Encounter at Kiral

By Scott Ashby

Lt. Jenna, flexible, innovative, and outside-the-box thinker is paired with the formal and strictly by-the-book Lt. Tyson on a first-contact mission to the military-minded planet Kiral.

Fortunately, the first people they meet aren’t the let’s-dissect-the-aliens type. Unfortunately, some of the people on the ruling council have their own agendas already on unstoppable schedules.

Will Jenna and Tyson complete their mission to invite Kiral to join the Fellowship, or will the uncooperative elements in the planetary leadership manage to disappear them – permanently?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Electric Scroll
• Release date: Oct 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781940311494

Scott Ashby

Scott Ashby is a somewhat self-taught web designer who prefers to write fantasy and science fiction. He lives and works in Gilbert, Arizona in a tiny bedroom office that is only saved from being called a garret by virtue of being on the ground floor. Like most computer geeks, he doesn’t really notice the passing of hours, or days, so long as food arrives on a regular schedule. When not at the computer, Scott enjoys board games, hiking, and letterboxing.

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Scott Ashby

Copyright 2016, The Electric Scroll

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by The Electric Scroll. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the publisher. For information contact The Electric Scroll, 745 N. Gilbert Rd. Ste 124 PMB 197, Gilbert, Arizona, 85234.

The characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and entirely in the imagination of the reader.

Planet Photo Credit: NASA/JPL

Rings Photo Credit: NASA/JPL/Space Science Institute

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Encounter at Kiral

About the Author

Thanks

Books by Scott Ashby

Connect with me online

Bonus Short Story Perilous Patrol

~ 1 ~

HIS EXCELLENCY GEORGE HARALD KINSLAYER, King of Wan, stood and surveyed the generals assembled before him. He felt power flood his veins and almost shivered with the thrill of it. The time had come at last.

Wan is the greatest nation on the face of Kiral! It was first-named, and therefore first in the hearts of our ancestors who named it. It is the largest, and therefore the best! In the old days, all the five nations were one. Gentlemen, it is long past time for them to become one nation again. I intend to see it accomplished.

The king leaned forward slightly and pounded his fist against the desk, then lifted a leather pouch and held it aloft.

This plan is perfect. The five nations have been at peace for too many generations. The others rely on their electronic weapons that fire no missiles. They pretend to shoot at friends pretending to be enemies, while letting their computers tell them if they aimed well; they shed no blood. Playing at war and calling it training won't serve. Soldiers shoot at each other with blank ammunition and call it maneuvers. Pilots armed only with electronic targeting pretend to shoot each other down. This does not prepare a pansy to kill a man.

King Harald paced back and forth behind his desk. Now that the time was here, he was so eager to see it commence he felt suffocated in his own skin.

"Only the soldiers of Wan have any experience with live ammunition and real explosives. Only the soldiers of Wan are practiced at killing. The soldiers and pilots of Wan are ready. Wan, alone of the five nations is truly ready for a glorious war.

Every five years, the Five Nations pretend to go to war against each other. They play at war, they hand out empty awards, and they go home again, the best of friends. This year, things will be different. This year, the war will be real, and Wan will be victorious!

He opened the pouch and removed sealed packets, glancing at each only long enough to read the name on it and hand it to the correct general.

The timing is critical. The supplies you need will be delivered to your units on time. The orders for those supplies have already been given. If your units are not on time, they will not receive their supplies. No communication is allowed, for there are those who, if they overhear us, if they have a single hint, will guess at what we are doing and will move to stop us. Follow your instructions implicitly. Prepare your troops quietly. Do not tell even them this so-called exercise is not a drill until the eve of the strike. Obey the orders I give you today, and within a month, there will once again be only One Nation. Gentlemen, you are dismissed.

The generals filed silently out of the underground bunker. King Harald watched them go. When the door had closed behind the last of them, he sagged against the desk. He'd used up much of his energy fueling his emotions. It had been happening more and more often recently, and his physicians had no answers for him. He was dying and he knew it. He would see Wan emerge victorious, once again unified, before he died and his son came to power. The reunification of Wan would be the greatest legacy he could leave; the very audacity of the act would stand forever in the annals of history.

~ 2 ~

THE MOUSY WOMAN SEATED AT the secretary's desk stood to attention as Jenna entered the office. Jenna absently noticed the spotlessly organized desk and her lack of rank pins. She automatically waved her hand to allow the secretarial cadet to sit back down and attend to her duties.

