The Alpha Choice (28 page)

Gorn began to understand that the sordid sexual liaisons, and twisted business dealings, were as nothing when compared to his commander’s all-consuming pride in the achievements of his people. Misplaced, but bizarrely genuine for all that.
 

As the evening progressed, he attempted to elicit stories of combat, but Darl would not be drawn. Knowing that, when ready, his superior would tell all, he was careful not to press the point. The two sides of Darl were totally at odds with each other. As he spoke openly of his business dealings, Gorn began to wonder whether this was not an isolated example,
is it possible this behaviour is common among sweeper commanders
? He supposed it must be the norm, after all, the sweepers were the first on site and would have their pick of plunder, otherwise Darl would not be so open, drink or no drink!

Even in his last posting, where he considered his commander to be as close to a father as he had known, at least in the service, that man had never opened up as Darl was doing. Now, Gorn was aware that Gakar had a great deal to hide, perhaps even more than Darl.

His aunt had told him that everything he believed in was a lie. Until then, he genuinely believed his purpose was to protect his beleaguered people. The man who was now talking to him also knew of the great lie, and yet took advantage of his position and knowledge, in a way that was anathema to Gorn. He had learned in the last few days, that pragmatism invariably won out against idealism. The result? He placed the nobler trait in a remote part of his mind, to be accessed another time, perhaps. The task in hand was to draw from Darl something to would confirm what Narol had told him. The sweepers were fact, but there was still no admission of what they did, and he would not leave until that was obtained.

Ω

The drink was taking its toll on Darl, and he fell silent. Now, for reasons he was unable to fathom, Gorn began to think about his brothers.

Opportunities to become embroiled in active duty were few and far between. In Gorn’s lifetime, there had only been two conflicts. The only major confrontation before that, had been with the Balg, nearly twenty-one years ago.

After Gallsor, each of his brothers became peripherally involved in the other two wars, which were really no more than skirmishes with races already defeated, but rallying for one last push against the indomitable Te. It went without saying, both attempts to save the remnants of their civilisations were doomed to failure, and he now suspected his brothers were never in any real danger.
 

Interestingly, the lead ship in each of those encounters was Eclipse.

Gorn wondered whether, by the time those conflicts were over, his brothers suspected the truth. The cleanup would be carried out by sweepers and Gorn wanted Narol to be right about the innocence of the non-sweeper squadrons. Despite his differences with Naraak, he needed both of his brothers to be innocent.
 

Ω

Darl stirred himself from his intoxicant induced lethargy, now when he spoke, his words were slurred. ‘It is the destiny of our people to take what they can, from anyone…what I’ve done is nothing more than a distillation of all we stand for…’

Gorn interrupted and reminded his commander of what he had said earlier about the greatness of the Te.

Darl shook his head as though trying to order his thoughts. ‘I said that?’

His young guest nodded.

‘Well, it must be true then,’ he replied, raising his cup in salutation before falling back into a silence and looking at the floor, eyebrows knitted.
 

Gorn waited. Perhaps his commander was deciding whether to completely unburden himself? After all, he had come this far. As the minutes of silence stretched on, an absurdity occurred to Gorn; the more Darl drank, the higher his voice became. Apart from the earlier, brief relapse, the deep and rich intonations from the visit in orbit had long since vanished, and he was left wondering how high the voice would become before the night was over. His flight of fancy was halted, as his host seemed to have reached a decision.

‘You know, the Council should have made me an admiral a while back,’ he took another mouthful of the liquid that had, by now, taken complete control of his mind, ‘except, I knew the wives of three of them very well,’ he looked straight down into his cup as he continued. ‘One of them probably blabbed, jealousy’s a terrible thing,’ he looked up and winked, then shrugged his shoulders and let Gorn fill his cup, it would not do for the flow of talk to be halted, by stemming the flow from the flasks.

