ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE

STAR BLAZERS---THINK FOR YOURSELF

ACT FOUR--THE TREACHERY OF BARON CHA'RIF

I. THE BARON AND THE ADMIRAL.

January 10, 2202.

1300 Hours, space-time

The Edge of the Solar System

The R'Khell spacecraft carrier T'Renda, accompanied by the battlecruiser Ren'velze and its cruisers as well as by its own eight destroyers, and four cruisers, had just come out of warp a moment ago at the edge of the solar system before the mighty flagship of the Fourth Sherikhan Group.

This vessel was the Rikashan space battleship B'eoneraze, which was the personal flagship of Baron Anton Cha'rif, the Commandant of the Task Group, and commanding officer in charge of the entire operation in this sector of what all hoped would someday be Rikashan space.

Soon, a small shuttle boat rocketed down one of the T'Renda's flight decks, namely, the one under its keel. It was a five-man light recon and attack boat that was warp-capable in itself, but Admiral Kierzden didn't care about that at the moment as he slumped unhappily in the boat's command seat with Admiral Minor Gerenze beside him in the communication officer's seat. He had been also been ordered to take the Ren'velze to the rendezvous point with Kierzden, and he had done so.

Neither he nor Gerenze were looking forward to their meeting with Cha'rif, in spite of the fact that they had even managed to bring him a few Terran captives from the Westhampton Beach. The atmosphere in the tan and dark red boat was just as foreboding as the appearance of the battleship they were flying towards at the moment.

Rikashan space battleship B'eoneraze--(art altered from unused Yamato design by F.P. Kopetz)

The B'eoneraze was a warship that made the T'Renda and the Ren'velze look puny by comparison. This battleship was 382 meters' worth of floating destruction equipped with far more in the way of guns, missile tubes, and other armament than the T'Renda. It was also equipped with a huge fairing in its bow that housed a gaping muzzle; the muzzle of Rikasha's tachyon surge cannon, which was its own equivalent of the wave motion guns of the Earth fleet. This weapon was known as a DI'ATS gun, from its initials in Rikashan. It had a range of twenty-five megameters and a power rating to match its range.

The B'eoneraze also had a different color scheme than other Rikashan warships, which save for; the R'Khell priests' ships, were usually dark grey. The B'eoneraze was black, with orange trim in strategic places on its hull. Clearly, this battleship was nothing to be trifled with.

Soon, the patrol boat made its landing in the B'eoneraze's main landing bay, and Kierzden and Gerenze were making their way down a ceremonial gauntlet of Rikashan soldiers in black battle armor similar to those suits worn by the R'Khell and the Technomugar. However, the sight of the honor guard or the ceremonial music played over the PA system for their arrival cheered neither of the commanding officers much. They knew that Cha'rif's sense of humor was somewhat...macabre...and they wondered if they were actually coming to their funeral.

Cha'rif was also a powerful psionic, or R'jkharraz, in the Rikashan tongue. Because of these powers, Baron Cha'rif was perhaps the second or third-most feared man in the entire Rikashan and R'Khell Empire, behind only Zaden and Katros.

A bearded, elderly grey-haired Rikashan officer, with orange skin and green-on-green eyes in the tan and dark brown tunic and trousers of all of the other officers greeted them with a grave salute. He was General Ter'garv, the Baron's exec, aide-de-camp, and long-time friend. After formalities were exchanged, he said, "Gentlemen, the Baron has already learned of your arrival, and of the reason for your visit. He has already informed me that he will consider the situation with all of the patience he can possibly bring to bear...under the circumstances."

"General," asked Kierzden. "Is he…?"

"Angry? Oh, I think not. Not at this time, since he has had opportunity to reflect upon your loss to the Star Force and the other Terran vessels. He simply awaits you in the briefing room," said the general in a calm voice. "Please follow me."

Soon, after a ride in one of the flagship's main lifts, the three of them strode into the B'eoneraze's main briefing room. The group walked around the black twenty-five-position round table and took their places before a desk with a large rotating seat behind them. At the moment, the chair's back was turned to the group, which stood gazing at a huge silver ideograph decorating the bulkhead behind the seat; the emblem that symbolized the House of Cha'rif. This House was one of the Seven Great Houses of Rikasha, and Baron Cha'rif, the only son of Duke Sta'gin Cha'rif, was heir to a seat on the Ruling Council of the Rikashan Empire itself.

