Chapter 7:
The Steel Magnolia
November 1, 2668
Captain Porter straightened his uniform and tried to smooth it out the best he could before leaving for the banquet. It was at this honorary dinner, one hosted by Emperor Andross, that Calan would meet all of his officers, and Captain Carnell would meet all of his. The rest of the inner circle would be there as well.
Over the past few months, he had seen little of the Star Wolf team. Andross had asked them to find his nephew and to bring him to Lupercalia, but the likeliness of that was slim. He couldn't be much older than 14 or so—and how could they get him off? Wolf would find a way. Leon could probably care less about some monkey kid related to Andross.
The Tyr was finished, but the Dureau was not. Calan sensed that the first-pick was Carnell's payback for not having his ship completed first. Calan thought it was a pitiful revenge—he didn't give a rat's ass about it. Not anymore. All Calan wanted to do was get out to Jadoram and find Semori Daiu. He could somehow perceive that this Haissan man would be very valuable later on. He didn't know why, but it just felt right. So, as soon as he was able to leave, Calan would leave for the Krythoris system. He vowed not to tell exactly what he would do there. "Just for some test runs," he would say.
Calan arrived at the banquet feeling starchy. His fur was shined by all the gel he could find, and he tried to present himself has a suave gentleman, looking half-Lylatian, half-Adratian. His more exotic side, all from his mother, might help with the other officers. He had stared at the mirror for fifteen minutes, trying to make his face looked absolutely unblemished. His uniform had been washed, ironed, and pressed to the fullest, so that he would appear very crisp. For a 23 year-old captain of a flagship. Calan chuckled to himself as he handed his ticket to the guard outside. I should be a crummy ensign, that's what. I bet Hayden will have a heart-attack when he finds out who his captain is. The guard took the ticket and asked no questions. Calan's uniform insignia said it all.
He entered a large room with nearly two hundred guests, surrounding round tables with elaborate chinaware. There was a single long table stretching across the room, which was probably for the emperor and his highest officers. Calan would sit there. But first he would have to find General Brizius or Premier Tucker.
Calan's polished black shoes barely made a squeak, even on the equally polished wooden floor. He saw Brizius holding a glass of wine in one hand and a fungus cigar—the most popular, that is—in his left hand and speaking with a woman whom Calan didn't know. As Calan got closer, he could smell that it was a hickory flavor. So ol' Otto likes hickory. Korrigan would argue for mint. If I can find that little sucker....
"Captain Porter!" exclaimed Brizius. "I was just talking about you with the admiral here."
"General," nodded Calan respectfully.
"This is Captain Calan Porter, and he'll be commanding His Majesty's flagship Tyr. And Calan, this is Vice Admiral Phaedra Prescott. She'll have one of the main space fleets. Both the Dureau and Tyr are scheduled to be in her fleet—although scheduling ahead is almost never accurate once we start a war, so you might be sent off somewhere else."
Phaedra Prescott was a seagull woman in her early fifties. She looked prim and cultivated. Calan thought she stood straighter than a wooden board, if that was possible. He felt like a sluggard; lazy and stupid in her prescence.
"Nice to meet you," Calan managed, straightening up and trying not to breathe.
Prescott merely nodded in recognition. "So, Porter, is it true you are just 23 years of age?" she asked, stressing each syllable.
"Yeah. It's true." Calan took larger breaths so he wouldn't faint. "I was sort of thrown into the rank. I wasn't in the military until some months ago, shortly after arriving. After being a commander, I was promoted by the emperor himself and given titleship to one of his flagships. But I didn't do much to join the army."
"Uh-hmm." Prescott clicked her tongue disapprovingly.
Calan at once regretted he had said all that.
General Brizius didn't look wavered. "Mr. Porter here grew up on Katina."
Prescott's eyes flickered with something. "Is that so? He's an Outsider?" She quickly spun her head back to Calan. "You were an exile?" she asked, voice rising.
Calan wanted to deck Brizius. "I—yeah."
"You must have committed quite a crime on Katina," went on Prescott. "What was it?"
"Murder of six people," Brizius said airily.
"Murder? Of six? Six people?!" Prescott declared in a hiss of shock.
"No—it wasn't like that—I was innocent—"
Admiral Prescott looked at the general. "Otto, how in the world did His Excellency appoint him?"
"He apparently found favor, Phaedra. I wouldn't worry. Calan is worthy of his titleship to the Tyr, and I know him to be honest and responsible. I would trust Calan with my army. He's young, but he's smart and innocent of that crime back at Katina. The emperor confirmed that much." General Brizius glanced at Calan, who stared.
"I hope so," Vice Admiral Prescott uttered quietly.
