First Admiral 02 The Burning Sun (11 page)

It was the visions of the Trionic Cannon that really troubled John. He knew it was fantastical, but his mind also showed him equations and mathematical proofs that looked oddly familiar, and at the same time troublingly realistic. On Earth, John knew that the military had Hydrogen bombs that could wipe out huge cities, but this Trionic Cannon could vapourise entire planets in a few short moments; this weapon was several orders of magnitude more destructive than H-Bombs.

Formulating a theory was one thing. Building an actual weapon was something else entirely. That took huge amounts of money, skilled people, top class research and production facilities and a great deal of time. Even then, there was no guarantee that a functioning weapon would be the end result. And, if he did successfully produce this weapon, what would he do with it? He couldn’t let any of the world’s national Government’s anywhere near that kind of destructive technology. The Earth would be vapourised in under a week. Still, the challenge of building the weapon gnawed at John’s mind.

The satisfaction of simply achieving that outcome would be immense, he considered as he jingled the ice cubes in his glass absent-mindedly. Perhaps, there was some peaceful use for such a weapon, he mused for a moment, but quickly realised that it was wishful thinking on his part. Running his fingers distractedly over the contract, John Caudwell considered that he had achieved quite enough for one day.

Not bad for an ex-plastics factory worker, John Caudwell thought and slipped the contract safely back into his jacket pocket. Then, smiling, he raised his glass of watered down cola to the reflection of himself that stared back from the mirror behind the bar, and took one long, last drink before leaving.

Not bad at all.

Chapter 14

The Imperial Palace, Bardan

Ambassador (to the Court of Her Imperial Majesty, Lullina, the Grand Empress of the Bardomil) Diadran Zhannell was a Hubbart. The long, gloomy face and the pale green skin marked her out as a member of a species that specialised in the complex intricacies of diplomacy and negotiation. For many centuries the Hubbart had acted as go-betweens and facilitators in some of the most tortuous and complicated peace negotiations and treaties in a three galaxy area. However, it was her previous experience heading up the peace delegation at the end of the last Bardomil-Ganthoran war that had ably suited Diadran for the position as the Universal Alliance’s Ambassador to the Bardomil Empire.

The summons to the Imperial Palace had been as mystifying to Diadran as it had been sudden in its appearance. It had been almost a year since she had presented her diplomatic credentials at the Imperial Palace to the High Chamberlain; who had dismissed her with a less than courteous snort. But, Diadran knew, that was very often the way with diplomatic life. A great deal of time was taken up with long periods of tedium and waiting that was then broken by short periods of intense activity. The Bardomil court would be no different than the dozens of other diplomatic missions to which Diadran had been attached. Diplomatic friendships and favours ebbed and flowed like the tides of the sea. You could be in favour one day and a diplomatic pariah the next.

Not that such ‘inconsistencies’ ever bothered a seasoned diplomat such as Diadran Zhannell. She knew she would be out of favour on Bardan after First Admiral Caudwell had effectively annihilated an entire Bardomil Imperial Fleet with two Star-Cruisers and half a dozen Explorers. The Empress could not come straight out and make waves for the Alliance Ambassador; that would mean admitting to a horrendous defeat. And, neither defeat nor weakness was something that the Bardomil Empire could afford to admit to. There were too many rebelliously-minded species eager to use force to try and press their claims for independence from the strangle-hold of the Empire. The Bardomil did not wish to see these species seeking support, comfort or military assistance from the technologically-advanced Alliance. Thus, the Thexxian Separatist disaster was shielded from the bulk of the Bardomil Empire’s population.

Most of the other diplomatic legations on Bardan, however, were well aware of the Bardomil Fleet’s disastrous encounter with First Admiral Caudwell. The news spread around the Quadrant like wildfire encouraging several species to rebel against the Empire, which had led to bloody and ruthless suppression. Now, things seemed to have settled down for the moment and matters were returning to a degree of diplomatic normality. The rebellions had been crushed, the usual round of military-frontier skirmishes with the Universal Alliance was settling down and there appeared to be no further aggressive actions from the Ganthoran Empire or the Horvath Unity. The frontiers seemed to be relatively stable which would allow for diplomacy, and espionage, to return to the Diplomatic Quarter of Bardan’s Capital City, Thurrus.