After a moment of silence, Ter'garv spoke. "My Lord Baron, we are here…"

"I know," whispered a deep, cultured, and somewhat arrogant-sounding voice that, to a Terran familiar with Gamilons, sounded somewhat like that of General Lysis.

"I sensed your arrival as I meditated. I am calm, and I am disposed to be patient. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the Gods, Admiral Kierzden."

At that, Cha'rif touched a switch, and his chair swung around to face his visitors.

Baron Anton Cha'rif

Character design © 2001 by Frederick P. Kopetz

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Anton Cha'rif was far younger than the trio that stood trembling before him. He was only thirty-one years of age in Rikashan years, which came out to about thirty-two in Terran years. He had a thin, well-sculpted, and rather hawklike face, with deep, penetrating eyes that glared at the trio from behind a deep, intelligent brow and two overhanging wings of long dark brown hair that was parted down the middle. His tunic was black, trimmed in grey with a dashing white scarf, unlike those of the others. The deep purple color of his cloak was not due to his military rank, but was a function of his special religious rank in the Rikashan culture. The young Baron held the rank of a priest in the culture of his homeworld because he was a R'jkharraz, which meant "A Gifted One".

Cha'rif's gift happened to be his psionic power, which had been discovered at his birth. At that point, he had immediately been proclaimed a member of the En'vizide school of R'jkharrazim by the priest who had dedicated him. Then, he was hauled off to one of the Order's training schools at the age of two to have his abilities honed and trained under the eye of the Order for the requisite ten years. After that, he had been sent home, where he received his first military training under the eye of Ter'garv, one of his father's men-at-arms, before heading off to the Imperial Academy at thirteen for his officer's training. His powers and years of training and subsequent service had already made this noble a feared figure in the ranks of the Rikashan Imperial military, and for good reason. Everyone knew that it was not wise to insult a R'jkharraz, because they usually could hold your life in their hands.

"Let us cease wasting time, gentlemen, and get on with this," said Cha'rif with a dismissive clap of his hands. "Admiral Kierzden, it is my understanding, thanks to the brief report that Commandant Minor Ka'mok sent me, that you have an error of some sort which must be explained to me. Would you be so kind as to explain this little matter that the Warbringer is so ...ah...impatient...about?"

"Baron," gulped Kierzden. "It is like this. WE were patrolling at the edge of our Operations area, at the edge of the Terrans' territorial space, when we first encountered the Terran space battleship Argo, Baron. The Prophet Gralnacz of the Technomugar told us that we had to attack it. I…"

"I have never heard of a Prophet Gralnacz, nor have I heard of the Technomugar. Yet, I sense fear in your words. Why is this?"

"It is my story…sir. We believed and knew that Gralnacz was a mighty R'jkharraz…and that he is an avatar of the Warbringer. He…"

"Silence, blasphemer!" snapped Cha'rif. "Your audacity amazes me, Kierzden. But, go on."

"Well, we were forced to work with this Gralnacz. He ordered a raid of this star system, Baron. Then, our...planes, that is. No, our submarines began an attack, followed by our planes and battlecruisers! My element leader and one patrol element encountered some planes on patrol from the Earth space battleship Argo in their patrol sweep, and they had a battle. Only the Element Leader came back, sir. The others were lost...to the Terrans, some of whom returned to report to their ship and their commander, I would assume. They know of us, sir. They know of our presence to a limited extent. It was an…uh…"

"An accident. Yes, yes. So you say," sighed Cha'rif. "This may be understood by me, that is. That is, if I believed you. I do not believe you. However, to make it worse for you, I was in communication with our head of state, the Lord Zaden. I told him that my senses were in a state of disquiet, and I knew not why. He told me that our operation to guard Pellias could not be compromised. The High Priestess told him as much. But, I didn't need to believe him, and him alone. No, I did not. However, the Gods do not exactly like what happened. Especially since I am led to understand the Star Force was involved, and the Gods, or my senses, I am not sure which, warned me against attacking them. This is an honorable world that you raided, Kierzden. Would you mind telling me what happened then, in your own words?"

