Read Online The Iron Admiral: Deception by Greta van Der Rol - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Greta van Der Rol
Ads: Link
Frensberg fidgeted with his ceremonial sash. Despite his attempt to arrive comfortably late for his meeting with Azzenaar, the blasted toe rag had out-done him.Provenance drifted in orbit around the icy snowball that was the outer-most planet of the Caucassar system. Remote and unremarkable, the location was a perfect place for a meeting between himself and Lord Governor Anxhou’s representative.
He wished he’d been able to use a decent civilian cruiser. But secrecy was vital.
At last his comlink buzzed.
“The ptorix battle ship has exited shift space, Your Excellency.” The captain’s voice was measured and carefully correct.
“You have a shuttle prepared for me?” Of course he had, the question was rhetorical but routine is calming.
“The shuttle is ready. I’ve sent an escort to take you to the hangar. We will launch as soon as we receive acknowledgement from the ptorix vessel.”
His heart beating too fast Frensberg nevertheless walked down the shuttle’s ramp between his escorts at a measured pace. His ceremonial robes were hot and stiff but no matter. Appearance was important. He descended into a cavernous hangar bay, its furthest walls hardly visible in the gloom. The air was moister and warmer than on a GPR ship and his nose detected a hint of acrid spice mixed with the smell of lubricants. A phalanx of ptorix soldiers formed a corridor to where Azzenaar waited. They were the stuff of nightmare, animated blue cones as tall as a man’s shoulder with three eyes, and four arms that ended in
a bunch of waving tentacles. What blighted creator could have invented something like the ptorix was beyond his comprehension. He paced between the rank of warriors, eyes straight ahead, and yet he detected the restless movement of tentacles around their weapons as he passed. Sweat gathered on his chest.
“Welcome to the Khophirate, Lord Frensberg.” Azzenaar’s eyes glowed green-gold and his tentacles waved around in the sleeves of his ornate orange costume.
Frensberg suppressed the involuntary shudder. This meeting was vital. The last thing the GPR needed was for Anxhou’s troops to keep going after they crushed the Confederacy. “It is my great pleasure to meet with you on this auspicious occasion.” He bowed from the neck.
“If you will come this way.” Azzenaar led the way through dimly lit corridors to a conference room.
Complex patterns wove around the walls just below the ceiling. They couldn’treally be moving, surely?
A
large table stood in the center of the room. There were no chairs.
The treaty documents, printed on heavy parchment, lay on the table, one copy for each party, the capitals at the start of each paragraph illuminated in red and gold. Frensberg leaned over the table to read
through the clauses. He’d written them so the process didn’t take long. The phrases were couched in the usual cumbersome legal wording, designed to cover all eventualities but the essence was simple. The GPR would assist Lord Anxhou in his endeavors to reclaim those planets that the human Confederacy had stolen from the Khophirate, starting with the Qerran Suldanate. In return, the Khophirate would not attack the GPR, nor intervene if the GPR claimed Confederacy planets.
The translation had been certified. “This appears to be in order.”
“It does,” Azzenaar rubbed a tentacle across the lower of his two mouths; the speaking mouth.
He took out his pen and signed one document, then the other. Azzenaar did the same. Frensberg licked his lips. He hated shaking hands with toe rags. He held out his hand and Azzenaar engulfed the fingers with tentacles that moved like worms. His skin crawled. At least the flesh was soft and dry, not slimy.
“Now all that remains is for us to coordinate the attack,” Azzenaar said.
If he understood the body language correctly, the ptorix was satisfied. Tepich had better hurry up and bring that system engineer to the research lab. Now they were on a
He wished he’d been able to use a decent civilian cruiser. But secrecy was vital.
At last his comlink buzzed.
“The ptorix battle ship has exited shift space, Your Excellency.” The captain’s voice was measured and carefully correct.
“You have a shuttle prepared for me?” Of course he had, the question was rhetorical but routine is calming.
“The shuttle is ready. I’ve sent an escort to take you to the hangar. We will launch as soon as we receive acknowledgement from the ptorix vessel.”
His heart beating too fast Frensberg nevertheless walked down the shuttle’s ramp between his escorts at a measured pace. His ceremonial robes were hot and stiff but no matter. Appearance was important. He descended into a cavernous hangar bay, its furthest walls hardly visible in the gloom. The air was moister and warmer than on a GPR ship and his nose detected a hint of acrid spice mixed with the smell of lubricants. A phalanx of ptorix soldiers formed a corridor to where Azzenaar waited. They were the stuff of nightmare, animated blue cones as tall as a man’s shoulder with three eyes, and four arms that ended in
a bunch of waving tentacles. What blighted creator could have invented something like the ptorix was beyond his comprehension. He paced between the rank of warriors, eyes straight ahead, and yet he detected the restless movement of tentacles around their weapons as he passed. Sweat gathered on his chest.
“Welcome to the Khophirate, Lord Frensberg.” Azzenaar’s eyes glowed green-gold and his tentacles waved around in the sleeves of his ornate orange costume.
Frensberg suppressed the involuntary shudder. This meeting was vital. The last thing the GPR needed was for Anxhou’s troops to keep going after they crushed the Confederacy. “It is my great pleasure to meet with you on this auspicious occasion.” He bowed from the neck.
“If you will come this way.” Azzenaar led the way through dimly lit corridors to a conference room.
Complex patterns wove around the walls just below the ceiling. They couldn’treally be moving, surely?
A
large table stood in the center of the room. There were no chairs.
The treaty documents, printed on heavy parchment, lay on the table, one copy for each party, the capitals at the start of each paragraph illuminated in red and gold. Frensberg leaned over the table to read
through the clauses. He’d written them so the process didn’t take long. The phrases were couched in the usual cumbersome legal wording, designed to cover all eventualities but the essence was simple. The GPR would assist Lord Anxhou in his endeavors to reclaim those planets that the human Confederacy had stolen from the Khophirate, starting with the Qerran Suldanate. In return, the Khophirate would not attack the GPR, nor intervene if the GPR claimed Confederacy planets.
The translation had been certified. “This appears to be in order.”
“It does,” Azzenaar rubbed a tentacle across the lower of his two mouths; the speaking mouth.
He took out his pen and signed one document, then the other. Azzenaar did the same. Frensberg licked his lips. He hated shaking hands with toe rags. He held out his hand and Azzenaar engulfed the fingers with tentacles that moved like worms. His skin crawled. At least the flesh was soft and dry, not slimy.
“Now all that remains is for us to coordinate the attack,” Azzenaar said.
If he understood the body language correctly, the ptorix was satisfied. Tepich had better hurry up and bring that system engineer to the research lab. Now they were on a
Similar Books