Having been called to the Imperial Palace, Diadran quickly checked, through diplomatic channels, that no hostile military episodes had taken place. The Ganthoran and Horvath Ambassadors had reported that the frontiers were quiet as had First Admiral Caudwell’s Staff.

Summoned by an Imperial Messenger from the High Chamberlain’s Office, and escorted by two of the sinister black-clad Imperial Bodyguards, Diadran had made her way to the Imperial Palace where she had been instructed to wait by a polite yet firm Imperial Equerry in an exquisite white uniform. Diadran had expected to be kept waiting for several hours before being seen by a minor functionary on whatever matter had arisen in the Imperial Court. Diadran was both surprised and alarmed to have been kept waiting for barely a few minutes before the High Chamberlain had swung open the huge onyx doors to the Imperial Reception Chamber.

“Ambassador Zhannell!?” the once derisively-snorting Chamberlain had politely requested confirmation of her identity in a voice that would have echoed around the city.

“Yes, sir,” she responded with the formal politeness that was required of her.

Let the games commence, Diadran thought to herself as the High Chamberlain bowed lowly to summon her into the Imperial Presence.

Stepping into the huge, cavernous Reception Chamber, shadowed by the rotund figure of the High Chamberlain, Diadran Zhannell forced herself not to be intimidated by the sheer size and grandeur of the place. She had seen many Reception Chambers in her career, but this was by far the biggest and most imposing. The row of huge onyx columns, that supported a beautifully frescoed and gilded ceiling, stood almost fifteen metres in height. Stationed at each column, Imperial Bodyguards stood in their menacing black uniforms with their weapons fully-charged. Standing to attention with their darkened visors down and locked, the Bodyguards made Diadran shiver involuntarily as she walked slowly across the hard, shiny floor. Hearing her soft shoes scuffing an echo in the Reception Chamber, Diadran focussed on keeping her breathing regular and under control as she approached the imposing sight of the Empress herself in full majesty perched on the huge Onyx Throne.

Surrounded by a gaggle of courtiers, many in military uniform, there seemed to be polite laughter and merriment in an atmosphere of dread and terror. The Empress, herself, the centre of attention, smiled happily as she appeared to regale the company with amusing anecdotes.

Then, suddenly from behind Diadran, something rapped heavily on the floor three times, startling her to a halt.

“Your Imperial Majesty the Ambassador of the Universal Alliance Her Excellency Diadran Zhannell!” the High Chamberlain bellowed his deep rich voice echoing around the Reception Chamber.

“Ah, Ambassador Zhannell,” the Empress said brightly, gracefully drifting down from her perch on the Onyx throne her left arm extended.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Diadran bowed low in recognition of the Bardomil Head of State.

“We have been most remiss of you Ambassador,” the Empress smiled sweetly, extending her left hand for the Ambassador to receive, “our High Chamberlain has neglected to inform us of your arrival,” the Empress lied.

“Your Majesty is most gracious,” Diadran acknowledged the diplomatic falsehood making sure she kept her gaze downcast in the Imperial presence, as she received the hand and touched it to her brow.

“Come let us walk together,” the Empress instructed, allowing Diadran to rise from her bow.

The Empress extended her right hand inviting Diadran to support it with her left hand as they walked away from the group of courtiers.

“We really have been most remiss of you, Ambassador,” the Empress smiled with sweet insincerity when they were out of earshot of the others, “we must make amends for our tardiness in receiving you.”

“Majesty,” Diadran began, “it is of no account…” she continued trying not to notice the jet black eyes that glared maliciously and disconcertingly from the otherwise angelic face.

Diadran knew that the genetic flaw in the Empress’ DNA was unique to the Bardomil Imperial family. The orbs of the Empress’ eyes were pure black although it apparently presented her with no difficulty in her vision.

“Ah, Ambassador,” the Empress interrupted as they walked slowly to the huge bay windows that overlooked the formal garden of the Imperial Palace, “you are a realist as most Hubbarts are; we thank you for your indulgence.”

“Majesty,” Diadran replied feeling the cold clammy bite of the Empress’ skin on the back of her own hand.

“You know, we are both realists and we ourselves do find soldiers to be the most tedious creatures imaginable,” the Empress whispered almost conspiratorially.

“Majesty,” Diadran gave the non-committal diplomatic response wondering where this impromptu conversation was going to lead.

