Chapter 14: “Zamlon’s Second Secret”
As the two co-workers, and partners, Valkarr and Faldon, stepped through what seemed to be a solid wall, they found themselves in the Director’s spacious private office. They’d arrived before him, but only by a moment. Master Tal-Mon entered the large room from opposite them, and went straight to his operations table, beckoning the two to join him.
From below the table the Master withdrew three crystal bowl-goblets and placed them on his desk. He produced a flask, and filled the first glass, handing it to Faldon, having known him the longer. Then he filled and handed Valkarr’s glass.
Holding his own glass, Tal-Mon proposed a toast: “To the Craft, and those so uncrafty that we, by comparison, sometimes seem wizards.” The three drank with deep gulping draughts, then hurled their shattering flasks to the fountain-grid. The Director brought forth and filled larger gourd goblets for the subsequent rounds, bidding his guests be seated.
The Master spoke first to Valkarr, “How is your wound? Nasty cut, that. I trust you feel relatively undamaged now?”
“I feel drugged, not mugged, at the moment. As a matter of fact, I’m embarrassed to admit I can’t properly remember the mugging.” He sipped the drink, “I understand, though, that I owe you thanks for my priority medical attention. My attendant permitted me to read the transfer.”
“No thanks are due duty. Durrnund is not equipped to handle the more recent Lumwadian poisons. Here, we have managed to stay a step ahead of them, so far.” Tal-Mon reached below his table top again and produced two thin, slate-like cases.
Placing them on the table, he slid one to each of the Journeymen as he continued, “If you can’t remember last night, I imagine today’s proceedings have made no sense at all.”
“Once again, you anticipate me, Master. All I was thinking last night was festival. I saw the goon, and well, I thought it was a costume ball. Next thing I know, I’m up on charges. Charges? What charges? Who were those guys?”
Faldon thought himself about due an answer now as well, and the Master was aiming to accommodate. Pushing his chair back slightly, “Mr. Mon” began, “I sense your many questions, and shall be concise where I can, but what we have here is an enormously complicated situation…a mosaic, really. Many of the pieces are held by each of us, that is to say, ‘we three,’ and I daresay no one holds more of the picture than do we, though many seem to be drawing sketches.
“These amateurs have gotten rather clumsy in their desperation of late, hence the increasing manifestations of their intent. Your assailant, last night, for example, and the laughable display here, this morning. Symptoms only, moves on which nothing depends. So thwarted, however, the prime players are tipping their hand.
“Journeyman Faldon, in your report of the ambush during the Grasp retrieval, you cited several protocols which seemingly had to have all been broken for such a surprise to have occurred. You were quick about it, too. In fact, it was your on-the-job statement, during the battle, which triggered the espionage speculation, isn’t that right?”
Faldon was trying to follow, “That was my opinion, and it still is. No way those clowns from Dacooma would have dared that stunt unless they thought we were sitting ducks.”
“I agree,” the Master’s tone assured this was discussion, and nothing insinuated. He moved to bring more to light, “Journeyman Valkarr, during the battle your pilot was occupied with cipher comm, was she not? Have you studied her report?”
“Frankly, no. Not in detail. She told me of her general conclusion, but I’m not really into crypto stuff.”
“Exactly,” Tal-Mon concurred, “that’s Faldon’s specialty. It always has been, and you’ve left it to him, just as he leaves the bio and the spheres to you.
“Helper Nee-Yool’s conclusion that the security breach was within Vilra’s command proved the only logical explanation. The Foreman’s crew had just transferred, and though they’d been presented with material on development of the holo-line, they’d not seen a demonstration, and with the secrecy surrounding the imagers, their effectiveness could not have been predicted.”
The Director took another slate-pad from within the desk, leaned back, and looked to the screen in his lap, touching the slate as he continued, “Vilra, himself, is clean. You may not have missed him at the party, but we’ve been holding that entire group since Helper Nee-Yool filed her report. No one’s cracked yet, but it won’t be long. DranSuk is very effective, though in the interest of being humane, it is somewhat slow.”
