Tristan sat in the Captain’s ready room, gazing out of the view port at the large planet sized moon. He lent back in the chair, legs resting on a low table. His fingers drummed on the broad arm of the chair belying his relaxed demeanour. The meeting should have started half an hour ago. He resisted the temptation to go and find the reason for the delay. He knew he would be informed as soon as something were known.
His heart missed a beat as the door buzzer sounded. He sat up quickly and swung his chair round to face the entrance to the ready room. “Yes, enter.”
The door slid open with a hiss. The captain, framed in the doorway, stepped into the room and saluted. From her demeanour, Tristan got the impression something had gone wrong. He sighed.
“Sir?”
“Yes Captain.” Tristan kept the impatience out of his voice.
“There has been an explosion.”
Tristan stood, causing his chair to skitter across the room and bounce against the far wall “What!”
“The Sicceian delegates, one had a bomb implanted in his body.” The Captain slightly shifted her weight, “We think it was meant for you, but one of the security scans showed up something suspicious. When the delegate was asked to step aside, he set the bomb off, killing half the Sicceian delegation.”
“Damnation! How about our own people?”
“Five killed, Sir”
“Who?” Tristan reached back for the wayward chair and pulled it forward sitting down heavily.
“Three guards, the scanner operator, and Rear Admiral Myalita, Sir.”
Tristan glanced down at the desk and ran a hand through his hair. “More unnecessary death in this bloody war.”
“Sir?”
Tristan looked up; he had spoken in English. “Sorry Captain. I will miss Myalita, she was an excellent officer.”
“Yes, Sir.” The Captain stood at ease waiting to be dismissed.
“What about the Sicceians?”
“The uninjured ones are in custody. The two injured ones are under guard in the infirmary.”
“Their ship?”
“Our cruiser, Aratian, has disabled its engines and is standing by ready to board.”
“OK, take the crew prisoner. We should join the main fleet immediately; our two small ships are sitting ducks if the Sicceians followed up with an attack. When we are back with the fleet, I want to speak with the Sicceian delegation survivors, find out all I can and the real reason for this meeting."
“Yes, Sir.”
Tristan got to his feet, walked around the desk and followed the Captain out the door.
Three days later, Tristan sat in a bare walled interview room. There were three chairs and a table, all bolted to the floor. Tristan faced an empty chair across from the narrow metal table. To his left sat Da’ren, a small tablet computer in front of him. To one side of the open door stood a burly Tyranian guard, a rifle held across his chest. The Tyranians, one of the first species to be freed from the Sicceians, had been eager to join the fight for freedom. A young Mylian Lieutenant stood at the door waiting.
Tristan shifted in his seat, the metal chair held the promise of discomfort so he was not looking forward to many hours of cross interrogation.
Tristan sighed to himself and looked up. “Right, Lieutenant, please bring in the first prisoner.”
The Lieutenant saluted, turned on his heel and closely followed by two Tyrannian guards marched off down the corridor.
Da’ren looked up from his computer. “Why don’t you just rip the information from their minds? It would be a lot quicker.”
“Because it will leave them permanently damaged and I have a gut feeling something isn’t right.” Tristan looked at his hands resting on the cold desk. “Why kill three of your senior politicians and their aids?” Tristan paused for a moment. “It doesn’t add up.”
There were footsteps outside. Tristan and Da’ren turned to face the door, straightening themselves in their chairs. A tall Sicceian entered, hands manacled and a collar round his neck fastened to a pole held by a burly guard. They sat him in the chair opposite Tristan and Da’ren and locked the pole to a special catch at the side of the chair.
Tristan had closed his mind to the Sicceian, making it as blank as that of the Mylian next to him. He had grown stronger over the years and could now control his telepathic abilities without any effort. He could read the Sicceians emotions and basic thought flows without them being aware of his presence.
