Jade Keler did her best to look dejected, to look beaten and marginalized. But she couldn't, not after years of being just that, and now . . .
and now the Cooperative has come to save us.
Fortunately, the governor and general were so used to ignoring her that they didn't notice the fire burning in her eyes.
As the quintet of Quelii officials took their seats, Jade cast a glance at the three Cooperative representatives also present. The alien from Varn, Vekkis Nost, still seemed to be leading the group. She recognized him easily from local news feeds. She also recognized Giles Rhade. As a member of the Cooperative's highest political body, the Combined Council, he was known throughout the sector. The military man, Councilor Hurok, however, she didn't know. But she had been warned, and that was just as good.
They exchanged their pleasantries, the would-be Imperials considerably more cordial now that they were expecting to get something out of their guests. A few rounds of discussion (first by the minor officials, and later by the heavy-hitters) over the past few days had hammered out a rough outline of the plan, had found a good deal of common ground on which the Quelii and Cooperative governments could stand.
The native government, undoubtedly, was extremely pleased by the picture that was taking shape. They gave no indication that they suspected anything could possibly derail the proceedings now.
Jade stifled a laugh before she gave herself away.
“Now,” Governor Soto began, extending a datapad to his counterpart, the Varn “Murloc” named Vekkis Nost. “My advisers and lawyers have been over the last draft of the agreement and found it, for the most part, acceptable. They took issue with only a few particular phrases, highlighted for your convenience, and took the liberty of offering several acceptable replacements for each. If we can agree upon the final draft now, I see no reason why we can't sign our names to the document immediately, and commit our respective governments to the task.” Soto offered a strained smile that didn't seem very well received by any of the Cooperative officials.
Vekkis took a moment to read over the points of contention, then deftly tapped a selection from each. He held the datapad up for the governor to read and, when Soto nodded his approval, set it back down and signed it immediately. He passed it around to his Cooperative associates and the lead representative from each world signed it as well. Finally, Vekkis handed the pad back to Governor Soto and then folded his hands on top of the table, his anticipation evident.
Soto retrieved his own stylus from a pocket, his free hand on the table, holding the datapad down for stability.
Jade could tell how much he was relishing this moment, that natural snarl-grin of his threatening to creep through his mask of diplomatic poise. Finally, Soto brought his stylus over to sign his name to the document and commit Quelii to the cause.
“Excuse me,” Jade spoke up, her soft voice barely succeeding in breaking through the anticipation of the moment. “Governor, you really don't want to do that.”
“Shut up, woman,” Soto barked, licking his lips and returning his attention to the pad.
“But, Sir, I must insist that you've overlooked a serious and dangerous eventuality. If you sign that document you will be condemning yourself to a course of action that is, frankly, unsustainable.”
“What are you blathering on about?” But the urgent warning had caught his attention.
Jade smiled innocently as she produced her own datapad. “I have here, an official letter of correspondence, signed by twenty three of the twenty seven magistrates of the Outer Provinces―”
Soto sighed in annoyance, returning his attention to the document.
“―informing you that they have issued permits of free assembly for the purposes of peaceful protest across the entirety of their respective domains, the subject of which will be the harsh and unlawful treatment of the residents of those provinces, beginning tomorrow morning and continuing without date of termination.”
“Why would I care about this, woman?” Soto asked, his stylus pressed against the datapad, ready to write.
“Well, Sir, I believe that if you will check your communications logs, you will see that several days ago, certain members of your diplomatic corps―in anticipation of your success here today, I'm sure―took the liberty of dispatching invitations for a Conference for the purposes of promoting regional law and security, on behalf of the government of Quelii and with the good blessing of their anticipated ally, the Cooperative, to every member world of the former Quelii Sector. Delegates should begin arriving tomorrow, if I'm not mistaken.”
Soto dropped his stylus, obviously unable to contain his outrage any longer. “You! You vile, conniving, treasonous, witch!”