Tal-Mon stood slowly and pushed back his chair, “You do well to rely on that Helper, she’s a team player, and an excellent team you make. Faldon, have you seen her report on the Dacooman battle codes?”
“I looked at early drafts while we were returning from Karaool. I felt I was being helpful, till about the fourth complexity jump. At the end, they were screaming betrayal and political backbiting, nothing complex or strategic. They didn’t even scramble. Did she break the code?”
“No, nor have I; but I rather imagine we shall. Gentlemen, open your slate-pads and tell me what you see.”
Each did so, looking at text on their displays. Each of the Journeymen had empty reactions. Both saw the symbols as familiar. To Valkarr they seemed rows of numbers. He assumed the real numbers were cryptically replaced using only the characters, X, I, and O. To Faldon, they meant much more.
The Master asked, “What do you see, Valkarr?”
“I’ve seen runes like these, on Karaool, in the tunnels. At least there were similarities.”
This was news to Faldon, whose blasted entrance to the underground chamber had charred the walls. It had never come up, not even from Cara, but then she wouldn’t necessarily see the significance.
“Are you serious?” Faldon was having a revelation. Tal-Mon’s hunches were being confirmed, and Valkarr was more confused than ever.
The Master enthusiastically sat and pulled his chair to the table, leaning forward, “And what do you see, Journeyman Philologist Faldon?”
“I see Xixoxan numbers, no…words.”
“Only because of Zamlon do you see words. Do you see syntax?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like it, then…”
Valkarr looked up from his slate at this statement, then at his partner, “Your dig? This is what you have been studying?”
“Well, yes,” Faldon was confused now.
Truly, Faldon had spoken with some excitement during the early days of the Zamlon exploration about his struggle to unravel ancient BASIC text that had been uncovered, but Valkarr had his own work, which had been given a large appropriation from Research & Development. There had been no secrecy between the Journeymen, just divergent priorities. Valkarr also knew his partner’s work was classified, but so was his own; merely routine.
Tal-Mon elucidated, “And what you saw on Karaool. Every school child know of Xixox. Certain Xixoxan legends have undeniable legitimacy, the X-TRAX, for example, but ‘the Cube’ has only recently been uncovered on your Zamlon.”
Valkarr had many questions, “Cube?”
Faldon was thinking on a larger scale now, and his thoughts seemed far away as he responded, “The ‘key’ to the X-TRAX tables. It has been sought for centuries, and it was intact, complete with expositors.”
He looked up and smiled at the irony, “I was going to ‘show off’ to you and Cara when I finished with my workup of the tables. Surprise!”
Valkarr was unsatisfied, “What has this got to do with Karaool, Lumwadians, or Dacooman codes?”
Faldon continued, “The Xixoxans had an unique system of ciphering. In spreading their gift of literacy throughout the galaxy, they combined their alphabet with their numbering system, which had a ternary base—only these guys threw in the zero right off the bat.
“The ‘X,’ ‘I,’ and ‘O’ served to form numbers and letters, the ‘I’ and ‘O’ being vowels, which they would pronounce in a standard way. Our understanding of the different branches of the GALAK BASIC language remains so difficult because, as you know from the academy, in our schooling we learned only guesses as to those ‘standard’ pronunciations.”
Faldon, in explaining, was referencing his uncovered tables to aid in the translation of the text, “Having found an actual model of the ‘Xixoxan Cube’ we should be able to revive the lost conduits.”
“So we should have a bunch of scholars up here shooting it out.” Valkarr was doubtful, “Lumwadians, or whoever pays them, aren’t likely interested in high grades or semester points.”
“But there is more to the find than just language! There are tables for everything! Quantum physics, molecular biology, codified philosophical law…”
Valkarr had a realization, “Molecular biological science…That could explain something about the fungus. And they were on Karaool, which has its fair amount of slime. Do you know what they were up to with the fungus?”
“Not really, but I never saw the connection. There’s a sort of what you might call ‘exotic growth’ on Dacooma, as well, but it looks more like paradise.” Faldon began accessing a database with those records.