"My Baron," said Kierzden. "If Ka'mok has reported to you, I'm aware that you must..."

"Silence, please," said Cha'rif. "I'm sure you understand the need for it. Kindly tell me what happened when you engaged the Argo...prematurely…and against all orders save for those of a False Prophet. So prematurely that they saw half your fleet and ate it and spat it out," grinned Cha'rif as he sat back in his chair. "So prematurely that now Earth is aware of us, and as a threat. I did not want it to happen this way, not at all. I would have used other methods to lure them away from Pellias. Peaceful methods. Methods filled with guile and artifice. But, you know nothing of art, do you?"

"My Baron, we were beginning to attack a Terran cruise ship with our submarines, to both test their defenses, bring you prisoners, and slow down the Argo, which we discovered was in the area at the time. Since you said you wanted them not to approach Pellias…."

"By my methods, not yours."

"So…we…attacked, we did so, rather than end our operation against the liner. Then."

"So. You confirm what I have heard in my mind from the Higher Ones. Especially from.... The Warbringer, in particular..."

"Lord...Ekogaru? You heard from Him again?"

"Don't say His name overly much: it wouldn't be wise to profane Him," said Cha'rif gently. "Not now. You shall need His mercy. He is particularly upset by this development. He told me..."

"I thought...that He only spoke Once to you...and..."

"These are difficult times. The Warbringer has deigned to communicate directly unto me again as I said before, without emissary. His Revelation awes me. He has informed me that we are to keep the element of surprise in regards to our presence at Pellias. They must NOT know that we guard this planet. They must fall into a trap here, if they approach, and perhaps I can talk them into not approaching with my craft in words. He said as much. This incident may make them think otherwise. We must take steps to make sure that they are...ah...deceived? Deceived into a lull of sleep?"

"Baron?" asked Ter'garv. "What are...these steps?"

"Thank you, my friend. A good question. The Terrans must be, as I have been told, deceived as to our motives. To that end, they must think...for a little while...that this attack didn't have much to do with Pellias. We must lull them to sleep with kind words. I must meet with them."

"Meet?" asked Kierzden, who was rather confused. "Where?"

"At a place of my time and meeting. Here?" asked Cha'rif.

"My Baron," whispered Ter'garv. "Would you reconsider? Lord Zaden has ordered us to restrict our operations to this sector. He says our war isn't with the Terrans…yet."

"Not a war of weapons," said Cha'rif. "A war of nerves."

"What do you mean?" asked Ter'garv.

"A war of trickery. I come to the Terrans as a friend, which is what I'd like to be, since the Terrans are indeed fighters. I convince them of my friendly intentions, and give them "helpful intelligence" on how dangerous the matter of Pellias is, while apologizing for the actions of our "fanatics" while also warning them that I may not be able to stop such fanatics. If I offer compensation for what we did to them while offering future friendship and influencing them with my powers, we can, perhaps, keep Earth's nose out of this without further bloodshed. Also we will then have an ally for our upcoming hour in which we shall take this region of space into our Empire. Where we need not fight today, we need not fight tomorrow nor need we invade. A good plan?"

"Devious, but workable," said Ter'garv after a moment.

"And that is why people like you are expendable, Kierzden. I don't care whom your loyalty is to, Admiral. You are not a profitable asset, my friend. Lastly, Admiral," added Cha'rif, "It has also been decreed that someone must account for this error that led to this accident to begin with. You understand? I refer to your hastiness in attacking the Argo with all of your strength in haste rather than waiting like a good Admiral. Kierzden, come forth."

"Baron, I..."

Cha'rif turned, holding up a pot of steaming Rikashan coffee, known as kaf. He poured two goblets full of the dark, steaming beverage and placed them on a little silver platter, which he ceremonially set on the desk. "Drink with me, Kierzden. This is to show you that I have no personal animus towards you."

"Baron, I," gasped Kierzden.

"You shall drink, and then we shall speak more before your departure."

Kierzden nodded, and he and Cha'rif clinked goblets and drank. After they drank the success of the operation, Cha'rif took back the Admiral's goblet with a grave expression.

"So it goes, Kierzden. Let it at least be said that we parted as friends, you and I. If it were up to me, you would receive only a talking-to, as I gave you. However, I have to follow the words of a Higher Power. I must follow...the words of our titular Master, the Warbringer, our patron God, Ekogaru."