Jade just smiled politely. “I'm sure you wouldn't want the spaceports clogged with protestors while you were trying to welcome ambassadors from your neighbors and few remaining trade associates, Governor. It certainly wouldn't do well for Quelii's image. Why, I'm sure that document you seem so intent to sign with the Cooperative would be worth less than the pad its saved on, if the people you're hoping to win over found out what you've been doing to your own people for so many years.”
Soto, his face red with fury, turned to the Cooperative leader. “You have to do something about this! The whole effort is in jeopardy if she gets away with this!”
Vekkis threw his hands up in mock despair. “I'm sorry, Governor, but it isn't the policy of the Cooperative to interfere with the internal workings of established governments. Now, if you wished to petition the Cooperative for official intervention in this matter . . .” Vekkis just let his sentence trail off, waiting for Soto's reply.
Soto snarled furiously. “You think I don't know what your kind did at Ord Cestus?”
“It's just Cestus now, actually,” Vekkis interjected, “and yes, I'm sure you are quite aware. It was a rather public spectacle, after all . . .” He let himself trail off into silence again.
“You think I don't know what kind of manipulation you're capable . . .” Soto's eyes widened as realization dawned. “You!” He thrust an accusatory finger at Vekkis.
“Actually,” the Ryn, Ace, intervened, raising his hand for attention, “it was me, but I can see how one such as yourself might get us confused.” An uncontrollable, toothy grin spread across his face as he glanced at the amphibian Vekkis.
“This is an outrage!”
Vekkis made a gesture to calm the Governor, which didn't go over very well. “Now, now, Governor, let's not lose our heads. You've still got a few dozen official emissaries arriving over the next week, and a local populace intent on making that week very painful for you if nothing changes around here. So the real question here is: how badly do you still want your world to be the capital of the sector again? Because I'm sure, that with proper incentive, Representative Keler and the people that she . . . well, represents . . . would be quite at ease with calling off their grand rally and allowing the proceedings to . . . well . . . proceed. So, what do you say, Governor: sad little king of your sad little hill, or seat of government for an entire galactic sector?”
* * *
The operating theory had been that no matter how influential the Cooperative had become in local affairs of late, there were still a great many people in this sector who remembered when Quelii ruled them as the legal and absolute representative of galactic authority; and that for good or ill, that still meant something. It was hoped that together, Quelii and the individual Quelii Sector planets of the Cooperative would represent sufficient legitimacy to bring the whole sector's population together for serious talks about the future. It was feared that separate, neither of them held sufficient clout to stand any chance of making that meeting happen.
The theory had proven correct.
The Wol Cabasshite ambassador, Rurhl, was the last individual expected to arrive, three days late at that, but his presence would bring the Conference to represent roughly ninety percent of the sector's estimated population.
In the interim, the various representatives of the Quelii Sector's governments and populations had been engaging in informal, fluid small-group discussions on particular matters of interest. For his part, Governor Dagos Soto had spared no expense in the entertainment of his guests, and had showed rather unexpected consideration in anticipating the “peculiar” needs of his less-humanoid or less-acculturated guests.
The whole assembly seemed to have developed a rather amicable atmosphere of light discourse and guarded optimism, but the representatives were becoming anxious to get the official Conference started. It was all well and good to chat casually about ideals and values, but they had come to Quelii with the promise of action and change.
Governor Soto made his way casually through the patches of mostly-human representatives who were attending this night's palace dinner, his destination already determined from the moment he had stepped back into the room.
Getting that gargantuan slug settled into appropriate guest quarters had been a rather frustrating ordeal, but arriving back at the dinner only to see that in his absence,
Keler had been working more of her devilish craft on the guests was far too much. He
would disrupt her schemes this time.
As he approached, the object of his loathing turned that bright, mocking smile on him, and Soto gave the stiffest of nods in acknowledgment as she turned her full attention on him. “Ah, Governor, so good to see you again! I was just telling my new friends here,” there was no need for introductions; everyone had already met by now, “about the ongoing political reforms your administration has been implementing.” She turned back to her counterparts, regarding them as if they were expected to speak.