The Director was thinking larger still, “Gentlemen, I believe we are close to the motivation of our ‘friends.’ There are many things here I still don’t buy. This ‘timely’ attack on the Listrong palace—the obvious work of hired assassins; Dacoomans don’t use Lumwadians. Lumwadians are mercenaries. Someone else had to be paying the bill.
“I believe the Lumwadians had a contract alright, and there was a miss, but I rather imagine their target was not the Lady of the Listrongs, but more likely, he who is lien holder of Zamlon.”
“So,” Valkarr suggested, “last night…the curse of failure was on his head. He had failed in his hit…on me!”
“And me, no doubt,” Faldon intoned, not happy to be right.
“No doubt,” Master Tal-Mon had a fairly clear picture now. “Had the hit succeeded, the Dacoomans would have had no trouble taking Karaool. You would be casualties of war. No one would be the wiser. After insurance settlements, what with the size of your houses, losses would quickly put the project over budget. In all likelihood, the planet would have been abandoned.”
Valkarr, “Then, all someone would have to do is snatch up the option when Zamlon hit the open market.”
Faldon, “They’d get it for a song.”
Tal-Mon, “A very well considered scheme, except for one thing.”
Valkarr said it, “The persuasive power of the Holo Ghost. They were spooked by the Ghost! Whoever promised the Dacoomans Karaool probably had a hell of a time explaining their failure.”
“Maybe not,” Tal-Mon noticed a new diligence in Faldon’s involvement with his slate. “They must be pretty smooth, but my guess is they would be pressed to make up for their error.”
Faldon looked up, “Dacooma couldn’t be talked into trusting just anybody. Strange lot, that. My guess is that their ally has been buying their confidence for some time.”
“I can accept that Lumwadians would have no interest in Dacooman matters,” Valkarr set his slate on the Director’s table, “but one thing’s for sure, Dacooma knew the Listrongs would be weakened because of our task force, and the attack was based on someone’s promise of a victory which never happened.”
He pushed his chair slowly away from the desk and leaned back, “We have some enterprising entity after our property, Zamlon, on which there is an archeological find, and where there is also an organic merchandising find. It turns out that Zamlon and Karaool have these two factors in common, and now you say there’s ‘exotic’ organic growth on Dacooma as well…”
Tal-Mon suggested, “Suppose there are Xixoxan remnants on Dacooma. Suppose they are there because the slime is there, and suppose the slime is there because of the Xixoxans. Isolated cultures of biological specimen, planted by the far sighted all-powerful Children of the Zo. Gentlemen, you may have stumbled onto someone else’s secret here.”
The Journeymen came to the same conclusion. Tal-Mon began to scan related land, patent, and title rights requests. “Before Zamlon, no long I would say, these things may have been found on Dacooma. The finders seized on the sentiment of the Dacoomans to acquire Karaool, and sought to use Lumwadians to acquire Zamlon. Their intelligence into the final matter raises many questions. I believe it will be necessary for the company to intervene further into the affairs of the Dacoomans.”
Such a statement, by a sitting Combine board member, was an important preface:
“It would seem that the only way we can find their benefactor is by breaking the political power of the belligerents. Journeyman Faldon, I believe you would say there is no point negotiating, and that direct force would be most effective.”
“Absolutely,” Faldon had already started thinking about the trip. His partner really didn’t like the prospects of passing through the system again, and yet, the properties involved offered a higher reward potential because of the intermingling of different slime cultures.
Knowing something of one such mixture, Valkarr switched to his wristcom, accessed his operations network, and initiated two new subsidiary companies, “Rockrat Refining,” and “Holybody Oils.” Instantly, the machinery of Bellran House began applying in official channels for representation rights on Karaool. To begin with, a ministry level copyright commission would petition the Listrong government for exclusive rights to inspect all slime shipping.
Valkarr smiled at the Director, who’d noticed the fingerings, “I have my case against insider trading well documented, boss.”