The Sicceian fidgeted in the chair, his eyes flicking between Tristan and Da’ren. A young civilian administrator, not used to this kind of treatment, proved simple to read. Tristan watched and monitored the prisoner’s thought processes as Da’ren questioned him.
Over an hour later they led the prisoner away. Tristan stood and stretched easing his aching muscles.
“Damn, those chairs are hard.”
Da’ren laughed. “It’s your skinny behind, Tristan!”
Tristan smiled. “Among my people I would be considered athletic.”
Da’ren laughed again and shook his head.
Tristan leaned against the table and changed the subject. “Well that was interesting.” Da’ren nodded in agreement. Tristan continued. “He was telling the truth as far as he knew it.”
“Yes, a pity their leader Aesian was killed.”
“I agree, he might have been the type of person we could have worked with. I wonder now if he might have been the secondary target and either a political or military faction wanted him out of the way. The Sicceians still have the resources to fight on if they are fanatic enough to do so. The bomber being a last minute substitute for someone who suddenly took ill might have been a hastily put together plot. ”
Da’ren nodded agreement and glanced at his tablet computer. “One of the surviving aids was this Aesian’s daughter, maybe we can get some more information out of her?”
Aesia sat in her cell. Playing the events of the previous few days over in her mind, she remembered walking through the Mylian security and a sudden commotion, her attention drawn to a high-ranking Mylian officer hurrying across to them. The next thing she remembered was waking up in this cell.
Had the Mylian’s sprung a trap? What had they to gain from reneging on the agreement for talks? She shook her head; it didn’t make sense. She cast her mind outward. There were only two other Sicceians nearby. Of her father there was no sign. Where were the others? She sighed. Since she had woken in the cell, she had seen no one. Twice a day food had appeared in a recess in the wall of her prison. At least it had been edible, unlike the foul mush Sicceian prisoners were fed.
The door opening made her start. Two burly Tyrannian Marines walked through followed by a Mylian officer. “Stand up,” the officer barked. Aesia stood. “Turn round.”
Aesia complied, her hands were grabbed, forced behind her back and cuffed. A restraining collar snapped round her neck. A spark of anger flared in her chest. “What is the meaning of this? We are a diplomatic delegation and assured protection to discuss peace terms. I object to this treatment!”
The guards ignored her protestations and dragged her out of the cell. She swallowed back her anger. It would not get her anywhere, and she needed a clear head for whatever happened next.
As she neared an open door at the end of a corridor, her senses tingled. Something strange, not the usual blankness of a non-Sicceian mind, but an impenetrable nothingness. She shuddered. The knot of anger turned to ice, sending tendrils of cold across her chest. What now? The guard pulled on her collar forcing her to stop. She clenched her fists, holding her mind blank, preparing for whatever would be at the other side of that door.
The officer in front turned to the open door and saluted. “The prisoner as requested, Sir.”
She heard a Mylian voice respond, “Good, bring her in.”
The Tyrannian pushed on the bar attached to her collar, forcing her through the door.
The coldness in her chest tightened. All the blood drained from her face. She gasped, “Tristan!”
As the guards forced her forward to the chair Tristan’s stomach twisted, his throat constricted; he tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry. He stood up, hands gripping the side of the desk.
“Aesia!” The guards forced her to sit and fixed the collar pole to the clip on the chair.
She looked up, eyes wide with shock. “Tristan I thought… I was told you were dead.”
Tristan tried to speak. “You…” He swallowed again trying to clear his constricted throat. He dragged his gaze away from those eyes that had held him enthralled so long ago.
Elvath’s words filled his mind; she could not have betrayed you. She would have been killed because of you. But, she had not been killed. So she had betrayed him. His head swam, he squeezed the side of the table, the cold hardness an anchor to his whirling emotions.
Memories he had locked away for so long came flooding back. “I... I escaped, no thanks to you! You used me to get back to your people then left me to die.” A weight on his chest pressed down making it difficult to breathe. “Why, after all we had been through together?”
