CddChapter 23 – Fools In The Way

Admiral Thren and his Lucky 11 appeared visibly frustrated. The meeting had been tense from the start, but it was quickly becoming unbearable.
High Mystic Tharion Xossar’vei remained composed, offering quiet, thoughtful observations when asked. The Pragmatists, however, argued among themselves, interrupted one another, and challenged nearly every point raised. After two hours of petty bickering and obstruction, Sophia’s patience finally snapped.
She stood abruptly, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
“That’s enough. Everyone except Director Tai’na and High Mystic Tharion Xossar’vei will leave. Now.”
A wave of indignant protests rose from the Pragmatist side.
Sergeant Jamal Reed stepped forward, his voice low but carrying a clear warning. “The Captain gave you an order. If you don’t want to walk to the shuttle, I’ll be happy to drag you there. And if any of you keep wasting our time, I’ll personally make sure you get dropped off somewhere between here and Faglen.”
The room fell silent. The Pragmatists exchanged uneasy glances before slowly rising from their seats. Reed escorted them out without another word.
Once the room had cleared, Thren turned to Director Tai’na. His voice was calm but firm.
“Nothing productive is going to happen while those fools remain in the room. Have you looked into the list of demoted military officers?”
Tai’na nodded. “I have. They appear to be honorable men. Several of them spoke out against the Hardliners, even though it cost them dearly.”
“Good,” Thren said. “Then take those fools back with you and bring the best of those officers instead. We need people who understand what’s at stake.”
He glanced at the High Mystic leader, who had remained silent and observant throughout the chaos.
“You seem to understand the gist of what we’re trying to build here.”
Tai’na studied him for a long moment before giving a slow, reluctant nod.
Later, after the Pragmatists had been returned to Faglen, Reed found himself in one of the ship’s corridors, his pulse still elevated from the confrontation. The adrenaline hadn’t fully drained yet—his jaw was tight, his hands still clenched. He forced himself to relax and calm down. Then a loud rumble came from his stomach - the tapeworm was complaining, demanding food. He agreed.
He made his way to the cafeteria, grateful for the quiet corridors and the steady hum of the ship’s systems.
He grabbed a tray and scanned the room. Sitting alone near the far wall was a young woman he hadn’t seen before. She was petite, with large almond-shaped eyes and strawberry-blonde hair that caught the light. Reed didn’t think much of it—until he got closer.
Then he realized she was Kaern.
He hesitated. The last thing he expected was to see one of the Kaern sitting quietly in the Odyssey II’s cafeteria. Still, something about her drew him forward. He walked over and sat down across from her.
She looked up and met his gaze without hesitation.
Reed studied her. She didn’t carry herself like the Pragmatists who had just been escorted out. There was something quieter about her—something real. He found himself noticing the way her hair framed her face and the calm steadiness in her eyes. It unsettled him. He’d spent years fighting aliens and had never once looked at one and felt… this.
“You’re not like them,” he said.
She tilted her head. “Like who?”
“The ones who just left. The Pragmatists.” He paused. “You seem… different.”
A faint smile crossed her face. “Because I don’t believe in mass extermination?” There was no bitterness in her tone, only quiet sadness. “My brother didn’t either. That’s why they demoted him.”
Reed felt something shift inside him. He’d never thought of an alien as attractive before—it had never even occurred to him. But sitting across from her with that quiet intensity in her eyes, he found himself making an exception. It was dangerous. It was unexpected. And it made him feel as if he were standing on unfamiliar ground.
“That took courage,” he said quietly.
“It cost him,” she replied.
She offered a small smile. “My name is Rachaol.”
He managed to remember his own. “Sergeant Reed. Jamal Reed.”
“Well, Jamal,” she said, her tone still soft but carrying a quiet weight, “the Pragmatists made fools of themselves today. What happens now?”
Reed hesitated, then spoke before he could stop himself.
“The Admiral has asked the Director to invite several of your demoted military officers to join the negotiations.”
Rachaol’s expression shifted. “You mean the ones who opposed the Hardliners?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded slowly. “Then there’s hope. The ones I know who were demoted had a good moral compass.”
Reed studied her face. “You think your brother will be one of them?”
“I don’t know,” Rachaol admitted. “If the Admiral asks him to, then yes. He’ll come.”
Reed was quiet for a moment. “Good. I would like to meet him.” He hesitated again. “Could I ask you something a little personal?”
Rachaol gave him a mischievous grin. “No, I am not married, and yes, our faith permits disciples to marry.”
Reed’s face flushed. As a combat veteran, he had faced death more times than he could count, and here he was—completely thrown off by this charming, very attractive, and very alien young woman. He hadn’t even realized he was attracted to her until that moment.
He cleared his throat, trying to recover. “No, I, uh… I meant something else.” He paused, gathering himself. “Why is it that military guys like your brother seem to have such a different philosophy on life than the Hardliners and Pragmatists?”
Rachaol studied him with those clear, steady eyes. “A great many in our military believe in something greater than orders. Facing death has a way of changing how you see the world.” She paused. “What about you, Jamal? What do you believe in?”
Reed thought about it. He could have deflected, but he answered honestly.
“I’m not a religious man.”
Rachaol didn’t look disappointed. If anything, her expression softened.
“Well,” she said gently, “you’re still alive. That means there’s still time for you to change your mind.”
Reed found himself staring at her, unable to look away. He’d never considered the possibility that he could be drawn to someone who wasn’t human. The idea had always felt distant, even impossible. But sitting across from her with those clear, steady eyes and that quiet intensity, he couldn’t deny what he was feeling. It was dangerous. It was unexpected. And for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight it.
Chapter 24 – The Warriors
The next day, Director Tai’na arrived aboard the Odyssey II accompanied by seven Kaern naval officers. Six were captains, and one was an admiral. They were escorted to the main briefing room, where Thren, Sophia, Colonel Whitaker, High Mystic Tharion Xossar’vei, and the rest of the command staff were already waiting.