Cyril Tal-Mon smiled, “Soon, you shall be boss, Journeyman Valkarr. This will be your Rite. I give you command. How do you propose to acquire these additional slime planets?”
Valkarr was now setting up three companies to operate on the yet to be assimilated Dacooma. He didn’t look up as he began, “We approach Dacooma diplomatically, we say nothing of the Lumwadians. We were attacked, and demand an apology. We need not discuss why their forces turned and ran.”
He looked up, “They’ll refuse to apologize, and we kick their ass. Perhaps there is a Lumwadian nest on Dacooma. The planet’s reputation might well have its attractions for the likes of such scoundrels.”
For a moment Valkarr waxed philosophical, “An outright takeover is much better. I fear we may have some problems negotiating with High Priestess Yeokalani.”
“Whadda ya mean?” Faldon broke from organizing his attack ensemble. “You saved Her Holybody from destruction, and you’ve given her…” he paused to not speak of the other significant factor, but there was a Master present.
Tal-Mon took up the pace, “With your permission, Valkarr, I should like to borrow your Helper Nee-Yool to update the company on the Dacooma-Karaool conflict.”
“By all means, and with all haste; for we who must go, must go soon. I’m sure the events there wait not for us. It would be best if we could arrive before the Karaoolian spirit is broken completely.” Valkarr was almost finished with his material requisition for the mission.
Tal-Mon was thinking of insurance, “I’m sure the Dacoomans know something of our celebration here, last night. It might be more difficult to get the same Ghost bluff past them again.”
Valkarr thought the solution simple, “You know, they’d never believe this station to be real. Let them think this is an illusion…it would be the last mistake any squadron commander would ever make.”
The Director liked the suggestion, “What this outrigger really needs is a shakedown cruise, and I can’t think of a more central location in the slime grove than Dacooma. You say it looks like paradise? I could use a shore leave in paradise, we have a board meeting in a couple of months.”
Valkarr and Faldon both finished their requisition requests, and the Director had ordered “Aweigh!”
The Journeymen would each have a ship: Faldon his X9, and Valkarr, Delirium Plus. Both were docked at the platform. Soon the Combine’s forces were en route to the Xixoxan slime grove.
<- CHAPTER 13
From below the table the Master withdrew three crystal bowl-goblets and placed them on his desk. He produced a flask, and filled the first glass, handing it to Faldon, having known him the longer. Then he filled and handed Valkarr’s glass.
Holding his own glass, Tal-Mon proposed a toast: “To the Craft, and those so uncrafty that we, by comparison, sometimes seem wizards.” The three drank with deep gulping draughts, then hurled their shattering flasks to the fountain-grid. The Director brought forth and filled larger gourd goblets for the subsequent rounds, bidding his guests be seated.
The Master spoke first to Valkarr, “How is your wound? Nasty cut, that. I trust you feel relatively undamaged now?”
“I feel drugged, not mugged, at the moment. As a matter of fact, I’m embarrassed to admit I can’t properly remember the mugging.” He sipped the drink, “I understand, though, that I owe you thanks for my priority medical attention. My attendant permitted me to read the transfer.”
“No thanks are due duty. Durrnund is not equipped to handle the more recent Lumwadian poisons. Here, we have managed to stay a step ahead of them, so far.” Tal-Mon reached below his table top again and produced two thin, slate-like cases.
Placing them on the table, he slid one to each of the Journeymen as he continued, “If you can’t remember last night, I imagine today’s proceedings have made no sense at all.”
“Once again, you anticipate me, Master. All I was thinking last night was festival. I saw the goon, and well, I thought it was a costume ball. Next thing I know, I’m up on charges. Charges? What charges? Who were those guys?”
Faldon thought himself about due an answer now as well, and the Master was aiming to accommodate. Pushing his chair back slightly, “Mr. Mon” began, “I sense your many questions, and shall be concise where I can, but what we have here is an enormously complicated situation…a mosaic, really. Many of the pieces are held by each of us, that is to say, ‘we three,’ and I daresay no one holds more of the picture than do we, though many seem to be drawing sketches.
