The security officer and the leading Vanguard stepped toward each other and spoke in hushed whispers. They nodded back and forth throughout their conversation–all in Anautom, of course.
“What do you suppose they’re talking about?” Romano asked Rousseau.
“Probably where to throw our bodies after we’re done,” she responded.
“Stifle it, the both of you!” Jackson snapped in a lowered tone, gripping his rifle close to his chest.
Having finished their meeting, the main officer waved the Sovereignty troops to come closer. The Vanguard in front slung his weapon on his shoulder and removed his helmet, holding it under his armpit. He looked to be in his 70s, but that didn’t mean as much to the Tesh, who could live upwards of 250 years at a time.
The man had typical dark skin with distinct amber eyes. He had forehead wrinkles, bags underneath his eyes, and creases along his mouth. Korban could tell from his looks alone that this man had seen his fair share of conflicts.
The elder Tesh hacked into his gloved hand, clearing his throat. “Lieutenant Korban, yes?” he asked with a slight accent and a deep gravel to his voice.
“Commander, actually. And you are?”
“Forgive. Your language, second, it is,” he bowed with his free hand on his chest. “Tesh names sacred to our people. Confusing to outsiders. Let me see, name your kind can understand…” he pondered, Korban unsure if he was being sincere or mocking them.
Finally, he snapped his fingers, “You call me, Kel.”
“Very well, Kel. So, shall we get on with it then?” Korban asked while gesturing to the doors behind Kel.
A slight smile cracked across Kel’s stony face. His gaze was locked on Korban. Every slight shift he made, Kel’s withered eyes followed with an unexpected swiftness.
Unwilling to lose his composure, Korban met the Tesh’s gaze. A cutting scowl slipped across his face – one that would’ve made anyone else flinch, but not this man.
The two military veterans stood facing each other with stonelike demeanors. Kel was the first to break the stalemate. Donning his helmet, he silently motioned towards his subordinates at the door.
He turned back to Korban, his voice tinny and muffled as he spoke through the microphone, “Your warriors stay. Only you inside.”
Korban’s eyebrows twitched hearing this. “Since when?” he snapped. “My men have always stood with me.”
“New games, new rules. No warriors inside. Only Lieutenant, says Minister.”
“That’s Commander,” Korban responded indignantly.
“Pardon me, perhaps I can be of assistance,” the Ambassador said, pushing her way to the front. “I am Ambassador Farah Saeed of the-,” she began, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. Without hesitation, the Vanguards by the door raised their weapons with the Sovereignty troops springing to her defense.
Shouting erupted in the narrow hallway, with each side holding the other a trigger away from bloodshed. The Tesh easily encircled the group as they stood back-to-back.
“Drop your weapons!” Rousseau ordered.
“Don’t make me put you down, boy!” Jackson warned.
“Lo’reshka vorin, tel’sharen kerul!” commanded one of the Tesh security.
“Lo’venar resh na’drekul! Na’karresh, lo’shaen resh ul? Shathlek!” the Vanguards shouted.
“Shathlek? That means ‘asshole,’ don’t it? Well, come on, show me what you’ve got, fishy!” Romano instigated.
Shouting continued to escalate, with neither side backing down. Getting between both parties, Korban corralled his troops together with both arms outstretched. “Everybody, calm down. No need for anything unnecessarily stupid,” he said with emphasis on the word, ‘stupid.’
“Tell that to trigger finger over there,” Romano nudged his head to one of the Vanguards, who made a gesture with their arm back at him. Romano struggled against his commander as he attempted to confront the Tesh.
Knowing Romano’s hot-headed stubbornness, Korban knew what would happen if he let this continue. Grabbing his soldier by the collar and the sleeve of his arm, Korban rocked his body to send his crewman crashing to the ground on his side.
A look of disbelief creased along Romano’s face. His own commanding officer threw him to the ground for defending their ambassador? He’d protect an enemy combatant over his own troops?
The commander, though remorseful, couldn’t stop to apologize. He had to corral his men before someone on either side could take a shot.
While everyone continued their squabbling, the doors to the minister’s office swung open with a tremendous thud. An immense gust of wind flushed the hallway of all sound. The room, chaotic just seconds ago, was now filled with a stillness.
On the other side of the entrance stood an older man with white hair and a goatee. He had sunken facial features and sported traditional garments with vibrant orange and green patterns. Compared to Kel, the man looked decrepit; his forehead sagged so low that it was a wonder he could see at all.
The man’s name was Thaloren, Minister Voss’s butler, from what Korban could recall from his past visits. He was a man of few words but a great deal of patience.
As everyone waited for the old man to say something, Kel stepped toward him, bowing. In a hushed tone, he spoke in Anautom and gestured to the group. No doubt trying to pin this all on us, Korban mused.
“Very well, Captain. But it’s quite rude not to speak in a language our guests can understand,” he slowly said. With a bow, Kel stepped to the side with his head lowered.
Thaloren took a step forward, without leaving the room, and spoke as loudly as he could muster at his age. “Apologies for the confusion, Commander. All soldiers must wait outside. This decision comes from the Empress herself.”
Korban pensively stood with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows scrunched together. Having his crew with him wouldn’t affect the outcome of these talks; in fact, it would most likely antagonize the Tesh further, as it had just now and on the street outside. But in delicate circumstances like this, he needed the ambassador. This was the one stipulation he wouldn’t budge on.
Exhaling through his nose, Korban glanced at Ambassador Saeed, whose breathing was rapid from all the commotion. He turned his head back to Voss’s butler with the same concentration, this time wearing a softer expression. “If it is what the Empress commands, who are we to say no?” he snidely said, touching his heart with his right hand. He mimicked the bow he saw Kel give moments ago.
“If I may make one simple request, though?” he asked. Thaloren lifted his head as if to listen more carefully. “This is Farah Saeed. Junior Ambassador of the Southern Sovereignty territories. Your office should have received her credentials this morning.”
“We did, Commander. We welcome you to Daria Prime, young miss,” Thaloren bowed his head to her.
“The honor is mine, sir,” she said, bowing back.
“My government sent the ambassador here to delegate today’s discussion. I humbly urge that you allow her to join in our talks today, as her presence is prudent for peace,” Korban pleaded with his hand covering his fist.
Thaloren didn’t say anything or move. Bringing one hand to his chin, the old man made little nods to himself. “Well,” he began, as he rubbed his facial hair, “her highness only mentioned enemy combatants. So… I would say that’s acceptable,” he gave a brief smirk.
Korban and the Ambassador deeply bowed.
The Commander convened with his troops, who stood at attention behind him with their rifles again in a tactical carry. With only a few hushed whispers, the message was loud and clear. Stand down. They were outnumbered by the Vanguard and the Capitol police. That’s all it took for the moment.
Fixing their uniforms, the delegates were ready. As was customary, the two wiped their feet at the door before entering the sanctity of a Tesh elder or official. Thaloren followed close behind as both doors closed shut.