Tai’na stepped forward and introduced each of them in turn.
“Admiral Veylan Korr,” she began. “Captain Samu’el Abdet, Captain Lirath Vossar, Captain Toren Kaelis, Captain Soryn Valek, Captain Mirael Thorne, and Captain Joren Halek.”
Once the introductions were complete, everyone took their seats. The atmosphere was formal, but the tension in the room was palpable.
Sophia was the first to speak.
“Admiral Korr,” she said, “now that your previous leadership has been eliminated, what is the current mood within the Navy?”
The admiral was quiet for a moment before answering. His voice was steady, but there was clear weight behind his words.
“Regret,” he said. “And shame. While I regret the loss of life, the previous leadership was leading the Navy down a dark path. Ordering the extermination of an entire planetary population for territorial gain was not only despicable—it was unforgivable. Such an act would have stained the honor of every Kaern who served. It was a necessary action, even if it had to come from an outside… entity.”
The room fell silent. Even Thren seemed momentarily taken aback by the admiral’s candid response.
After a moment, Thren spoke. “Who is currently in command of the military?”
Admiral Korr met his gaze. “With the top leadership gone, I am now the senior officer remaining. I suppose, for the moment, that places me in command—though it will need to be made official by the Kaern Assembly.”
Tai’na nodded in agreement. “That is correct. However, I believe any agreement we reach here today would remain valid, especially with the Hardliners no longer among the living. The Assembly would likely ratify it without significant opposition.”
Thren studied both of them for a moment before speaking again.
“Then let us begin,” he said. “We have three proposals to discuss.”
He laid out the three main points: technology for terraforming, improved interplanetary propulsion systems, and a method for population control.
Upon hearing the mention of population control, Tharion Xossar’vei stood up, drawing the room’s attention. His voice was passionate.
“Of the three, population control is the most critical,” he said. “Our population growth is unsustainable. The moral imperative is clear—we must act now or condemn billions to suffering and death. Without immediate, strict birth control measures for both males and females, our civilization will collapse. This is not about morality. This is survival.”
Director Tai’na’s expression tightened. She glanced at Xossar’vei, then directed her question to Thren.
“I do not dispute the severity of the crisis,” she said carefully. “But I need to understand exactly what you are proposing. Are there side effects? And how do you expect the Kaern people to accept it?”
Sophia answered, her voice calm and reassuring. “It is a formula derived from Earth’s advanced medical research. It regulates fertility for both males and females by temporarily suppressing reproductive hormones. There are no harmful side effects—no loss of vitality, no health complications. It simply prevents conception. As for any objections from your people, that will be your responsibility to address.” She added with a hint of sarcasm, “Given that the alternative is the collapse of your civilization, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
The Director nodded, looking slightly sheepish. “How will the formula be distributed?”
Sophia smiled. “That is the easy part—through your food and water supplies. It only works as long as it is ingested. Stop the distribution, and within months, the effects begin to wear off.”
Director Tai’na exhaled, resigned. “If the Mystics support it, and the military leadership agrees… I will do whatever is necessary to convince the people to accept it. It will not be easy, but there appears to be no other option.”
Admiral Korr straightened in his seat. “Then we are agreed. The birth control proposal is accepted.”
For the first time since the destruction of the Hardliner leadership, there was a sense that progress was possible.
Thren nodded. “Good. Now, let’s discuss the terraforming technology and propulsion upgrades.”
He gestured to the display, where a schematic of the Kaern system appeared, highlighting three planets with marginal habitability.
“We have advanced terraforming technology,” Thren explained, “however, the Vaelari possess an even better system. Theirs can transform uninhabitable planets within your system into fully livable worlds more than twice as fast as our technology can. Getting that technology will be dependent on the success of negotiations between their government and yours.”
Admiral Korr’s eyes lit with hope. “That’s a big if,” he said. “What if negotiations fail?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Thren said, shaking his head. “If it does, we will make ours available.”
“Either way,” Korr responded, “it would change everything. We would no longer be confined to our overcrowded homeworld.”
“Exactly,” Thren said. “But with terraforming, you’ll also need faster, more efficient travel between your planets.”
He pulled up another schematic, this one showing a Kaern starship’s propulsion system.
“Your current propulsion systems are primitive and inefficient,” Thren said bluntly. “Interplanetary travel currently takes months—sometimes more than a year. That’s unacceptable for a civilization trying to terraform new worlds.”
“We’re offering to upgrade your fleet with Phase I Drives. Travel that currently takes months will take days.”
Tai’na’s eyes narrowed. “And who will be performing these upgrades?”
Thren paused, then gestured toward the back of the room where Zhorak and the other Greys stood quietly observing.
“The Greys,” he said simply.
The room went dead silent.
Admiral Korr stared at Thren, then at the Greys, then back at Thren. “The Greys? The same Greys we held captive for years?”
Zhorak stepped forward, his expression calm but unreadable. “Yes, Admiral. The same Greys you once imprisoned. We will be the ones upgrading your ships.”
One of the younger captains let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “This is… ironic.”
“It’s more than ironic,” Captain Samu’el Abdet said quietly. “It’s humbling.”
Zylor, standing beside Zhorak, spoke for the first time. “The Phase I Drive is superior to your current technology. We know your systems well, since we originally built them. We can modify your existing engines with minimal structural changes. The upgrades will use the element Merclean to power them, rather than your enriched uranium. It will improve performance by a factor of 10 and will be much faster and have a 15-year life.”
Admiral Korr shook his head slowly, a faint smile crossing his face. “We held you prisoner. We forced you to work for us. And now you’re offering to give us better technology than we ever had.”
Zhorak’s expression softened. “We are no longer your prisoners, Admiral. We are part of something larger now. And if upgrading your fleet helps stabilize your civilization and prevents the deaths of billions… then it is worth doing.”
