The door opened with a heavy screech.
His face betraying none of his anxiety, Commander D'deridex i-Mheissan tr'Irrhaimehn stepped into the wide hall. He was wearing his ceremonial uniform, complete with the knee-length scarlet drape over his right shoulder that identified him as a command officer. The drape mostly concealed the sheathed dathe'anofv-sen at his side, but kept his left hand free to draw the Honor Blade if necessary. In his right hand, he gripped the wrapped gift for Ael'Riov Chulak.
He doubted that this particular gift would be well received.
With a frown, he took in the expansive room, noting the hurried attempt to conceal the human construction with traditional Rihannsu banners and accoutrements. Once, this had been a dining facility for the Terran miners stationed at this colony, but had been quickly transformed into a hall that would serve for the Convocation. The quickness of the work showed, however, and left a jarring visual impression to the commanders uncomfortable with Terran aesthetics.
Conversations ceased as D'deridex stepped forward, and he could feel the eyes of the assembled officers. Many, if not most, clearly disapproved of his presence, but he ignored any discomfort that he experienced. With a casualness that he did not entirely feel, he shifted the drape, pushing it back over the Honor Blade at his side to reveal the weapon's distinctive appearance. There was no mistaking the surprise on many faces.
He was still not entirely comfortable bearing Valdore's dathe'anofv-sen in public, no matter his legitimate right. By tradition, an Honor Blade of this pedigree should have passed on to the admiral's firstborn son or daughter, or, failing that, a member of Valdore's House whom the admiral had deemed worthy. When he had contacted ch'Rihan to arrange for the Blade's safe passage back, D'deridex had been stunned to learn that Valdore had already declared D'deridex as his heir. It made sense, in a way: there were no offspring to receive the weapon since Valdore's only son had died in the opening days of the war, killed by the human ship Enterprise, and the members of Valdore's House had a reputation for depravity and failure. Bequeathing the dathe'anofv-sen to D'deridex was tantamount to adopting him, and according to the Rihannsu legal code, made the young commander the head of House Irrhaimehn, despite his birth.
It also served to create additional enemies for D'deridex, a fact that he remained very cognizant of.
The other commanders, contempt etched upon many of their faces, stepped out of his way as he strode toward the center of the room and returned their looks with an impassive glower. Nearly all of them were twice his age or more, with silver and white being the most common color of hair. He recognized each of them by appearance, having committed their identities to memory the night before when he conceived this mad scheme. Inwardly, he sighed at the danger he was courting. S'enrae was right: he was a fool to walk into this nest of dhivaels.
"You dare to show your face here," one of the commanders abruptly snarled. She was old, perhaps three times D'deridex's age. Eyes flashing, the old female put herself squarely in front of him, crossing her arms as she did. "You, who are nothing save for the final decision of a dying fool, should not be here."
"I am here," D'deridex responded coldly, his eyes narrowed, "by right of rank and of station." He curled his lip in contempt as he continued. "If you wish to challenge my presence, I will meet you in the Circle to defend this right." At his words, the female blinked in hesitation, giving him a weighing look as she attempted to determine if he was bluffing.
He was not.
The Circle was an ancient tradition, one rooted in the Great Exodus that carried the Rihannsu through the stars. No one was entirely sure how it began, or if the stories that S'Task himself had participated in the ritual were true, but it had become an integral part of the Rihannsu culture throughout the centuries. In recent decades, it had fallen into disuse, as disputes were more often settled by assassination and poison, but defending one's honor and station within a Circle was still an accepted practice.
With a nervous frown, the old female backed away, evidently recognizing that D'deridex was more than willing to kill her to prove his right to be at the Convocation. By backing down in such a visible way, her own reputation was stained as all present could see that she treasured her life more than her honor. Not even the contemptuous snort she gave him could mitigate that fact. D'deridex doubted that she worried much over such a thing; from the files he had memorized, she was entirely Chulak's creature.
Conversations resumed, albeit in a more hushed manner, and D'deridex fought to conceal his fury. He recognized a test when he saw one, and everything about this brief encounter felt pre-arranged. It had been designed, he presumed, for Chulak to determine whether D'deridex was to be considered an enemy or an officer whose allegiance could be purchased.
As he approached Ael'Riov Chulak, D'deridex felt his pulse accelerating and forced himself to calm down. Everything depended on the next few moments. If he was to accomplish the goals that Valdore had placed before him, his words would need to be chosen carefully. After all, one could accomplish nothing from the grave.
"Jolan'tru, Daise'Erei'Riov," Chulak said in greeting. He was resplendent in his ceremonial garb. The scarlet drape that he wore was bordered with gold trim, and his boots had been buffed to an almost mirror-like shine. His hair was streaked with silver, yet retained much of its original dark color, prompting D'deridex to suspect that it too was an intentional decision, as it conveyed the image of both the vitality of youth tempered by the wisdom of age.
