Kale – Hawaiian; Strong and Manly
Zurine – Spanish; White
Part 16
The air hung heavily in the small, crowded conference room. The small group, ten men and one woman, surrounding the large table was becoming weary. Hours on end every day for the past week, they would discuss, dispute, and debate about their militaristic options, and then depart without any resolution, only to start the process again the following morning.
Aron had invited Alec, Koen, and William to sit in the council. While William had taken the invitation enthusiastically, Koen had been reluctant at first. Summits and negotiations were not his particular cup of tea, neither was sitting in a stuffy room with overbearing, overgrown middle-aged men who loved to argue and hear themselves talk. But when he saw the woman seated to his right, the woman that had haunted him for the past few weeks, he found himself dragging Will to the conference room in eager delight.
Alec had wanted to offer them some kind of reprieve, a little good news in the sea of bad. He had had some success in contacting Aevar's allies. He had assumed that Juniper, Dagan, and Nero had combined forces in Cyrus's attack against Aevar, even though he had no confirmation.
So that had left Cantu and Aevar, where one was all but deserted and the other was nothing more than a battlefield.
Alec had spoken with several of Aron's advisors, and they had concluded that gaining support from allies, while very dangerous, was imperative. But ‘who' to contact was almost as ridiculous as ‘how' they would help them.
The questions rolled in his mind over and over. Who would they contact? How would they respond? Would they even come to Cantu to help?
Alec had wondered how far the news of the stricken Festival had gone, if the surrounding systems had heard … if they even cared.
He couldn't help second-guessing anything now. Never had he once faltered in his allegiance or pride in Aevar. And he still didn't. But what would stop anyone else from giving up? Circumstances were certainly conducive to it.
The communications equipment that he had been given access to were certainly lacking. While he had been original and inventive with his equipment in the safehouse on Aevar, he had needless to say been discouraged. Nothing was 100% operational and several items were outdated by more than five models or fifty years. Some of the pieces he didn't even recognize, which troubled him the most. How many more obstacles were out there waiting for them?
He had worked for countless days, organizing, rebuilding, contacting. Some successful, some not.
Alec had yet to offer his new and pertinent information in the heated conversation going on around him. Everyone present at the table was either frustrated or hungry or depressed. The combination didn't invite hospitable chitchat.
"Well, I say we get off of this damned planet. There's nothing here but sand and sun. We won't survive the war if Cyrus keeps cutting off supplies," one burly man heatedly offered.
Alec had missed most of the conversation, but he caught on quickly.
"We can't just leave. There are too many people to relocate."
"I'm not talking about relocating. I'm talking about saving our necks!" he countered.
A third man spoke up. "What are you suggesting? That we just leave the survivors to fend for themselves?!"
"That's exactly what I'm saying!"
"Enough!"
Aron spoke calmly, but steady enough that his authority had not been questioned. He had taken the position of moderator since the council, plus Alec, Koen, and William, had started to meet daily. Their arrival, while rejuvenating, had brought a handicap that Aron had not foreseen. Even the Prince of Aevar couldn't bring in food or water. The survivors were restless, and more mouths to feed meant less for everyone else.
"We're not leaving, and that's that."
The burly man huffed; his red face seemed to boil blood under his skin. Koen didn't know who he was and certainly didn't like him. He was the type of man who, when you saw passing by, made an effort to avoid. Koen wished he didn't have to sit in direct view of him.
"Well, we will need to find another alternative. What supplies Cyrus actually sends is small enough, but with the guards at the docks hoarding them … Kale's right. We won't last much longer this way."
"What do you suggest besides relocating?" another man asked him, giving a brooding Kale a stiff look.
"I guess we could try to take the docks back. But if Cyrus hears of an uprising he'll send more guards to finish us off."
"I agree," Aron said. "We need to come up with a solution that doesn't risk everyone's life but at the same time doesn't give away our location."
Kale spoke again. "There is no solution. Cyrus's made sure of it. We can't contact any allies and even if we could they wouldn't help us. It's a suicide mission."
Alec decided to speak for the first time. "That's not true."
His blue eyes widened as every head turned in his direction.
"What do you mean Alec?" Aron asked quietly.
He hesitated swallowing passed the lump in his throat. "Well, I've been working on the communications equipment for the past few days. I was able to get a clear signal, and … and I contacted two allies."
A hushed murmur rumbled through the conference room.
"And?" Aron prompted.
"My contacts at the planets Miya and Zurine both agreed to send reinforcements as soon as possible. Just one ship from each planet for now, with supplies and a few soldiers. After we establish a strong position, and they are able to relay information to their superiors, they've agreed to provide troops, supplies, and anything else we might need to fight Cyrus. They're spreading the word of Koen and Isabel's survival as we speak."
