War for the Iron Planet

Chapter 29: Emergence

Far away from Hittania, Prime Minister Skritka stood on the dais in the auditorium of the Major House. "As it has been more than a week since we have heard from the Blue Griffon Fleet, may we please have a motion from the Expansion Committee to send a rescue fleet to Hittania?"

Trekna stood up. "The Expansion Committee does not believe that to be necessary."

Skritka stared daggers at the smug Raki.

"According to protocols, it's time to send a rescue fleet," the Prime Minister said coolly.

"No, according to protocols it's not too early to send someone," responded Trekna. "There is no law that says we must."

"In that case, I will be sending a diplomatic envoy," said Skritka. Trekna balked.

"What!?" he cried incredulously.

"A diplomatic envoy," said Skritka, keeping the smirk off his face as he said it. "As Prime Minister, I have the authority to send a diplomatic envoy to any world, belt, nation, or region that is part of the Republic. Hittania is rightfully claimed by the Republic, and I am sending an envoy to it."

"This is a waste of resources!" shouted Trekna.

"Take it up with the Ethics Committee," said Skritka, "but I am within my authority." Trekna stomped out of the room, and Skritka allowed himself a small smile. He was able to close the meeting down shortly, and went straight to the Executor's office.

Executor Grak-Yurp, who kept his office in the basement of Griffon Keep, was an unassuming, shrewd Krauqian with slick, gray-green skin and the typical short beard of tendrils found on males of his species. Though it was by no means a secret that he oversaw the executive functions of the Republic, he was not a political figure, per se. Executors were appointed for ten year terms by the Major House and approved by the minor house. Grak-Yurp was in the middle of his third consecutive term, toiling away in obscurity by design. He sat behind his desk, a single, filled-out form the only object resting on it.

"Prime Minister, what does my head of state need today?" Skritka was never certain if that phrase was meant to sound respectful, or if Grak-Yurp was calling him a puppet.

"I need a diplomatic envoy sent to Hittania," said the Prime Minister firmly, "and I need it fast-tracked."

"Sadly," said the Krauqian, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "the light cruisers typically sent for this kind of mission are all otherwise engaged in a training exercise, announced just moments before you arrived, actually.

"However, there is a single destroyer, the Halberd, whose drills were canceled within the same time frame. Of course, you'd have to sign a waiver to send a military vessel on a diplomatic mission, one much like this here." He indicated the lone piece of paper on his desk.

"And look at that. It's already filled out. Just sign here." He indicated the space and winked at Skritka, who signed the paper immediately.

***

Back on Hittania, just outside the wreck of the Ferryman, Reclan had just finished loading the survivors into the ATUCs. Some of them had started to groan and move around as Doc treated their bite wounds and other minor injuries, but none of them were fully conscious. Just then, Vanbrook called. His voice was fuzzy and distant over the comms.

"Hey, buddy, we've got problems here. We aren't making much progress, but from the sound of things we've got some bugs digging through one of the side tunnels. Raivyn's trying to hold them back by collapsing more dirt into the tunnel but I don't know how long that will hold them."