"Jolan'tru, Ael'Riov," D'deridex replied. He offered no salute as was customary when greeting a superior officer, and Chulak's eyes narrowed fractionally at the calculated insult. The smile that the older male offered was positively feral.
"You handled that well," he stated, nodding slightly toward the now isolated female commander. "Few officers your age would have had the wisdom to act in the way you did." The smile began to fade. "I suspect that you have impressed many within the Convocation."
"I was unaware that you already spoke for the fleet," D'deridex interjected. Once more, Chulak's eyes narrowed, and D'deridex could see that the captain was taken slightly off-balance by the words. Only a fool would speak so aggressively in the face of his superiors, and D'deridex had already proven that he was no fool. That could only mean that he was intentionally being foolish, which likely concealed a plan. It was almost amusing to see Chulak's expression shift as he re-evaluated D'deridex and sought to discern the direction that this conversation was heading.
"I don't," Ael'Riov Chulak admitted before smiling again. His eyes were unblinking as he watched D'deridex. "But I will."
"You seem certain." Around them, conversations had slowed, and D'deridex was aware that they had become the center of attention. Those who opposed Chulak in his bid to be named fleet commander were watching for weaknesses, while those who supported him were waiting to see how he would deal with an upstart officer who had no business being here.
"I am." Chulak smirked and spoke louder, this time ensuring that his words reached the ears of others. "On my command, the Hnoiyika has taken the war to the Terrans." Many of the assembled officers nodded approvingly, and Chulak continued. "They will rain down fire and death upon our enemies, breaking their spirits and their will to fight."
"The Terrans may surprise you with their resilience," D'deridex said, prompting the captain to frown. Chulak's disdainful opinion of the humans was well known. "But I wish the Hnoiyika good hunting." It was another calculated statement, bordering on the edge of insult. By wishing the absent ship crew good fortune, but not the mastermind behind the hunt, D'deridex made it plain that he doubted its success. Before Chulak could respond, D'deridex offered the gift that he was carrying. "I believe that this belongs to you," he said calmly.
For a heartbeat, concern and curiosity warred on Chulak's face. D'deridex's hidden hostility toward him had not gone unnoticed, and it was not completely unheard of for an assassination attempt to be made during a battlefield Convocation such as this. That the young commander had observed all of the proprieties had also been noticed, though, and curiosity ultimately won. Chulak accepted the folded cloth and began to slowly unwrap it. Suddenly unbalanced, the wrap fell open, spilling the contents to the floor.
The ring of metal upon metal drew everyone's attention.
It was impossible to not recognize the shattered remnants of three Honor Blades as they struck the ground. All three were plain and mostly devoid of decoration, an indication that the warriors who had wielded them had been of low birth. One of the blades still had dried streaks of blood on its surface.
"These do not belong to me," Chulak said calmly.
"But they were yours," D'deridex responded coldly. To anyone who was listening, it was obvious that he was not talking about the dathe'anofv-sens on the floor. Chulak smiled at the double meaning.
"I underestimated you," he said softly.
"You did," D'deridex acknowledged grimly.
"I won't do that again." Chulak frowned slightly. "You have been given a command?"
"I have been awarded the Vastagor." Shifting slightly, D'deridex waited for a heartbeat before continuing. "It is a worthy ship with a storied history. Entirely acceptable for one of my talents." Ael'Riov Chulak stiffened slightly, evidently hearing something that he did not appear to like.
Which was exactly as D'deridex had intended.
"Such ... talents cannot be allowed to wither," the captain said through clenched teeth. Anger was on his face, although he concealed it well. Inwardly, D'deridex smiled. His words had been chosen carefully; many had been the times that he had heard Valdore threaten to send Chulak to the Xin'di because, according to the now deceased admiral, it was a mission that was "entirely acceptable" for one of Chulak's "talents." It had been an empty threat, of course, as the Xin'di were too valuable an asset to waste on a fool like Chulak, but the admiral had known it would disgruntle the captain. If D'deridex had not miscalculated, he knew that Chulak would pull as many strings as he could to appoint Valdore's heir to a career ending mission to the Xin'di.
"Jolan'tru, Ael'Riov," D'deridex said, as if recognizing that he had been dismissed. No one stood in his path as he retraced his steps to the entrance, although he could feel eyes following him the entire time. As he expected, S'enrae was waiting outside, a pair of loyal Reman shocktroopers at her back. She frowned at his expression but said nothing as she fell into step with him.
"I am done here," he announced to the Remans. Gripping the hilt of the dathe'anofv-sen, he followed as the lead shocktrooper began leading him back toward the shuttle. It has begun, he told himself, hoping that he had not miscalculated.
He could not afford to make any mistakes.