“These amateurs have gotten rather clumsy in their desperation of late, hence the increasing manifestations of their intent. Your assailant, last night, for example, and the laughable display here, this morning. Symptoms only, moves on which nothing depends. So thwarted, however, the prime players are tipping their hand.
“Journeyman Faldon, in your report of the ambush during the Grasp retrieval, you cited several protocols which seemingly had to have all been broken for such a surprise to have occurred. You were quick about it, too. In fact, it was your on-the-job statement, during the battle, which triggered the espionage speculation, isn’t that right?”
Faldon was trying to follow, “That was my opinion, and it still is. No way those clowns from Dacooma would have dared that stunt unless they thought we were sitting ducks.”
“I agree,” the Master’s tone assured this was discussion, and nothing insinuated. He moved to bring more to light, “Journeyman Valkarr, during the battle your pilot was occupied with cipher comm, was she not? Have you studied her report?”
“Frankly, no. Not in detail. She told me of her general conclusion, but I’m not really into crypto stuff.”
“Exactly,” Tal-Mon concurred, “that’s Faldon’s specialty. It always has been, and you’ve left it to him, just as he leaves the bio and the spheres to you.
“Helper Nee-Yool’s conclusion that the security breach was within Vilra’s command proved the only logical explanation. The Foreman’s crew had just transferred, and though they’d been presented with material on development of the holo-line, they’d not seen a demonstration, and with the secrecy surrounding the imagers, their effectiveness could not have been predicted.”
The Director took another slate-pad from within the desk, leaned back, and looked to the screen in his lap, touching the slate as he continued, “Vilra, himself, is clean. You may not have missed him at the party, but we’ve been holding that entire group since Helper Nee-Yool filed her report. No one’s cracked yet, but it won’t be long. DranSuk is very effective, though in the interest of being humane, it is somewhat slow.”
Tal-Mon stood slowly and pushed back his chair, “You do well to rely on that Helper, she’s a team player, and an excellent team you make. Faldon, have you seen her report on the Dacooman battle codes?”
“I looked at early drafts while we were returning from Karaool. I felt I was being helpful, till about the fourth complexity jump. At the end, they were screaming betrayal and political backbiting, nothing complex or strategic. They didn’t even scramble. Did she break the code?”
“No, nor have I; but I rather imagine we shall. Gentlemen, open your slate-pads and tell me what you see.”
Each did so, looking at text on their displays. Each of the Journeymen had empty reactions. Both saw the symbols as familiar. To Valkarr they seemed rows of numbers. He assumed the real numbers were cryptically replaced using only the characters, X, I, and O. To Faldon, they meant much more.
The Master asked, “What do you see, Valkarr?”
“I’ve seen runes like these, on Karaool, in the tunnels. At least there were similarities.”
This was news to Faldon, whose blasted entrance to the underground chamber had charred the walls. It had never come up, not even from Cara, but then she wouldn’t necessarily see the significance.
“Are you serious?” Faldon was having a revelation. Tal-Mon’s hunches were being confirmed, and Valkarr was more confused than ever.
The Master enthusiastically sat and pulled his chair to the table, leaning forward, “And what do you see, Journeyman Philologist Faldon?”
“I see Xixoxan numbers, no…words.”
“Only because of Zamlon do you see words. Do you see syntax?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like it, then…”
Valkarr looked up from his slate at this statement, then at his partner, “Your dig? This is what you have been studying?”
“Well, yes,” Faldon was confused now.
Truly, Faldon had spoken with some excitement during the early days of the Zamlon exploration about his struggle to unravel ancient BASIC text that had been uncovered, but Valkarr had his own work, which had been given a large appropriation from Research & Development. There had been no secrecy between the Journeymen, just divergent priorities. Valkarr also knew his partner’s work was classified, but so was his own; merely routine.
Tal-Mon elucidated, “And what you saw on Karaool. Every school child know of Xixox. Certain Xixoxan legends have undeniable legitimacy, the X-TRAX, for example, but ‘the Cube’ has only recently been uncovered on your Zamlon.”