The secretary's eyes lingered just a moment too long on the scuff mark on Jenna's boot and the battle jacket she wore rather than the formal tunic and cape of her dress uniform. Jenna smiled. Most people had given up trying to make her wear her dress uniform. She did her job well, so they couldn't complain what she chose to wear. Well, they could, and some did; but wearing a dress uniform wasn't required while on planetary assignment, just traditional.

As the cadet sat down, she asked, Your business, Lieutenant?

Jenna shrugged. You tell me. The Commander sent for me, so here I am.

The secretary made an officious show of checking her data screen before motioning Jenna into the inner office.

The door slid shut behind Jenna with just a whisper of displaced air. Commander Rysha had a reputation for preferring paper to datapads, and her desk was overflowing with proof. She motioned for Jenna to be seated without looking up from the paper she was reading. Her gesture created a small breeze, and several sheets slid from their perch at the edge of the desk and fluttered to the floor. Jenna picked up the papers and set them back on top of their pile before taking one of the two chairs in front of the desk.

Jenna recognized the woven art form hanging on the wall above a comfortable couch as having come from Unada, a planet in one of the nearby systems. The wall behind Rysha's desk was completely filled with what was rumored to be only a part of the commander's private library, all having been specially printed and bound. Jenna had heard the commander owned books from every planet in the Fellowship, written in every language spoken, and had read them all.

The soft whoosh of the door announced another arrival. Jenna glanced up, recognizing Lt. Tyson. They'd had some classes together, but Jenna didn't know him very well. He mostly kept to himself, but on the few occasions he'd spoken up in class, he seemed to be very knowledgeable. Commander Rysha dislodged more papers motioning Tyson to be seated.

Tyson seated himself on the couch, automatically moving his cape out of his way. Jenna mentally grinned. If you sat on the cape wrong, not only was it difficult to get to your weapon if you needed it, but it was a good way to choke yourself. That, plus personal comfort, were the main reasons Jenna preferred to wear the battle uniform.

When the door opened a third time, Jenna and Tyson both shot to their feet and stood at attention as they recognized the Secretary of Exploration. The elderly man was the council member who oversaw all exploration and relations with other species and cultures. Commander Rysha set down the paper she had been reading and also stood.

The Secretary growled, As you were, and seated himself in the other chair in front of Commander Rysha's desk. Despite the order, Jenna waited until both the Secretary and Commander had settled themselves before she sat down.

Secretary Strasberg turned and glared at Tyson for a few minutes, until the younger man fidgeted and looked away. He then turned his attention to Jenna. His scrutiny was so intense Jenna felt he was examining her all the way down to her soul.

Apparently he was satisfied with what he saw, because his eyes were twinkling as he turned to Commander Rysha.

Well, Rysha, picked me out your best Cavaliers, have you? His voice had roughened with age, but his manner was that of a much younger man. Commander Rysha nodded her head slowly. I don't have a large pool of candidates immediately available for a prolonged assignment, but these are, I think, the best suited to your needs.

Jenna couldn't believe anyone would put her among the best of any group. Judging from the look on his face, Tyson felt the same way.

Secretary Strasberg rose to his feet and began pacing near the tall slotted windows which looked out over the broad lawns stretching between the campus buildings.

I'd like you to volunteer for a first contact mission.

The Secretary was very carefully picking out his words, Jenna thought. The mission must be an important one. He continued.

Our scouts have been extremely thorough, and they've decided it's time to introduce ourselves. First contact is a dangerous assignment, as well as one calling for some amount of diplomacy. If you accept it, you'll be put on detached duty to the Bureau of Humanities. You'll get your regular pay as well as a danger bonus. Any questions?

Jenna recognized the question as rhetorical, but Tyson spoke up. Why us? I mean, not us personally, but why use Cavaliers instead of the diplomats that usually do this sort of thing? They're the experts.

Secretary Strasberg re-seated himself. The chair was positioned so that his back was toward Tyson, and he didn't move it to a more inclusive position. Jenna wondered if the snub was deliberate. He spoke to the room in general, without turning his head toward Tyson.

This particular culture is very militaristic. The humanities people feel contact from our military would be more efficacious. He turned toward Commander Rysha. Which of these young officers is senior?

Tyson has been commissioned longer, she replied, but Jenna has more field experience. I recommend her as mission commander.

