The Admiral stood flexing his shoulders as he peered down through his large office picture window. From the hundred and fourteenth floor of the Council Plaza he could see right across downtown Kentro City and on a clear day all the way out to the Potamaki Peninsula and the Bordaan Sea. But today, with the low cloud and snow showers, he could barely see the ground at all.
A soft chime from his desk computer woke him from his daydream and he strolled across, sat down and touched the flashing icon with an irritated swipe.
‘Geltz,’ he said, in an officious tone, answering the incoming call.
‘Not an appropriate tone to use with me, Geltz,’ said the caller.
His eyes went wide as he recognised the voice at the other end of the encoded call.
‘Sorry,’ he said, wincing. ‘I had no idea it was you.’
He felt a bead of sweat run down his face as a pause from the other end made him even more nervous.
‘Update on the Earth ship?’ the voice asked, finally.
‘Destroyed,’ he answered, flicking the sweat off his face.
‘Uh, huh – and was Commander Loftt aboard?’
‘We have strong evidence he was.’
‘Hmm – finally – I have my revenge.’
The voice paused for a second before continuing.
‘What news on our fleet preparations?’
‘They’re gathering in the Fellitain system – we’re just awaiting the final vote from the council.’
‘When?’
‘Today or tomorrow. You know what it’s like trying to get enough representatives together to cast a ruling vote, especially in this weather.’
‘Your weak excuses are of no consequence – that vote will be passed today or you’ll be managing a duradium mine tomorrow.’
Geltz shivered, as he knew the threat was real.
‘It will be done,’ he said.
He held his breath as another pause stalled the conversation and almost jumped out of his skin when the voice finally spoke again.
‘Do you consider the Spleeta ready to rule once the Grondalle are dethroned?’
‘The High Secretary in Waiting, Hurde, assures me they are. The invasion fleet has been secured and is being prepared as we speak.’
‘And the new Klatt home world has no knowledge of the impending attack?’
‘None. Once our assembled battle fleet is heavily engaged in the region of Zee-Klatt III, the planet will be wide open and helpless. It has been anticipated that the indigenous race will surrender after the climate begins its change and the ground offensive gains momentum.’
‘And the mining rights of their belt?’
‘Yours. The Spleeta have no interest in mining. They have assured me they will provide you with the surviving primitive humans from the planet as slaves to work in the belt and then purchase the minerals from you.’
‘Hmm – what’s stopping the Bekon clan making a power grab when the Grondalle are on their knees?’
‘They’re the smallest clan, it’s not in their nature and any surviving Grondalle vessels will be immediately requisitioned by the Spleeta.’
‘Do you really believe the Klatt will abandon Zee-Klatt III?’
‘As you know, the planet’s very remote and has been cooling for many hundreds of years. Even the Grondalle were beginning to find it cold and the few Bekon there hate the place. With the Klatt’s new power base organised, Zee-Klatt III will be quickly abandoned by the new order and perhaps another mining opportunity beckons.’
‘You don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing, Geltz. You concentrate on getting that vote through and the fleet engaged in finishing the Grondalle off. Is that clear?’
‘It is,’ he said, as the line went dead.
Straight away he contacted the council adjutant to find out the number of planetary representatives present and how many more were expected for the afternoon sitting, before beginning a list of calls.
Seven hours later Geltz was sat back at his desk staring at the wall. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled loudly before standing and walking over to the window again. The adjutant had called him moments before to inform him the vote for the fleet to engage the Klatt forces in and around Zee-Klatt III had passed almost unanimously. Only a handful of races that bordered the Klatt region had abstained to avoid enraging their unforgiving near-neighbour just in case it went badly for the GDA.
He smiled for the first time in days and watched the lines of flyers now jockeying for airspace around the city’s tall buildings as the thick snow clouds had begun lifting. He shielded his eyes as a shaft of sunlight penetrated the room for the first time that day and opened them again almost immediately as he found himself suddenly back in shade. He baulked as he met the eyes of a helmeted pilot in the cockpit of a grey unmarked flyer hovering only metres away from the outside of the building.
He barely had time to register what it was before three neat holes appeared in the glass, with the sound of a whip cracking. Admiral Geltz’s lifeless body hit the back wall of the office a split second later with a wet thud, before plopping onto the plush carpet, leaving a red trail down the wall. With a hole in his chest the size of a football and his dead eyes staring at nothing, he never saw the auto cannon retract back into the fuselage, the flyer turn lazily to starboard and quietly reintegrate itself back into the late afternoon traffic.