Star Brigade: Resurgent (Star Brigade Book 1) (25 page)

His home was surrounded by acres of undisturbed plains, all topped by verdant tsarina grass typical of the Oklorada Basin. Five white spires surrounded the central dome-like inhabitance, all with viewports that looked like parallel stretches of black lines from a distance. Built by Thulican technosmiths, this home was one of the most sophisticated and luxurious on any Union memberworld or colony.

Unlike most politicians who lived in Conuropolis’s affluent Westport District, Bogosian separated his political and personal lives as much as he could. The Basin grassland region remained mostly untouched by industry, but was also a renowned tourist attraction and vacation spot. This was thanks to the Industrial Restriction Act of 2201 that protected similar designated areas all over Terra Sollus. No one on this world had wanted to repeat the ecological blunders that ultimately doomed Earth.

As the Chouncilor’s hoverlimo approached the lofty gates of his abode, he spied two yosk in the distance, grazing on tsarina grass. A shadow sweeping overhead drew his attention skyward; an avian myrypose soaring toward the hills. He whistled in quiet awe.

Upon entering his home, Ari strode briskly through the grandiose marble hallways. As usual, several Honor Guardsmen flanked him. The Chouncilor mindlessly went through his usual motions when at the Bogosian Estate; greeting the T-88 servantmech that attended his immediate needs, greeting his wife and three children, briefly reporting the sugarcoated version of his day, eating dinner with the family, then off to his office to get some work in before bed. This all seemed so pre-programmed, the Chouncilor felt numb. After entering his home office, he told his T-88. “Refuse all calls tonight.” Ari felt satisfied to exert some control over the remainder of his day.

His office had multiple communication viewscreens on one side of the soft grey parasteel walls, and a wide viewport that captured the twinkling night on the other side. Bogosian made sure he could hear the Basin’s teeming wildlife outside, even with the soundproof filters in his office. A long table sat in the middle of the large suite, cluttered with datapads and consoles. The other walls were crowded with accolades from his lengthy political career and pictures of his family.

There were a million things that the Chouncilor had to accomplish; yet none of them seemed to matter. In his sable silk robe, Bogosian lounged in a floating recliner and scanned again over the
Amalgam
Station blueprint. The detail put into it amazed him, a perfect fusion of Kedri and Union technology. After about 20 macroms, the Chouncilor decided to turn on his 72-inch holoview.

The holoview hummed briefly before turning on to the ‘IPNN: Galaxy Watch’ news stream with Fwoe Fwoemda, Edmund Halley-Award winning anchor for this show. The Xyobian’s four arms were neatly tucked under her desk, the four hearing fronds above her eyebrows twitching in sync as she spoke.

“Gawk Fogy Loki Desk fug…”

Bogosian quickly adjusted the remote cube. “Forgot it was programmed in Xyobic.” He had Xyobic uploaded into the linguistic NeuroNano microbes in his brain years ago to learn many Union member languages without a Union translator. Bogosian now had a working knowledge of over two dozen Union dialects. But tonight his head hurt too much to make sense of anything other than Standard.

“…another day of violence on Faroor, breaking up yet another truce between the planet’s native species; the Farooqua and the Farooqua-Ttaunz,” Fwoemda continued now in Standard. “Its two races have been involved in countless skirmishes over the past four years regarding border expansion by the Ttaunz onto the lands of the more rural Farooqua. The death toll has steadily climbed since 2400. Terra Sollus has vowed for a peaceful resolution to the ongoing conflict and will be sending in more PLADECO TerraTroopers and mediators to speed up the peace process.”

Bogosian frowned. He’d been trying to resolve the Faroor interspecies conflict during his two terms as Chouncilor
Each memberworld’s day-to-day governing was run by an elected Viceroy with their Executive Ministry, a Planetary Congress and a Supreme World Court; a microcosm of the Galactic Union’s arrangement. Nonetheless, per the Articles of Unification, all memberworlds ultimately answered to the Union’s authority.
My authority.
Once this Trade Route business was finished, Faroor would get Ari’s full attention. A sharp spasm shot up Bogosian’s arm.
Damn, Biros and Jegrun really squished my hand.
Shifting uncomfortably in his floating recliner, he focused on the news stream.

