Free Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3) by C.C. Ekeke Page A

feared the domineering Defense Minister who served two Magni, Taorr’s father included, looking every bit the ruler that Taorr didn’t. Even seated, Haemekk was tall, with over half a foot in height on the youngster. A lean yet broad-shouldered frame filled out his ever-changing neon robes, usually superior to Taorr’s dreadfully plain taupe robes and pants. The Defense Minister’s skin was covered in a creamy pelt baring a downy sheen, unlike Taorr’s drab and unadorned peachy-pink pelt. Haemekk’s dark-red mane was tied back into a single, conservative braid falling to his mid-back, simple for a Ttaunz male’s hairstyling. Still, it trumped how Taorr’s midnight-black hair spilled down his shoulders messily.
    Taorr, the heir to Faroor’s Viceroyship or “Magnal Throne” as Ttaunz called it, then remembered the sea of Ttaunz homogeny awaiting him at this banquet. Attending one Ttaunz highborn gathering was the same as attending the thousands before it.
    Same arrogant merchant kings and politicos pining for the times when the Ttaunz ruled a Supremacy of numerous planets, instead of sharing a diminutive Union memberworld with those “filthy” Farooqua.
    Same Ttaunz merchant princes and princesses, their perfectly engineered features bearing similarly vacant stares and courteous sneers.
    Same highborn apathy for anything outside their own pleasures. The heirs to Faroor’s future, indeed.
    Taorr no longer had a place among those empty-headed aristobrats. “No, Haemekk,” he replied firmly.
    Haemekk enjoyed this defiance like a snowflake enjoyed flame. “Your father knew what was important,” the Defense Minister snarled. “Any wonder why many call for your brother to ascend to the Magnal Throne instead of yourself? Or why your betrothed’s family wants to call off your nuptials due to your brazen inattention?”
    Taorr closed his eyes, as if that could check the anger bubbling beneath his down-covered flesh. Do I want to mention this in front of guests? Opening his eyes, Taorr decided he didn’t care. “The same brother who will once again drink himself into a coma tonight at Senator Praece’s gathering? The same brother currently helping himself to my betrothed like some common all-you-can-eat buffet?”
    That shut Haemekk right up, confirming the Defense Minister knew about the two-year affair. Of course he knew. Disgusted, Taorr shook his head and changed the subject. “I want what is best for our species, which is impossible if we are not in diplomatic accord with Faroor’s natives. I will see you at next day’s light.”
    With an annoyed handwave, the floating viewscreen winked out, ending the transmission. And Defense Minister, all grim and about to retort angrily, vanished along with it. Immediately, the young Ttaunz sunk into his seat as if deflated. He stared aimlessly out the viewport of his rapidly moving transport, mind spinning. When the politicians and merchant kings from several city-states had screamed for justice after last week’s suicide bombing in Muunica, he barely convinced his brother and Haemekk not to retaliate. The biased Ttaunz news streams had been deriding “Taorr the Conciliator” as grossly ineffectual for the past year. Incidentally, they weren’t wrong.
    His attempts to broker peace with the Farooqua tribes were failing, and Faroor’s High Council was all but useless. How his father dealt with these daily pressures was a mystery. Taorr almost envied Maorridius Magnus’s current position. Almost .
    “Have I taught you nothing about negotiations, youngling?” The peaceful voice from across the compartment sounded like three soothing voices speaking at once.
    Usually the words from his travel companion calmed him. Not tonight. Taorr focused his attention on the egg-headed Kudoban sitting across from him.
    “Sorry, Zojje,” Taorr apologized, “but your teachings are useless when dealing with my own kind.”
    The Kudoban known as Zojje straightened an abnormally