She sat silent for a moment considering his words. “I did not leave you to die, Tristan, please believe me. Open your mind and you will see.”
“What, and let you control me as you did before!” The knot in his stomach twisted.
She shook her head. “I didn’t control you, Tristan. You know that.”
“Then why did you leave me to die!” He released his grip on the table and clenched his fists, holding his arms ridged.
Aesia sighed. “I was stripped of my rank and sent home in disgrace. My father’s duty was to kill me. He should have killed me for the shame I caused.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “They told me you had been executed. I would have ended my own life there and then but for one thing.”
“Oh yes, and what was that?” Sarcasm colored his voice.
She tilted her head to one side. “Tristan, we have a daughter.”
Tristan’s knees buckled, and he sat down hard in his chair. He heard a gasp beside him.
“That’s impossible, you’re lying!” Da’ren’s voice came from the end of a long tunnel.
Tristan wiped his brow with a trembling hand “Yes! Aesia, you told me yourself it was impossible, so how?”
She shook her head as far as the collar would allow. “No one knows, but she looks like you; she has your eyes. We have had to keep her hidden on my Father’s estate. If anyone saw her they would kill her as an abomination.” A shudder shook her body. “My Father believes in all races living in peace. Tristain is proof we are the same. She is the herald to a new age.”
“Tristain?”
“Yes, I named her after you.” Aesia sighed, watching him, the shackles holding her in the chair. Her eyes glistened and she blinked. No way would she show weakness. She glanced at Da’ren then back to Tristan. Realisation flashed across her face “You… You are Admiral Clayandrian?”
Tristan inclined his head. “Yes.”
Aesia gasped. “You have to speak with my father, Tristan... Please.”
“Your father is dead.” Da’ren’s sudden interjection followed by Aesia’s cry of “No!” rang in his ears. Things were moving too fast. He needed time to think. What if she were telling the truth? The only way to find out was to touch her mind. To do so would re-establish the link they shared, but the connection he had kept locked away in the deepest corner of his memory. He couldn’t do it here in front of Da’ren and the prison guard.
Tristan turned to the Lieutenant who stood gaping in the doorway during the whole exchange. “Lieutenant, please escort this female back to her cell.”
The officer looked surprised at being addressed. He stood blinking for a moment then jumped to do as Tristan requested. They unclipped the neck restraint from the chair and forced Aesia to her feet. Tristan noticed she was trembling as they pushed her out of the door.
Once the guards had moved away down the corridor, Da’ren turned to him. “Have you mated with that Sicceian?”
“Yes Da’ren.”
Da’ren gaped at him. Tristan saw his mouth work, trying to form words. It seemed an age before he spoke. “But you never said anything, why not?”
Tristan stared at his friend for a moment before replying. “Two reasons; first I thought she had either betrayed me or had been killed.”
“And second?”
“Second, would I have been trusted all those years ago if it had been known I had a Sicceian as a mate?”
“Hmm. I suppose it would have made things difficult.” Da’ren paused for a moment then continued. “That explains why you always fend off the advances of all the high born females who are constantly throwing themselves at you.”
Tristan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Yes, I have to, she -” Tristan nodded towards the open door. “- is always in my head.”
Da’ren sat forward in his chair “What are you going to do?”
Tristan shrugged. “I don’t know. What can I do?”
“Nothing. There is a legend which states, once the witches have your soul the only escape is death.” Da’ren paused for a moment. “Your reputation is assured. If you acknowledged her existence, it won’t make any difference.”
“Hum... I think for the moment the fewer people who know the better.”
Da’ren lent back in his chair. “You should consider that if peace became a possibility it would act as a bridge between the Sicceians and the League.”
“Really?”
“Yes Tristan, don’t underestimate your importance. You spend all your time planning, working towards victory and eventual peace, you don’t pay much attention to popular opinion. As far as the general population of the League Worlds are concerned, You, the mysterious Admiral Clayandrian, are the League.”
