Chapter 9
Nicole gave one last look at the video screen. The two negotiating parties were seated at the table. The Cybian were to the left in their elegant caftans of turquoise, emerald, and amethyst. To the right were the Patar, their skin rusty-brown and cracked, their sturdy forms covered by rough canvas in earth tones. The two groups studiously avoided looking at each other.
Martin stood between the two parties, nervously running a hand through his blond curls.
Nicole turned from the screen to the men arrayed before her. She had to admit, they looked stunning. They were outfitted in dark silver leggings and a lighter tunic, with embroidery highlighting the width of their shoulders and the strength in their arms. Avenging angels indeed. She would trust each of these men by her side, no matter what dark alley she might head down.
She glanced down her own dress. It was a mimic of the gold one she had worn the night of the attack, but done with silver embroidery. It traced her curves and shimmered in the light.
Her hand went to the diamond at her chest, and she checked by habit that each man before her wore his. Jon followed her eyes with his, looking down at the one they had created for him. Warmth eased through her, to see him alongside the other men. It was happening. He was fitting in; over time his memories would return. She just had to give it time.
She dropped her hand to her hip, reassuring herself that her glasblade was securely there, that the pistol was alongside. The men did the same, bringing their eyes back up to join hers.
“Remember, our aim is perfect silence,” she instructed them. “Drawing to fire is only a last resort.”
She put her hand into the center, and the men each added their own to the mix.
“To honor,” she murmured.
The words echoed around her, and together they moved into the teleporter room. She closed her eyes to issue a silent prayer, and then she gave the command.
They materialized behind the negotiating table, looking out over the crowd. A long, drawn out gasp greeted them, and a woman cried out, staggering back against the wall. The delegates turned at the sound. Their eyes went wide.
As one, the team turned to look at the Cybian contingent. Nicole was careful not to focus on any one person, but to keep her gaze general, looking over their heads. The men were open-mouthed in terror, and she waited for a long moment, knowing how completely she was relying on the men at her side. Whoever the traitorous delegate was, he easily could have had a backup plan in place should she somehow appear at the negotiation table despite all his efforts. An assassin could be in the crowd at this very moment, his finger slowly squeezing the trigger.
Her gaze steady, she brought her hand up from her side, drawing it straight-armed toward the cowering group.
“No! Stop!”
It was a quivering, elderly man in vibrant amethyst, wisps of gray hair matted down on his slick, gray skin. He plunged to his knees before the group, tremors racking his body. “I admit it! I only meant to stall you long enough to end this farce. There is no way any solution with the Patar could possibly work! They are liars and thieves! But not my sweet grandchildren. Not the innocent darlings. Please take me instead. Take me, and leave them in peace.”
Richard nodded to the police who waited by the door. They moved forward at once, pulling the man to his feet and hustling him out of sight.
Nicole offered a warm smile to the remaining Cybians. “And I assume none of you were involved in his machinations?”
An energetic set of head-shakings came back at her. “He was always the lone vote against,” insisted one of the younger delegates. “We had him on the committee to assuage the older generation, but he has been nothing but trouble. Still, we had no idea he would go this far.”
Another stared at her with round eyes. “So are you all right, then?”
She nodded, stepping forward to take her seat in the center of the room. “I am glad to report that I am quite fine, thanks to my guardian angels.” She smiled at the men, and they spread out into the room, taking locations around the perimeter. She saw Jon move up to Captain Marcus; the older man gave him a warm hug in welcome.
She turned back to the two sides of delegates. Both groups eagerly gazed at her with relief and anticipation.
“Well, then, let find the path to this peace.”
She turned first to the Cybians. “Let me first recap your position, as I see it. You need labor to work the mines on your planet. With your own citizens living in the cities in the clouds, you have no desire to do the work yourself. You are willing to pay a credit a day per worker for that effort. You wish to have little other contact with those workers.”
The delegates looked at each other for a moment, nodding, and then turned back to her. “That would seem to sum it up,” agreed the man.
Nicole then turned to the group on her right. “Now to the Patar. Your race has been acting as miners for hundreds of years. You seek more. You would like to build schools for your children and homes above ground. The atmosphere on Cybia is poisonous for both races, which is why of course the Cybians live in their cloud cities. You would like better wages, in order to grow your civilization. You would like a say in your working conditions and on the selling rates.”
The rust-skinned group held her with a steady gaze. “Yes, that is it exactly,” stated the larger member of the group.
One of the Cybians frowned. “You see why this is impossible,” he ground out. “They just will not be reasonable.”
Nicole held up a hand. “What have I said?”
