Nearly four years had passed since Tristan led the Mylians to their first victory against a major Sicceian fleet. As worlds and systems were freed from the Sicceian yoke, more and more species joined what had become the Free Planets League. Not all the battles went the League’s way, but the balance of power had finally tipped in the League’s favour. The Sicceians were now losing resources faster than they could replace them.
The last major League victory, in the Achean Nebula, had lost the Sicceians two of their largest and most advanced shipyards. At the current rate of advance, the League would be at the Sicceian home world within a year.
Much as Tristan attempted to avoid the spotlight, his reputation had a life of its own. Every victory added to it. The Sicceians had tried to take out the League’s now legendary leader by trying to hit his flagship many times. Tristan had always kept one step ahead of them. Few Sicceians had ever seen him. The only ones who had were now prisoners of war on a moon especially set up for them in the Mylian system. Tristan attempted to keep his real name and species secret. He did not want even the slightest chance of the Sicceians finding out who he was and where he came from. They might just discover Earth, then the war would be lost for Tristan. But, it was becoming more difficult as his fame and reputation spread.
After the victories at the Achean Nebula, Tristan returned to Mylia, exhausted and war weary. The League was consolidating their gains, and the shipyards were being reconstructed, having suffered heavy damage during the Sicceians withdrawal.
Unless they mounted a counter attack, he felt he could leave the League military leaders to it. The three-week flight back proved uneventful. He had spent the first two days back at his small villa on the outskirts of a remote royal estate, reading and catching up on the reports that had accrued while the ship was in Star Drive. He had kept abreast of most developments by breaking the trip up into sections. Every few days they would switch the Star Drive off, get updated with everything happening and then resume the journey.
The only report that caused him any concern was regarding some partly destroyed papers discovered among the rubble of the Achean shipyards. For almost a year, every ship built had not been equipped with telepathic interfaces to the main computer. The Sicceian military had finally discovered the weakness Tristan had been exploiting.
For some reason no one had yet encountered any Sicceian ships of that type. They were out there somewhere, over two hundred capital ships, and the League would have to slug it out with them, where his abilities could not help. He had filed the information under ‘Things to worry about when they happened’.
Tristan was lounging on a small patio overlooking the well-tended gardens. The smell of flowers drifted to him on the gentle breeze, his feet resting on a small stool and his eyes half closed in the warm afternoon sunlight. The dark tendrils of stress slowly releasing their grip on his heart and mind.
The scenery and isolation reminded him of his cottage on the edge of Exmoor. He had wanted to be on his own, but it was not permitted. There was security, administration, servants, cooks, a whole army of retainers, as befitted the adopted son of the Emperor and the Supreme Commander of the League forces.
Elvath walked over to where he was sitting. “Do you want anything to drink, Tristan?”
“Eh?” Tristan sat up, smiled and answered her in English. “Yes, a cool beer please… no, on second thoughts, I would like a cup of tea, no sugar, a splash of milk, and a scone with strawberry jam and a big dollop of Devon clotted cream please.”
Elvath put her hand on her hip and looked at him with her head on one side. She was used to him now and his many moods. She had no idea what he had said, but she knew he would answer her if she waited.
He glanced up at her waiting with a reproving expression on her face. “Sorry, Mylian red wine please.”
She nodded and went to get his drink.
He had just settled back in his lounger when he heard a commotion behind him. He sat up looking round just as a communications officer stepped out onto the patio.
“Sir.” The officer gulped breathlessly.
“Wait, catch your breath first.”
“Yes, sir.” The officer took deep breaths to calm his excitement. “Sir?”
“Yes, all right, go on.”
“A Sicceian cruiser has just appeared in League space broadcasting its presence.”
“Yes so?”
“Well Sir, the Sicceians want to discuss terms for their surrender!” The aid gave Tristan a look of triumph, more for delivering the message than for the chance of peace Tristan thought.
“Are you sure about that?”
The officer, a little crestfallen replied, “Yes, sir.”
“Well we need that confirmed, please see to it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and raise Admiral Da’ren for me please.”
“Yes, sir.” The officer saluted, turned on his heels and hurried off.
Tristan sighed, stood, and paced up and down the patio with his hands held behind his back and his head bowed. “Can this be true?” he muttered to himself. “Far sooner than I expected.” He glanced up at the distant snow covered peaks. “If it is really over maybe I can find home.”