"My Baron, this is…"

"The cult is out in the open, now. All of our soldiers will soon have to swear to serve Him, by the words of Zaden himself. His Word shall be law. As a priest and a R'jkharraz, I have heard the Word, and His Word, unfortunately, has told me that you must pay for your little mistake. So must the blame be laid."

"Baron...I," whispered Kierzden.

"I'm sorry, Gi'vel Kierzden, my one-time friend. I shall tell your wife you died in battle, at least. HE won't mind a small lie to keep your honor intact. But, you must pass from our sight now. I am sorry, but it must be so."

At that, Cha'rif walked over to a shaking Kierzden from behind his desk. The trembling Admiral began to whimper as Cha'rif placed his hand on his forehead.

The Baron shut his eyes and his thin face tensed up in a sort of grimace. His grip tightened a little around Kierzden's forehead, and the older officer began to tremble even harder, and he began to whimper.

The whimpers turned to cries, and then to wails as an agonizing headache began to thrum inside his skull. Soon, his whole body shook, as if he was being electrocuted by Cha'rif's touch. Smoke began to curl up from his hair. He fell gasping to the deck. A kneeling Cha'rif let go of his head and whispered, "Fare thee well, Kierzden. I meant you no harm, and I shall pray for your soul."

At that, the body of Kierzden went still. Ter'garv knelt, taking the Admiral's pulse, and he whispered. "Baron, he's dead."

"So it goes," said Cha'rif. "Gerenze, you shall take over for him. You are promoted to full Admiral, and you have the command of the task force. As I said, all in due time. If you can go after the Star Force itself in a small raid as if you were just brigands, should it be needed, it will please me. You can be our "fanatics". Anything to stop them and hold them back without...pissing all your strength away like he did...or making them suspect TOO much! Anything to deceive them. In the meantime, our presence must, for now, remain, hidden. Your force shall leave soon, in the next day or so. We shall keep in touch with you, as required for minimal communications. But then, things shall change, Ter'garv. Go now, Gerenze."

"Yessir," said a shaken Admiral, who wasn't entirely happy with how he had gained his…promotion. He left, passing a pair of guards who came in to haul away Kierzden's corpse.

Soon, Cha'rif and Ter'garv were left alone in the briefing room.

"Baron, was that necessary?"

"Yes. It was. HE said so. I'm truly sorry for Kierzden, but that was how it HAD to go."

"Very well. Our plans, then?"

"WE shall send the messages we have to send to keep the cordon intact and reorganize it in Gerenze's absence, but then, after that, we shall maintain radio silence. After all, aren't we supposed to be baiting a trap for the Terrans? A trap baited with honey…or a trap baited with poison? I prefer honey, first. Let me record a message, and let it be sent the next day. Set up a feast for the Star Force's officers. We have to give the appearance of a true parley, my friend."

"Yessir."

"Carry out your orders, then. You know what they are."

"Yessir. The Plan shall proceed. They will NOT get through to Pellias."

"No," whispered Cha'rif. "They won't! You know why? I'm NOT going to permit it!" And, at that, he began to laugh like a maniac.

The laughter chilled Ter'garv's heart. He knew that Cha'rif was NOT to be trifled with when he laughed like that, and he hoped that the Terrans would come to realize the same thing, and be wise, and know when to stay out of their business.

After all, he knew that Rikashans were nothing to be trifled with...especially not when they had an Agenda from Heaven.

II. SHE WHO AWAITS HIS RETURN.

The Balcony of the Sherikhan Fortress

Sherikhan Fortress: Sherikhan

Planet Rikasha

12 Sha'netz: Warbringer's Year 3218

January 10, 2202

1342 Hours, space-time

The hot Rikashan sun rode high in the sky as the young woman leaned on the balcony, letting the hot wind from out of the desert blow through her dark blonde hair and over her face. Her feature were very fair for a Rikashan; one could barely see the orange tint in them. Even though her long white dress was suitably light, the woman was starting to feel a bit warm in it. She was considering the idea of exchanging it for a shorter tunic after her afternoon bath, and for replacing her tan suede boots with sandals at the same time. She had dressed this way because her private vigil had begun this morning, when the winds from the southern desert and the western mountains of Irendorga Province had been cold and biting.