High Mystic Tharion Xossar’vei spoke, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “This is what redemption looks like. Not vengeance. Not bitterness. But service.”
Tai’na looked at the Greys for a long moment, then back at Thren. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” Sophia said gently. “Accept the help. Let us work together.”
Admiral Korr nodded slowly. “Then we accept. All three proposals—birth control, terraforming, and propulsion upgrades. Pending final approval by the Assembly, of course.”
Thren extended his hand. “Then we have an agreement.”
Admiral Korr clasped it firmly. “We do.”
Chapter 25 – The Warriors (Part 2)
After the negotiations were concluded, Thren asked that Admiral Korr stay behind, along with Sophia and Elena. When everyone else had left, Thren took a gamble.
“Admiral,” he said, “I’d like to ask you something directly. Would you be willing to serve as a member of the Earth Alliance while still remaining loyal to Faglen?”
Korr raised an eyebrow. “How exactly would that benefit Faglen?”
Thren didn’t hesitate. “The Alliance was created to act as peacekeepers and deter enemy incursions. You would be responsible for fulfilling that role in this sector—alongside the Vaelari.”
The admiral stared at him for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“But we attacked them. They consider us their mortal enemy.”
Thren nodded. “Yes. And that is a problem we will have to solve.”
Korr frowned. “How?”
“Make peace,” Thren said simply. “Sign a non-aggression pact. Offer reparations.”
Korr looked genuinely taken aback. “Faglen lacks the resources or capital for meaningful reparations. What could we possibly offer?”
Thren smiled. “The same upgrades we’re offering you. Phase I Drive upgrades for your fleet… and eventually, Phase II Drives capable of hyperspace travel—something only full members of the Earth Alliance possess. You could also offer plasma cannons. A significant upgrade from your current energy weapons.”
Korr’s eyes widened. “We don’t even have those.”
“You would,” Thren said, “if you joined the Alliance.”
Korr was quiet for several seconds, clearly thinking it through. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
“Now that,” he said, “is a really clever bribe… couched as a benefit. Where do we sign up?”
Thren’s smile didn’t fade. “Not just yet. First, this agreement needs to be ratified by your Assembly. After that, you and I will need to travel to Vaelari to negotiate a peace treaty—or at the very least, a non-aggression pact—and to recruit them into the Alliance.”
Korr let out a long breath and shook his head. “I’m not looking forward to those negotiations. I’ll be eating a lot of crow.”
“You will,” Thren agreed. “But your people did attack them. They deserve to vent… at least a little.”
Later that day, Captain Samu’el Abdet went looking for his sister. He figured lunchtime would be his best bet.
He grabbed a tray, loaded it with food, and scanned the cafeteria. At first, all he saw were people eating quietly. Then, over in the far corner, he spotted her.
Sitting with a human. A black one.
Now that was interesting.
Rachaol had never shown much interest in men. In fact, Samu’el had quietly wondered more than once whether she preferred women. Seeing her sitting across from a human male, clearly engaged in conversation, caught him off guard. He couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity—and a touch of brotherly protective amusement. This, he decided, was going to be worth watching.
As he approached the table, he noticed the man carried himself like a soldier. Even while talking to Rachaol, the human’s eyes flicked toward Samu’el—quick and assessing. Military, Samu’el thought. Good awareness.
Rachaol, however, didn’t look up once. She seemed completely focused on the man across from her.
More and more interesting.
Reed must have said something, because Rachaol finally glanced up. Her eyes widened when she saw her brother. She let out a small yelp, jumped to her feet, and threw her arms around him in a tight hug.
“Samu’el!” she said, pulling back. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled. “Looking for you, obviously.”
She turned to Reed. “Jamal, this is my brother, Captain Samu’el Abdet.”
Reed stood and offered his hand. “Sergeant Jamal Reed.”
Samu’el shook it, then gave Reed a quick once-over with a faintly condescending smile. “So, Sergeant… how long have you been an analyst?”
Reed’s expression didn’t change, but his voice turned cold.
“Two years,” he said. “Before that, I was in special forces. A job that most arrogant Navy pukes with loud mouths tend to avoid. Wouldn’t want to mess up those pretty uniforms.”
Samu’el did a double take. He immediately re-evaluated the man standing in front of him.
Before he could respond, a deep, booming voice cut through the air.
“Mind if we join you?”
Samu’el turned—and involuntarily took a step back.
An eight-foot reptilian being was approaching the table, carrying an extra-large tray of food. Beside him walked a lithe but equally tall female of the same species. Both looked like they could tear through armor plating with their bare hands.
Reed didn’t seem surprised. He simply nodded toward two reinforced chairs at the end of the table.
“Plenty of room,” he said.
Rachaol shot her brother a sharp look—the patented how dare you embarrass me glare—and Samu’el immediately wilted. He turned to Reed, his tone suddenly sincere.
“Sergeant Reed. Please forgive my earlier rudeness. Arrogance is… a common flaw among Kaern officers. That doesn’t excuse my behavior. That’s on me.”
Reed studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod.
“You must be Captain Samu’el Abdet,” he said. “What you did—refusing that mission to Elysia—took real courage. I can overlook some arrogance, especially if it’s coming from Rachaol’s brother.” He gestured to the table. “Come on. Sit down. Your food’s getting cold.”
Then Reed glanced at Rachaol and gave her a quick wink.
Samu’el blinked, surprised by the easy forgiveness, but he set his tray down without another word and wondered what Reed’s story was. From special forces to analyst. Not the normal path. Something unusual must have happened.
For a while, they ate mostly in silence. But the thoughts running through everyone’s minds were far from quiet.
Chapter 26 – The Agreement
Thren was in his quarters, going over the report from the Aether Sentinel. It was bad news, but not urgent. He hoped the situation would not become critical before his task force could make the trip there. He was about to have Sophia schedule a staff meeting when Elena entered.
“Director just called,” she told him. “Sounds like it’s good news. I told them to pipe it here.”