Calan faked a smile and nodded to the both of them. "I must be off to find my seat and my second officer."
Brizius cackled with laughter. "Oh yes—you don't know who he is yet, don't you? Ah, good ol' John Paul will find you a riot! Taking orders from a little man!"
Prescott joined in the laughter, but it was a very prissy sort of laughter. Calan walked away, feeling panicky about meeting Commander Hayden and wanting to seriously bust the general up. He was embarrassed in front of his leading commander, the vice admiral, and now he'd have to live with humiliation in front of her. She would know more about him when she dug through the archives to find all the information she could on Calan Issac Porter. Calan experienced a feeling that Otto Brizius had done all that on purpose—or maybe not.
Calan found his name and chair between his second officer's chair and Premier Forrest Tucker's. The seat that read Commander John Paul Hayden was occupied by an albatross in a similiarly tight uniform. The only difference was that Hayden was more muscularly built than Calan was. Indeed, the man looked like he could pick up a transport or one of the new model starfighters barehanded. Hayden was also older, at 47.
Calan sat down next to him and introduced himself. Hayden grinned like a schoolboy and replied back, "I'm John Paul Hayden, but you know that already. So, how old are ya', son?"
Not knowing how to say it more properly, Calan sighed and muttered, "I'm only 23."
Hayden let out a whoop. "Man! I'm followin' the orders of a guy less than twice my age! You're still a kid, bud! How does a guy that young become captain? Man!"
Calan didn't know either, but he just smiled and nodded his head politely.
"How's this lot for dining?" Hayden went on, refering to the crowd. "Can't see any loose guys. All of us are in tight uniforms, 'cept for the chefs and waiters and waitresses. And the emperor, I guess. He's over there talkin' to some general or another. Wish I could memorize everybody's names and ranks. It'd make my job much easier. So where's our first destination?"
Calan looked away from the crowd. "Destination?"
"Yeah, like the test runs. Where we goin'?"
"Oh. Krythoris system."
Hayden was thoughtful. "An interesting choice. Why there?"
Calan answered, "Foreign. No one would know this model. We could lie and say it's a new one being tested out. Same with the Dureau. Only they'll take a different location."
"Smart move, Cap." Hayden was relaxed in his chair. "I heard you were in Andross' inner circle. That true?"
"Yes."
"Uh-huh. I was a bit—erm—interested in your amount of loyalty. You a big loyalist?"
Calan wasn't sure if this was a trick question or not, nor did he have any idea on what his motive was. "I'm not a huge loyalist," Calan said truthfully, praying that Hayden wasn't one.
Hayden grinned his boyish grin again—for an albatross. "Good! I was nervous on havin' a complete loyalist captain in his inner circle, anyway."
Calan relaxed.
"I'll tell you a bit of my story when we get aboard our ship. You know, away from the crowd. I'm sure you've got a story as well. I looked you up in the archives, and I know you're an Outsider. You did quite a crime, though. Said you were innocent? I believe that. You look innocent. Some kid caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. And you're half-Adratian, it said. You look it. Ever thought of flying to Adratia?"
Calan nodded. "After the war, maybe."
Hayden let a small, hearty laugh, like it was supressed because of all the guests—even though they were louder than he was. "I suppose so. Is the Outside very nice?"
"It's great. But you don't really think of it as an 'outside'. No limits, except for your planet or system. I was always outside Rosier City, Katina. My dad was a mechanic for a military base there, headed by an older man named Grey...he had a son named William who was joining the army. Dad knew everything about the base, heard all the rumors, saw all the incidents. After Mom and Dad died, that was that. Then I moved to Javian City, where I was framed. But I've got no family left in Katina now. So I'll be moving to Adratia." Calan sipped some wine that sat in front of him. Glasses had been automatically filled and set before the guests came by the waiters.
"That's good," Hayden replied, "that' very good. I'm stuck here in Lupercalia, but someday I'll live in Corneria. Other Outsiders I've spoken to say that it's the best."
Calan sipped more wine.
Someone was clinking their glass with a spoon to catch the attention of everyone else. It was Andross, sitting in the middle of the big table, not far away from Calan was.
"Attention! Guests, it is a pleasure to have you here at this honorary banquet. Our two flagships—one completed, the other still in the process—have their crew. The staff of each ship will be sitting at this table with me. You may take your seats, and at exactly nine o'clock, I will present you all with a slideshow viewing of our progress so far." Andross sat back down.