Tristan rose. “I have to talk to her alone. Please carry on with your normal duties, Admiral Da’ren.”
“Yes, sir.” Da’ren stood, saluted, and walked out.
Tristan took a deep breath. He had faced many dangers and risked death often, but now his stomach filled with butterflies. “Oh good God, I’ve not been this nervous in years.” He walked out turning towards the cell block.
Aesia stood in the corner of her cell, fists clenched, staring at the wall. I will not cry. I will not show these monsters weakness. She ground her teeth. Admiral Clayandrian, the scourge of the Sicceian Empire, was Tristan, the alien she had brought from an unknown world. He had become a brute who for the last four years killed her people in their thousands. Then under an agreed truce killed most of the peace delegation and her father.
She had mourned him as Tristan, who was the father of her daughter. But Admiral Clayandrian! She smashed a clenched fist against the wall drawing blood. If they don’t want peace it was her duty to escape and kill Admiral Clayandrian.
There were voices outside. Aesia turned and in three quick steps stood against the wall next to the door. She took a deep breath to calm her anger and racing heart. It was time for action, her training took over. She flexed her muscles, organising her senses as she had been shown by her mother since she had returned home. Time slowed, she became aware of dust motes hanging suspended in front of her, the low rumble of voices behind the door followed by silence.
Unexpectedly she heard footsteps moving away. She started to relax from her fighting stance. The guard was leaving, not entering her cell. The door opened. She cursed her mistake, being caught unprepared. Unbalanced she swung her fist round in an attempt to catch the person entering in the upper body.
The guard blocked the blow with his arm. He grunted in pain as the side of her hand smashed against his forearm. She twisted round in an attempt to land a kick and knock the guard back. It would give her a few seconds to regain her concentration. He deflected her kick easily and twisted using her lack of balance to his advantage; he grabbed both her arms in an iron grip, pulled them across her body pulling her back, tight against him. She smashed her head back, hoping to hit him in the face but only managed to bang against his chest.
“Aesia. Stop.”
She struggled against him, but he tightened his hold. “You killed my Father!” She hissed between clenched teeth.
His sigh ruffled her hair. “No I did not. It was one of your delegates, he had intended to kill me.”
“You lie! Why would we do that when we sought peace?” She tried to twist away, but his hold tightened like a vice. His warm breath on her ear and the side of her face together with the hard muscles of his arms and chest distracted her. “I hate you!”
“No you don’t.”
She shuddered her body was betraying her. “Let me go!”
“No, not until you calm down.”
“What happened then?”
“Our security detected something in one of the delegates. When they moved to detain him he set it off. Your Father was killed instantly in the blast, along with the other two negotiators and our security. One of my best Admirals was also killed.”
Aesia relaxed in an attempt to get Tristan to loosen his grip, but he continued to hold her tightly.
“We believe your father was a secondary target. Once the bomber had been discovered, he moved closer to your father before setting the bomb off.”
She attempted to pull away. “Why should I believe you when you hold a barrier against me?”
“I’m sorry I’ve held my mind closed for so long, it’s become second nature. I don’t know I’m doing it.”
He took a deep breath and lowered his guard; she felt a gentle presence that had been missing for so long, like a soft caress. All he had told her about her father’s death there for her to see.
She sighed and slumped against him. He released the iron grip on her arms so she could twist round and face him. She felt the effect that her nearness was having on him and smiled. She stood on tiptoe and gently kissed him. The touch lit a long dormant flame and the fire spread through her body, she pulled back slightly to take a breath, and their eyes locked.
The telepathic link fanned the flames. Her whole body tingled.
“Aesia.”
Her head tilted slightly. “Yes?”
“We have a daughter?”
A smile played on her lips. “Yes, why?”
“It’s so strange. We evolved on planets thousands of light years apart.” Tristan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, please can we start again?”