Despite being in a more informal setting, Diadran knew that this was still the Head of State who commanded a military machine with tens of millions of war vessels. And, accordingly, Diadran knew that she could trust the Empress about as far as she could throw one of First Admiral Caudwell’s colossal Star-Destroyers in the atmosphere of a heavy gravity planet.

“Yes, they are all bombast and bluster and braying about the good of the Empire,” the Empress continued as they passed out onto the formal garden terraces, “but we are both realists, we both know that only peace and diplomacy will allow the Empire and the Alliance to flourish.”

A peace overture, Diadran thought, trying to read the subtext of what the Empress was saying. Why now? Diadran cudgelled her brains for a hidden agenda. Whatever was going on, Diadran could not fathom the objective. She was, however, certain that First Admiral Caudwell would be able to spot the Empress’ hidden intentions. Diadran had known many military leaders, but that young flame-haired human had a knowledge and understanding of grand strategy that was well beyond his years.

“Yes, Majesty” Diadran replied formally as she was struck by the sheer scale and beauty of the formal gardens that seemed to stretch to the deep green twilight horizon of Bardan.

“Our soldiers don’t understand that, they have no vision,” the Empress continued, “They only know how to kill and destroy things. Is this true with your Alliance soldiers?”

Now, probing for information, Diadran thought.

“I do not believe so, Majesty,” Diadran knew she would have to be careful how she handled this, “our Alliance is made up of many diverse species and cultures, but mostly they seek peace and trade,” Diadran held out the opportunity to bring the possibility of trade talks as well as military and political negotiation.

“Ah,” the Empress smiled softly, “our warriors may build an Empire, but it is our merchants and traders that hold it together.”

“Your Majesty is very wise,” Diadran flattered as she watched the deep red orb of the Bardomil sun begin to dip towards the horizon.

“Peace and prosperity is what we also seek,” the Empress said softly, “Like most species we both fear those things that we do not understand.”

Well, that’ll be about the closest we ever hear to an apology for the year of frontier skirmishing that had cost hundreds of ships and thousands of lives, Diadran cynically speculated.

“Then we must work together to learn about each other and banish that fear,” Diadran said politely.

“It is good that we have spoken of such things; we must speak again of such matters very soon” the Empress announced, “now please leave us; we shall instruct the High Chamberlain to move your legation to more suitable and luxurious quarters more befitting of your status.”

“Your Majesty is too kind,” Diadran released the Empress’ hand and bowed.

“We shall speak again of these matters soon,” the Empress promised.

“I shall await your pleasure,” Diadran bowed once more, backing away from the Imperial presence and returning into the Reception Chamber relieved to be out of the firing line.

When Diadran Zhannell had disappeared from sight, the looming dark figure of the Captain of Bodyguards stepped out into the terraces behind the Empress.

“Well?” the Empress demanded, her attention drawn to the dazzling sunset.

“The emitter weapon was dispatched early this morning,” Captain Sudrus reported, “It should be in orbit around the Earth’s Sun in twenty-five days,” he reported.

“How long is that in Alliance time?” the Empress asked.

“Just under seven hundred of their Earth hours,” Sudrus replied.

“Excellent,” the Empress smiled viciously, “by the time the weapon goes off no one will be able to connect the solar flare to the Bardomil Empire. It’s a beautiful sunset isn’t it, Sudrus?” she added softly.

“Yes, Majesty,” the sinister Captain of Bodyguards replied in agreement.

Chapter 15

The Star-Cruiser Aquarius

Marilla Thapes paced anxiously up and down the corridor outside Briefing Room One. Breathing in slowly she puffed heavily trying to force down the butterflies that seemed to be running rampage in her stomach. Despite having had nothing to eat for nearly five hours, Marilla still felt like throwing up as she constantly rehearsed her presentation in her mind. This was the big one, she told herself as she continued to pace nervously. Second Admiral Lokkrien was chairing the briefing, and as she paced, Marilla knew that what she had was pretty flimsy. Her weeks of investigation had produced nothing of any significance that would justify her ongoing use of time. But, the idea that the Bardomil had developed and produced some kind of emitter weapon gnawed at her mind. The instinct was so strong that she felt she could almost taste it. Still wrestling with the idea, Marilla was interrupted by the voice of Karap Sownus.