The guests murmured some more and sat down in their tables. Waiters came out with the food. Waitresses brought more drinks and add-ons to the food, like butter and steak sauce. Calan noticed some officers going toward his side of the table and sitting down, all in a line. They must be my crew. Guess I won't have much of a chance to talk with them yet. Carnell's crew—including Korrigan, who looked bold in his new uniform—marched over to the other side. Immidiately Calan wished he could be next to Korrigan, instead of being next to the premier. He liked John Paul Hayden. But Forrest was growing more boisterous with Andross in each and every minute. Calan wasn't sure he could trust Forrest anymore.
The chicken tasted good, the bread was fresh, and the wine was excellent. Calan enjoyed the meal without saying much. He hadn't said much to Hayden, and he still felt uncomfortable at the idea. He didn't want to say something more stupid than he already had previously to the vice admiral. Maybe on the ship, once they had exchanged stories....
As soon as he was finished, and the rest of the guests were, Andross stood up and had a servant dim the lights. Everyone looked in the direction of a white screen to see the slide show.
"This first ship, you will see, is the building of the Tyr. Tomorrow her crew will leave for a test run. We must wish for their safe return."
The guests were awed at the beauty of the Sileni. They clapped and even whistled. Some people looked at Calan. He blushed, hoping Hayden hadn't seen.
"The next ship is the Dureau. Satyrs are slightly larger than Silenis are. She is not finished yet, as they are still working on the interior, but she promises to be a fighter. Worthy of being a flagship for the Empire of Venom."
More applause.
As Andross filled in somemore on the newest ships and models, Calan snuck a look down the table at Korrigan. He smirked at Calan and took a few looks at his captain, then crossed his eyes. A lieutenant nearby glared coldly at Korrigan. He stopped.
What's his problem? wondered Calan. At least Ramsey is acknowledging me. He's been pretty snide about his job but soon enough he'll realize that because I'm captain, I could order him to anything—even his own death. Too bad Carnell has him. But maybe the LARG can turn this to our advantage.
As soon as the slideshow was over, people came over, congratulating the two captains and Andross for his excellent work in providing an actual army, one with capabilities of defending itself and fighting on the offensive.
Calan got up to visit Korrigan, leaving Commander Hayden to deal with the other officers. He stopped by the table where Korrigan sat. Other officers next to him had gotten up to chat with people at the round tables.
"So, Ensign Ramsey, do you like your new job?" Calan asked saucily.
Korrigan grinned. "You just shush. Captain Carnell happens to think highly of me."
"I bet he does," Calan said, "since he stole you from a fellow officer."
"Still sore about that, are you? I'll have you know that I'm a pretty big advantage for the LARG. You just trust ol' Korrigan and let me handle everything." He pulled out a cigar and lit it.
"Stop smoking those."
"Not a chance. Did you know that General Brizius—"
"—smokes hickory ones? Yeah."
Korrigan folded his arms. "So there you go. A famous soldier smokes, same as I."
"You're not famous and you're no soldier."
"Famous enough! Brizius loves me! And so does Captain Carnell! He's got in mind to promote me as soon as we get on the ship."
"That won't be until at least next March."
"It will too. Yours wasn't suppost to be finished until December, but they were early, weren't they?"
"Yes." Calan shrugged it off. "Don't you think your fellow crew members will be angry about having you ahead of them, just because you're Captain's Pet?"
"Naw. Why? I deserve it."
"Now you're being egoistic."
"Am not. It's true. Carnell wanted me because of my skills with computers."
"I guess that's right. But your 'pals' won't see it that way."
Korrigan was clearly getting annoyed. He blew a large cloud of smoke in Calan's direction. "Listen Porter—just let me handle this. It might get messy, but I don't need your help, at least not yet. So just back off."
Calan shrugged again. "Fine. Have it your way. Just keep everything I said in mind when the water gets hot."
"Fine." Korrigan blew out again.
Calan marched off. Dumbass. Carnell isn't a man to be messed with—any fool could tell you that. Matthew Caiman could. I hope at least he's not a fool.
The rest of the evening quiet. Calan left early so he could get some sleep. They were leaving tomorrow.
"All ready, Cap?" Hayden asked.
"Seems like it. You ready?" Calan asked.
"Of course." Hayden rested in the first officer's chair.
Calan liked the feeling of the captain's chair. He liked the positions of the people and posts they occupied. Tactical was behind the captain's chair, along with some configuring computers. Technical and Helm was in front. Sometimes another officer could sit on the captain's left. This was often the second officer, unless that officer had another post. In this case, Lieutenant Commander Chaya Merrick had tactical, and stood right behind the chair, where weaponry computers were at. They were there, all of them.
"All right," Calan said finally, "Lieutenant Lafayette, set us on a course for...Jadoram. Warp 4."
