Chapter 14: Hope

Nearly four years had passed since Tristan led the Mylians to their first victory against a major Sicceian fleet. As worlds and systems were freed from the Sicceian yoke, more and more species joined what had become the Free Planets League. Not all the battles went the League's way, but the balance of power had finally tipped in the League's favour. The Sicceians were now losing resources faster than they could replace them.

The last major League victory, in the Achean Nebula, had lost the Sicceians two of their largest and most advanced shipyards. At the current rate of advance, the League would be at the Sicceian home world within a year.

Much as Tristan attempted to avoid the spotlight, his reputation had a life of its own. Every victory added to it. The Sicceians had tried to take out the League's now legendary leader by trying to hit his flagship many times. Tristan had always kept one step ahead of them. Few Sicceians had ever seen him. The only ones who had were now prisoners of war on a moon especially set up for them in the Mylian system. Tristan attempted to keep his real name and species secret. He did not want even the slightest chance of the Sicceians finding out who he was and where he came from. They might just discover Earth, then the war would be lost for Tristan. But, it was becoming more difficult as his fame and reputation spread.

After the victories at the Achean Nebula, Tristan returned to Mylia, exhausted and war weary. The League was consolidating their gains, and the shipyards were being reconstructed, having suffered heavy damage during the Sicceians withdrawal.

Unless they mounted a counter attack, he felt he could leave the League military leaders to it. The three-week flight back proved uneventful. He had spent the first two days back at his small villa on the outskirts of a remote royal estate, reading and catching up on the reports that had accrued while the ship was in Star Drive. He had kept abreast of most developments by breaking the trip up into sections. Every few days they would switch the Star Drive off, get updated with everything happening and then resume the journey.

The only report that caused him any concern was regarding some partly destroyed papers discovered among the rubble of the Achean shipyards. For almost a year, every ship built had not been equipped with telepathic interfaces to the main computer. The Sicceian military had finally discovered the weakness Tristan had been exploiting.

For some reason no one had yet encountered any Sicceian ships of that type. They were out there somewhere, over two hundred capital ships, and the League would have to slug it out with them, where his abilities could not help. He had filed the information under 'Things to worry about when they happened'.

Tristan was lounging on a small patio overlooking the well-tended gardens. The smell of flowers drifted to him on the gentle breeze, his feet resting on a small stool and his eyes half closed in the warm afternoon sunlight. The dark tendrils of stress slowly releasing their grip on his heart and mind.

The scenery and isolation reminded him of his cottage on the edge of Exmoor. He had wanted to be on his own, but it was not permitted. There was security, administration, servants, cooks, a whole army of retainers, as befitted the adopted son of the Emperor and the Supreme Commander of the League forces.

Elvath walked over to where he was sitting. "Do you want anything to drink, Tristan?"

"Eh?" Tristan sat up, smiled and answered her in English. "Yes, a cool beer please ... no, on second thoughts, I would like a cup of tea, no sugar, a splash of milk, and a scone with strawberry jam and a big dollop of Devon clotted cream please."

Elvath put her hand on her hip and looked at him with her head on one side. She was used to him now and his many moods. She had no idea what he had said, but she knew he would answer her if she waited.

He glanced up at her waiting with a reproving expression on her face. "Sorry, Mylian red wine please."

She nodded and went to get his drink.

He had just settled back in his lounger when he heard a commotion behind him. He sat up looking round just as a communications officer stepped out onto the patio.

"Sir." The officer gulped breathlessly.

"Wait, catch your breath first."

"Yes, sir." The officer took deep breaths to calm his excitement. "Sir?"

"Yes, all right, go on."

"A Sicceian cruiser has just appeared in League space broadcasting its presence."

"Yes so?"

"Well Sir, the Sicceians want to discuss terms for their surrender!" The aid gave Tristan a look of triumph, more for delivering the message than for the chance of peace Tristan thought.

"Are you sure about that?"

The officer, a little crestfallen replied, "Yes, sir."

"Well we need that confirmed, please see to it."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and raise Admiral Da'ren for me please."

"Yes, sir." The officer saluted, turned on his heels and hurried off.

Tristan sighed, stood, and paced up and down the patio with his hands held behind his back and his head bowed. "Can this be true?" he muttered to himself. "Far sooner than I expected." He glanced up at the distant snow covered peaks. "If it is really over maybe I can find home."

His thoughts were interrupted by the returning officer. "Sir, Admiral Da'ren is available on the comm.'s channel."