The woman took a deep breath as she looked out at the sky. Someone she loved very much was out there, fighting yet another enemy, and she hoped he would return safely. The young woman was named Mikala, and she was none other than the wife of Baron Anton Cha'rif, the Baroness of the Duchy. Right now, with the men away, with Anton in space and her father-in-law in the capital for a meeting, she was the effective ruler of the Fortress, the City, and the entire Duchy. She had many of her father-in-law's advisors present, but any important decisions would fall on her shoulders until one of the men returned.

She missed her husband very much, and she bit her lip as she wondered why he had to be off yet again on more of his mysterious business, and all because that Priestess Marda ordered him and the other men of the Council around like pack animals! Mikala didn't trust Marda, and she hated the dark worship of the Warbringer. So far, she had expressed these thoughts only to Anton and to their son, A'rten.

As usual, Anton took her comments in silence, while A'rten listened and asked a lot of questions, and had to be shushed by his father. The was especially so since both of them knew that eight-year old boys weren't exactly known for their discretion, and there were far too many ears in the Fortress.

"Anton," said Mikala as she gazed up at the sky. "I hope you're well out there, and I pray that what you're doing will go well for us, both for our House and for Rikasha. Oh, dear Protector," she said in a whisper as she prayed to a major native Goddess of Rikasha. "Please watch over Anton and his men, and pray that they can return safely. Grant them a clean and honorable victory over their enemy, whoever he is; and please, I pray, guide Anton's heart into showing even his enemies mercy and justice; may Anton be led to treat even his pitiable prisoners with kindness and honor. My dear one has a good heart, even if the brutality of these wars makes even him forget it at times. Protect and bless him, his men, and this House, and bring him back to me so we can enjoy our reunion night after the nurses...put A'rten to bed. In your name, let it be."

Mikala gazed at the sky a moment longer before her attention was broken by a set of running footsteps towards the rear of the balcony. It was A'rten.

The boy had chestnut-colored hair that blew back in a long mane not unlike his mother's, even though his hair was only to his back. He had the darker skin of his father, though, and his sunburned legs were particularly prominent in the tunic he wore, just above his boots.

"Mati?" he asked, using the Rikashan diminutive for "mother." "What's on your mind?"

"Your Tata," she said.

"You're always thinking about Ta!" he said.

"And why should I not? I am his Baroness," she said proudly.

"Sorry, mati," he said. "Where is he now?"

"He's near a planet on the Eastern Fringes, guarding people important to the Empire. I'm told that a ship of honorable men and women..."

"Women?" said A'rten.

"Yes, women. On this world, they fight alongside their men and are not just clergy or harlots. Sometimes I wish that was the Way here, but perhaps it is better that it isn't because then I can look after you when I'm not busy," she said as she affectionately hugged her son. "Anyway, I'm told...not quite by your father...but reading between the lines of his speech, that these honorable warriors were sent to capture something from this little world, something we need as an artifact for the wars."

"We always need things for the wars!" he said. "Why don't we just fight them and get it over with so maybe we can all be at peace sometime before I grow up?" said A'rten.

"Hush. Don't let them hear you! At any rate, these warriors are brave but deluded. In the battle, though, your father's forces captured captives. They're to be brought here, and some of them are just as old as you are. Your father says maybe they can be clan-mates of ours."

"You mean I'll get to play with former prisoners from a far-away planet?" said A'rten. "Are they green? Do they have huge heads? Do they blow smoke out of their ears?" he said, making a terrible face.

"No, silly," giggled Mikala as she sat on a chair and pulled her son onto her lap. "They're sort of like us, except that their skin is a little lighter than ours; even than mine. If we have some of them here, you'll perhaps get to have a midday bath with one of them in the bathing pond and then really get to see what they look like close-up. All right?"

"All right."

"You don't believe what they say about their being inferior, just like you don't believe anything about our clan-slaves or commoners being inferior; especially since, someday, you might be placed over them as governor when your father moves on to other things. Okay?"

"Okay. When do I get to run in the bathing pond? It's hot!" he cried as he stood in the breeze for a minute.

"Soon! And you'd better wash everywhere."