Quincy did so without a word. Next to him sat Ensign Frederick Guriel, who did technical. He was a tall racoon who looked like he had once belonged to a garage band. Calan recalled reading Guriel's records. He was a descendant of some of the first people to arrive at Venom. His ancestors were among the first to found Saturnalia. The ensign was just 19 years old and had joined the army as soon as he was done with school. Now he served on a starship.
Besides him, there was the Chief Medical Doctor, Vladimir Stanislav. He was a man of native Fortunan origin, and he was a good fighter. Why he wasn't a soldier was unknown to Calan. The man had fantastic physical records, his health was nearly perfect, and he was involved in many sports in his high school years. Perhaps the 28 year old Stanislav had decided that becoming a doctor in the army would be better than a sports star. In Saturnalia, fitness was the key, not competition. Calan knew it was the opposite in the rest of Lylat.
The last main staff member was Ren Todor, the Chief Engineer. She was 38 and had a tough personality. Very powerful. She was confident and ambitious, a dangerous combination in some people. Lieutenant Commander Todor expected to do well and to expect no less than perfect from her superior officers. Calan didn't feel as confident as Todor did. Ren was a chimpanzee with piercing brown eyes.
The voyage was slow. Calan spoke with John Paul Hayden for nearly two hours, sitting in the captain's seat and letting the stars sail past him on the main screen. The other officers were generally silent, but once in a while he caught Chaya and Quincy exchanging looks. A conference would begin in a few minutes, where the main staff met each other to discuss the travels and how things were working. They would be in Jadoram the next day, if they sped up to at least Warp 7.
As a backup crew took over and the staff piled out of the bridge to the turbo-lift, Hayden was talking about the ship. "Looks nice, everything all squeaky and lemony-fresh...bet Blaise would be jealous if he could see this! I would be! It's a hot ship! If only I could have served on a ship like this when I was younger...but anyway, that's neither here nor there, eh?"
They reached the conference room in silence. Even Hayden wasn't speaking. They sat down and Calan folded his hands together.
"Our voyage, only two and a half-hours long, has thus far been successful. Does anyone have any comments or reports on the areas of the ship you cover?" Calan inquired.
"Not yet," said Ren Todor clearly. "Engineering is perfect. Only His Majesty's best workers made this ship."
"Clearly," Calan replied. "How is sickbay?"
"All things properly in order and well," Vladimir Stanislav said. "I like the emperor's choice of enlisted people in our various stations. Did he perhaps do it himself?"
"No, that was solely by General Brizius," chastened Calan, feeling stressed about that fact. He tried to not make it sound like it, but he knew he failed, for Stanislav sat back with a peculiar look on his face.
"Tactical works well," broke in Frederick Guriel.
"Glad to hear it, Ensign. Frederick."
"Freddy, if you want."
"All right, Freddy. Tactical systems working so far?"
"Yes sir," said Chaya.
"Good. Helm? Everything solid?"
"Affirmative." That was Quincy.
"Well!" Calan said, standing up. "I think that takes care of things. Dismissed."
Everyone emptied out quickly, except for Stanislav.
"Doctor?"
"Captain, there is something troubling me. I feel I must tell you, but really, I don't wish to."
"Go ahead, Vladimir. I'm open."
Vladimir was sheepish and shy. He scratched his spiked head and finally let out a sigh. "Captain, I'm worried for when we go to war against Lylat. I know what is happening, for I hear it from my sister, who is an aide in the government's main buildings, and my sister, she hears things. Things like declaring war. I thought we were suppost to be defending ourselves. Why do we pursue Lylat? Surely they would beat us."
"You're right, Vladimir. They could beat us." Calan paused, thinking. What if Stanislav was loyal? He couldn't afford to give himself away. It would put Chaya and Quincy in jeopardy, and then Carnell would suspect Korrigan. Vladimir's Fortunan parents must speak like he does, too. All old-style formative-ish...however you say it. Calan smiled at the ensign. "Are you loyal to Andross? Do you pledge your loyalty to him when asked to?"
"Of course. I honor the emperor."
"Would you die for his cause?"
"Perhaps. I know what it is now, but I don't understand it very well. Is he after conquest, or revenge, or both?"
"I believe both, Vladimir. But you would still fight for him?"
"Of course, Captain. And for you as well."
"Good. You are dismissed."
Stanislav left.
Calan ran a hand through his facial fur. It was going to be tricky, pulling this off. Vladimir Stanislav seemed like an honorable young man (though he was older than Calan himself) but he was a bit naïve on the subject of Andross. Calan wished he was a different person in a different position at a different time. More than anything, though, he wished he was home.