The Cybian looked down, running a hand along his emerald caftan. “Trust in the solution,” he murmured.
She nodded in agreement, then looked up and gave a wave of her hand. Two men by the doors pulled them open. In a moment six individuals in full body suits walked in a line toward the table. They were about four feet tall. The bulbous glass spheres around their heads revealed bulging, luminescent eyes and a nearly flat nose. Their skin was a rich ochre color.
“Let me introduce you to the Avigne,” she presented, waving a hand forward. “The Avigne have a troubling problem, and I think we can help them.”
There were soft mutters from either side of the table, and she swept her eyes over both groups before continuing.
“The Avigne are a mining race on a planet far outside our mapped universe. That planet circles a red dwarf star. Unfortunately for them, all signs show the star is in the process of going supernova. They have perhaps three months before their entire planet – and their entire civilization – is burnt to a cinder. What they need is a massive rescue effort and a new place to live.”
The Cybian youth turned his lips down in frustration. “As if we did not have enough problems with miners,” he pointed out.
“Another reason this destruction of the planet Avigne is distressing,” continued Nicole without a pause, “is that it currently holds about four billion credits worth of plutonium.”
A shocked silence filled the hall, and suddenly she had the attention of every person present.
Nicole’s smile grew wider. “Here is what the Avigne propose. They will spend two billion credits on a full fleet of ships for the Patar. This with the understanding that every one of those ships has, at its first mission, to get to Avigne as quickly as possible and load up on both Avigne and plutonium loads. Once both return to Cybia, the Patar can then use the ships to relocate their workers to the neighboring planet of Cathos. Cathos is not an easy planet to live on - but it does have a breathable atmosphere, a climate where food can be grown, and ample mining opportunities as well.
She looked at the Cybians. “The workers will agree to work for you for free for a full ten years. This will give you the same, matching benefit, so that each race is compensated equally. That will also help to compensate you for the likely slowdowns associated with transitioning the cultures and settling in.”
Her eyes moved back to the six standing before her. “The rest of the plutonium, they will keep to adapt the
caves and environment to meet their needs. As it turns out, the hostile environment of Cybia is fairly close to what they require. They will have to set up some processing stations and air filters, but the money will cover those issues.
She swept her eyes first along the Cybian contingent, then the Patar. “We have set up side conference rooms, if you wish to discuss these new terms in private.”
The Cybian group’s eyes were glowing with joy. After a quick huddle they eagerly nodded their heads. “Absolutely we agree,” they stated in delight. “This is perfect!”
She turned her head, and the Patar were also grinning. “We could not have dreamed such a solution existed,” admitted the burly one. “We whole-heartedly agree.” His eyes shadowed. “But where can we get ships so quickly?”
Nicole gave another wave.
A tall, elegantly dressed man with silver hair approached the table, carrying a mahogany box in both hands. He laid it down on the table before Nicole. Carefully opening the lid, he revealed several rows of neatly arranged keys.
His voice was deeply resonant. “On behalf of Scimitar Spaceships, let me offer my gratitude for being a part of these proceedings.” He motioned to the box before him. “These keys are symbolic, of course, but eighty spaceships are at this moment coming into orbit around the planet.” He turned to bow to the Avigne. “Your rescue fleet is ready, gentlemen.”
The Avignes’s eyes grew, if possible, even larger, and in a moment they were enthusiastically clasping each other, crying out in relief.
Nicole brought out a document which had a few paragraphs of text on it. “What this document holds is exactly what I stated. We will keep this simple and sweet. If you agree to these terms, come forth and sign your name.”
A clamoring ensued with each delegate enthusiastically moving forward to add his name to the pact. Finally the six Avignes made their mark.
Nicole held the paper up to the crowd, and cheers rang out for long minutes. At last she turned to the Patars. “I know this is a time for celebration, but we are also racing against the clock.”
“I understand completely,” agreed the leader. He moved around the table to the group of Avignes. “Come, let us get our plans in motion.” In a moment the Avignes and Patars had strode from the room side by side.
The Cybians’ faces were glowing. “Free workers! Happy workers!” crowed one man to another. “Who could have thought it possible!” They all bowed to Nicole, and then they were shimmering their way back to what she imagined would be an enormous, long-drawn-out celebration.
Martin moved up to her side, shaking his head. “I do not know how you do it, Nicole,” he stated, his eyes wide. “I do not know what to say.”
Nicole’s mouth tweaked into a grin. “How about, let the celebration begin?”
He chuckled at that, waved his hands, and thousands of balloons cascaded down from the ceiling as the lively music filled the room.