Chapter 11
STRON
Stron stepped onto the lift with Khalzin. His friend had reached out to him after he'd left the landing area. Stron had barely been able to retire to his home and get out of his formal garb before Khalzin had asked him to meet at the Galactic Alliance Embassy.
He wanted to arrange a special transfer for his mate. To have her friend, Adryel, in his building, so they could be close and have that relationship.
Adryel.
She kept falling into his orbit. It seemed she was everywhere from the moment he saw her.
In fact, he headed now to fetch the bright red-haired female and bring her to Khalzin's building. While the embassy had many residences available, it wasn’t enough to house everyone, so some were moved to different residential apartments in the vicinity.
Khalzin’s building had several securable upper floors to keep the other humanoids safe until the Galactic Alliance got another ship to Kantenan.
And if the Coalition would let the ship even land.
At this point, it was questionable.
Stron wasn't a council member, but he'd heard enough from his parents and knew how the Coalition would likely proceed.
Already, the sky had very little traffic--they were already locking down all unnecessary travel in the system or out of the system. No one was coming in or out at this point.
More foreign humanoids on Kantenan ground? Most would not be happy about that. The laws of Kantenan resisted foreigners to their sacred home world. More coming, after today’s explosion?
Not likely.
“Do you think this is too much?” Khalzin asked him, drawing his mind back to the moment.
Stron glanced at him as the lift rose. In his mind? This was the last thing Khalzin needed to be worried about. But he could not stop his friend from doing anything. “It is your mate. What do you think?”
“I am unsure. She is very quiet. I want to make her happy. She was very happy to see her friend, so I would think this would make it easier for her. Most likely for them both.”
“Your logic follows.”
“But does the emotion?” Khalzin asked.
“I wouldn't know.”
Khalzin raised his eyebrow. “You, my friend, are known for your knowledge of such things.”
Stron shook his head. “The knowledge I have has nothing to do with what you're asking. Pleasing a female is easy enough for a short period. You're looking for more long-term than anything I am familiar with.”
“I am not as familiar with females as you are. Any advice would be appreciated.”
“Don't grow bored of her,” Stron said.
Khalzin raised his eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”
“They say not with a true mate. I would not know.” True mates, one never grew tired or bored of. Mad at? Frustrated with? Certainly as anyone would with an eternal partner. But bored? That should not be a problem.
Or so they said.
The lift slowed, and they arrived at the Embassy.
The door swooshed open, and Stron and Khalzin stepped into the foyer, where they were identity scanned, though many of the guards recognized them both. Both of them touched their horns to a piece of identity reader, and it cleared them both to enter.
Formalities of the protocol.
Guards in their black and gray were on posts up and down the hallway. In the distance, Stron could see that some of the off-worlders, but not the one they sought. Elevated emotions churned as the representatives were being organized and sorted.
Like they were things and not beings.
Perhaps he was just exhausted from the day, but it generally upset him how all of this was being organized and handled.
The Galactic Alliance personnel were being treated like things to deal with, while there were others who needed help, but no one was giving it.
“Gol-Vett,” one of the guards stopped them. “The Coalition wishes to speak to you.”
Khalzin shook his head. “This is not the time for that. I have other tasks at the moment.”
“Not you,” the guard said. “You, Gol-Vett Stron. The Coalition wants you to come to an emergency meeting.”
Stron raised his eyebrow, then glanced at Khalzin. “It's cute when they demand like that.”
“I'm surprised they don't want us both.”
“It's my turn to be yelled at, I supposed.” He glanced at the guard. “I'll be there later. I have other things that I need--”
“There is no negotiation,” the guard said.
Stron smiled. He was about to say something, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw some bright red-orange.
He glanced over, just in time to see Adryel standing in the hallway with several others. She looked at him.
He at her.
That bright hair of hers as wild as before, but she moved like she'd finally let the medical droid fix her wounds.
Good.
She needed to be cared for, he mused. Part of the reason he was here with Khalzin--so she could be cared for, and closer to her friend.
But that was the only reason.
“Gol-Vett,” the guard said again.
He sighed. “Lead the way.” He glanced at Khalzin, and shrugged.
Stuck against black rock, he could do nothing to get out of what was asked of him. He gestured to Adryel, and Khalzin headed down to her.
The guard didn’t let him avoid the meeting either. While he'd much rather be with Khalzin and getting Adryel, he knew he had little choice. When the Coalition summoned, he had to appear with the guards.
This wasn't the first time today he'd tried to ignore a formal request from the Coalition. They'd already sent him several communications about wanting to bring him in for a formal meeting.
He'd flat refused once already.
Standing in meetings and listening to a bunch of old men and women drone on about what needs to be done and argue potential outcomes ruined the whole prospect of getting things done.
There was too much to do, and he did not have time for bureaucrats and their routines and behaviors. He had lives that needed his help.
While this wasn't how he envisioned the process going, finding himself in the middle of it, and helping to secure lodging for all the Galactic Alliance members was a task that needed leadership.
Leadership and someone willing to step into the role.
Stron fulfilled that need.
They shuttled him over to the Coalition's meeting chamber in the tower Ru Ve-Max.