Jadoram loomed just outside the window in the Captain's Quarters, easily the biggest one on the ship. Calan stood by that window, gazing at the desert planet and its oceans and various jungle-areas. He assumed a few of those areas were oasises. Far off into the distance of space, he could see where Oova, the twin planet, was suppost to be.
Indiatapan was the largest city, and that was where Mr. Daiu lived. Calan feared that he wouldn't be able to find the Steel Magnolia in that mess of people and buildings, but he had a feeling that he would accomplish what he set out to do.
Someone was hitting the yellow button.
"Come in!"
The door slid open and Ren Todor appeared.
"Commander," acknowledged Calan. "What brings you here?"
"Actually, sir, it's just that question," Todor began, folding her arms. "Why exactly are we at Jadoram?"
Calan smiled. "Captain's business."
"I don't mean to be impudent, but may I ask what it is?"
The moment was awkward. I can't let her know what I'm doing, but if I don't tell, she might think I'm up to something.
"Just some simple visiting with a friend, Ren. That's all."
"Who?" she inquired.
Calan narrowed his eyes. "As I told you, Commander, my business is my own."
Ren didn't seem to waver. Instead she loosened her arms and said in a clipped tone, "Well, I won't bother you on the subject again, Captain. It's just that I thought we'd make a test run around Venom and that was all. I didn't ask questions when we started because it would have been inappropriate to question the captain of his orders at the time. This is different, and I just expected to get a clear answer."
"I don't have to explain my orders, Ren. At no time of the day am I expected to do it. Besides, I did give you an answer. To visit a friend. Dismissed." Calan watched her spin around and leave.
What's it matter to her what I'm doing? Calan wondered.
His transmitter behind his other ear beeped. He clicked it. "Yes?"
Quincy's voice. "Captain, we're ready to send you down to Jadoram in the shuttle bay. Lieutenant Commander Merrick will join you there and help pilot it for you."
"Thank you, Lieutenant." He clicked it off and went to the shuttle bay.
Chaya waited for him there by Shuttle 3. The shuttle bay officer bade them a safe voyage and told them that he'd be there when they contacted him for docking. They climbed in and Chaya started up the systems. The officer ran behind the glass and opened the doors. Slowly Chaya lifted the shuttle through the door and into space.
It was quiet and private there. Calan was sure that it wasn't bugged—for all he knew, at least. The day before they set off on their trip he had Quincy search it thoroughly to look for bugs. He reported none.
Chaya sat back as she sailed to the planet, preparing it for re-entry. Autopilot would take over until they reached the atmosphere.
"So, Captain, do you know where this guy's place is?"
"Nope. Not a clue. Indiatapan, for sure. But real location? Nope."
"Think about looking it up?"
"Said Maka Sheno Quomot, Za Indiatapan. Whatever that means."
"Get someone to translate."
"I'll have to. We need that address."
Calan saw a merchant selling people robes. He beckoned Chaya to follow him over to the robes.
"Robes! Cheap robes!" he called. And then in Kragglan, "Gharat vankas! Gharat vankas!"
"Two robes!" called Calan.
The merchant excitedly herded them into his shaded tent, where racks of robes were standing in the desert air. "Pick color and size!" he said with a heavily accent voice.
"I'll take green," Calan volunteered.
"And I'll have cream yellow," Chaya replied.
The merchant quickly took them off the shelves and handed them over. "Quicky, try on and tell how works. You pay twenty each robe, okay?"
"Fine." Calan slipped is on over the uniform and tried out the hood in back. He flipped it over his forehead to shade his eyes. Perfect. And the robe went down to his ankles. No problem. Chaya's was fine as well. She smiled sheepishly and smoothed out the robe.
"Okay, fourty credits," said the merchant. Calan handed them over quickly. The merchant swept them away. "Good, good."
"We have a question to ask you," Chaya told him. "Do you know where Maka Sheno Quomot, Za Indiatapan is?"
The merchant nodded. "Ah friends, east! You go east!"
"East?"
"Yes, but unfortunate you go there. Bad part to go through. But you have weapon you be fine. Excuse bad English, yes?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Good. Me tell you where is. Sweet Memory Street. Not far from statue of Empress Fakalia. Go there and pass two blocks. You find street."
Calan looked at Chaya. "We're going to find the Steel Magnolia."
The merchant looked at them with wide eyes. "You bounty hunters?"
"No—" Calan started.
"Yes, we are! Now is the shop far from the statue?" demanded Chaya.
The merchant nodded his head again, but much faster this time. "Yes, yes! Not far at all! Go and find; please, I must sell."
"No problem. And thank you for the information." Chaya walked out of the tent, making Calan hurry up after her.
"Why'd you tell him that?" he asked.