Thren activated the monitor, and Tai’na’s face appeared. "It's done, Admiral. The Assembly has ratified the agreement. There was some opposition, but it passed with a majority vote." "Good." Thren allowed himself a rare breath of relief. “The next step is to have the Greys start on the modifications. Do you have a secure compound for them?”
Tai’na hesitated before replying, “We planned to keep them in the same compound where they were previously housed, before you people snatched them. The research facility there is fully functional and staffed.”
Thren ignored that she didn’t refer to them as former ‘prisoners’ and responded, "Ensure they have adequate quarters, not a jail cell. I expect them to receive the best accommodations you can provide, and I strongly suggest they are fed decent food and guarded. When I return, I expect them to be well and healthy."
Tai'na's brow lifted slightly. "You don't trust us to do that without threats?"
"You have a lot to prove, Tai'na. The Hardliners held them in such poor esteem that they didn't take the time to learn their names, just called them by a number. Grey 1, Grey 2, and so on. I want them to be well treated."
Something crossed her face — shame, maybe, or the start of it. "The Assembly never knew. Whatever was done to them was buried deep enough that even we didn't see it."
"I do not care. That is just an excuse." His voice turned dangerous. "Your administration sanctioned three ships with six hundred missiles to eliminate an entire population on a planet. The fact that we stopped them is not the point. My point is that such a mindset was acceptable to many of your leaders. That is what concerns me."
She held his gaze, and for a moment, she considered his words. "You stopped a diabolical act by our leaders, one that would have left a stain on our souls that would have lasted an eternity. For my people, I thank you for that. I swear to you this: as long as I am the Director, such a thing will never happen."
"Understood, and I believe you." He moved past it the way he always did. "The Greys will upgrade your fleet's interplanetary drives as the first step in terraforming any planets in your system where it is viable. Give us a list of which ones you want to colonize, and I will forward that information to our research staff so they can design the terraforming equipment needed for each planet."
"Understood." She didn't hesitate. "I'll see to it personally.”
He grimaced as he shut down the monitor, then took a deep breath to steady himself before offering a weak smile to Elena. “I was just reviewing the report from the Aether Sentinel. It appears there's a conflict between two of the planets there. We will eventually need to go there and assess the situation to resolve the issue, and perhaps recruit one of them into the Alliance.”
Elena smiled. “After we resolve these small problems here. Should I schedule a meeting with everyone?”
Thren nodded. “Yes. Let’s schedule a meeting in about two hours.”
“Got it,” she replied, then added, “So, it appears that what you suspected was not wrong. Earth is surrounded by dangerous actors.”
Thren offered a faint smile. “Sometimes I wish my instincts were wrong, but space is dangerous, and we must locate and neutralize the bad actors and their aggressive actions.”
So far, he thought to himself, it seems manageable—just single planets, with no organized conquerors or multi-world fleets to contend with. Little did he know, he was looking in the wrong place. But they would soon find him.
Chapter 27 – The Disciple
Tharion needs to make a decision. Normally, he does not involve himself in love matters, but he notices Rachaol is distracted and suspects it has something to do with her and Reed. He exchanged his robes for a bow and arrow, and in his best cupid mode, went searching for Rachaol.
He found her in the garden. She seemed deeply immersed in meditation, with the light illuminating her hair and creating a halo-like glow. He waited until she looked up, noticed him, and offered a faint smile. He could tell she was conflicted. In that moment, he believed he had made the right decision, and mentally notched an arrow as he softly said. "The Odyssey has been engaged in several battles where lives were lost. It does not matter that they were the enemy; grief and guilt will be present. Souls don't heal on their own."
“What are you hinting at?”
"The Odyssey II will depart soon," he said. “I think it would be helpful if they had someone who will listen to them without judgment. Someone who they can bare their souls to."
Rachaol looked over at him with a frown. "You want me to go.”
“Yes.” Was all he said.
She hesitated, wondering if she should go. She wanted to, but that meant Reed was there, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that. Then she made up her mind.
"Yes. Now what?"
“Speak to the Admiral." He paused. “You will need his permission. For what it's worth — I think he'll say yes."
He studied her in the way that seemed he knew what her thoughts were. "You've been restless."
She didn't deny it. "I am confused. Feelings have surfaced that I thought I had put to rest forever."
Tharion nodded, as if he understood. "Maybe you will find your answers on the Odyssey."
Rachaol didn't say anything, but her thoughts were a jumble. Does he suspect? Does he object? Should I ask? She did neither and went to find the Admiral.
She found Thren on the observation deck, hands clasped behind his back, watching the stars hold still the way they never actually did.
"Admiral. A moment?"
"Depends what you're selling."
"Souls, mostly." She said it flatly enough that he almost missed the joke.
That got him to turn around. "Souls."
"I'd like to come aboard the Odyssey II. Not to minister to your crew openly, but to be there if they need it. Grief counsel, mostly."
Thren considered her for a long moment, the corner of his mouth turning up just a bit. "You want to save my crew's souls? Well, I can tell you a couple of them need saving." He smiled, as if something funny entered his mind, then said, "You can start with the oversized lizard, Gor'Vath. His soul definitely needs saving."
"You say that in jest," she said. "I have a feeling that you are setting me up…"
"Guilty as charged." He almost smiled. “Permission granted. Welcome aboard. Ship leaves in four days. Talk to Sophia about quarters, and be wary of what she recommends. She likes to put people in awkward positions. If you are not careful, she'll have you booked solid ministering to the whole engineering deck by lunch."
"You're joking, right?" she asked, somewhat confused.
He gave her a wide smile. "We are a fairly tight family here, and practical jokes and pranks are an everyday occurrence, but they are all highly competent. I think you will fit right in."
She left, unsure what to think of the conversation, and decided to wait and see. She was on board, and for now, that is all that matters.
She went looking for her brother.
Samu'el took the news with a blank face, which was, for him, a bad sign.
"You're what?"