Now was the time for Gorn to make his move. It would be unwise to assume he could just blurt out the question. His target was drunk,
but,
he thought,
Narol’s right,
he can’t have achieved all he has, by being a fool.
His suspicions must remain dormant
. The wrong question would rouse Darl's base wariness, and once that had surfaced, he would quickly sober, the ploy would fail and, even worse, his trust would be lost. It was with this caveat firmly in mind that Gorn resolved to press on. He had to give the impression of being in awe of his commander, and the exploits of their people. While his insides churned, he looked at his cup, still one-third full, the drink was still the key.
 

Seeing the young officer’s cup almost empty, Darl drank what was left in his own, reached for the second flask, and tipped it upside down, empty. ‘Terong!’ he shouted, to no one in particular. Within seconds, the young woman with olive skin appeared at Darl's side, with a new flask. Having placed the reinforcement on the table, and collected its expended compatriots, she left as quickly as she had appeared, Darl watching the departing girl with thinly disguised interest until the door slid shut, behind her. The commander returned his attention to his guest. Filling his cup he leaned forward to extend the same courtesy to Gorn, who put his free hand up, stared at the commander in the way a drunk might do, and spoke very slowly and deliberately. ‘Enough, I've had enough, you must have hollow legs.’

Darl, barking a derisive laugh, took Gorn’s cup from his hand, downed the contents then, as if to prove the point once and for all, repeated the act with his own. He looked at the young man opposite, for a long time, as if attempting to discern his very thoughts. Had Darl suspected anything? He grinned, and broke eye contact. ‘You’re a good man. We need more like you in the fleet.’

This was Gorn’s opportunity. ‘I would be happy if I could attain half your achievements, your campaigns are legendary.’

The statement was a simple one, but had the desired effect. ‘If only...’ Darl began, checking himself, as though evaluating the danger in what he was about to say. ‘Your father, and his co-commanders were the stuff of legend,’ he leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘Their involvement at Gallsor was supposed to be a secret,’ he snorted. ‘Secret? There are no secrets.’
 

‘But,’ Gorn responded, needing to keep the dialogue open, ‘as a result of the encounter at Gallsor we reached, at best a draw. While you have the distinction of being victorious in every battle.’

‘You know, of course, that I had been offered the post of XO on your father’s ship?’ He obviously assumed that Bakir had broken with protocol, and told his family.

Gorn did not know that, how could he? Which made things very awkward. Darl would assume that Bakir would have told his son, as soon as he heard of the posting to Eclipse. It was the natural thing any father might do, in the same situation, except the man Darl thought was Gorn's father could not even bring himself to talk to the young man, who used to be his son. There was only one thing he could do in the situation, lie! ‘Yes, but he didn’t give me any details.’

Darl nodded approvingly. ‘I see he hasn’t lost his sense of propriety. He wouldn’t want to embarrass me…and, just so you know, there’ll be no favours on my ship because of who your father is and, to be fair, no expectations beyond your own capability. Your friend Genir gets no special treatment. It’ll be a fresh start…’ There was the slightest hesitation before he added with a smirk. ‘Of course I might announce your lineage to the rest of the bridge staff, but that would be for my benefit, not yours.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, if you don’t mind. His involvement at Gallsor is meant to be a secret, as you said. I know I won't be favoured by my birth, but that won't stop some people from jumping to the wrong conclusions. I appreciate that you’ll do what you think is right, but I would prefer be seen for what I am. Any mention of who I am makes that harder.’

Darl pursed his lips. ‘Very well, they’ll probably have worked it out on their own, but I won't draw attention to it,’ he raised his cup as though sealing the promise. Then, realising he had strayed from his story, got back on point. ‘At the same time as your father’s offer, I was given the chance of my own command.’
 

Gorn raised his eyebrows.

‘No, it wasn’t Eclipse,’ a laugh exploded from his commander, ‘it was an exploration mission which, if successful, would lead to better things, the sweepers! It didn’t work out too badly. Six years ago I was given Eclipse; the commander took early retirement, and I was in the right place at the right time!’

Gorn wanted to return to the area where Darl was less comfortable. ‘But once you took command of Eclipse, you commanded the flagship in two great victories.’
 