"Getting answers faster. I thought I'd spice stuff up a little. Good thing we brought our pistols with us. I mean, he did say the bad part of town. Who knows if that means gangters or just a run-down spot. Either way we have to cross it to get to where this Daiu guy is."
They walked on down the street, dodging past other Haissans on their way to the market area. Calan was half-tempted to follow them. He'd never been to another planet like this, with a totally different culture. Men and women left and right were dressed similarly in multi-colored robes with hoods. The hoods and long robes helped shield them from their sun's harmful ultraviolet rays.
While they walked toward the nasty part of town, Calan thought of the bugs behind their ears. He wondered if it could record audio and have a camera. He also wondered if it tapped into his brain and somehow told Andross what exactly he was thinking.
"Chaya," he said suddenly, "d'you think we're being followed?"
Chaya spun around to stare him down. "What?"
"The bugs behind our ears. Do you think that they know what we're doing?"
Chaya shook her head. "Just tracking devices. No doubt Andross will want to know what we're doing, but we can always lie. Right?"
"Yeah, but I'm afraid there are microphones on these things. If so, he knows everything we say."
"I don't think so."
"Chay. Consider it?"
"Okay, maybe so. But there's nothing we can do, unless we're telepathic."
"We could type stuff out to each other."
"All the time? There's nothing we can do, Calan. Let's just find Semori and hope for the best. We might be dead by the end of the war anyway."
That scared Calan. Partly because she was starting to sound like him when he spoke about fate. Always skeptic. Also partly because he hadn't thought about his future very much lately, and knowing that he was in deep water with nearly a year gone since he'd arrived at Saturnalia. Andross was serious about this. The emperor would go through everything just to get power and glory over Lylat and prove to the "foolish" Cornerians how great he really was. Andross was smart. Calan could only pray the Lylatians were smarter.
They walked in silence until Chaya noticed that the crowds of people were beginning to thin out. The streets were more abandoned and homes and buildings were run-down and old. Pieces of paper flew through the street, scattered everywhere. There was an eerie quietness about the place.
"I think we're getting into the bad section," she quipped.
"Duh."
They walked a bit more and saw the statue of a Haissan empress, standing with her weight on one foot and her other leg stretching out a little in front of her. She held a scepter and seemed to clutch it with an iron fist. Quite like Andross did. Her gaze was completely capturing—she looked straight ahead, with eyes that flooded in the sky and an expression that showed tranquility. What was such a beautiful statue of this empress doing in the ghetto?
The ghetto, Chaya concluded, stretched on for another six blocks straight east, until they got into another part of the city, where the market stretched over to. The market seemed to go around the ghetto on purpose. Calan didn't like walking through this part of town, and he was glad he and Chaya bought the hooded robes. He already felt out of place. A couple of Haissan adults in tattered cloaks leered at the two. Their cold stares were felt like a piercing hot metal against his skin. He wanted nothing more than to get out of there.
"Chaya, let's go faster," he whispered. She nodded rapidly.
By the time they were clear of the ghetto, the statue's head was no longer visible above the crowds. Just as the crowd had thinned, it thickened. People swarmed everywhere, chattering in fast Kragglan. Calan and Chaya chose not to speak. Then they saw some white neon lights glittering with the Kragglan characters etched across it.
"That must be the Steel Magnolia," Calan noted. "After all, we're exactly where we're suppost to be. Let's check it out."
They found their way to the building and opened the doors. A man was seated behind a desk, sleeping. He looked young, about 28 years old, and had handsome features. His legs were propped up on an nearby table. His jet black robes were sprinkled with sand from the dirty streets, and his shoes looked more gray than black. There was nothing but a desk in front. That was the style of weaponry stores—go in the back and find your weapon with the owner. It was easier to prevent larceny that way.
"Excuse me," Calan murmured through the room. "Sir?"
The young man snapped away. He promptly swept his feet off the table and straightened up. He didn't bother to shake the robe of the sand. "Yes, yes, may I help you sir?"
"Are you Semori Daiu?"
The young man nodded. "At your service. How did you know my name? You are foreigners."
"A man by the name of Kaleel," said Calan.
"Kaleel!" Semori exclaimed, lurching forward to put his hands on the desk, making sand grains fall off. "Where did you meet him? He's been gone for three weeks past when he was suppost to return!"
Calan was glad Semori Daiu had no thick accent, and that his was clearer and more precise. His vocabulary was also superior to the merchant's. But he dreaded telling the story.
Chaya glanced at Calan and pulled down her hood. "Mr. Kaleel was at...somewhere."
"Somewhere? You cannot tell me?" Semori asked, quite bemused.
