he feared she was in the minority of the seemingly soft, spoiled creatures so different from his own kind.

“They’re weak,” Signis snapped, powerless to contain himself. “They think technology can fix their shortcomings. They’re closeminded extremists afraid of anything remotely different from themselves.”

“I wasn’t aware you’d had so many dealings with our ancestral cousins,” was Clajak’s mild rebuke.

“Enough to form opinions,” Rorix put in, his tone equally as calm after shooting Signis a pointed glare. “Why just Earthers? Why not any of our other allies?”

“It’s up to you and what you think the support we give you will allow,” Clajak shrugged.

“Depending on your route, you could recruit Joshadans, Plasians, Beonids...it’s your show, Rorix.

But to gain the empire’s support, which you must have to make this journey possible, you’ll have to agree to enlist Earthers. ”

“A few ships and supplies are hardly worth having to take care of such lesser beings,” Signis muttered.

“Hardly a few.” Clajak’s gaze and tone spoke a clear warning to the Nobek to shut up. For a wonder, Signis did.

The emperor’s regard swung to Rorix again.

“You’re welcome to petition whomever guarantees your journey’s success, as will I.

You’ll need top medical and scientific personnel.

Engineers. Trained crews to man the marauders and small fighters.

Horticulturists and nutritionists. Experts in every field.

Except for a few key people we need to keep us in the fight against the All, you can have your pick of Kalquorian and Earther personnel willing to face such a momentous journey. ”

His offer was more than Rorix had dared to hope for. Autonomy. The means to keep his people healthy and strong. And happy, since they wouldn’t have to bow to anyone but themselves once they left known space. Absolute freedom, the Coydidak dream for hundreds of years.

How could he possibly refuse?

* * * *

S ignis hated to vent his dismay at his clanmate, but he couldn’t deny his unhappiness at the situation.

He and Rorix stood on a cliff overlooking the green-tinged ocean following their meeting with Emperor Clajak. They were in a park setting, and though a few people were in the area, they had space to speak privately.

“Humans don’t belong among the Coydidak. Technologically, they’re decades behind us. They’re also unpredictable. Needy. Weak. Self-absorbed. They’ll complicate everything.”

His boyishly handsome Dramok stared at the horizon, where clear blue skies met the glass-smooth sea.

“Consider the ships he’s offering, my Nobek.

Ours are barely holding together after so many years.

We’d have marauders, no less, the latest in fighting craft!

We’ll be truly independent of Kalquor. The Coydidak can at last be a separate entity, which doesn’t answer to the empire. ”

“Who says we answer to it now?”

“You know to some extent we do. We have to follow their laws though we have no representation in the Royal Council. We must obey summons to fight their enemies if they tell us to. We pay duties on items we import from other planets to sell. All the regulations that don’t benefit us in any way. ..we’re still bound to abide by them.”

Rorix’s face was alight, making him appear younger than his already youthful forty-seven years. He was Coydidak through and through, led by his heart, dedicated to his people living life on their terms.

Signis knew the decision was made, though Rorix had yet to bring it to the Council of Elders. The old men and women were content to let the leader they’d elected run the show, so long as they had ample means to brew pitchers of enomi and plenty of time to gossip as they drank it.

“The humans,” he said again. He relaxed as Rorix turned his gaze to him. His clan leader’s enthusiasm quieted in consideration of his concerns. Their few disagreements never resulted from the Dramok failing to take him seriously, which Signis was grateful for.

“They’re a difficult bunch,” Rorix admitted.

“A necessary evil for the empire to continue as a society. It’s the same for us if we wish the Coydidak to exist past our generation.

When we leave known space, there’ll be no more restless Kalquorians to add to our ranks.

There aren’t unclanned fertile Kalquorian females left to do so anyway.

Earther women are needed if we aren’t to die out. ”

“Would it be so bad if we did?” Signis hadn’t been born Coydidak.

He’d joined them after they’d found him broken and dying near their camp.

Rorix’s people had healed his injuries, then saved his life again when they’d refused to surrender him to those who’d tried to kill him in the first place.

His loyalty had been to them ever since.

“We can’t have the ships, supplies, and funds unless we bring along Earthers.” Rorix grinned, his boyishness increased by the mischievous smile. “We don’t have to clan a woman. None will be on our bridge crew. Our interactions with the humans can be limited.”

“I’m in charge of our security. I’ll have to handle them on some level.” Signis scowled. “You know how many Coydidak men enjoy visiting Earther women at the brothels. How many requests to bring a few along did you fend off the last time we docked at Dantovon?”

“Am I in charge of the Coydidak or not?” Rorix’s easy attitude never wavered.

“I’ll enlist only the bare minimum. The Earthers we accept follow our rules, or they don’t stay.

If they give us too much trouble, I’ll leave every last one of them on the final outpost we come to before we travel beyond Kalquor’s reach. ”

“Meanwhile, I have to endure them. Small, weak, stupid Earthers. They don’t deserve to be among us, even for breeding.” Signis despised the mere idea.

Rorix sighed. “They have their uses. I’d sign them just to get my hands on the flagship the emperor offered us. If I can convince our council, the Earthers come along...so get used to the idea.”

* * * *

A draf cargo ship, Galactic Council of Planets space

––––––––

“H ow do we get on Jedver unnoticed? Then, how do we get to Dramok Mereta, assuming we can find him?” Piras demanded, pacing the floor of his clan’s guest quarters aboard an Adraf freighter.

