NCC Horizon yacht - Omicron Theta, near MFE General Academy.
Magister Yuri Orlov
Yuri Orlov was deep in thought, sitting on a comfortable sofa in the private area of the Democritus-class yacht Horizon, as it crossed the void of Omicron Theta towards the General Academy. The Magister stared blankly at a fixed point in space on the other side of the reinforced window through which he was looking. He was mentally reviewing the latest events that had happened over the past few months in the system: The takeover of Freeport 9 by the Corsairs, the kidnapping of its population, the attempts by relevant people on the Zoner side to try to negotiate with the Cretans, the absolute failure of any type of dialogue, and then, total war.
Deep down inside, he felt a deep, dull anger toward the Corsairs. When he had to meet the representatives of the Empire, he would restrain himself, and even smile if necessary, after all he was a professional diplomat and he had been for decades, but that wouldn't mean he was going to forget the acts the Corsairs had perpetrated on Theta. He could actually understand the reasons why the Empire had decided to take over the Freeport, that had been a geo-strategical move, more to attack their classic enemies, the Outcast and the Core, than to antagonize the Zoners. But Orlov couldn't understand why they had decided to do it in such an unnecessarily violent way. If they wanted there to be no conflict, the worst thing they could have done was attack and massacre zoners, and harass the population of Theta by committing acts of piracy. That was strategic nonsense. Zoners were generally peaceful people, and tended to avoid confrontation, but like any human, if pushed to the limit they would respond with force.
Yuri looked around. Only he, the ship's crew, and Sergeant Baxter of the Pontifical Guard were traveling on the yacht. The sergeant, who was sitting silently in an armchair in front of the sofa, would be introduced to the MFE security team as Orlov's "personal assistant", since he had been assured that he could carry one. However, the Magister had no doubt that anyone who looked at him would know that he was actually his bodyguard. It was quite obvious, his physical appearance was not that of a clerk. With an age of approximately 35 years, he stood about 190 centimeters tall, and weighed near 135 kilograms of pure muscle and fiber. A fairly deep, though old, scar scratched the right cheek of his face, framed by blonde hair cut militarily
Baxter consulted at his portable communications device. "Your Eminence, we're about 10 minutes from the General Academy, you should prepare yourself. The bridge has already contacted traffic control."
Orlov looked out the window again, trying to see the structure of the MFE and made an impatient gesture with his hand. "I'm very prepared, Sergeant, I just want to get there at once and see for myself if the damn Corsairs have summoned us all to kill us and finish the job, or if they really want to talk about something. This way we can know what to expect, for once since this whole disaster started."
Baxter opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated, and closed it again. The clergyman watched him from the corner of his eye, secretly amused at how afraid the sergeant was to speak openly. The Magister knew that most people who knew him closely were somewhat afraid of him, due to the amount of power he accumulated and the trust that the Pontiff habitually placed in him. He was clearly his preferiti. Orlov shared the rank of Magister with Julio Barbarrosa, Minister of the Interior, but only Yuri was called, in whispers, the Shadow Pontiff.
Despite this, Baxter's sense of duty was too strong in him and with an effort he turned to the clergyman again. "Your Eminence, I agree with you that the Corsairs might want to ambush us. That's why I must insist that you put on a bulletproof vest."
Orlov shook his head, contemptuously. "And give them the pleasure of seeing that I fear them? No, I'm not going to wear a vest, thank you Sergeant. In this meeting we've to assist as equals. The Corsairs present themselves without any fear, they're the powerful Empire. Well, we've to go in the same way, pretending that it doesn't even cross our minds that they might want to take advantage of the meeting to murder us." The clergyman made a listless gesture with his hand. "The foundations of diplomacy are based on those kinds of things."
Baxter heard what the Magister said, and nodded. "Alright, Your Eminence. Obviously you know a lot more about those things than I do, I'm only a soldier." Then he patted his chest, feeling the ultralight bulletproof vest that he was wearing under the black tuxedo he had dressed in. "Does Your Eminence want me to take off my vest too?"
Orlov smiled maliciously as he looked at the sergeant. "Oh, no Baxter, you'd better be wearing it. It's about showing them that I don't fear anything, but if in the end it turns out that there is something to fear, your role here is to stand between the bullets and me. So, in that case, you will be grateful to bring your vest." Yuri looked out the window again, and added. "I'm a diplomat, not a stupid."