"Joining the Odyssey II. Tharion suggested it. The Admiral agreed."
"The Admiral," he said dryly. "The same Admiral who somehow talked me into signing on two weeks ago. I still don't know how he did that."
"Don’t con me, brother. You wanted to go, or you would have said no.
"Maybe." Samu'el rubbed the back of his neck. Then, with a crooked smile, he said, "Reed's on that ship."
"I'm aware," she said, glaring at him.
"I know you're aware. That's exactly my point."
Rachaol said nothing, which said everything.
Samu'el sighed. Being an overprotective brother was a thankless job. "Fine. Go. Minister. Save souls." A beat. “Just make sure it’s only souls you administer to." Then he added, “Big brother will be watching."
She gave him her best nasty glare, which bounced off him, just like it always did.
Chapter 28 – Preparing To Leave
Thren stood alone on the ready room's threshold long after the doors had sealed behind Tai'na, turning her promise over the way a man checks a knot he's already tied twice.
She would keep her word. He believed that.
But belief wasn't a shield, and the Hardliners hadn't all gone quietly. Not all of them were dead. Some were simply unaccounted for — which, in Thren's experience, was worse.
"Sophia. Get me Aether Sentinel."
The channel opened in seconds. "Aether Sentinel, go ahead, Admiral."
"I want two destroyers underway to Faglen immediately. Maximum speed. If the Greys are threatened, they're authorized to do whatever's necessary to protect them."
"Copy that, Admiral. Destroyers Callum and Voss departing within the hour."
"Good. Keep me posted."
He cut the channel, then turned to Sophia. "Get Zhorak, Myrak, and Vylen up here. And Marcus."
They arrived within minutes, and Thren noticed it immediately — something in the way the three Greys carried themselves that hadn't been there before. Not nervousness. Something closer to its opposite.
"Sit," he said, and they did. "You're going down to Faglen in two hours to start the drive upgrades. I've arranged a few things first."
He laid it out plainly — the destroyers, the timeline, the drones already watching from orbit, the risk from what was left of the Hardliners. When he finished, Zhorak spoke first, unreadable until the moment he wasn't.
“We will handle it."
It wasn't just bravado. Thren had encountered bravado before, but this wasn't it. Instead, it was something quieter and colder — a man who had spent years being reduced to a number, now about to re-enter the world that labeled him so, this time as an equal, if not superior.
Vylen said nothing, but her jaw was set in a way that said she understood exactly what Zhorak meant, and agreed with all of it.
Myrak, characteristically, looked more delighted than anyone facing potential hostile remnants had any right to be. "We get to fix their engines and watch them have to say please. I could get used to this."
Thren almost let himself smile. "Don't get used to it. Get the job done." He nodded toward Marcus. "He's going with you."
Marcus straightened slightly. "May I ask why, sir?"
"Because I want it clear — to you, to them, to anyone watching — that you're not three technicians sent down alone to do a favor. You're part of this Fleet. Marcus goes as a message that everyone is of equal stature, and part of the fleet.”
Marcus glanced sideways at Sophia — not quite asking permission, more checking his own read against hers. She held his eyes a moment, then gave a small nod.
Then she looked at Thren directly. "I'd feel better if Gor'Vath were going. But I assume you have your reasons."
"I do." Thren didn't elaborate right away, and when he did, it was without apology. "I trust Marcus to make rational decisions. Gor'Vath? I trust him plenty — with his life, with mine. But he runs hot, and he'll defend a friend before he weighs the cost of defending them. That's a powder keg down there. I don't need a fuse lit next to it."
Sophia's mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but close enough that Marcus caught it.
Thren turned back to Marcus. "Establish a link with the three drones in orbit the moment you're down. I want continuous updates on the drive work. If there's any sign of Hardliner remnants making trouble, you contact the Callum and the Voss — they'll be in orbit within forty-four hours. Don't wait to see if it gets worse before you call. Call, and let them stand down if it turns out to be nothing."
"Understood, Admiral."
Thren looked at the four of them a moment longer than the moment required. "Godspeed. All of you."
They left the ready room together, and two hours later, a shuttle broke away from the Odyssey II toward the pale curve of Faglen below.
Chapter 29 – Coming Home
Five Marines accompanied the four of them to the crash-site compound. Thren had insisted on it, sensing there might still be resentment from the Greys’ former masters.
Returning to their former prison stirred mixed feelings among the three Greys. The camp had been improved—recently upgraded, in fact. Their old quarters had been converted into a small but functional apartment. It was compact, yet a vast improvement over the barely livable cells they had endured before.
After storing their gear, they headed to the research lab. It, too, had been recently revamped. Waiting for them was their former boss and torturer, Amir De’Erer. His reception was cold at best.
“I greet all of you,” was all he managed before Zhorak stopped him.
“My name is Zhorak Mensk,” Zhorak said evenly. “These are my associates, Myrak Aznrar, Vylen Bersr, and Marcus Hale. Commit their names to memory.”
Amir stared, taken aback by the almost commanding tone. “I am the director here. Remember that. I will not tolerate such disrespect.”
Zhorak stepped closer, locking eyes with him, and hissed, “You may be the director, but you will do as I order. Is that understood? If that is not acceptable, then I will ask Director Tai’na to replace you.”
If looks could kill, Zhorak would have been dead on the spot. But the threat bounced off him like rain off an umbrella. The Faerrie were very light-skinned; Amir’s face turned a deep crimson before he replied through gritted teeth.
“What do you want?”
“I want a list of all the technicians assigned here.”
When Amir hesitated, Zhorak’s voice cracked like a whip. “Right now means immediately. Are you deaf as well as dense?”
That was more than Amir could take. He lunged forward and threw a hard punch aimed at Zhorak’s midsection.
He never landed the blow.
Before his fist could connect, two Marines were already on him. One drove a short, brutal strike into Amir’s mouth, snapping his head back. The second Marine twisted his arm and took him down hard. In less than two seconds Amir was face-down on the floor, arms locked behind his back, two heavy Marines kneeling on him.