He had plenty of room to do so. The room was spacious, if sparsely furnished.

It possessed a sleeping mat big enough for the four of them, a lounger and two hover chairs, and a table along one wall.

Unlike the room, the table was crowded by a couple of computers and the odds and ends of Hope’s and Lokmi’s mechanical work.

Piras’ Imdiko clanmate Lokmi gazed morosely at the components on the workstation. “My attempts to make a phasing device that’ll shield us from being seen by the Darks are complete failures. The frequency fluctuation idea was a bust.”

“Surgical changes to our appearances remain an option, but far from a good one,” their Nobek Kila noted.

“Changing our facial structures is one thing, but total body modification isn’t a possibility.

The Adraf medical crew on board doesn’t have the expertise when it comes to Kalquorians and Earthers.

” The bearded brute glanced at the fourth member of their party.

Hope Nath, as small as her clanmates were big and muscled, scowled at nothing in particular.

“My nanobots could search for Secretary-General Mereta while we remain hidden. Their limited range wouldn’t be a big deal as long as they hitch a ride for longer distances on drones, which are heavily used on Jedver.

The trick is getting them and us on the planet unobserved and escaping once we have who we came for.

” She appealed to Piras. “Is there really no way this ship can remain in orbit long enough for us to investigate and jump back on?”

“It would be too suspicious for the freighter to stay longer than offloading requires,” he sighed. “We have no choice but to leave on board when it does or find a way to get on Jedver and catch the next freighter the fleet can bribe to pick us up...as well as Mereta.”

As rescue missions went, it was as difficult as he’d ever faced. Thanks to the Darks’ ability to see through their attempts to phase, it was damned near impossible.

“The nanos and drones are our only option where the hunt for the secretary-general is concerned,” he decided.

He glared at his clanmates in turn, not as their Dramok, but as Admiral Piras, their commanding officer.

“Brainstorm ideas on how to reach Jedver unnoticed and hide from the enemy while we’re planetside.

No matter how ridiculous, I want to hear options. ”

* * * *

J edver

Secretary-General Mereta gazed through eyes no longer his. He walked a corridor familiar yet strange. He moved among those he recognized but couldn’t claim he knew.

For several weeks he’d been submerged in the darkness of his own subconscious, having been mostly consumed by a Dark’s will.

The offshoot of the fearsome All, an entity of unparalleled malevolence in Mereta’s experience, had assumed his identity.

It puppeted his body at its greater consciousness’ behest. Controlling Mereta had enabled the All to take leadership of the Galactic Council of Planets and several of its member worlds.

Before being elected as the head of the Galactic Council, Mereta had been a spiritual teacher of some importance on Kalquor.

He’d sought communion with what he might have called his own version of the All.

However, Mereta’s concept of the great energy from which life had emerged was pure benevolence and joyous creation.

His glimpses of the force behind the pageantry of mortal existence had assured him of his beliefs.

A devout meditator, he’d learned to establish himself in states beyond care for corporeal beingness.

He was certain it had been his serenity and ability to enter deeper states of mindfulness that enabled him to occasionally resist the Dark using his physical form.

He’d learned to send it into a sort of hypnotic trance for minutes at a time.

In the early days of its possession, he’d had scant time before succumbing to its greater power and drifting where Spirit dwelled until he had the strength to return.

During those precious minutes of conscious control, he’d sent coded messages to the Kalquorian Empire.

He’d done so in hopes of warning them of the danger to the known universe from the All.

The enemy was dedicated to destroying all sentient life in the dimension. ..as it had done in its own.

As the weeks and months passed, Mereta had found he could hold his Dark rider under his thrall, unknowingly, for lengthier periods.

Little by little, he was able to resist being banished to the distant corners of his own awareness, until he could view situations happening around him at will.

His uninvited guest, always draped on his shoulders, its tentacles wrapped around his neck and chest, seemed unaware of his return to alertness.

Mereta was able to observe his fellow council members, also directed by Darks, with the adversary none the wiser.

He suspected he’d reached the strength to hold his rider’s mind prisoner indefinitely.

..but to what avail? Contacting the Kalquorian Empire or its allies was an impossibility.

All communications were closely monitored.

Even his coded messages no longer had hope of transmission without detection nowadays.

He couldn’t leave Jedver unless he explained himself, and what excuse could he possibly concoct that the All would accept as feasible?

Long, intense contemplation had offered no answers. ..which were answers in themselves.

He'd settled for delaying tactics to impede the All’s plots when possible, particularly where allowing refugees to escape its often fatal clutches was concerned. He gathered intelligence in the hope he’d find a way to transmit to the outside universe the weaknesses he’d found.

The idea he might discover a path to do so was becoming a fantasy.

The All was considering imprisoning Mereta.

..as if he weren’t already a prisoner in his own body, as far as it was aware.

Kalquorians had been banned from GC space.

Mereta was the sole exception. Convincing thus far uninfected parties he was against his own people had become steadily more problematic for the All.

His continued presence in public gave validity to the mounting evidence a malignant force had taken over and was poised to eradicate everyone.

If I can escape, I must. Desperation hadn’t been a mindset to trouble Mereta in years. He accepted he might fail. He accepted life as he knew it might come to an end for everyone in his dimension. Still, if he could slip through the All’s tentacled grasp, it was the right action to take.

He had no choice but to watch for an opportunity and try.