Positions
© 2021 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  marmelmm



A holographic projection of an eight-sided object, like two pyramids joined at their bases, floated over the conference table. Several of the assembled officials studied it in greater detail on their padds as the presentation continued.

“This is one of the Navy’s mobile bases, only four years old. We are currently refitting it,” one of the Provisional Colonial Government’s ministers told the council. “When it’s completed, it will have ample space for accommodations and meetings for all Colonial representatives, and we’ve provisionally named it New Beginnings.” The lion paused and his gaze swept the room. “Not being tied to a planetary body, we plan on having the new seat of government’s mobility being our primary defense, should the Core attempt to decapitate our leadership again.”

Another minister spoke up. “As soon as the base is completed, delegates will begin to meet in order to reconstitute the government, with elections for a new Chief Minister and cabinet.” She glanced at Zulfikar Mo, and the bull nodded. The pleased smile on his face reflected his satisfaction at helping the Colonies weather the recent war, as well as the prospect of stepping down to be with his family again.

“Thank you,” Mo said. “Admiral Fikset, the military situation, please.”

The wolfess nodded. “So far, the cease-fire is holding, and the Core is in talk with the Empire. Based on how things stand now, the other admirals and I agree that we can release our civil transports back to their companies – with the understanding,” she stressed, “that they will be put back under Navy authority if the Confed appears to go on the offensive again.”

The Economics Minister leaned forward in his seat. “We agree with Admiral Fikset. With a new trade agreement in the offing, we need to get people back to work and making money again.”

Mo nodded. “All in favor?” The majority raised their paws, and the bull said, “Please thank all the crews for a job well done, Admiral.”


***


The A Quiet Life and the other ships of Combat Support Element 41 had left Indawo and returned to This Far. The transports needed maintenance and some repairs from normal wear and tear, a product of the stress of having to move through hyperspace.

Outphasing triggered the hypercomsat to upload various messages, and mail for the crew.

Fujiwara Castro returned to his cabin after work to find a small blinking light on his padd. He and Meredith didn’t spend all their time in her cabin, although they spent enough time together to make people think they were largely inseparable. The Komodo monitor shook the device out – it had been crumpled and dropped on his bunk, almost indistinguishable from his bedding - and polarized it into a flat plane. His tongue flicked as he ran down the list of his messages; two were from Transcosm, notifying him of his pay, one was from a competing company, offering him a job, and the fourth –

The bull smiled and accessed that message, and two older monitors, male and female appeared on the screen. They were older than him, their hides darkened into a deep gray as opposed to his orange-brown skin. “Hello, Fuji!” his mother Kirana said, waving. His father, Usama, was slightly behind her and he was waving as well.

“We hope you’re doing well,” Usama said.

His mother went on for a bit, talking about his brothers and sisters, until his father cleared his throat. Kirana looked up and over her left shoulder at him before saying to the imager, “Your father wants to talk to you, dear.” She blew him a kiss and moved to the side as Usama took a seat.

“Hello, son. According to the news, things are starting to settle down, and we hope to get passenger service restored. If that happens, and if Merry’s folks can arrange it, we’d like to meet them and her. Now,” he said, raising a paw, “I know that it’s a long trip for them to come out here, or for us to go there, but Faraway’s about midway between us. Talk it over with Meredith, and ask her to talk to her parents. You have our permission to give them our comm access.” He smiled. “You’ve met Merry’s family, so it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

The message went on for a while longer, with Kirana showing off the gardens and Usama assuring him that things were fine. Finally they concluded the message, both of the older monitors telling him that they loved him.

Fuji sat back and smiled for several moments before frowning. While it was nice that his folks wanted to meet Merry’s family, there was also the possibility that his mother would take the opportunity to try and persuade him and the mare to get married.

And, he realized with a sinking heart, there was a possibility that Usama and Kirana would bring along images of him as a child.


***


“Ambassador Balakrishnan, narchak,” Navot k’Ven said as her Terran opposite number entered the room and sat down facing her. The vir’s ears and tail flicked at the expression on the Dhole-Akita’s face. “Is there something wrong?”

“I’ll leave you to judge that,” the canine said. “My government has asked me to clarify two points.”

“Aka i’?”

Balakrishnan drew a breath. “We want Imperial assurances that the elections you are demanding will not be influenced or manipulated, in any way, by the Ministry of Political Monitors. If you want fair elections, let them be fair.”

Navot gestured comprehension. “As far as I know, the Political Monitors had no intention to interfere in the plebiscites. But I will pass on your concerns to them.” She scrawled a note on her pad with a fingerclaw. “And the other point you needed clarified?”

“His Majesty.”

The vir scowled, baring her teeth. “The point is not subject to negotiation, Balakrishnan-jih,” she said. “The Sovereign is adamant.”

“I’m aware of that. The question regarded his son, Prince Vladmir.”

Navot considered this. The Terran heir was only ten of their years old. “He had no part in the planning or execution of the attack on the Home,” she said. “If Felix wishes to have his son succeed him, the Sovereign would have no objection.” Her tailspur tapped on the floor. “We can only hope that he will be surrounded by competent advisers.”

“One can hope, yes,” the Terran envoy said, in a tone that Navot thought would be described as sarcastic. “Now, we propose that the Emperor and his staff be surrendered to Kashlanin custody at Lalande.” She eyed the vir across the table. “We are certain that you will not want to come all the way to Terra, and you have a diplomatic presence on Lalande.”

“You are correct.” Navot studied some data on her padd before looking up. “That is acceptable. Shall we talk about scheduling now? Your Emperor has delayed long enough.”

“He’s been trying to set up a government to support his son.”

“Nevertheless.”

“Aka, then . . . sixty days? Terran?”

“I will pass that on to the Minister, who will speak with the Sovereign.” The moment of tension broken, Navot smiled at Balakrishnan. “Would you join me for lunch, Balakrishnan-jih?”

The Dhole-Akita thought for a moment before returning the smile. “Yes, k’Ven-jih. After I update my government.”

“Of course.”