"We could, it's just that it's better if we don't." Calan shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"Well, is he all right, then? We've been so worried. Kaleel is my good friend, and I know he was running some errands in Lylat. That is where you are from, is it not?"
"We are," agreed Chaya. "But something happened there."
"What is it?"
"Your friend..er...Kaleel...."
"He's dead," Calan finished.
Semori stared at the ground. "I feared it was so. I spent more time grieving last week. Kaleel is rarely late."
"We saw it happen. Well, he did," Chaya said, tilting her head to Calan.
"How did he die?" asked Semori solemnly.
"Gunshot wound to the head. It was a powerful laser. He didn't suffer. It was over quickly," confirmed Calan.
"Then I am happy about that. But now I have to seek revenge on his killer."
Calan and Chaya looked at each other.
"Why's that, Mr. Daiu?"
"Ancient Haissan custom. If someone kills your brother, you kill his brother. Nowadays it is not followed as well, only by the vengeful. The law usually takes care of murders by having them executed. I don't suppose Lylat has that?"
"Sometimes," answered Calan in deep thought.
"Good. I must find this murderer. Do you know his name?"
"Um...Andross Oikonny."
"Hm. That name sounds familiar. I wonder if I have heard it before."
"Can't imagine."
"Yes I have. That name. He was the man who tested experiments on citizens of Corneria, was he not? He killed many. I heard about it on the television. I thought they exiled him to that planet Venom."
"They did," said Chaya reluctantly. "But—"
"He could not have escaped, so Kaleel must have gone there himself. What a foolish thing to do! And there Andross Oikonny murdered my friend. I shall murder him as well."
"Mr. Daiu—"
"Please, call me Semori."
"Semori—I don't think you can murder him." Chaya stood as straight as she could. "You see, sir, Andross isn't really approachable."
"Why not? I cannot run through the jungle to assassinate him?"
"No. He's heavily guarded by two cities. He's the Emperor of Venom."
Semori's eyes widened. "Did you say, 'Emperor'? Of two cities? Oh gods! I cannot believe this!" He began to pace. "So the rumors were true! Kaleel must have felt honored to find that mythical place! That must hold the Mirror of Echoes!"
"Sir, don't go looking for Andross and certainly don't try to find the mirror," Calan warned. "It's only trouble for you. The mirror is useless now. No one in there knows the location of the Weapons of Strife. It was a fluke."
"Impossible." Semori waved him off. "Those weapons have to be somewhere. But I am more interested in the fact that this murder has his own empire. Does Corneria know of this?"
"Not yet, but later. Listen, we came here to arrange a way to leave Venom. Perhaps in future years, when we can get rid of the bugs Andross planted on us." Calan motioned to the back of his ear. Semori winced.
"Why do you need me? You got here somehow, so you must have transportation."
"Yes, but we need to get out in emergencies, okay? It's complicated. Also we need some weapons. Do you have any that we can stash away in our uniforms?"
Semori nodded and beckoned them to follow him. He lead them to the back, where he flipped a switch and the place came to life. Weapons of all shapes and sizes were shown. He swayed his head to the back door. "My wife and I run missions across the galaxy. We charge extra amount by how far away a person is from Jadoram. It takes time and much energy to go from one side of the galaxy to another, you see. My identical twin brother Tiponya helps me as well. Jumone and I have two children, both younger than eight years, so we must entrust them to the grandparents in case all three of us are away. Tiponya has a wife but they do not have a child yet. Soon, he says. In a few months. His wife doesn't fly, instead she is a storekeeper at the market. She sells fruit. They make much money when people buy her fruit." Semori pointed at the weapons. "All are at your disposal, if I can see the proper amount of credits."
Calan almost smiled. It would be expensive. He'd brought credits that some spies were able to steal and replicate so that Venomian officers could travel beyond Venom and still be able to operate. The Venomian credit, used by Saturnalians and Lupercalians, would have no value to the Outsiders.
"No problem. What do you have for pistols? Like weapons that a person can sneak into their pocket easily and kill like nothing killed ever killed before."
"A good assortment, sir," Semori replied. "Step to the right and examine the ones there. There is one that Tiponya and I developed ourselves. It is our pride and work. I will show you." Semori came over and picked up one of the smallest ones. "We call this the Hatteis Bukusai. It means, 'Enjoys death.' That is the weapon's name."
"Does it live up to its name?" asked Chaya with a mischievous grin.
"Of course it does. As you can see, it is silver, and lined with preciously hard metal. It takes very much weight to crush it. Secondly, the Hatteis Bukusai can withstand harsh conditions, and even operate underwater or in space. The laser itself is small but ferocious. It delievers death on impact, if hit squarely in the brain. It might take a few seconds to a minute to fully kill the victim if they are in a laser-proof vest. But you should be able to kill with first hit. If that does not kill, I do not know what will."