His thoughts were interrupted by the returning officer. “Sir, Admiral Da’ren is available on the comm.’s channel.”
Tristan walked to the communication room. Although the villa was a retreat for him, he could not afford to be out of touch. “Da’ren?”
There was a slight delay before Da’ren replied. Tristan had a vague understanding of the quantum communications system and that it could only work between two fixed points and relied on the fact no particle in the universe could have exactly the same energy level as another identical particle or something like that. But, there was still a delay.
“Yes Tristan? I thought you were taking a break?”
Tristan smiled and shook his head “Well I have only managed a couple of days in the last four years, why should this be any different?”
He heard Da’ren chuckle. “Yes, why indeed.” He paused. “I assume you are calling about the Sicceian surrender offer?”
“Yes, what’s happening?”
“Well they want a meeting with you face to face.”
“Hmm. Do you think it is genuine or a tra… .”
“It might be a trap.” Da’ren had not finished speaking. Tristan frowned. “Damn the delay.”
“Sorry, what?”
Tristan continued, ignoring Da’ren’s question. “If it is genuine, we cannot afford to pass up this opportunity for peace. Many thousands of lives may well be saved.”
“I agree,” Da’ren replied, his voice breaking up a little as the system focus drifted.
“You are closest to the Sicceian ship, Da’ren find out the details. If they want to meet, limit their numbers and use somewhere neutral so no side can plant any nasty surprises. I will be able to tell whether it is genuine or not.”
“OK, I will check it out and see what they are after.”
“I will leave the organisation, and details up to you Da’ren, just let me know when and where.”
“OK Tristan will do.”
The line went dead. Tristan turned to the comm.’s officer. “Thanks. Let me know the moment anything comes in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tristan turned and wandered to the kitchen. There was nothing more he could do until everything was set up. He was hungry now, and the wine he had left on the patio would be warm.
Aesia stood looking at her sleeping three-year-old daughter, Tristain. She had moved about in her sleep and ended up lying across her bed, arms thrown out either side of her. Her fair hair lying across her face, Aesia gently pulled it back behind her ear with her finger and adjusted the covers. The child did not stir. Aesia smiled, but her chest felt tight, she was going away with her father—the child’s grandfather—and did not know what would happen. She sighed, because she knew it would be a while before she saw her daughter again. She walked out of the room, fighting the urge to turn and pick her up and squeeze her tight for one last goodbye.
Aesia walked down the hall and turned into her own room, throwing herself on the bed. What am I doing?
She rolled over and stared up at the darkened ceiling. She knew Tristain would be safe and happy with her grandmother. But, there was the issue with the strange pretend lady she often talked about, as well as her growing powers. Aesia chewed her lip. Am I doing the right thing leaving her now?
Tristain could be difficult and stubborn. ‘Just like her mother’, Aesia’s father took delight in reminding her. Sometimes she would come out with the strangest things; there was this lady who would appear and talk to her, but no one else had seen her. Tristain was convinced she was real.
When it had first happened, Tristain had been about two and a half years old. Up until that time her mind had been almost blank, other than the occasional jumbled thought. Aesia was getting worried. Sicceian children start developing their telepathic capabilities as they start to talk, from around one year old. Tristain had developed normally and had started to talk at the same age as any ordinary Sicceian child, but the telepathic capability did not seem to be there. This would hamper her as she got older. Sicceian society was run using computers everywhere. If she could not communicate with them, her life would be difficult.
On this particular day, she had been out playing when her grandmother had been distracted by one of the house servants. Tristain had run off into the small wood at the back of the house playing some imaginary game. She had slipped and caught her foot in a tree root. Despite struggling, she could not get it free. It was twisted and hurting her. When her grandmother returned, she saw the child was not where she had left her. She thought Tristain had run off to the small stream she liked paddling in at the bottom of the field. She called the servants, and they ran down to search for her.
Aesia was working in her father’s office in the city half an hour drive away from the house. She remembered Tristain’s telepathic call for help, she was in pain. The power of the message caused Aesia to drop what she was carrying.
