Chapter 7

Prelowil’s meeting with the Volient hierarchy did not fare as well. They were attending a meeting with the Volient CEO, COO, CFO, and the entire nine-member board of directors. The CEO was the president of the board for the purposes of the meeting, and all members present attested to that in the presence of the US and Federation Cabinet Secretaries and two Federation Flag Officers, Prelowil and Patricia.

Threats, against Carl, the Federation, President Nelson and, yes, even Queen Manowil were voiced at the board meeting hosting the secretaries, Prelowil, her vice commander, and her security staff. The CEO voiced his displeasure at the selling of a formula to lowlifes, by a trailer trash lowlife, that benefitted lowlifes like the Angelenes and other similar inhuman garbage and white trash, still a term used to disparage others they didn’t like, such as Carl Matthews.

“Sir, your threats are a concern to us in that there were no illegal transactions noted, all was above board, and although it didn’t garner you and your corporation profits directly, it was not done against policies governing our ruling bodies. Your threats and misidentifying the responsible parties bring your loyalty to the Federation into question. Are you a member of the federation, sir?”

“Yes, but you are not on federation soil. You have no standing.”

“You do not have to be on federation soil to be a federation citizen, sir.”

“Then, no, I am not a member of the federation, and you have no authority over me.”

“Fine then. Did you threaten the queen of Angelene and the president of the United States?”

“Sure, I have to annihilate and remove them to make my plan work. What of it?” The blast removed a portion of his chest, but the pieces were dry before they hit the ground, then he did.

“She is my queen, and much like threatening the president is a crime, so is threatening the Queen of the Angelene Enclaves. The difference is that I adjudicated it immediately, and I got to my emitter before my second in command did.” Patricia nodded. “I will address questions for the secretaries now.” Prelowil Thrensche was in beautiful form.

It was taken upon Volient to work with the companies involved and work toward licensing, fees, production and other efforts just as civilized people would do.

Prelowil addressed the board after the security team departed with the secretaries.

“There are things you can do to make money, and there are things that won’t work quite as well. Should I hear of another conspiracy against Angelene, the Federation, the United States, or Carl Matthews and Matthews Intergalactic, driven by greed and greed alone, with unauthorized violence involved, I will take the appropriate action. Should you doubt that, remember, flag officers assigned to the Federation have been granted immediate capital adjudication authority, without the opportunity for appeal. You witnessed that today. Question that, under my warning, to your demise gentlemen, my lady. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT underestimate this warning. The only reason I did what I did this afternoon was because my deputy was behind me. Had she been in front ... Maybe he wouldn’t be the only dead one. Something to think about. SRIN is not yours. Unless you purchase it, it is not yours. Do not forget that. Have a great day.”

She and Patricia walked out, caught up with their crew, took the secretaries back to Sol Earth, made a couple of innocent stops, and went back out on patrol. They were waiting, just waiting to hear if the Volient board caught on, or if they went rogue.

One of the innocent stops was Prelowil in the oval office with President Nelson. He wasn’t running for reelection. She wasn’t running at all. A hug and a kiss sealed the deal. She told him of her friendly relationship with the Matthews clan and of course, the queen. He said he understood and wanted to learn to love her enough that it wouldn’t matter.

“Mr. President, that sounds like a plan.” She kissed him and departed.

The Stiletto was on patrol with a mission. Same as it was before, but now, the protection of the president and the son-in-law of the queen, while it shouldn’t have been true, were a slightly higher priority than all the other objectives the Federation had. Threats had been made. The admiral wasn’t worried so much about the queen. She’d been warned and told of the threat. Staying within the enclave, she’d be fairly safe. The president, though, not so much. No one knew, anymore, what evil lurked in the minds of men. Carl, not at all. He was out and about, dealing and traveling the worlds with abandon, his gorgeous crew members beside him.

