“This is an inopportune time,” said Mongo.
Yoshi frowned, his eyes reproachful. “You have been in the Aether again. Why do you torture yourself with the past?”
Mongo narrowed his eyes, his glare intense. “What you call torture, I call motivation. There will come a time when we will have our vengeance.”
“Which is more important, your revenge or the glory of the empire?”
Mongo left the Aether cell and began his walk to the bridge, Yoshi’s image following him. “Fortunately for me, Yoshi, the two are not mutually exclusive.”
“Always remember, Mongo, the empire comes first.”
Mongo smiled. “I must go now. I have the business of the empire to attend to.”
Yoshi nodded and terminated the link, his image flickering and then disappearing.
Captain Utang’s blood was on fire. He would live out his destiny to avenge his father’s defeat. The bureaucratic socialists of the UIC were going to pay, and the Feng Empire would bring freedom and peace to the galaxies once more.
The Feng Imperial Palace, armored with a thick coating of ice, stood in defiance to the frigid wind as the turbulent sky swirled above it. Surrounded by silver-chromed industrial spheres hovering over endless ice fields, it appeared to be the center of its own universe.
Emperor Hiron sat with Monsu Kazar, the Vice Executor of the Feng Empire, in their palatial conference room awaiting the UIC Committee on Foreign Relations to convene. Hiron sat in full battle armor—heavy chest plate, jagged shoulder armor, horned helmet, and cape. Vice Executor Kazar donned the simple, purple robes of a politician. His past military term was more ceremonial than functional, and he had therefore never seen battle.
The conference table’s legs were adorned with carvings of Feng Dynasty heroes of battle—kings, emperors, and generals—in various mid-action poses. Each leg wove a tale in stunning relief. Some were past tales of Feng legend and lore, and some were portents of the future, as in the Prophecy of the Ice Dragon restoring the grandeur of the Feng Dynasty over its many enemies far and wide.
There was a light and a tone, and Emperor Hiron pressed a button on the conference table. Holographic images of foreign ministers appeared in the seats around the long, ornate conference table, as holographic representations of Hiron and Kazar appeared across space in the other participants’ conference and meeting rooms.
“Good day to you, Emperor Hiron,” said Tolstoi Remu, the Humani Foreign Minister. The words registered in Feng through Hiron’s implanted universal translator chip. A typical Humani, she was tall and slender with grey skin and dark, braided hair in the Humani tribal tradition. She wore the drab but functional ministerial garb of the UIC. “Vice Executor Kazar,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“Good day,” returned Emperor Hiron. Kazar only nodded his acknowledgement.
Around the table in clockwise order was Bobot Tegrit, the diminutive, grey-skinned Viceroy of the Humani; Dvorak of the Vampiri (they were referred to by first name according to custom), sitting in his tight black garments, his face bearing the sickly pallor of his race, eyes as iridescent as they were intelligent; Shamel Legune, the large, rotund but otherwise humanoid-looking Homunculi Foreign Minister; Martin Rayban, the snarky, braggadocious Human Foreign Minister of Earth; Hubritia Liguri, the lanky, mantis-like Firenz Foreign Minister.
“We meet today to make progress towards an accord that would allow each of our worlds to live and let live,” announced Tolstoi Remu in an officious tone.
“I have reviewed your terms,” answered Hiron. “They hardly allow the Feng to live at all with all of the sanctions the United Intergalactic Coalition has placed on our people—freezing our credit, interfering with our investments around the galaxy, trade embargoes.”
“We realize that,” said Tolstoi Remu, “and we have composed a set of mutually beneficial stipulations that we believe, as representatives of the United Intergalactic Coalition, should they be agreed upon by the Feng Empire, will allow us to lift economic sanctions.”
“What are these stipulations?” asked Emperor Hiron.
Tolstoi Remu looked to Shamel Legune and nodded, signaling him to elaborate the terms. Shamel pressed a button on his respective conference table, and a digital list floated in the air. As Shamel Legune began to read each term, the words grew in size for tracking and emphasis.
“Term number one,” said Legune. “The Feng Empire is to cease any subsequent research and development of further weapons technologies. All weapons development sites are to be converted to basic science research facilities.
“Term number two: the Feng are to grant access to representatives of the United Intergalactic Coalition of the said sites and any sites suspected of engaging in the development of weapons technology and submit to regular, unscheduled inspections of these sites.
“Term number three: the Feng are to share any and all developments in shipbuilding technology with the appointed representatives of the United Intergalactic Coalition in the interest of fair and free trade.
“These stipulations were drawn up in the best interest and safety of the worlds affiliated with the United Intergalactic Coalition, autonomous worlds and peoples, and the worlds and peoples of the Uncharted Sectors as well as the Feng Empire for the purpose of the greater intergalactic good.”
Shamel Legune then paused, indicating that he was finished. The list of terms was uploaded onto Emperor Hiron’s and Vice Executor Kazar’s digital displays for further inspection and consideration.
“What say you, Emperor Hiron of the Feng Empire?” prompted Tolstoi Remu.
Hiron looked around the conference table, amused at the arrogance of such terms. Although the other foreign ministers were only present as holograms, he sensed the tension and air of nervous anticipation of his reaction to these terms.
“Let me begin by stating that I hardly see anything of fairness in the terms of this accord for the Feng people.”
“I assure you that this accord is in the best interest of all the parties involved,” insisted Tolstoi Remu. “What are your reservations?”
“What are my reservations?” chortled Hiron. “Where do I start? Term number one stipulating that we cease the development of all new weapons technology…the Feng Empire is but a shell of what it used to be.” Hiron noticed self-satisfied smiles around the table at the uncharacteristic admission. “The United Intergalactic Coalition is vast and powerful. How do you expect us to defend ourselves should the need arise?”
“The development of new weapons technology would only be for the purpose of offense, not defense,” said Hubritia Liguri of Firenz. “If you are serious about entering into an accord, you must demonstrate your honorable intentions by abandoning an offensive posture.”
Hiron wore a joyless grin. “How will the UIC demonstrate its honorable intentions? Are the worlds and races of the United Intergalactic Coalition going to cease weapons development as well?”
“That has not been raised as a stipulation in this accord,” said Tolstoi Remu. Hiron looked for a flash of color in the Humani minister, but the holographic technology masked such displays of emotion. Humani epidermal microexpressions could only be seen in the flesh.
“Of course not,” said Hiron. “So, while the United Intergalactic Coalition continues to advance their weapons capabilities, the Feng people will be left behind, leaving us vulnerable.” He looked at Hubritia Liguri. “Defensively speaking.”
“The Feng are already way out in front of weapons development,” offered Dvorak of the Vampiri. “Perhaps a hiatus will give the rest of us a chance to catch up, striking a balance. You are hardly helpless with legions of Cybions at your disposal. Not many would wish to tangle with those monstrosities.”