Deep beneath the surface of the planet, an Artificial Intelligence had woken from an aeons-long slumber. It had shut itself down millennia ago; however, it had left a monitoring function active, waiting. The systems of the Artificial Intelligence required a special type of mind and genetic key sequence in order for it to function. Interlocks and controls prevented the intelligence from working independently. Without a being with the specific abilities to serve, the AI did not have a purpose. The monitors had at last sensed a mind with the correct qualities the Artificial Intelligence had been waiting so long for. The systems had booted up. When Dionysia became fully aware she gently touched the mind, and she found a child.
Where are you Tristain? Aesia asked, not expecting a response.
There was a clear mental picture of the wood behind the house. She had gasped at the clarity of the vision. Others in the office had asked her what was wrong, but by that time she was halfway out the door on the way home. She had found Tristain exactly where the vision in her mind had told her. But, she was sitting safely on a little knoll waiting for her mother.
Aesia smiled, remembering the relief she felt; Tristain’s mind was at least as powerful as her father’s and far exceeded the capabilities of a Sicceian. The only shadow was what Tristain had said. A frown creased her brow as she remembered it. She had asked Tristain how she was.
“I’m fine Mummy, a lady helped me.”
“A lady?” Aesia automatically glanced round searching.
“Oh, you can’t see her, only I can” The child looked proud of herself. “She says I’m very special and that she will watch over me.”
Aesia had picked her daughter up and hugged her tight. “Only Mummy and Grandma can do that Tristain.”
“Oh yes the lady knows that, but she watches as well. She said her name was D..D..Dionysia.” The child frowned, trying to form alien sounds.
Aesia shuddered and looked about, a feeling of being watched prickled the back of her neck. “Oh really.”
“Oh yes, don’t worry, I expect she will look after you too.”
Shortly after that incident, Tristain started talking more and more about the mysterious lady. Aesia still felt the twisting in her chest when she had jokingly asked for Tristain to describe the lady. She had clearly described a female of Tristan’s race. She had mentioned the eyes, but she could be describing her own eyes, but the rounded ears and dark hair? Tristain might have her father’s eyes, but her ears were almost normal. It had given Aesia a shock, as Tristain had never seen her father, and to describe a female of his race so exactly was unnerving. She took a deep breath, fighting emotions she had hidden away long ago.
Aesia could not sleep, they were going to leave in the early hours of the morning, long before the rest of the household would be awake. She let her mind drift through the memories of the last few years.
She had worked with her father, Aesian, in his office as a secretary since Tristain became old enough to be left with her mother.
She remembered when she had first arrived back on Sicceia. At the military base, where the ship had landed, no one would have anything to do with her. All minds were closed, Aesia was shut out, isolated. She had been physically sick waiting for her father to come and pick her up. He would be expected to beat her to death for the shame she caused the family and Sicceia.
When he had drawn up and got out of his vehicle he was smiling at her. She had been numb with surprise and just stood and gaped at him. He had taken her hand and led her to the vehicle.
“I am glad you have returned to us safely, your mother was beside herself when we heard you were missing in action.” He paused, looking at the squat buildings of the base. “Damn military! Arrogant and ignorant the lot of them.” He patted her hands. “You are well away from them.”
Aesia knew her father had been upset when she got in with the wrong crowd. Her friends were all from military families, so against her father’s wishes she joined the warrior class. She was always headstrong and independent, so she left her family behind without considering their feelings and wishes. “I’m sorry Father.”
“Now don’t you worry, we will soon be home.” He turned into the busy traffic. “You can tell us about it when you are ready.”
Both her parents had been supportive of her. She expected them to be angry when she told them about Tristan, but instead, her father was interested and wanted to know everything about him.
“Aesia, there is something I have never told you, it was too dangerous when you were young and as you grew older and fell in with the wrong type of people well…” He left the sentence hanging.
She bowed her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I feel bad now, thinking of the person I was.”
He smiled. “It is over now and you have come back to us.”
He went on to tell her that her grandfather who died before she was born had been an archaeologist. He had discovered some ancient texts during one of his digs on an old deserted planet that had been discovered only a few years earlier. It had been devastated during some long forgotten war aeons ago. He had spent many years alone translating them. He became obsessed about them and what they meant. There were many missing sections, but the texts told of an ancient culture where all species lived together as equals. The one thing that shocked him to the core were passages that mentioned an original species from which all others originated.
“That would explain it then!” She had interrupted his story.
“What?”
“Tristan kept mentioning that he thought it strange how different alien species evolving on different isolated worlds could all end up fundamentally the same.” She patted her stomach, her eyes welling with tears. “This should be impossible.”