One thing she knew, though, after discussions with Carl, the Brillians, and the Zenorians, was if there was a problem, it wouldn’t be from them. She’d never met more loyal personalities. Once a deal was made, hands or arms shaken, signatures on leather, parchment, or paper were applied, there would be no issues.

A side note was that the Pranese peoples were about to be rewarded with thousands of gallons of wine from the Zenorians. High in the hills above the salty sea air were fields untold of grapes and berries that the Zenorians have used to ferment wines for thousands upon thousands of years. The Pranese were going to tap that barrel, with Debbie’s and Jackie’s help. And some guidance from a couple of kittens.

Jackie looked at Debbie. Debbie looked at Jackie. Stephanie was in absolute awe when both of them, looking at each other said, “Ten percent?” and smiled, nodded, and laughed with each other. They hugged, got on the wire, and started making deals. Pranar would be getting some new wine. The kittens benefitted as much as anyone, since it was with their concurrence and that more wines meant more selection, and that meant more money and more ... Wine on Pranar!!! Money was not an issue, but the girls made sure the kittens knew that without their help, the deals would not have happened and the Zenorian berry and grape wines would not have made landfall on Pranar.

Later, it would be known that the kittens’ family was credited with bringing the most popular wines in years to the Pranese resort community and given high accolades for their trouble. The kittens, along with their human friends, Debbie and Jackie, promised to keep scouring the universe, the galaxy, and wherever they went for more wine selections.

Rela Vey, hearing the commotion about the wine, thought they might want to take a few days back on Glemma to look around. Both of the entrepreneurs looked at Rela sharing grins between the three of them. The rest of the family just rolled their eyes.

Tippi and Tappi took another approach to the problem and asked, if on their next trip to Glemma, if it would not be possible to take some Zenorian wines to Lona Lan and Thayna to see if they couldn’t have some type of a tasting and if feasible look into that which Rela Vey was hinting.

Maliope and Stephanie shared a bit of an epiphany between them, sparked by that conversation, and after walking down the hall and back together, called a meeting. A meeting of the entire family, to see if a certain expansion of this back and forth between Glemma and Angelene was feasible. As they were at the estate, the meeting included Manowil, Grasche, and William.

Stephanie started the meeting. “Maliope and I were just talking, and if we take into consideration the idea the twins just put forth, we need to ask ourselves, ‘What if Glemman wines are a hit?’ We know their silken like fabric would be, that stuff is just silkier than silk, and more durable, and as well, we know their gold and platinum, not to mention the titanium and copper from Roogedet are identical to what our galaxy uses. Maliope and I think we should build an interplane or extradimensional, however we need to refer to it, freight shuttle that could take advantage of the resources Lona Lan and her people are offering. We can up their game a bit, as well, and open a new customer up to the Brillians, maybe. We have seen no zinc or lead in that dimension as of yet.”

William questioned the propriety of being the only ones that would be prospering from the trade channel.

Maliope, in her most calm voice, started with, “So what?” William was taken aback, but Grasche and Manowil both started laughing.

Carl’s mother told him, “Just wait, honey, she’s about to make a valid point. I can hear the wheels turning inside that little brain box.”

Maliope giggled, something not all THAT common for an Angelene adult woman but continued. “William, you are looking at this from the standpoint of fairness and free trade. We need to self-regulate that. The goddess does not want the translation technology outside of this family, and Lona Lan is willing to trade with us in order to further her peoples’ existence. We want them to be capable of self-defense against hordes such as the lizard beings and keep an eye on specifically, the continent full of them that need to be contained and regulated. They need the technology. We need to be fair with the imports and allow other companies, preferably Angelene, and some Sol Earth, to wit, American companies, to benefit from the possibility of export, but we have to regulate that ourselves. It’s a huge responsibility. Carl, involving your father from an aspect of propriety compliance would probably be a good idea. He and our mothers are probably the best choices for that, anyway.” Carl nodded in agreement.