"Okay. Uhmm...speaking of that, if we're conquering so many planets, why don't we have more water here on Rikasha yet for the poor? You know...so everyone can take baths?" asked A'rten.

Mikala shook her head. "Your grandfather knows the answer to that, and he's working to change things, as is, I hope, your father."

"When I get to be a great lord, can I do what I can so everyone gets water, enough to eat, and so everyone can have clothes to wear when they want them, and so that maybe, they let the slaves go free?" he said.

"A'rten, I hope you do," she said as she hugged him again. "Now, let's get you in that bath! Move it before a water thief gets up here and steals the water! Chop, chop!" she said, pushing at his tush hard enough to make him giggle. "Let's go!"

As A'rten ran inside, Mikala looked up into the sky again for a moment, shading her very dark green on light green eyes with her hand as she looked out for a vessel making a landing pattern, maybe bringing back news from the battlefront.

Since there was none, she took a deep breath and just thought of Anton.

III. KERI

Triton Base Hospital

January 10, 2202

1402 hours-space-time

Not that far away, Doctor Sane and Nova were checking out a group of civilians at the Triton Base Hospital. One of them happened to be Keri McCullough, who was currently in a nightdress in a bed, and was just regaining consciousness. "Where...am I?" she asked.

"You're aboard the space battleship Argo," said Doctor Sane. "Just rest: you've had a busy day."

"The Star Force," she whispered. "Good thing you were out here. What's going on?"

"We were attacked by a raiding party of some type," said Nova, whose tongue wasn't numb any longer. Her voice now sounded normal again. "We don't know who they were, but..."

"Why does my arm hurt?" whispered Keri.

"Your wounds, and the transfusion we had to give you," said Sane. "You lost a great deal of blood, young lady, as did many of the others we rescued."

"Where are we now?"

"Triton, the major moon of Neptune," said Nova. "The doctor says that as soon as you're well enough to move, you can get up, get dressed, and get something to eat in the messhall before you start on your way home."

"My way home?"

"Of course," said Doctor Sane. "This is a warship, young lady. Did you think Captain Wildstar would let you remain here in danger while we head off on our mission to map the galactic system?"

"Love to stay," she muttered. "Now that I sent a story back to Earth...love to keep on reporting news, crazy as it is. Must be...tons of stories on this ship."

"I don't think so," said Nova. "For now, rest and concentrate on going home with the others...all right?"

I'd love to, thought Keri. Except something is telling me that staying home running afternoon talk shows is sure going to be mighty stale after this....

Later that day, Sandor came up to Wildstar and said, "Captain, the repairs to the ship are completed."

"Good," said Derek. "Dash, did Conroy and Hardy receive the replacement planes and pilots they wanted?"

"Yes, all but two. We're leaving here with forty-six Cosmo Tigers."

"See if they can piece together two more planes from the surplus parts when we're underway and maybe stick a boat pilot or two in the squadrons to fill them out."

"Yessir. We'll do that as soon as we can and I'll report to you, probably tonight."

"Venture, we're ready to cast off?" asked Wildstar.

"We will be in about thirty minutes," he said. "All hands are back on board."

"Venture, give the order to prepare for takeoff."

"Yessir," said Mark. "Attention, all hands. Prepare for liftoff! After we clear the Neptune area, we will be warping to the edge of the solar system to scan the area for enemy forces. The warp will be at 1730. Our liftoff time is 1700. That will be all."

A while later, once again, the Argo lifted off and finally left Triton behind.

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The Argo warped in near Brumus at 1900 hours, and arrived in the early evening before dinner.

"Warp completed," said Venture.

"Wave motion engine is normal," said Orion.

"We're one thousand megameters from Brumus," said Nova from her post. She wiped a spot of dirt off her gold uniform. "Sandor, are you sure the ship's all right?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I opened my eyes for a moment during warp and my uniform looked green and my skin looked purple. That's a new hallucination."

"I saw pink elephants a minute ago," said Rosstowski.

"Rosstowski, was that the warp or a leftover from lunch at the base?" chided Homer.

"Enough, guys," said Captain Wildstar. "We're supposed to be here to check out some signals that Brumus reported receiving a few hours ago. The Black Tigers will be flying patrols until we're ready to warp out of the solar system at 0500 Hours tomorrow morning. My guess is that if we don't pick up any signals by 0500, we can warp at 0530."