Blood poured from his split lips as he struggled uselessly.
Marcus stepped forward. Diplomacy had clearly left the building.
“Director,” he said coldly to the disabled man. “Since you refuse to cooperate and attacked my colleague…” He gestured to the Marines. “…I am compelled to have these gentlemen detain you until Director Tai’na appoints a replacement. Do you understand?”
Amir struggled against the restraints, trying to speak, but only managed a wet gurgle as he spat out broken teeth.
Marcus gave a grim nod. “It doesn’t matter if that was a yes or a no. We will either leave soon and you will have this place to yourself, or we will find a more understanding director. Take him to a storage room and lock him up—after giving him some first aid. Meanwhile, I should call Thren and inform him of the situation.”
The three Greys watched with quiet fascination. They had thought Marcus was just a soft technician. They were rapidly revising that opinion.
Thren was not pleased when he received the call. He immediately placed a priority emergency call to Director Tai’na.
She sounded twice as shocked—and more than a little fearful that Thren might simply leave.
“What do you intend to do about the director?” Thren asked.
“Replace him without regret,” she answered at once. “I just don’t know who to put in his place.”
After a brief pause she added, “I will seek advice from Captain Samu’el Abdet… and perhaps Tharion Xossar’vei.”
A short conference followed. When it ended, the “suggestion” was clear: Soryn Valek would be a good choice. As a former captain, he knew how to select qualified people—exactly what the position required. The new director would need to choose capable researchers and engineers to help the Greys design the upgraded Phase I engines.
Thren was relieved the situation had been resolved so quickly. Still, he feared the incident would delay the Odyssey II’s departure by a couple of days.
He was almost right.
Chapter 30 – Qualified Personnel
Tharion Xossar'vei examined the profiles of everyone at the research facility and shook his head. They were just opinions from someone—perhaps right, perhaps wrong. Then, he summoned the three Greys.
Knowing Zhorak was the default leader, he posed the question to him.
"Are any of those out there," he indicated to the researchers, "know what they are doing? You guys worked with them for two years. I need the best of the bunch. Only the best. Who are they?"
All three looked at him as if he had grown a second head. A Faerrie asking for their advice. It was Vylen who recovered first.
"Out of the twenty-five, there are five that are very good. The best of them are very young and not treated well. They were the only ones that treated us almost as something more than a number. Oh, they had an older guy they considered their mentor—a Dved Ti'ked—and he was the smartest Faerrie I ever met. However, the director disliked him and had him demoted. We don't know what happened to him, but you can be sure it wasn't pleasant."
"Who are they?"
Myrak leaned forward before Vylen could answer him fully. "Wait—you're asking us?"
"I'm asking the only three people in this system who've watched these researchers work for two years without them performing for an audience," Tharion said. "That's not a small thing. Most opinions I could gather here are worthless. Yours aren't."
Zhorak said nothing, but something in his posture eased, just slightly.
Vylen said their names, and Tharion made a note, then asked how to find the mentor; he was told that the director's assistant handled all that and should know. Finding the assistant, they managed to scare him into providing the details of the demoted Dved Ti'ked.
Dved Ti'ked was in the middle of his shift as the quality-control steward for the nutrition paste that most of the planet used as food. It comprised the vitamins and minerals necessary to keep a person reasonably healthy—if the mixture was correct. Although quality control was essential, the position was considered demeaning work. The conditions were terrible, and often the steward would become sloppy and botch the mixture. When this happened, thousands died, and the steward was held responsible once the fault was traced back to him. To get a summons in the middle of a shift was always bad, so he was stunned when he was sent home with an order to pack and report to the "Crash Site." After a difficult two-day journey, he arrived exhausted, hungry, and nervous.
When he reported to the Director's office, he didn't recognize him. Thinking to himself that this was getting more and more interesting, he introduced himself and was surprised to learn his new boss was a former Captain in the Navy, a Soryn Valek. Thinking it couldn't get more interesting, it did when he met his "planning committee" and saw his three favorite "pupils," three Greys, and an alien. He was totally unsure of what would happen next and waited for someone to explain.
Soryn Valek began the explanation by naming the three Greys, then turned to the human.
"This is Marcus Hale," Soryn said. "He is a senior systems engineer assigned to lead the practical design and construction of the upgraded Phase I engines. The Greys provide the theoretical knowledge. Marcus turns that knowledge into working technology."
To Dved's eyes, the human looked very similar to his own people, only less attractive. Then Soryn got to the heart of the matter.
They needed the very best researchers and technicians because they were about to build "Phase I" engines powered by Belerium. That caught his attention. Why would anyone use such a useless rock for anything?
"Belerium," Soryn said again, watching him carefully. "You know it?"
"I know what everyone knows: that it's worthless. Rock ballast. Some use it to weigh down cargo nets." Dved's eyes had gone distant. "But that's not what you're telling me, is it?”
"No," Soryn said. "It isn’t."
Then Marcus explained what Belerium was and why it was critical for the Phase I power plants. He considered all the possibilities and was lost in thought when the director asked if he was still with them. Startled from his musing, he said, "More than you know"—and meant it more than the director could understand.
They spent the next week dismissing 60% of the current staff and hiring 15 more, mostly very young researchers.
Marcus was pleased with the new hires. Now it was time to start designing and building a quality Phase I engine.
All they needed was Belerium, but that was not his problem. His problem was that he missed Sophia every night.
Chapter 31 – A Difficult Solution
Sophia had just finished a long conversation with Marcus, with Thren looking on patiently.
Was he getting soft? He asked himself. This was something he would never have allowed when he was Captain of the Verya. Different times, different people, different circumstances, he told himself. Upon reflection, it felt more personal now. His command crew was the best—and they all cared for each other. It was better this way.
He came back from his musings and saw Sophia watching him with a strange look on her face.