Valkarr had many questions, “Cube?”
Faldon was thinking on a larger scale now, and his thoughts seemed far away as he responded, “The ‘key’ to the X-TRAX tables. It has been sought for centuries, and it was intact, complete with expositors.”
He looked up and smiled at the irony, “I was going to ‘show off’ to you and Cara when I finished with my workup of the tables. Surprise!”
Valkarr was unsatisfied, “What has this got to do with Karaool, Lumwadians, or Dacooman codes?”
Faldon continued, “The Xixoxans had an unique system of ciphering. In spreading their gift of literacy throughout the galaxy, they combined their alphabet with their numbering system, which had a ternary base—only these guys threw in the zero right off the bat.
“The ‘X,’ ‘I,’ and ‘O’ served to form numbers and letters, the ‘I’ and ‘O’ being vowels, which they would pronounce in a standard way. Our understanding of the different branches of the GALAK BASIC language remains so difficult because, as you know from the academy, in our schooling we learned only guesses as to those ‘standard’ pronunciations.”
Faldon, in explaining, was referencing his uncovered tables to aid in the translation of the text, “Having found an actual model of the ‘Xixoxan Cube’ we should be able to revive the lost conduits.”
“So we should have a bunch of scholars up here shooting it out.” Valkarr was doubtful, “Lumwadians, or whoever pays them, aren’t likely interested in high grades or semester points.”
“But there is more to the find than just language! There are tables for everything! Quantum physics, molecular biology, codified philosophical law…”
Valkarr had a realization, “Molecular biological science…That could explain something about the fungus. And they were on Karaool, which has its fair amount of slime. Do you know what they were up to with the fungus?”
“Not really, but I never saw the connection. There’s a sort of what you might call ‘exotic growth’ on Dacooma, as well, but it looks more like paradise.” Faldon began accessing a database with those records.
The Director was thinking larger still, “Gentlemen, I believe we are close to the motivation of our ‘friends.’ There are many things here I still don’t buy. This ‘timely’ attack on the Listrong palace—the obvious work of hired assassins; Dacoomans don’t use Lumwadians. Lumwadians are mercenaries. Someone else had to be paying the bill.
“I believe the Lumwadians had a contract alright, and there was a miss, but I rather imagine their target was not the Lady of the Listrongs, but more likely, he who is lien holder of Zamlon.”
“So,” Valkarr suggested, “last night…the curse of failure was on his head. He had failed in his hit…on me!”
“And me, no doubt,” Faldon intoned, not happy to be right.
“No doubt,” Master Tal-Mon had a fairly clear picture now. “Had the hit succeeded, the Dacoomans would have had no trouble taking Karaool. You would be casualties of war. No one would be the wiser. After insurance settlements, what with the size of your houses, losses would quickly put the project over budget. In all likelihood, the planet would have been abandoned.”
Valkarr, “Then, all someone would have to do is snatch up the option when Zamlon hit the open market.”
Faldon, “They’d get it for a song.”
Tal-Mon, “A very well considered scheme, except for one thing.”
Valkarr said it, “The persuasive power of the Holo Ghost. They were spooked by the Ghost! Whoever promised the Dacoomans Karaool probably had a hell of a time explaining their failure.”
“Maybe not,” Tal-Mon noticed a new diligence in Faldon’s involvement with his slate. “They must be pretty smooth, but my guess is they would be pressed to make up for their error.”
Faldon looked up, “Dacooma couldn’t be talked into trusting just anybody. Strange lot, that. My guess is that their ally has been buying their confidence for some time.”
“I can accept that Lumwadians would have no interest in Dacooman matters,” Valkarr set his slate on the Director’s table, “but one thing’s for sure, Dacooma knew the Listrongs would be weakened because of our task force, and the attack was based on someone’s promise of a victory which never happened.”