"Where are we going, then, sir?" asked Holly Parsons.

Sandor stood up and activated a graphic on an auxiliary screen near Holly's station. He got out a pointer and walked over to the screen. Derek said, "Everyone gather around. Quick briefing, and this is important."

"Thanks," said Sandor as the bridge crew gathered around the screen. "This mark on the star charts is the Sigma Korolevi System. It was mapped many years ago by the Korolevs during the earlier part of the war with Gamilon. It's an exceptional system because the usual static of background x-ray radiation is weaker there than in many areas, and it's on our course towards the system we're investigating. My guess is that if we need to stop anywhere nearby on our course to pick up signals from the woman who sent those messages, we can pick them up well there. It's a semi-null space like the Jessline System that we stopped in on our way to Telezart last year."

"If the Gamilons call up with any further information, we can easily pick them up there, right?" asked Venture.

"When did you become a communications expert, Venture?" snapped Homer.

"I thought we ended this argument months ago, Homer," countered Venture. "We need this for navigation, too."

Homer went silent with a scowl while Sandor said, "Yes, that's right, Venture. Royster and I detected a lot of drift in the planet's orbit in the Beta Valentis System, probably because it doesn't belong there in the first place. It's got such an eccentric orbit that we might have a hard time tracking it."

"Like Mercury with its retrograde orbit?" asked Nova.

"That's right," said Sandor.

"I'm going to change the morning watch schedule around a little tonight," said Captain Wildstar. "Sandor, you're going to be the Officer of the Deck tomorrow morning in place of Orion; you'll be relieving Lieutenant Wildstar at 0400 as usual."

"Yessir," said Sandor. "I can handle that."

IV. INVITATION TO A PARLEY

January 11, 2202

Space Battleship Argo

Cometary Halo of Earth's solar system beyond Brumus

0452 Hours Space-time

As arranged, Stephen Sandor was the Officer of the Deck. He had the usual morning watch shift bridge crew, which consisted of himself at Mechanical, Staff Sergeant Tranh at the Tactical Radar, Ensign Broderson on Combat, Lieutenant Diane Henson at Engineering, Junior Lieutenant Parsons at Navigation, Sergeant Yarborough at Communications. Staff Sergeant Scranton at Artillery, and Ensign Chafer at the cosmo-radar.

"Sergeant, picking up any radio traces?" asked Sandor.

"Nothing. It seems to be as quiet as the grave out here, sir."

"Sandor, everything's ready for our warp," said Parsons.

"If the comm bands remain quiet, sound the warp alert at 0515."

"Yessir," replied Holly.

"No radar activity of any kind," said Chafer. "We're now past the edge of the Cometary halo, sir," he said to Sandor. "We are now officially outside the solar system."

"Log the Line-crossing at 0453," said Sandor. "Too bad we have no time for a Line-crossing ceremony, what with our mission and all."

"You like that sort of thing, sir?" asked Henson from engineering.

"Not particularly," smiled Sandor. "But a lot of the younger crew members would've liked it. Nice chance for them to blow off steam."

"It's not fun if you're a 'wog' awaiting initiation into the Shellback mysteries, sir," said Henson.

"You mean you were never initiated?" asked Parsons.

"No," snapped Henson.

"You'll be sorry…" sang Parsons.

"Point made," said Sandor.

"Wasn't there scuttlebutt the ceremony might be done later on?" asked Chafer.

"The Captain was thinking about doing it a little later on," said Sandor. "Of course, I don't know if that's going to happen or not."

"Sandor, a communication is coming in from the Sigma Korolevi System," said Yarborough. "Audio only."

"Put it up on the speakers," replied Sandor. Who could be calling from that area? The Gamilons? thought Sandor.

"You mistake us," said a deep, slightly arrogant voice over the speakers. Sandor thought it sounded a bit like General Lysis with a Middle Eastern accent. "You especially mistake me."

How does he know what I'm thinking? mused Sandor before he replied. "Who are you?"

"I am Baron Anton Cha'rif," replied the deep voice. "Unfortunately, circumstances have brought us together. I am the commander over what you would consider to be the enemy fleet that recently attacked shipping in your star system. These attacks were made without my permission, and without the explicit permission of our military high command. I am punishing those responsible, and I would like to speak with your Captain in order to make amends. Can he be roused?"