The young man from Fere seemed eager to engage the governor. “My people are concerned by the prospect of being made subservient to such an idealistically Imperial government such as the one you have cultivated here.” He was doing a poor job of hiding his insolent smirk. “There are more than a few here who think this recent turn of events in the Quelii political system is nothing more than a ruse to put the democratically-mined among us at ease, so we may be more receptive to your entreaties to sign over our
free will to you.”
The governor fought back a lashing remark, reminding himself of where he was and that he, at least, could conduct himself in the manner of a gentleman. “As I'm sure the Representative has―”
“Actually, Governor,” Jade cut in, “it's Acting President now, until the Provisional Assembly finalizes plans for the emergency election.”
Soto cleared his throat, swallowing a grimace and beginning again. “As the
Acting president has no doubt informed you, her government has petitioned the Cooperative for official assistance in reorganizing after my executive order released the Outer Provinces from the jurisdiction of the Quelii Planetary Protectorate.”
“And how exactly does that work, Governor?” That childish, bastardly smile! Soto wanted to throttle the fool then and there. “I understand it's a method of planetary reorganization favored by the Cooperative, no? Do tell me this isn't some ploy to get us all under
their heel! Surely a man of your stature isn't fool enough to crumble before their posturing!”
“Mr. Prance,” Jade said softly, but reaching out to put a restraining arm on the man from Fere, “understand that the Cooperative was brought into this by my express request, that
I am the one here who is 'fool enough' for that. For his part, Governor Soto and his administration have been most accommodating in seeing to the needs of their people. This is a development that has been a long time coming. The simple fact is that while most of this planet's indigenous people acculturated quite well when the Empire brought Quelii into galactic relevance, there are still many who value the old ways of the first humans to set foot on this untamed world; who desire nothing more than to work the land with their own hands and yield to the ebb and flow of nature's forces. Those people have no place in the Governor's society, and with his decision to reacquaint Quelii with the galaxy, he no longer has need of them.
“And so we are going our separate ways, amicably, at that. The Cooperative's involvement is one of necessity on our part.”
Soto was impressed at how subtly Keler worked her venom into those last few words, and he didn't miss the dagger glare that she shot at him as she finished.
“You see,” she pressed on, glancing about casually at the other knots of conversation throughout the room, “the Outer Provinces constitute roughly seventy percent of Quelii's land mass, but only thirty percent of its population. There are no starports in the Outer Provinces. All centers of commerce and industry remain firmly under the Governor's control. The aristocracy of Quelii remains completely intact and legally bound to the Governor. Mine is a nation of farmers, Mr. Prance, and the last thing
my people will ever do, is depend on our former taskmasters to sell and ship the product of our own toil.”
“Ah,” Mr. Prance remarked in mock amusement, “so―”
“Mr. Prance,” Soto said sternly, grabbing the young man's attention. Soto could tell that Keler was becoming just as annoyed by this man as he was, but Soto had only just begun to realize what an idealist the woman he had been forced to endure for so many years truly was. If this
child continued to play with her for his own amusement for much longer, she might just make a scene. And he might just stand back and let her beat him to an ugly pulp. “What is it like, scavenging from the corpses of the dead?”
Mr. Prance's eyes widened in shock. He obviously hadn't expected his host to counter his impropriety so bluntly. “Surely, Governor, you would agree that two hundred years is
more than enough time for the rights of the dead to be satisfied. The Fere people are long gone. They had no colonies, they traveled little; the race is extinct. The plague which destroyed them is long gone. There is no proper galactic government with which to administrate such empty worlds. My people and I wanted to relocate, wanted to find a world to call our own, a place to start over, to forge our own identity. And there Fere was, empty, inviting.”