“And, William, sir, please know I was trying to make a point, not come off as your petulant spoiled little daughter-in-law. I am NOT that little.” She giggled again at her own humor, but it was shared. Each of the women giggled as well, leaving William and Carl wondering of what the heck they’d wound up in the middle. “Your son has spoiled me a bit, but joking aside, this could be a boon for many, not just the Matthews Galactic entities.”

“I see your point, darling, and I see that the Glemmans would benefit greatly. No offense taken if that was what you were worrying about.” William accepted the offered hug from Maliope. “I’d be more than happy to take on that role, if your mother and your mother-in-law would provide audit so no one feels we’re guilty of gouging and such. We’re trying to benefit others here, not just us. A bit off the top for fuel, sustenance, and expenses is fine, but we need to keep profits realistic and in check.”

That was exactly the opposite of what Raymond Reynolds and Jonathan Hopkins, the new CEO and COO of Volient were thinking. Since the death of their CEO at the hands of the Federation, they were planning the violent end, seeing the irony from their own name, of their nemesis and competition. The word volient was coined and accepted into the English language in the early twenty-eight hundreds to utilize a similar Tallookian word in a contract. The word itself means ‘extreme power’ but in the energy sense, as opposed to political or forceful use of power.

Reynolds and Hopkins were using it in the other sense and were going to attempt to throw the markets over, wresting control of LCN, and heavy metal reactor fuels, in order to gain control of the SRIN manufacture, regardless of what the Federation, the US, or the Angelenes had told them.

Producing and marketing SRIN fuels without permission, and profiting from the sale without providing for the licensure fees, was just counterfeiting, bootlegging, and black marketing at the very least, but when you took into consideration the customers and the slight discounts they could charge, it became a very, very big deal.

In terms of national, world, Federation, galactic, and universal security, it was a bit like poking a hornet’s nest with a very short stick. The two men, and their accomplices were undertaking something they didn’t really think about in enough depth. Not even close to thinking it all the way through.

A Volient production plant was configured into SRIN cooking mode, and they got down to the business of causing trouble and making money. In months, they were pulling in credits by the millions, selling the reactor fuel to buyers all around the outlying systems. When a Zenorian ship’s captain was offered a fifteen percent discount on a reactor refueling by a Volient station master, outside the Federation’s sphere of influence, he immediately took them up on it. That was thousands of credits in his own pocket and hundreds for each of his crew.

What the Volient stationmaster didn’t realize in time, however, was that Zenor was on the normal price customer list, so that it wouldn’t look like a black-market operation to lesser civilizations, not aware of the SRIN and Volient debacle within the Federation.

It was a huge mistake, and that one station, that one man, and his on-duty crew of three, brought the whole enchilada down into the salsa. Burning hot salsa. Zenor, its governor, and its merchant marine were well aware of the issue, having been involved by Volient very early on and deciding not to play dirty in the very beginning.

The federation was hailed and once the issue was reported, as stated in the contract between Zenor, Brill, and Matthews Intergalactic needed to be done, a message was sent to Prelowil Thrensche, skipper of the most advanced spacecraft known to mankind (most of mankind, anyway, Prelowil thought, smiling to herself, knowing there was one a bit more capable).

She was called in for a meeting with President Nelson, the Federation Commissioner, Carl Matthews and his crew. She was there with her second in command, Brigadier General Patty Maxwell, and a security contingent, a ten-woman team assigned out of the Venus squadron. Starfighter pilots, on additional duty, but trained beyond anyone’s imagination.

Stephanie had foreseen trouble, long ago, and brought special forces training personnel from the United States Marine Corps on staff to ensure the Venus squadron, in its entirety, from the pilots all the way to the crew chiefs, was capable of just about anything any conflict or emergency could throw at it.

The Federation Commissioner opened the meeting. “Thank you all for coming. Admiral Thrensche, we have been notified that the executive staff at Volient has decided to go rogue, for lack of a better word, and produce unlicensed fuel, the SRIN type, selling it to non-Federation members, outside the normal reaches of our concern and influence.