"Is that the best one you have?" asked Chaya.
"The best pistol, if you want it. I will accept prices no less than five hundred credits."
"Shrewd businessman," remarked Calan.
"My wife Jumone is more so," Semori said with a twinkle in his eye. "Are you consent?"
"Yes. I'll buy one." Chaya dug through her uniform pockets underneath the robe. It was hot outside and a relief to be in a cold room.
"I will too," Calan added. He did the same.
Suddenly his comm link badge beeped. Calan thrust his hand inside his robe to find it.
"Sir, Emperor Andross has asked us to report directly to Venom. There's something brewing and he wants us to be there." It was the voice of Quincy.
Calan pressed the comm link. "Acknowledged. Quincy, did he say what it was about? We're kind of busy here."
"No sir, but he said that it was very important. He wants members of his cabinet there. I do know that our emperor is going to send some scientists and a whole brigade of soldiers down to Zoness within the next few months. Other than that—"
"How did you find that out? Did he tell you?"
"Nope, heard it from his secretary. She told a friend of mine who told me in a text message. News flies, Captain. His Excellency will not be pleased if he finds out that she's been telling people things—so I suggest you keep the info to yourself. Are you in a secure location?"
"Secure enough. Is that all?"
"Should be for now, sir. All I can say is, hurry back. Wouldn't want to be late for that meeting. Andross is a genius scientist, you know. He's not a military man, but he's going to become one, and he knows more about war and weapons than anyone else ever did there. Quincy out."
Calan looked at Chaya and then at Semori. "We've got to get going." They bought the weapons and as they were heading out, Calan said to Semori, "Just keep in mind that I will contact you sometime. It might not be tomorrow or the day after that. It might not be a month or a year from now. But someday I'll need your help, and I'm willing to offer you everything I can. Because it will be life or death for me and my friends."
"Whatever it takes, good sir. A thousand blessings to you."
"And to you, Mr. Daiu."
"This meeting will be brief if all things are cleared up properly and there are few interuptions. Need I remind you that your duty to me should be unquestioned. Our first mission is to disable the base on Zoness, temporarily. We will destroy their communications and lay siege on the base, taking all scientists hostage and killing any others. Leon Palowski is in charge of getting the information out of them, with whatever method he sees necessary—but we want them alive, Leon."
Leon nodded, with a flicker in his eyes. Calan knew he was fighting a grin.
Andross went on, "After we have complete control of Zoness, we will set up our scientists there and take over. The Cornerians will be baffled, of course, when they realize that different scientists are there. We will create fake I.D.s for our people there and tell Lylat that they were a small army brigade traveling in Lylat from an outlying colony of Jastarian—which does exist, by the way, but there are fewer people there than on Zoness." Andross smiled to this. "Jastarian people will not likely be contacted because they are a separate government from Lylat, and the Lylatians know that they are quite remote and therefore aren't worthy of checking with."
"Sir," interrupted Tucker, "what will we do with the other scientists? What will we tell Lylat?"
"An excellent question. We tell them that their base was overrun with a deadly toxin. We won't have this deadly toxin, but we can always lie, my friends. They won't know the difference."
"Who all is going?" asked Brizius.
"I have a list already made for the occasion. But we won't put our plan to work for at least two years. For now we are working on building our forces. I have a mission for two of our loyal citizens to be spies in Corneria. They will remain there until our Venomian forces set foot on Corneria and claim it as our own. At that time I will arrange for the executions of General Pepper and Admiral Peregrine." Andross looked hungry for the moment.
"Brilliant, Excellency," commented Brizius.
"Thank you, Otto."
Forrest broke in. "What if the spies are caught?"
"Then they will die without telling a thing. We've been through loyalty issues before, Forrest."
"Sorry, sire. Then what else can we do?"
"Turn Area 6 into a defensive base and Bolse into one of our satillites, of course. Lylat doesn't use them, anyway, and Area 6 is a junk-yard. Once our armies advance, we'll move in. But only then."
"What if the Lylatians figure out that we aren't Jastarians? We don't have their culture written down, do we?"
"Forrest, one cannot write one's culture on paper or on a monitor. I've thought this through four months ago and sent a few agents to study Jastarian. They report that there is much fighting and bloodshed by the two ethnic groups there...it's quite a busy place. Lylat won't question us going to Zoness to do our work instead of there."
"Of course, Highness."
Andross watched everyone else at the table. "Are all of you clear on this?"
"Yes," came the replies. None were hesitant.
"Good," said Andross, smiling. "Good."