Soto began pacing a little, forcing the young man to turn in order to keep his attention on him. “I find it interesting, President Keler, that our young guest here is so interested in positing our respective motives for recent political happenings here, on Quelii, yet he hasn't yet, in the week that he's been here, once mentioned the motives of his own 'people' in sending him here.”
“Governor, surely―”
“Might it be,” Soto continued, still pacing, “President Keler, that they are in search of legitimacy? Might it be that they are hoping, in one swoop, to gain recognition from both the Cooperative, the undisputed power in this region at present, and Quelii, the historical center of power for this sector?”
“We don't need your approval, Governor,” Prance shot back, all pretense dropped.
Now who was playing with whom? Soto barely suppressed a smile as the thought occurred to him. “Oh, did I misunderstand?”
“There's no more Galactic Republic, no more Galactic Empire, no more galactic government of any kind. There is
no authority to which we
owe anything! We're all free agents now. The only rules are the ones we impose upon ourselves. The only law is what we erect for ourselves! Look around you: the so-called 'galactic powers' slug it out, one after another, fighting for recognition as 'undisputed masters of the galaxy', but in the mean time, what about us? What about the little guys who aren't important enough to go to war over, to invade or usurp or coerce? We get to write our own fates. We get to be our own boss. There's nobody and nothing to tell us who we're supposed to be.”
“So that's it?” Keler asked, unimpressed. “You have a right to Fere because you say so? Nothing matters anymore because the central authority of the galaxy has vanished? We're all just . . . what? Dust carried on the interstellar winds?”
Prance cocked his head. “Pretty much.”
“Well, then,” Soto chimed back in, putting on a false air of deep consideration, “I suppose all I have to do is send General Lomax with an assault group and
take Fere from you. Then it will be mine, yes? After all, there's no one to answer to, and I'm certain I have more guns than you.”
“You see, little boy,” Keler spoke up again, her words like ice. “This is what you don't understand: civilization is compromise. Freedom is not the capacity to do whatever you want, wherever you want, and the consequences be damned. Freedom is a burden of responsibility, is a mark of competence and foresight. If you want to play grave robber then you need to find another world, because you and your kind have stepped into the Quelii Sector, and here there
are rules. Here, there is an authority to which we all will answer.
“Welcome to the Quelii Sector Combine: play by the rules or get the hell out, because we will burn you to vapor to keep our freedom whole.”
The poor little fool stumbled back a few steps and then fumbled his way through a little patch of guests, finally disappearing out of sight.
“You know, I still don't like you.”
Acting President Jade Keler of The Free Provinces of Quelii looked up at the man she had spent the last twenty years despising and gave him the warmest, most sincere smile he had ever seen from any living thing. “I don't like you either, not one bit. But I think that together, we can make our world―both parts of it―something we each can be proud of. Thank you, Governor.”
Epilogue
They had been in session for thirty-six hours now. Half of the delegates had left to get sleep, but some of them had so deeply entrenched themselves in one side of the argument or another that there wouldn't be anything left to fight about if they left, so they stayed just to ensure no one else had a chance in hell of making progress in their absence.
The Cathar female, Azalyn, roared for attention, sending Mr. Prance cowering yet again.
From the brief private exchange Vekkis had managed with President Keler before the official conference had begun, she and Governor Soto seemed to have had something of a confrontation with the young human from the colony on Fere. He wasn't yet sure if it was to the man's credit or detriment, but he had elected not only to remain here as the official representative of his people, but had become an active member of discussions.
Unfortunately, that decision of his had angered more than one of the meeting's more vocal attendees. “Five worlds. Five worlds! The Cooperative expects us to sit
idly by while they manipulate events to secure disproportionate power within the government of this establishment! What kind of fool do you take me for!”