She sighed. “Yes, of course.” She pulled his hands behind her, pressing her body tightly to his. Releasing her grip, she put her arms around his neck pulling him down to her. The heat crushed between their bodies as he tightened his arms around her waist. Her heart racing, her blood was as liquid lava sweeping through her veins. She stepped back, “Not here, don’t you have a cabin somewhere private?”
“Yes. Keep your head down and stay close to me. I have already dismissed the guard outside the cell door.”
Aesia did as he requested, and holding his hand kept her eyes down. They hurried through numerous corridors, ducking through side doors. Tristan avoided a direct route back to his cabin so that no one saw them. When they reached the Admiral’s suite, he opened the door, pulled her through, then turned, lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom.
Much later, Tristan lay on his side with his head on his hand, watching Aesia sleeping. Some of her long, fair hair had fallen across her face. He carefully brushed it away. Her eyelids fluttered, and she opened her eyes. He looked into them and felt himself drowning in their perfect blue. She smiled; for the first time in four years, he felt whole again.
He lay back and pulled her to him. She rested her head in the crook of his arm. “Tell me what happened to you after we landed on that Cruiser.”
She shifted position, laid an arm across his chest and sighed. “As soon as we landed on the cruiser, I realised I had made a mistake. You were an alien, and therefore a lower form of life. They knew we had been together for a long time, coupled with the green in my eyes, and with the computer scan confirmation they decided I was little better than the animal I had consorted with; I had brought shame on myself and my family. They stripped me of my rank and transported me back to my home world. It is tradition that the family decides what to do with a member who brings shame to them.” He felt her shudder. “I had a strong impression the Captain wanted to deal with me himself.”
“You mean a termination?”
“Y.. Y.. Yes.” The word caught in her throat.
Tristan waited patiently until she was ready to continue. She added, “They took you away for study and dissection. I had as good as killed you myself.” She squeezed him tightly, as if trying to protect them both from what happened.
“During the journey home I was so depressed I had lost you, I considered ending it all.”
Tristan kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you didn’t!”
Aesia continued, “My father collected me when I arrived. He was not angry at all. He just asked me about you. It was then I found out he believed we should respect other races, not enslave them. My Grandfather had told him about evidence he found on a deserted planet that we might all have descended from one ancient species. The fact I was carrying an alien’s child reinforced his belief.”
She started to cry. “And now he is dead for his beliefs. I want to see them pay for that!” There was a flash of hardness in her, which Tristan sensed for a moment. It reminded him of the Aesia he had first known.
She wiped her tears and continued, “My mother was understanding and looked after me during my confinement. When our beautiful daughter was born, my mother looked after us both. We had to keep Tristain hidden. The Sicceian authorities would kill her in an instant if they knew of her existence.” She sighed. “I remembered my father being fascinated by her eyes. He often said that he would have liked to have met her father.”
Her eyes started to fill with tears again; she shook her head. Tristan held her close waiting for her to recover.
After a while, she was able to carry on with her narrative. “When Tristain was old enough to be left with my mother I went to work in my father’s office. That is how I became one of his aides for what was supposed to be a historic meeting.”
Tristan caressed her cheek. “It was, for us, my love.” She nodded and buried her head in his chest.
Her breathing became soft and regular, she had fallen asleep again. Grief, stress, and their lovemaking had exhausted her. Tristan gazed at the ceiling. The empty desolate part of his mind he had kept locked away had gone. Her presence was there now, where it should be, a gentle caress, an intimacy he could not experience with anyone else.
His mind drifted. If it were possible to eliminate the desperate faction who wanted to continue the war at any cost, including using suicide bombers, then most Sicceians would accept a peace.
If they could be flushed out and neutralised then peace would be more certain, but how could that be accomplished? They were hardly going to give themselves away voluntarily. There must be some way?
Aesia moaned in her sleep. Tristan held his breath while she shifted position so as not to wake her. An idea came to him, how to exploit the Sicceians weakness! A plan began to form in his mind.