"How do you know he's not on watch now?" asked Sandor.

"I know many things," replied Cha'rif enigmatically. "Please have him speak to me within thirty of your minutes. I will speak further then."

"Sir, the transmission just cut off," said Yarborough.

"I'm calling an alert," said Sandor. At that, the klaxons came on. "Keep on watch, everyone," he ordered. "They could begin an attack at any moment."

Half an hour later, Captain Wildstar and the other regular members of the bridge crew were at their posts. Captain Wildstar was near Homer's station, looking over the readouts of the signal with Homer, Yarborough, and Sandor.

"Even at audio, that seems like pretty high gain," said Wildstar.

"My guess is that he has a very large and powerful ship; probably about the size of the Argo or of Desslok's command cruiser," said Sandor.

"And he seems to know our frequencies, sir," said Yarborough.

"That's strange, especially since we've just had first contact with this race," replied Derek.

"They seem to be very thorough," said Sandor. "And there was something else strange about him."

"What is it, Sandor?" asked Derek.

"I'll let you know later. It's just a guess of mine," said Sandor.

"The signal's coming in again," said Homer. "Audio and video, this time!"

"Put it up on the main video panel," said Wildstar.

Derek walked over to his station and sat down as the image came up.

Everyone on the bridge gasped a little at Cha'rif's strong, arrogant appearance, and his orange skin.

"You are Captain Derek Wildstar?" asked Cha'rif.

Derek nodded.

"I am Baron Anton Cha'rif, commanding officer of all Rikashan/R'Khell Imperial Union forces in this area. I would like to begin by telling you that the attack upon your private ships and warships within the past few days was a mistake, caused by overzealous commanders in my ranks who have been punished. Indeed, I saw to it that the ringleader was executed, Wildstar."

"Your attacks have cost Earth a great deal," said Derek. "Thanks to you, many children are orphans, and thanks to you, quite a few women are weeping alone because their husbands and fathers are dead. You have a great deal to answer for."

"I am here, speaking to you, since I intend to do so."

"Three people from the passenger vessel are still unaccounted for, Baron Cha'rif. One child and a young couple on their honeymoon. Have you any idea of their whereabouts?"

"Yes. I do," said Cha'rif. "They're with my forces, and they're safe. I understand you have a R'Khell prisoner?"

"Yes, but he's dead. He appears to have killed himself," said Wildstar. "We're not sure how he did it…he was…"

"No need to explain," said Cha'rif with his eyes closed and a hand upraised. "I am already aware of his suicide, and I know how he did it. You see, certain of our peoples share a mental link with each other, among other powers. I saw his suicide as it happened. A brave, but misguided man. I would like to propose an exchange and a meeting. I will return our captives safely to you, and you will return Duro's body, if it should be available, so he can be remembered in the fashion of our people. I am currently in what you call the Sigma Korolevi system, near the fourth and outermost planet. May we meet under a flag of truce at 1300 Hours in your time aboard my flagship, the B'eoneraze? I will prepare a banquet for your crew so that you can be convinced of my intentions, which are peaceful. "

"We can meet," said Captain Wildstar. "However, other than the return of our captives, I am not sure what I can discuss. I don't have full authority from my Government to negotiate with you, sir."

"Perhaps you can obtain it?" asked Cha'rif. "At any rate, I trust our meeting will be profitable for you. I can explain in further detail why these attacks happened and propose what I can do to make certain there is peace between our peoples in the future. For, believe me or not, I bear you no personal hatred, and I admire your fighting skill, Captain. It is seldom one so young gains a major command like yours among my people, Captain. Surely you must be a great hero of your people."

Wildstar only nodded. "We will meet in the Sigma Korolevi System…at 1300. Please make certain our people are safe and ready to be returned."

"I shall," said Cha'rif. "I can warrant that they are being treated well."

At that, the message ended.

"Homer, put me through to the Commander," said Captain Wildstar. "Before we meet with Cha'rif, I want it to be made clear how much we can discuss. I'm afraid I'm not a diplomat."

"Roger," said Homer.  
 

TO BE CONTINUED WITH ACT FIVE--"WILDSTAR'S RESPONSE"

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