He pushed his chair slowly away from the desk and leaned back, “We have some enterprising entity after our property, Zamlon, on which there is an archeological find, and where there is also an organic merchandising find. It turns out that Zamlon and Karaool have these two factors in common, and now you say there’s ‘exotic’ organic growth on Dacooma as well…”
Tal-Mon suggested, “Suppose there are Xixoxan remnants on Dacooma. Suppose they are there because the slime is there, and suppose the slime is there because of the Xixoxans. Isolated cultures of biological specimen, planted by the far sighted all-powerful Children of the Zo. Gentlemen, you may have stumbled onto someone else’s secret here.”
The Journeymen came to the same conclusion. Tal-Mon began to scan related land, patent, and title rights requests. “Before Zamlon, no long I would say, these things may have been found on Dacooma. The finders seized on the sentiment of the Dacoomans to acquire Karaool, and sought to use Lumwadians to acquire Zamlon. Their intelligence into the final matter raises many questions. I believe it will be necessary for the company to intervene further into the affairs of the Dacoomans.”
Such a statement, by a sitting Combine board member, was an important preface:
“It would seem that the only way we can find their benefactor is by breaking the political power of the belligerents. Journeyman Faldon, I believe you would say there is no point negotiating, and that direct force would be most effective.”
“Absolutely,” Faldon had already started thinking about the trip. His partner really didn’t like the prospects of passing through the system again, and yet, the properties involved offered a higher reward potential because of the intermingling of different slime cultures.
Knowing something of one such mixture, Valkarr switched to his wristcom, accessed his operations network, and initiated two new subsidiary companies, “Rockrat Refining,” and “Holybody Oils.” Instantly, the machinery of Bellran House began applying in official channels for representation rights on Karaool. To begin with, a ministry level copyright commission would petition the Listrong government for exclusive rights to inspect all slime shipping.
Valkarr smiled at the Director, who’d noticed the fingerings, “I have my case against insider trading well documented, boss.”
Cyril Tal-Mon smiled, “Soon, you shall be boss, Journeyman Valkarr. This will be your Rite. I give you command. How do you propose to acquire these additional slime planets?”
Valkarr was now setting up three companies to operate on the yet to be assimilated Dacooma. He didn’t look up as he began, “We approach Dacooma diplomatically, we say nothing of the Lumwadians. We were attacked, and demand an apology. We need not discuss why their forces turned and ran.”
He looked up, “They’ll refuse to apologize, and we kick their ass. Perhaps there is a Lumwadian nest on Dacooma. The planet’s reputation might well have its attractions for the likes of such scoundrels.”
For a moment Valkarr waxed philosophical, “An outright takeover is much better. I fear we may have some problems negotiating with High Priestess Yeokalani.”
“Whadda ya mean?” Faldon broke from organizing his attack ensemble. “You saved Her Holybody from destruction, and you’ve given her…” he paused to not speak of the other significant factor, but there was a Master present.
Tal-Mon took up the pace, “With your permission, Valkarr, I should like to borrow your Helper Nee-Yool to update the company on the Dacooma-Karaool conflict.”
“By all means, and with all haste; for we who must go, must go soon. I’m sure the events there wait not for us. It would be best if we could arrive before the Karaoolian spirit is broken completely.” Valkarr was almost finished with his material requisition for the mission.
Tal-Mon was thinking of insurance, “I’m sure the Dacoomans know something of our celebration here, last night. It might be more difficult to get the same Ghost bluff past them again.”
Valkarr thought the solution simple, “You know, they’d never believe this station to be real. Let them think this is an illusion…it would be the last mistake any squadron commander would ever make.”
The Director liked the suggestion, “What this outrigger really needs is a shakedown cruise, and I can’t think of a more central location in the slime grove than Dacooma. You say it looks like paradise? I could use a shore leave in paradise, we have a board meeting in a couple of months.”
Valkarr and Faldon both finished their requisition requests, and the Director had ordered “Aweigh!”
The Journeymen would each have a ship: Faldon his X9, and Valkarr, Delirium Plus. Both were docked at the platform. Soon the Combine’s forces were en route to the Xixoxan slime grove.
<- CHAPTER 13