“Well, at least you've finally admitted that we are here to establish something,” Prance said causally, having successfully collected himself after Azalyn's initial outburst. “Look,” he continued, more seriously, “I don't like it either. I'm not even sure it's possible, for five separate planets to all belong to two separate governments simultaneously. But if the Cooperative's Quelii Sector worlds want to be part of the Combine, and if they are willing to submit themselves to the same code of law as the rest of us, to pay taxes and supply forces for our mutual defense just like the rest of us, to open themselves to trade and informational exchange to the same degree as all the other worlds of the Combine, then why should they be denied? Surely you aren't suggesting that the Cooperative is our enemy, that we should insulate ourselves from them at whatever cost?”
“I will not be manipulated―” Azalyn began again.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Prance muttered, dismissing her with a waive as he sank back into his chair. “But five worlds, among how many dozen? Is it unfair? Sure it is . . . except, you know, the disproportionately high contributions they would be making to the Combine as a whole, given their―on average―higher GDP and whatnot. Five votes, that's a lot, yeah, but it's certainly not
half of three dozen.”
“And do you see three dozen worlds represented here?” Azalyn bit back, snarling.
Prance gestured indistinctly. “They're sleeping right now. Some of us do get tired, from time to time, you know?”
A quiet beeping at Vekkis' side drew his attention away from the show. He recognized the general tone, but not the specific pattern, which could only mean one thing . . .
Giles Rhade was receiving a priority transmission from the Combined Council of the Cooperative. That's the only level of official government communication Vekkis didn't have personal experience with.
Giles fumbled a little with his commlink and datapad, obviously a little groggy, but finally plugged the one into the other and read the message.
Vekkis saw him pale visibly. “What is it?”
Giles tapped a few keys on his screen, probably burying whatever authentication methods Vekkis wasn't cleared to see, and then handed the pad over to him.
His giant fish-eyes bulged in a gross approximation of humanoid shock. Truthfully, he had gotten so used to reacting like a human that several of their peculiar idiosyncrasies had become truly reflexive to him.
But this was different. This was . . .
“I think you should say something,” Giles whispered. “They know you better than me.”
Vekkis recovered quickly, but wished his old friend hadn't left him here alone. What to do? What to do now? He scanned the sparse gathering quickly, not sure how to proceed. And then his eyes locked on General Lomax and Vekkis knew how this had to play out. He just hoped he hadn't misread the military man.
He got up and quietly made his way around the gathering to the Quelii seat, where Lomax was sitting alone, undoubtedly filling in for the Governor while he got some sleep.
“General, there's something I need you to see.”
Lomax was visibly startled by Vekkis' intrusion. Now that he thought about it, the general had neither spoken a word nor been addressed directly since the start of the conference.
Now he would have to speak.
The general took the datapad a little reluctantly, seemed to study the device itself for a moment before deciding to read the message. He must have read it two or three times, as long as he stared at the screen. He didn't look up at Vekkis, didn't ask anything, didn't glance over at Giles for any sort of confirmation or anything.
“Excuse me? Excuse me? Mr. Nost, something we need to know?”
Vekkis looked up, just now aware that he was standing up in the middle of an official international exchange, visibly calling attention to himself and violating the rules of decorum established at the onset of the meeting.
General Lomax rose slowly to his feet, and Vekkis sat in concert with the man who had had the floor. Decorum aside, everyone there knew something big was happening.
“Ladies, gentlemen . . .” He fumbled for the shortest moment, casting a glance a the sluglike Wol Cabasshite, “Respected beings, honored guests. I have just received a message, addressed to Councilor Giles Rhade of the United Cooperative from the Overseer of the Cooperative.” He paused another moment, setting the datapad down and then clasping his hands behind his back. “The Vahaba Colonies of the Quelii Sector are under imminent threat of Reaver attack, and may in fact already be under siege. As a military man, as a soldier all my life, I cannot overstate the threat which we are now all under. If ever there has been a time, if ever there has been a cause for which such people as ourselves should stand as one, the time is now and the crisis is upon us. Make no mistake: we are being invaded.
“Now what are we going to do about it?”