“In other news, representatives from the Kedri Imperium met with Union officials and the Chouncilor on Terra Sollus today to further discuss the creation of the Union-Imperium Trade Route. Ever since it was announced, this trade merger with the Kedri Imperium has been a hotbed of controversy among Union citizens. But despite that, Terra Sollus has moved forward with it and plans to build—.”

Bogosian had heard enough, “HV off.” The holoview winked out. The Chouncilor sunk his head in the headrest of his recliner, staring at the ceiling while rubbing the stiffness from his arm. The bloodied mark of the Korvenite Independence Front still stood out in his mind, as did one name.

Maelstrom.
Bogosian hadn’t heard that name since the Korvenite Rebellion in 2397.

Memories and emotions rushed back to him at an unnatural pace. His shock and revulsion when watching on holoview the horrors of the Earth Holocaust. The pride in his heart as a young senatorial aide in helping onetime boss Senator Ursa Haddad craft the bill that created the Korvenite internment camps. The order he made in his first term as Chouncilor to track down the burgeoning Korvenite Independence Front, and the relief he felt once hearing of Maelstrom’s death.

Now it seemed as though there was some resurgence in the entrapped Korvenite population. Some hidden force was spawning a new Korvenite insurrection, a new KIF. A new threat he had to deal with. The Chouncilor ran a shaking hand through his curly black hair, shutting his eyes tightly.

“What if Maelstrom is alive?” he asked himself out loud.

“I am, Chouncilor.”

Startled, Bogosian spun in the voice’s direction…and nearly had a heart attack. Before him stood Maelstrom, in the flesh. Clad in royal purple-enameled armor to match his hair, the black cloak adorning his shoulders billowed around him unnaturally. The llyriac’s violet locks hung longer than Bogosian remembered, framing his pallid features. “May I call you Aristotle?” the Korvenite llyriac calmly asked in accented Standard Speech. “I feel our long history puts us far past the formality of titles.”

“SECURITY!” Ari shouted, voice cracking. How was he still alive? Maelstrom was
dead!

“No one can hear you, Aristotle,” the Korvenite replied with casual contempt. Bogosian’s eyes were glued on Maelstrom as he fearfully backed away—nearly falling over. “Now pull yourself together and show some semblance of a spine,
human
,” Maelstrom snarked, sounding like a strict parent.

“You died,” Bogosian was trembling so much he could barely stay upright. “Years ago! How—?”

“Yes, the attack on Cor Leonis where I was ‘killed’ by your AeroFleet assassins.” Maelstrom waved his hand lazily. “I was wounded, near death even.” The llyriac strode closer, his amber eyes boring into Bogosian. “But I survived.” The Korvenite was now mere centimetrids from the Chouncilor, standing five inches taller. Maelstrom turned toward the Chouncilor’s proud stand of accolades. “In fact, because of my alleged death, Korvan has enlightened me to a level of power even I had never dreamed of.”

Ari righted himself wildly. But he had regained some composure. “You’ll never leave here alive.”

“I got in didn’t I?” the Korvenite countered, half-turning toward Bogosian. His gaze swept over the Chouncilor’s accolades, Maelstrom smirked when one trophy caught his eye. “Your Draconis Society Philanthropist of 2401 Award. Fitting, isn’t it Aristotle? All my dead brethren would agree.”

“Why are you here?” Bogosian fumed, drained of patience. “If it’s to get my attention, you have it.”

This prompted Maelstrom to turn and fully focus on the Chouncilor; clearly showing that Bogosian was beneath his notice until the Korvenite deemed it important to address him again. A strange luminous glow pulsated off Maelstrom, splashing the room in a dreamlike neon-violet. “I have come for my species Aristotle. I demand that Terra Sollus to be returned to its rightful denizens. I demand that your ‘Union’ release my race from their unjustified detention. Do this and the attacks on your citizens will cease.”

Bogosian rose to his full height, completely forgetting his fear and shock. “You have the
gall
to come threaten ME?
The Chouncilor of the Galactic Union?
You self-righteous mindraper!”

Maelstrom’s face could have been carved of white marble given how little he reacted to that insult. “Your Union Command exterminated over half of my brethren without qualm. So I am very much entitled to my gall
and
my demands.” His voice never rose, remaining cool yet seething.