Any other day Darl would be happy to bathe in the hero worship he was now experiencing, but something swept that away, whether the drink, or the fact that the young man opposite was the son of one of the few truly battle hardened officers in the fleet, he would not withhold the truth. ‘Let’s say that not all battles are as difficult as Gallsor,’ he answered.

‘But my father’s squadron lost a ship, with both hands. You never lost a single member of your crew.’

Darl was beginning to show signs of exasperation, his answer was as much to himself as to his young, expectant audience. ‘It would be difficult to lose crew members on my ship, unless they walked out of the airlock,’ he looked, once again, at the cup in his hand, as his torpor returned. It could only have lasted seconds, but seemed like minutes.

Gorn knew this was as much as he would get, but it was enough. Wanting Narol to be wrong, was a forlorn hope. From the little he knew of Darl, it was as close as the man would come, to a confession. He expected to feel anger over the horrors perpetrated by his commander, and others like him in the name of the Te, but this was not a case of a few rotten apples, the whole barrel was decayed. Neither anger, nor any other emotion would help him now. He had a decision to make and needed to be dispassionate, would he follow through?

Analysing the situation, he started with the premise that the Te’an hierarchy were the monsters Narol portrayed them to be. If he, possessed of the knowledge he had accumulated over the last few days, did nothing, there was an argument that he was little better than the monsters. He knew there were gaping flaws to his logic, nothing was ever quite that simple, and he also knew he was giving himself a final nudge.
 

He was certain his people were better than their leaders, Narol was right about that. If he chose to go ahead and succeeded in frustrating the Tellurian plan, they would have the opportunity to prove themselves. This did not, of course, deal with Narol’s final scenario when there would be no opportunity, ever. Much though he wanted to disagree with her, his aunt was right about one thing, ultimately, the lives of every Te’an could not be set against uncounted lives, stretching into the future. He would just have to see to it that the first scenario came to pass.

Mind made up, just as his father had anticipated, he would do what was necessary to prevent the forthcoming conquest. His people needed a new start, perhaps this would herald the beginning of that start.

Darl shook himself out of his reverie, and continued with some small talk, avoiding war stories, and studiously not asking after Gorn’s father. He could be forgiven for thinking he had given little away. How was he to know that Narol had made his half comments, full of meaning? How could he possibly have known what effect those comments would have upon the future of the Te?

Now that Gorn was satisfied he was doing the right thing, it was time for an announcement. ‘I will take part in the zagball match.’
 

Darl's reaction was enthusiastic, bordering on ecstatic, and certainly had a sobering effect. ‘My boy, you can't know how happy that makes me. What made you change your mind?’

‘I thought it was appropriate that the new science officer should be seen to support his commander.’

‘Well, you certainly choose your moments,’ his host beamed and, waving away Gorn's protestations, filled both their cups.

‘To beating Fleet!’

Gorn raised his cup. ‘To beating Fleet!’

The two soon made their farewells, promising to meet up again before the match. Gorn stepped out into the cool night and took his first steps towards a danger neither he, nor the man he had just left, could possibly comprehend.

Ω

Despite his precautions, the intoxicants of the previous night must have had some effect, as he woke late the following morning at the home of his friends. Wandering into the garden he saw the back of someone sitting at the breakfast table. Rounding the table, he sat down, poured himself a drink from the pitcher and began to eat, all the while saying nothing to the figure, directly opposite. When he could remain silent no longer, he looked up and took in the grinning face of Genir. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

‘You’ve got to be kidding, I tried. You were dead, and not only to this world. What were you doing last night?’

‘I was with my…our new commander, he drinks some vile concoction and insisted I try it. Did you know he drinks intoxicants?’

Gorn did not think it was possible for his friend’s grin to grow even wider, he was wrong. ‘I’d heard, but never been invited to partake.’ Genir shrugged. ‘What was the occasion?’

‘I told him I didn’t want to be on the zagball team, and he isn’t one to take no for an answer.’