Secretary Strasberg nodded, apparently accepting Rysha's recommendation, stood again, and turned so both Jenna and Tyson were in his field of vision. Do I take it you're both volunteering for this mission?

They nodded simultaneously.

He reached into his belt pouch and handed both Jenna and Tyson small reader spools. The spool has all the background we've got on these people. Take the rest of the day to settle your affairs. You have a briefing with Director Janssen at the Bureau of Humanities first thing tomorrow morning. Dismissed.

Jenna and Tyson left the office together.

I want you to volunteer. Tyson parroted in a mocking tone as he and Jenna walked down the corridor. Like we really had a choice.

You always have a choice, Jenna said, especially on a dangerous mission. She used her fingers to put invisible quote marks around the word dangerous.

Yeah, Tyson snorted. A choice between volunteering and resigning your commission. Tyson pushed open the heavy oak door and held it for Jenna, then let go of it as they continued away from the building in the general direction of the staff housing.

It's not that bad, Tyson. They wouldn't ask you to resign; they probably wouldn't even put a note in your permanent file. If you didn't want to do it, you should have said so. There's still time to change your mind.

What, and let you take all the glory for a mission brilliantly executed? I'm just a little…

Nervous? Jenna supplied.

No! It's just that this is totally out of our specialty, but we're being sent in because the Humanities people are intimidated by the military mind. If we do it right, that's because it was their idea, but if we do it wrong, they'll say 'well, what do you expect from Cavaliers?'

They expect that we'll get the job done, and do it right, or die trying. That's why they asked for us. They're counting on us. Do you need a ride to the Bureau tomorrow?

Tyson nodded. It'll probably look better if we arrive together. He gave her scuffed boot a pointed look. Especially if we're both in dress uniforms. Do you even have one?

Of course I do, Jenna chortled. I just prefer to be comfortable. I'm not into choking myself with my own clothes. Hmmm…sidearms are optional with the dress suit. What do you think?

Tyson stopped short and stared at Jenna in surprise. She pretended not to notice, and continued down the path. He hurried to catch up with her as he sputtered, How can you even think such a thing? A Cavalier is never without his weapon.

Good. Jenna grinned. Tyson flushed a pretty shade of crimson as he realized she'd been baiting him. I'm glad you feel that way. Personally, I feel practically naked without mine.

~ 3 ~

TYSON WAS WAITING WHEN JENNA pulled up in front of his building. He climbed into her flitter and she moved off into traffic.

Did you read your spool last night? This is one tough culture. The military appears to rule the whole planet, and there are no troublemakers because of the number of professional assassins.

Jenna nodded. I think the assassins operate as sort of a police force. Step out of line and you've had it, so no one steps out of line. It is an effective method of population control, though, which is how it got started.

Tyson gasped. Are you saying you approve of wholesale murder for population control?

Jenna laughed. No, not at all. I was just commenting that it was an effective method, and it seems to work for them. I prefer our method: send enough people off to various colonies, and no planet is overpopulated. There's a high mortality rate among first- and second-generation colonists. The only real difference is that we're used to thinking of our way as kinder.

Tyson didn't reply, and they continued the ride in silence.

They entered the Bureau of Humanities from the street level, and stopped at the receptionist's desk. The receptionist looked barely old enough to have finished secondary school. Her eyes widened as she saw their uniforms.

May I help you? Her voice squeaked.

Could you please point us to the Director's office? Tyson inquired. He wore a helplessly-lost-in-red-tape look on his face that seemed to reassure the girl. Jenna bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Most government buildings had similar lay-outs, at least on the first floor, for the convenience of visitors.

Tyson listened intently to the receptionist's directions, and thanked her for her trouble before they set off in the direction she'd indicated.

As if we couldn't have found it ourselves. Or looked it up in the directory. You're something else, Tyson.

Yes, but today she got to actually help a poor confused Cavalier. It probably made her day.

Always the gentleman, aren't you?

I try.

They arrived outside the Director's office and with a flourish of his cape, Tyson gestured to Jenna to go first.

She muttered, Coward, under her breath as she passed him in the doorway.

His reply of you're in charge was only audible to her.

The director's secretary, a nondescript man in his middle ages stood up at their entrance. Director Jansson is expecting you. He's been called away for a few minutes, but you can go in and wait. Can I get you anything? Both Cavaliers shook their heads as the secretary ushered them into the inner office. If you change your minds, just yell. Jan will be back any time now. He returned to