Bogosian’s gaze never wavered, meeting Maelstrom’s directly. “Is this a ‘who-did-what’ game? The Korvenites did the same thing three years ago, as did the Earth Holocaust twenty-six years ago. Instead of discussing your issues with the GUPR, your brethren murdered billions. The Korvenites were—no,
are
a disruption to the stability the Union provides for all its citizens. I have no regrets for what I did to protect my Union. And you only add fuel to the fire with your attacks, Maelstrom.”

For an instant Maelstrom’s face contorted with fury, but only an instant. “We tried talking, Aristotle. But you humans continued to take and take and take every piece of our world until we had nothing left. Please, share with me how stealing another’s species’ planet is for the greater good?”

Bogosian’s voice grew thick with hate. “So scorching an entire world’s surface will make it even?”

Maelstrom rolled his eyes. “Yes, the crutch you ‘earthborn’ have shamelessly milked for 26 years.”

“Shut up!” Ari cried, having heard enough. “You will get what is coming to you Maelstrom!”

Maelstrom actually started laughing, a cold mirthless laugh that echoed across the office. “A Space Marine TROJAN told me the same thing…right before I
crushed
his skull.”

With those words, the laughter ended.

It happened within an instant. Maelstrom’s telekinetic thrust caught Bogosian in the midriff. He went flying back into the wall across the room. Forks of pain shot through his spine as he hit solid parasteel. The Chouncilor grunted. He heard the breath flee his lungs in a raggedy rustle. Terrified, Bogosian tried to move, tried to twist free from his position. But both his arms and legs were pinned to the wall, trapped. Here he was; the leader of a star-spanning government, at the mercy of a purportedly dead terrorist. The Korvenite strode closer, eyes glittering with malice, and whispered one word, “Pain.”

A psionic drill impaled Bogosian’s brain. He heard himself scream—a horrid inhuman sound! The Chouncilor writhed and spasmed—but couldn’t break free. Maelstrom wouldn’t let him.

The avalanche struck then, a bucketing of memories, the pain of countless Korvenites flooded Ari’s mind. Snippets of blood-spattered faces, cries of agony and odors of decaying corpses ripped through his senses. Bogosian
felt
the hard pummels of plasma rifles across a female Korvenite’s backside as she protected her children. His own head snapped back as a photon blast drilled an elderly Korvenite through the chest. The Chouncilor unthinkingly banged his head against the parasteel wall, harder and harder, a vain attempt to escape the pain.

His vision drenched with crimson, Bogosian felt himself drowning under thousands and thousands of images crashing down on him. Through the red fog saturating his mind, Bogosian heard Maelstrom’s voice pierce through. “I gave you a choice, ‘Chouncilor.’
Remember
that. When I’m finish with your Union, you will beg like a child needing succor,” the Korvenite snarled with unbridled wrath, chilling Bogosian to his core. “You will admit your crimes and BOW before me!”

Bogosian’s head banged quicker, harder against the parasteel wall, leaving a wet circle of blood. The reddish fog rolled thicker, all aspects of the Korvenite’s face obscured. Maelstrom’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Then, you will die. And not even your little alliance with the Kedri will save you.”

Pain stabbed at every inch of Bogosian’s body. He screamed, but the sound caught in his throat. The rolling red fog, Maelstrom’s taunting voice faded into blackness…

…causing him to shoot out of his floating recliner, almost falling forward.

Steadying himself, a bewildered Bogosian wheeled around in all directions. The holoview was still on, and newscaster Fwoe Fwoemda now discussed a trade conflict on Hommodus. No sign of Maelstrom, as if he was never there. There was no pain, not even in his arm. “Just a bad dream,” he muttered in relief, slumping back into his seat in exhaustion. “I need sleep.”

Instinctively, the Chouncilor rubbed at the back of his head. Ari frowned when he felt wetness. Moving his hand into view to see it, his eyes nearly popped. Bright crimson stained his fingers.

For the next three orvs, the Honor Guard thoroughly searched every room of the Bogosian Estate. The latest tracking computers conducted detailed sensor swipes and bioscans, analyzing every centimetrid of the 70-acre land on Bogosian Estate and far beyond. Not a wisp of Korvenite DNA was found.