The Magister made an effort to find some starting point to moderate his anger, and to be able to show a friendly face to the Corsair representatives. He tried to think of how many positive things this peace meeting could bring to the Theta Zoners, to Pygar, and to the Church, if it was finally something real. Then he thought of the name of the Corsair that he had sent them the invitation to: the Executor Francisco Javier de Creta. This name had sounded familiar to him as soon as he had seen it, and after discussing it with His Holiness, both had recognized him as the one who had also tried to call for negotiation just before the battle around Freeport 9 that sparked the war. At that time, after what had happened, that communication seemed like another insult, and the Pontiff was so outraged by the Corsairs' attitude that he rejected it, thinking it was a provocation. However, now that all parties involved in the war were in a bad situation, it was worth keeping in mind. After all, of all the Corsairs that Zoners had had contact with, the Executor de Creta was the only one whose words didn't imply some kind of veiled threat, or directly a promise of slaughter.
The Corsairs had managed to retain control over Freeport 9, but at a pyrrhic cost. They had suffered a serious naval defeat, losing important capital ships, and three of the station's four biodomes were so damaged that they were currently unusable. Furthermore, quite a few of the kidnapped technicians who knew how to use hydroponics had also been rescued, slowing down food production a lot, which would undoubtedly affect Crete in some way. The Zoners, on the other hand, were equally screwed. Although they had managed to win several battles with the support of the Outcasts and the Core, it seemed now that these two powers were no longer interested in continuing to support the cause of the recovery of Freeport 9. And, of course, the destruction of the biodomes was to bring a legendary famine to many Pygarian settlements.
Therefore, no one wanted that war to continue. The Corsairs had too many enemies out there to be interested in an asymmetrical conflict against Zoner guerrillas at the Omicrons and Omegas. The Zoners were in no way interested in a war, in any case. And of course, neither party was interested in starving. Definitely, that was a good starting point to begin a peace summit.
Orlov could see through the window how the Horizon was approaching one of the mooring fixtures of the General Academy, while the pilot reported it through the speakers distributed throughout the passenger area of the yacht. The Magister got up from the sofa and walked towards the exit airlock, while Baxter followed him carrying a grey briefcase inside which Orlov kept his Neural Net terminal. Once at the door, they both waited, while the ship carried out the final docking maneuvers. The commander of the Horizon appeared coming down the spiral stairs that led to the upper floors, approached the clergyman and saluted militarily.
Yuri addressed him. "Commander, you know what the orders are. Once we've disembarked, undock and position yourself at a distance of 3k standard space units from the Academy. Stay on standby, and keep open contact with the Academy's traffic control. I want you to be prepared to pick us up if something goes wrong." Orlov looked at the closed door, trying to catch a glimpse of something through the small central window, and then turned back again to the commander. "In any case, if there are problems, notify Faith Haven immediately. There is an assault team of 50 Pontifical Guards ready to take off from the settlement in two Voyagers. They will know what to do."
The yatch's door opened with a pneumatic noise, and a short hallway opened before them, at the end of which they could see the dock. Various security personnel from the MFE were waiting for them. Orlov said a quick prayer to Deux for strength in his task, and moved toward the welcoming committee, completely changing his worried expression into one full of peace and harmony. He let himself be led by the Academy staff to the security checkpoint, where he allowed the guards to do a thorough search of him and Baxter.
"This is my assistant Mr. Baxter." Orlov explained to the security officers pointing him with a gesture of his hand, while the sergeant stood as straight as a tree. "He will be in charge of taking care of my needs, and serving me in whatever is necessary. After all, I'm a slightly older man now and I can't take care of everything myself. Of course, you don't have to worry about him, he's unarmed just like me."
As expected, the guards soon noticed the ultralight vest that Baxter was carrying with him under the tuxedo. "Oh, of course he's wearing a bulletproof vest, yes." The Magister smiled with an expression of absolute innocence. "I've complete confidence in the good faith of the participants in this summit, but I could never forgive myself if anything happened, and poor Mr. Baxter got hurt. And as His Holiness always says, Deux helps those who help themselves."
Once through security control, the two men were taken to a private room, where an attendant told them they could wait and relax until the meeting began. Baxter stood guard at the door and Orlov sat on one of the sofas in the room. He looked at the Sirius Universal Time on his portable communication device, realizing that there were still a little less than 4 hours until the start time, and he then opened his briefcase, taking out the Neural Net terminal. He would take advantage of the time by reviewing the notes he had taken during the trip, and would confirm the points he was interested in defending.