“While this is not normally a Federation problem, they accidentally sold it to a Federation member world at a deep discount and showed their cards. As a corporate member of the Federation, as well as being a US based company, that causes us great concern. Simply said, they are violating several laws. From an Angelene perspective only, Admiral, and for you, Princess Maliope, it just means if the Zenorians had flown through the Angelene enclaves, they would have already purchased the fuel elsewhere, illegally, and your coffers would be short a few prospective credits. President?” Maliope nodded.

President Nelson stood and addressed the crowd. “Selling fuel is not what Volient’s executives are aiming for. That is not their goal. I placed a source within the company’s hierarchy and found that their true goal is to undermine the legal sources of SRIN, and LCN, by the way, to put them in financial peril, only to come back in and ‘save’ them, thereby assuming ownership of the formulas.

“This is not going to sound right, coming from the chief executive of an otherwise peaceful nation, but I want their unlicensed SRIN facilities taken down and the two men I know are complicit arrested. If I find that other employees, or the board of directors, are knowledgeable of this crime, and that’s what it is, a universal crime of galactic proportion, I will take...”

An explosion startled everyone in the room, bringing the discussion to an immediate halt. As if rehearsed, two each of the Venus squadron literally threw the president, the commissioner, Prelowil, and Patty off to the side of the large conference room and started piling furniture up between them and the doorway. Two of them went to the windows, at the ready, to protect their backsides. As six gunmen appeared outside the windows, rappelling down the outer wall, the two security team members opened up, one with a pulse laser, and one with a projectile rifle, killing five of them before anyone could be harmed.

The sixth opened up with an automatic projectile weapon, showering the room with bullets, copper, lead, and phosphorous, raining in, traveling at over a thousand feet per second in a random pattern of terror, filling the room with destruction.

Tippi raised her new nitroxolite emitter rifle and taking out the window and the sixth gunman simultaneously, she ripped his entire torso, armor and all, to shreds.

Another explosion blew the door of the room in, and six more gunmen, the ones in the rear firing over the shoulders of those in front of them, entered the room, being killed as they did.

When the last one fell, Carl, in an act of pure chance yelled “Hold your fire,” in a low loud voice, “We’ve accomplished our mission.” He looked at Welsche and nodded. She smiled, meekly, and returned his nod.

“YES!!! We did it,” the occupants of the room all heard as Reynolds and Hopkins came around the corner, four more gunmen behind them.

Welsche, a forty-five in each hand, took out all four kneecaps of the executives while Carl was killing two of the gunmen and Maliope was taking out the other two. Bullets were flying both ways for a couple of seconds.

“GOD DAMN YOU, MATTHEWS!”

“Shut up, buttwipe, or I’ll have her do that to your ears. Tippi, Tappi, check these two for weapons.” Carl looked around and hollered out, “Debbie, Helen, put tourniquets above their knees. I don’t want them bleeding out. Stephanie, Jackie, we need a casualty check, pronto.”

Helen moved to the men immediately, looking around for Debbie, but not seeing her. Rela Vey jumped into action helping her and a security member followed to help them.

“Carl, we’re going to need help. Patty’s been hit, lower abdominal,” Jackie hollered out. “OH, GOD! CARL! NELSON’S BEEN HIT!” Jackie yelled as she covered Patty’s stomach with pieces of her own shirt. She could see the president with his hand over his lower chest, trying to breathe.

Prelowil immediately got on her comms and requested advanced medical assistance, no less than four surgeons and staff, and transportation support on the ready from the scene to the Stiletto. Additional troops were requested, as well, to ensure the area was secure. “The situation is critical down here! Commander Brady, have Lieutenant Tollowil call the Queen. We need Marischel to know what has happened. Ask her to meet us as soon as she can.”