“Are you OK?” she asked. “You seemed far away.”
He smiled. “No, just deep in thought. So what did hubby have to say?”
She sighed. “He says it couldn’t be better. Ever since Valek took over, they are starting to get things done.”
Thren nodded. “Good. How do we put fifty billion Faerrie on birth control without starting a civil war?”
Sophia opened her mouth, then closed it. For once she had no ready answer.
The silence surprised him, and he couldn’t help himself.
“Nothing to say? I ask my First Officer, my go-to problem solver, for a solution, and all I get is silence. I am bewildered.”
Recovering, she smiled. “It would have been a waste of breath since I know you have it figured out. Right?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Call Elena, Director Tai’na, and Kai’lith, and set up a meeting in the conference room for tomorrow at 10 a.m.”
“Yes, Boss.”
All were present when the meeting started the following day.
Elena glanced at Gor’Vath the moment she sat down. “Why is he here?”
Gor’Vath met her eyes without blinking. “I always go with her.”
Thren ignored the exchange and fixed his gaze on Director Tai’na.
“Director Tai’na, do you have any ideas how we can administer our birth control formula to fifty billion Faerrie?”
A look of horror crossed her face. “Not a clue. Once more, if the population discovers we did this without their knowledge or consent, there will be riots. Possibly worse.”
“I can see that would be a problem,” Thren said. “I’m also aware your civilization is well on its way to collapsing if the birth rate continues. So answer the question.”
Tai’na’s jaw tightened. “We have no delivery method that wouldn’t be detected immediately.”
"What if they had access to actual meals—semi-solid food that has real flavor and a variety of choices, maybe twenty different options. Do you think they would mind if the formula just happened to reduce the pregnancy rate a little?”
Tai’na stared at him. “You want to hide population control inside their meals.”
“I want to give them something better than what they have,” Thren replied, “and solve your extinction problem at the same time. Do you think the average citizen will refuse better food because it slightly lowers the pregnancy rate?”
“We can barely produce enough paste to keep people alive,” she shot back. “How could we possibly do something like that?”
Thren pointed to Kai’lith. “Our resident genius over there has redesigned one of our Auto-Chefs. It takes basic organic stock and rearranges the molecules into complete meals. By precisely controlling atomic bonds, it creates a wide range of flavors, textures, and dishes on demand with high efficiency and no waste.”
Elena leaned forward. “And it scales. Once the first factory line is running, each additional unit takes less time to produce than the last. That’s the part people miss—the curve isn’t linear, it’s exponential.”
“It may take five years before there are enough factories to build Auto-Chefs for the entire population,” Thren continued, “but by then the demand would be so high that no one would be thinking about babies. All they would care about is getting a tasty meal.”
Tai’na’s eyes flicked between them. “And the side effects?”
“None,” Thren said. “Remove the formula and fertility returns to normal. There’s an off switch. You don’t control it. We do.”
Tai’na’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And the elites? They won’t accept eating the same twenty options as everyone else.”
“They won’t have to. There will be a deluxe model. Full variety. Unlimited choices. They stay comfortable, they stay quiet, and they keep consuming the formula like everyone else.”
Tai’na nodded slowly as she began to see the enormity of the task ahead. In the end, they had no choice. It was do-or-die.
A tired but hopeful expression crossed her face. “Anything else? I need to get down there and organize all this.”
“Two things. First, transfer the Auto-Chef designs to your best technicians and start building factories immediately. The faster these units reach the population, the faster the growth curve breaks.”
Tai’na nodded once, tightly.
“Second,” Thren continued, “I need an ambassador when I meet the Vaelari. Someone with clean hands. No involvement in the previous attacks. No connection to the Hardliners. Can you provide that?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “My daughter. Ren’ora.”
Thren studied her. “Why her?”
“She was vehemently opposed to the cleansing, so her hands are clean. More importantly, she is painfully honest; she detects lies faster than most interrogators, and she is a better diplomat than I am.”
Tai’na’s voice hardened. “She will not embarrass you. And she will not let the Vaelari manipulate her. She will serve you well.”
Thren held her gaze for several seconds, then gave a single nod.
“Ask her if she will accept the position. Let me know by tomorrow.”

Chapter 32 – Final Moves

While Admiral Thren Toranki waited for Ren'ora to respond, he continued to address his priority list. Next on the list was Samu'el. He summoned him to his ready room. When Samu'el arrived, he was surprised to see not only the Admiral, but Sophia and Elena. Keeping his face blank, he felt his stomach tighten. This was not a simple briefing. He walked exactly three paces from the Admiral and gave him a precise salute.
Toranki told him to be at ease and have a seat. The Admiral's warm greeting and smile did nothing to lessen his anxiety. He hadn't done anything while on board that warranted disciplinary action, so it was something else. He waited.
"I am sure you have wondered why I persuaded you to join our little band of misfits on this ship, right?" was the first thing Toranki said.
"Well, yes, that thought had occurred to me a time or two. I assume you are about to tell me," Samu'el answered, doing his best to remain calm.
"As you already know, we are headed to Cat Country. Our mission is to broker either a peace deal or a non-aggression pact between them and you. You will be the liaison for the military. Your job is to convince them that the attacks on the Vaelari were acts of the radical arm of your Navy, and they were executed for that act." He paused, and then continued. "High Mystic Tharion will be there to give weight to your claims that there was a great moral divide between the Hardliners and the Military."
Samu'el blanched. He was a military man, not a diplomat. Before he could state that argument, Thren went on.
"I have requested a diplomat to be the lead. I am waiting for an answer. Perhaps you know her: Ren'ora, the director's daughter."
That name did little to ease his anxiety. He was only able to nod his head.
The Admiral heightened his anxiety even further when he added, "Your success will determine the fate of the Faerrie people. Are you up to it?"
Samu'el pondered that statement, realized he welcomed the challenge, straightened his shoulders, and replied with a stronger voice. "Yes, sir. I will do my duty. The future of my people is in my hands." He hesitated, then continued. "Our hands."