The structure had aged well, the carvings on the exterior showing the pride of Kantenan culture—glinting with citricite and other rare gems in the light as they approached, the tall spike thrust up into the sky still remained higher than many other surrounding structures.
An imposing image on the Kantenan skyline.
Didn’t matter how many times he saw it. He held it in regard, because of the symbol. Now that he was older, and had seen what truly happened there, it lost some of its charm, or rather, the ideology of it.
After landing at the tower, the guards escorted him inside to the Coalition’s meeting chamber.
He wondered what they possibly could want in the middle of this mess? Did they think he could update them more? He didn't understand why they were flexing their weight like this.
Or maybe that's what it was--a flex of power to look good in front of the Galactic Alliance's emissaries.
He stopped before the heavy, ornate doors with their carvings of virile Kantenans, large armor, and warrior-like stature that was supposed to show strength and fortitude. Stron thought it made them look like crazed monsters.
He'd been in and out of these doors more times than he could remember--with his father by his side, usually.
Today, though, wasn't that.
It seemed like an eternity before the doors were opened, and he was permitted to come into the chamber. The two guards he'd seen before, but they didn't acknowledge him in any way as he walked through.
He followed the worn stone path to the central point, like many other generations who walked over this floor. He reached the stopping point before the council of his father and others, and waited.
The Paragon of the Reach, Speaker Fowles, didn't say anything at first. He was known to keep people waiting for him to address them, just to keep others off-balance.
Stron expected it, and crossed his hands behind his back. Though, to his surprise, Fowles didn't wait long.
“Gol-Vett Stron. About time you answered our summons.”
“I have been busy, Speaker,” Stron said. “What with the Galactic Alliance's arrival, the presentation of the volunteers, and the explosions, it has kept me occupied.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his father glaring at him for taking a flippant tone with Fowles.
“What happened?” Fowles asked.
“We know what happened. We saw the holograms,” Representative Oleave interjected.
“We saw, yes. But we were not there,” Fowles said. He turned his glare back on Stron. “What happened?”
“The platform exploded and lost a repulsor lift, breaking it into two pieces. Just as we were getting everyone sorted, another explosion took out the Galactic Alliance's ship. Some died. Others are not accounted for yet.”
“Who is missing?” the Priestess of Light, Wyleigh, and Khalzin’s mother asked.
He turned to Khalzin's mother, though he expected she already knew. She seemed to always know everything. “One of the Galactic Alliance leaders, several of their volunteers, and Fiviel.”
A shift and soft gasps escaped some of the council members. They all knew who Fiviel was, the son of Hawn, the Head of Military.
His chair, however, was empty, during this meeting. Likely already looking for his child.
“Have we sent down teams to find them?” Another member asked.
Stron sighed. “My understanding is no. There are fires that are attempting to be controlled first before we can get down there.”
His father added a notation. “It is the dry season. Fires can quickly become out of control on the lower levels. Getting them under control would be the priority. We would not be able to find anyone if the fires are blazing.” As the representative of the Green, part of his job was to know the cyclic weather patterns of the areas.
Unfortunately, this season was dryer than most, especially in that area.
There had not been enough rain to keep the land moist.
“I see.” Fowles laced his fingers together. “You seem to be handling this situation well.”
“Someone has to,” Stron replied.
“Why isn't Khalzin?” Oleave asked.
There it was. That’s what this was about, Stron would bet. They were looking for a way to tear down Khalzin. Some way to call his idea foolish, and destroy this process before it even gets underway.
Stron glanced at the representative. “Khalzin has found a mate among the Galactic Alliance females. His primary goal is to keep her safe.”
“Is there an expected threat?” the Priestess of Light asked.
Stron glanced at her. Had the female gone daft, or was she obviously being obtuse about this?
“Her ship blew up, and the landing platform she was on exploded when she was walking over it. I think it's very likely there's a threat against her and the Galactic Alliance people. The true question is, who did this, and how did they get access?”
She nodded. “And how were they funded,” she added. “Nothing happens without funds to make it so.”
Stron agreed. Money was always a strong way to find anyone's origin point.
“Are you willing to investigate this?” his father asked from his own position.
“Am I being requested to do so?”
“We would consider it a favor,” Fowles said. “Your ability to find information has always proven useful.”
Stron nodded. Though he wondered if Fowles was confusing him with Fiviel, who had ways of getting information quickly. Stron certainly had friends and informants all around, and even Dhomhes had more information about certain things that he did.
Still, he wasn't going to pass on the opportunity to be owed a favor by the Coalition. They didn't ask for favors often, and even less often for Gol-Vetts. So this was certainly an opportunity that he shouldn't lose.
“Then I shall find out all I can,” Stron said.
“You may go,” Fowles said.
Stron bowed and turned to leave. He'd gotten a few steps when one of the members called out to him.
It was Oleave. “Stron, did you find a mate today?”
Stron glanced back at Oleave. “Not this day, no.”
Oleave murmured something, as did a few others, but he didn't quite make out what was being said. However, if Oleave's tone was any indication, there were several members who were amused that Khalzin's fancy project was not working out as expected.
Interesting.
Considering they had given permission for Khalzin to do it.