Operation Orion - Kevin Dockery [6]
“And it seems true that treaties can be arranged that are binding among all three governments. It does make sense for us to have a presence, at least a voice, in some of these negotiations. The Eluoi, for example, bear watching.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I still get a headache when I think about that savant Tezlac Catal. Just hearing him talk was enough to knock my feet out from under me.”
“I never had the pleasure of meeting him,” Sulati said. “But I remember your description. Do you think he has some kind of psychic power?”
“That’s what it seemed like, but I’ve never been much for that brain wave stuff. It certainly felt like a physical attack.”
“Maybe it’s some sort of electrical impulse,” the doctor suggested. “You know, a negative charge, perhaps, that disrupts the normal functioning of your brain. Something that he can trigger with his own mind.”
“That makes as much sense as anything,” Jackson agreed. “I just hope I never have to hear that SOB talk again.”
“He’s going to be at this conference. Did you know that?” she said. “He’s the chief of the Eluoi delegation.”
“Great,” the SEALS officer said bitterly. “At least I have an excuse to make myself scarce.”
“So do I,” Sulati said with a quiet chuckle before she again grew serious. “But don’t you think it’s a good thing that our governments are involved, sending representatives to meet with the three empires?”
“I suppose so,” Jackson allowed. “But I’m not sure it makes sense to deliver a hundred high-value hostages into Eluoi hands. I know these bastards—they can’t be trusted.”
“Well, doesn’t it help that both the Assarn and the Shamani will have representatives there? This is supposed to be neutral ground, isn’t it?”
The SEALS officer shrugged. “I’m just not sure. The site is supposed to be nonaligned, but the Shamani ambassador admits it used to be an Eluoi stronghold.”
“They yielded it in a treaty,” Sulati replied. “I guess it all comes down to taking a chance, trying to work out some kind of official status for Earth in the middle of three powerful empires.”
“You’re right: We have to try,” Jackson admitted. He knew that any one of the triumvirate had the capability to conquer, subjugate, and quite probably destroy the home planet of humankind. He pictured the ambassadors, the professors and philosophers, and the soldiers of the embassy mission.
He could only hope they were up to the task.
Two: SOS
Doctor Sulati turned down the lights in the small lounge compartment while Jackson bought a bottle of wine from the nearby bar. Naturally, his personal comset went off three seconds after he had, with considerable panache, removed the cork.
“Damn,” he muttered. “I have to take this.”
“Of course,” Sulati replied.
The SEALS officer flipped open the compact device. “Jackson here.”
“Lieutenant Thomas Jackson?” came the tinny, officious inquiry.
Jackson glanced at the bottle, which had cost him a little more than 200 credits—some three days’ pay—and sighed. “Speaking.”
“Orders from Captain Carstairs, sir. You’re to return to the Pegasus immediately. You have Priority One; there’s a shuttle waiting for you on the hangar deck.”
“I’m on my way,” he said, pausing only long enough for a brief and most unsatisfying goodbye kiss. “Savor every drop of that,” he said with a nod at the