Tristan walked to the communication room. Although the villa was a retreat for him, he could not afford to be out of touch. "Da'ren?"

There was a slight delay before Da'ren replied. Tristan had a vague understanding of the quantum communications system and that it could only work between two fixed points and relied on the fact no particle in the universe could have exactly the same energy level as another identical particle or something like that. But, there was still a delay.

"Yes Tristan? I thought you were taking a break?"

Tristan smiled and shook his head "Well I have only managed a couple of days in the last four years, why should this be any different?"

He heard Da'ren chuckle. "Yes, why indeed." He paused. "I assume you are calling about the Sicceian surrender offer?"

"Yes, what's happening?"

"Well they want a meeting with you face to face."

"Hmm. Do you think it is genuine or a tra..."

"It might be a trap." Da'ren had not finished speaking. Tristan frowned. "Damn the delay."

"Sorry, what?"

Tristan continued, ignoring Da'ren's question. "If it is genuine, we cannot afford to pass up this opportunity for peace. Many thousands of lives may well be saved."

"I agree," Da'ren replied, his voice breaking up a little as the system focus drifted.

"You are closest to the Sicceian ship, Da'ren find out the details. If they want to meet, limit their numbers and use somewhere neutral so no side can plant any nasty surprises. I will be able to tell whether it is genuine or not."

"OK, I will check it out and see what they are after."

"I will leave the organisation, and details up to you Da'ren, just let me know when and where."

"OK Tristan will do."

The line went dead. Tristan turned to the comm.'s officer. "Thanks. Let me know the moment anything comes in."

"Yes, sir."

Tristan turned and wandered to the kitchen. There was nothing more he could do until everything was set up. He was hungry now, and the wine he had left on the patio would be warm.

Aesia stood looking at her sleeping three-year-old daughter, Tristain. She had moved about in her sleep and ended up lying across her bed, arms thrown out either side of her. Her fair hair lying across her face, Aesia gently pulled it back behind her ear with her finger and adjusted the covers. The child did not stir. Aesia smiled, but her chest felt tight, she was going away with her father—the child's grandfather—and did not know what would happen. She sighed, because she knew it would be a while before she saw her daughter again. She walked out of the room, fighting the urge to turn and pick her up and squeeze her tight for one last goodbye.

Aesia walked down the hall and turned into her own room, throwing herself on the bed. What am I doing?

She rolled over and stared up at the darkened ceiling. She knew Tristain would be safe and happy with her grandmother. But, there was the issue with the strange pretend lady she often talked about, as well as her growing powers. Aesia chewed her lip. Am I doing the right thing leaving her now?

Tristain could be difficult and stubborn. 'Just like her mother', Aesia's father took delight in reminding her. Sometimes she would come out with the strangest things; there was this lady who would appear and talk to her, but no one else had seen her. Tristain was convinced she was real.

When it had first happened, Tristain had been about two and a half years old. Up until that time her mind had been almost blank, other than the occasional jumbled thought. Aesia was getting worried. Sicceian children start developing their telepathic capabilities as they start to talk, from around one year old. Tristain had developed normally and had started to talk at the same age as any ordinary Sicceian child, but the telepathic capability did not seem to be there. This would hamper her as she got older. Sicceian society was run using computers everywhere. If she could not communicate with them, her life would be difficult.

On this particular day, she had been out playing when her grandmother had been distracted by one of the house servants. Tristain had run off into the small wood at the back of the house playing some imaginary game. She had slipped and caught her foot in a tree root. Despite struggling, she could not get it free. It was twisted and hurting her. When her grandmother returned, she saw the child was not where she had left her. She thought Tristain had run off to the small stream she liked paddling in at the bottom of the field. She called the servants, and they ran down to search for her.

Aesia was working in her father's office in the city half an hour drive away from the house. She remembered Tristain's telepathic call for help, she was in pain. The power of the message caused Aesia to drop what she was carrying.

Deep beneath the surface of the planet, an Artificial Intelligence had woken from an aeons-long slumber. It had shut itself down millennia ago; however, it had left a monitoring function active, waiting. The systems of the Artificial Intelligence required a special type of mind and genetic key sequence in order for it to function. Interlocks and controls prevented the intelligence from working independently. Without a being with the specific abilities to serve, the AI did not have a purpose. The monitors had at last sensed a mind with the correct qualities the Artificial Intelligence had been waiting so long for. The systems had booted up. When Dionysia became fully aware she gently touched the mind, and she found a child.