The Admiral smiled. He had judged correctly. Then he went on. "We will give you a few bargaining chips. You will not go there with just your hat in your hands."
Intrigued, he queried, "And what would that be?"
Thren motioned to Sophia to pick up the thread.
Sophia activated the wall monitor, and a simple rock appeared.
"Do you recognize this?"
Frowning, he answered, "Sure, that is a common rock. It's unusually dense, and many ocean freighters use it as ballast. Other than that, it has no value."
A big smile spread across Sophia's face. "That's where everyone is wrong. This 'worthless rock' comes from a star that went supernova. When refined, it becomes a highly efficient power source for interplanetary travel, about ten to fifteen times more energetic than your current power units—and your system is filled with it. The Cats system has none that we could detect. A great bargaining chip for you."
Samu'el kept staring at the rock like it might do something. "That's... it? That's the big secret?"
"Disappointing, isn't it?” Sophia said, clearly enjoying herself. "Wait until you see what it looks like when it's not holding down cargo nets."
All Samu'el could do was look confused. Recovering, he said, "Are you serious? That is wonderful. But what would the Cats have to trade? We can't just give it to them."
"Technology," Elena said. "You already know their terraforming is fast—Pumr'err told the Admiral as much the day we first arrived, more than twice the speed of ours. Since then, our stealth probes got a closer look at a couple of their active sites, and according to our Chief Science Officer, Sylen Drav, it's the best she's seen in the galaxy. A trade-off: ships' efficient power systems in return for their terraforming platform technology. She also noted that it seemed somewhat underpowered. Imagine what they would achieve if they improved it by up to 20%. It would be a powerful bargaining tool."
It was Sophia who added, "In addition to all that, we would be able to offer them the technology for our modern Phase I engines for their interplanetary travel. And, if you get them to join our alliance, they will have limited access to Phase II interstellar drives."
Samu'el was impressed. Despite everything, he knew he could work with that. However, he still needed a diplomat to handle the face-to-face negotiations and asked whether Ren'ora had agreed to be part of the team.
"Working on it," was all the Admiral said before his comm pinged. He responded and received a message: Ren'ora requests a meeting tomorrow at 2 pm to discuss your proposal. Please arrange a shuttle for transportation to your ship.
He then looked at Samu'el. "It seems like we will know one way or another. Your head negotiator just scheduled a meeting here at 2 pm. I think you need to be there and introduce yourself."
Samu'el was appalled. Here he was, a mere Captain in the Navy—make that former Captain—about to meet the daughter of the leader of his world. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that. He would rather face a squadron of enemy fighters in a fight-to-the-death situation. Giving himself a mental shrug, he decided to man up. She was just a female. How dangerous could it be? He came back to the present, realizing he had zoned out, and sheepishly said, "Yes, sir."
"Good. Be here at 2 pm tomorrow. Best wear your best uniform and be on your best behavior." Thren teased him, knowing how uncomfortable he was at meeting the director's daughter.
Chapter 33 - The Diplomat
The shuttle arrived at Odyssey Bay an hour early, bringing Ren'ora. She had two suitcases and instructed the crewman to leave them there until she told him otherwise. The chief nodded, and when she left to meet the Admiral, escorted by a crewman, he had the suitcases transferred to the diplomatic quarters as per the Admiral's orders.
Admiral Toranki had been notified of her arrival and met her as she entered the bridge. He led her to the conference room, where Samu'el, Sophia, and Elena were seated.
Ren'ora was an exceptionally pretty, petite blonde with sparkling blue eyes that missed nothing. She seemed harmless at first, but when she looked at you, there was an unmistakable warning in her gaze that said, Do Not Mess With Me.
Samu'el immediately stood up when she stepped into the room. The two women remained seated. Thren made the introductions, then, with no small talk, Ren'ora asked pointedly, "Why is the military here? I would think that would be the last person that should be a part of our negotiation team."
Samu'el answered immediately. "It was the military that attacked them; it should be the military that apologizes—in person."
Ren'ora blinked in surprise, not expecting an explanation from him, but from the Admiral.
She turned to look at him, well, not at him, more like up at him, since his 6-foot-5 frame towered over her at her 5-foot stature. Neither one said anything for a second, as they waited for the other to blink. Neither did.
The room went dead silent. Then Ren'ora, with a melodic little laugh, smiled at him and said, with a gleam in her eye, "You'll do. It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain. My mother told me all about you. It is a pleasure to meet you, finally."
"Former Captain," he said, as he attempted to analyze this little powerhouse. But he had to admit, he liked her right off. He had this feeling they would be a good team.
Thren watched the scene in mild amusement. He quickly assessed that Samu'el matched her energy blow for blow, which told him more about the man than several days of formal evaluation could have. He considered himself to be a master of quick elicitation and was very impressed with her. Very impressed.
Sophia caught the look on his face and leaned toward Elena, not quite quietly enough. "He's going to pretend he wasn't staring."
"I heard that," Thren said, without turning around.
Deciding it was time to get down to business, he cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "All right, now that mutual admiration is complete, how about we get down to business? First order of business: are you accepting the position of Ambassador—and probably head negotiator?"
"Absolutely. Oh, you should notify the Chief that I will be staying. I left my baggage in the bay in case I decided this wasn't for me."
Thren just smiled. "Your two suitcases are in your quarters."
Ren'ora did a double-take. "How did you know?"
It was Samu'el who answered. "Any Captain—or in this case, Admiral—worth his salt knows everything that is happening on his ship."
She smiled and continued. "Okay, time to get serious. Just what am I getting myself into here?"
The Admiral, Sophia, Elena, and Samu'el spent the next two hours going over in detail what was expected of her and all the bargaining tools she had at her disposal. She was looking forward to the negotiations. She had a strong hand.
What she did not understand was that her opponent had just as strong a hand—and more experience leveraging it.

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