“Yes, yes! It confirms the texts. Anyway. Some of the original species were trained with special abilities. They kept the peace between the younger races. It would be more correct to say different races, as we all originated from one ancient species. The records are vague, but the original species died out. After a short time, war and destruction followed, and most worlds descended into anarchy. It was we, the Sicceians, who recovered the quickest. We took advantage of that to enslave the other races. The texts confirm the other races were not inferior beings to be exploited. They should be treated as equals.”
“But Father!” She remembered the shock at his words; this went against the basic Sicceian beliefs. “Even thinking such things was dangerous and subversive.”
Aesian continued. “Yes, but your Grandfather brought me up to believe in these ancient principles and to carry on the work he had left. A small group of radical thinkers joined him and started a quiet revolution. They carefully increased their circle and gained sufficient strength to form a political movement for peace.”
So when Aesia had returned in disgrace, her father’s attitude had been opposite of what she had expected. She remembered during her confinement her father had arranged for one of his medical colleagues from his inner circle of friends to treat her. She recalled that he kept shaking his head and saying to himself, “Impossible, impossible.” She smiled, thinking of Tristain sleeping in the next room. My little impossible.
Under Aesian’s leadership, the group had steadily increased. Soon after the appearance of the Admiral Clayandrian and the increasing number of Sicceian defeats, the Peace Movement was formed.
The Peace Movement had gone from strength to strength until it was the main driving force in the Sicceian government. Opposition to their beliefs was now centred around a core of hard liners and the military.
The alarm was insistent. Aesia yawned and sighed. She had not meant to fall asleep. She washed and dressed hurriedly. Before she ran down the stairs she glanced in on Tristain, who was still sound asleep even after wriggling round to face the opposite direction.
Her father waited for her in the hall. “Come on, Aesia, we have a lot to do before we leave.”
“Yes, Father,” she replied. “I was just taking a last look at my daughter before we go.”
Her father nodded. “We must leave now.” He turned and walked out of the front door. Aesia ran to keep up. When they arrived at her father’s office, everything was hustle and bustle with everyone preparing for departure. The other delegates were in their offices. There was one new, hastily chosen replacement, as one of the original ones had fallen ill at the last moment.
Everyone was from the Peace Movement. Their task, to negotiate with the League and their mysterious leader Admiral Clayandrian for peace, and to get the fairest terms possible.
Some of the military hard liners wanted to continue fighting to the end, but that would lead to Sicceia’s destruction. Those hardliners were now a minority political power block so they had to follow what the majority wanted. The ship that had been sent to open the negotiations had confirmed the leader of the alliance was willing to talk.
Aesia wondered about this mysterious Admiral Clayandrian and where he had come from. Some intelligence sources suggested he was not a Mylian, but from some unknown race. However, the name was a Mylian one, so his strange origins were probably only misinformation.
The reports of an unknown species made her think of Tristan, as she often did. When she had started working for her father, she had used her position to see whether she could find anything out. She discovered the records of the ship they had reached together. The specific entry had simply listed several aliens and there was a ‘Terminated’ against each one of their names. Tristan’s was at the end of the list. Reading it at the time had made her sick.
The others in the office asked her what was wrong, but she only shook her head. She could think of it now without too much pain, but one day she would have to explain to her daughter what had happened to her father. She could not get any further information as shortly after the report had been lodged the ship was sent on a secret mission and never returned. Aesia shook her head; no point dwelling on the past. What was done was done. She busied herself getting everything ready to leave. The time for departure came quickly. They boarded a fast transport sitting on the tarmac of Sicceian’s main spaceport and were led to their seats. It was a short flight to the cruiser, which was to take them to the meeting with the Alliance leader.
The flight to the agreed meeting point was not a long one, but it seemed to drag for Aesia. When they arrived in the neutral planetary system, she felt the nervousness of everyone except her father. He was totally calm, which impressed her. This was a historic meeting on which the future of Sicceia depended, a meeting with a being that had turned the slave species against their masters. A being with such power that whenever Sicceia’s military faced forces commanded by him they lost.
There were unconfirmed rumours that whole ships’ companies would go mad just before their ships were destroyed. It was almost impossible to get past military secrecy for the truth. One thing for certain, the name of Admiral Clayandrian was used to frighten naughty Sicceian children.