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

long neck as his three mouths, one in the middle of his neck and another at its base, let out a chortle. “Patience can weather the worst storms.” Zojje tilted his egg-shaped head to one side innocently, the nostrils on his forehead wrinkling a bit. “Master yourself and someone like Haemekk will seem like an imagined pinprick.”
    Taorr snorted at the Kudoban platitude. “Want to bet currency on that?”
    Zojje stared back at the Ttaunz, his features clouding over. “Perhaps not.”
    The Kudoban’s downhearted reaction wiped the cynicism off Taorr’s face. It didn’t entirely surprise him, either. Zojje was a renowned diplomat, one of four mediators sent to Faroor by the Union to quell the strife between Ttaunz and Farooqua. Given Zojje’s successful track record, everyone expected a resolution in but a few months. Four years later, progress had been minimal, and other mediators eventually left. Still, Zojje soldiered on, his tolerance of both races’ stupidity continuing to inspire Taorr.
    Tonight, the two sat silently in an armored hovercar transport, sleek and spacious in design without any fancy tech trappings. The vehicle was flanked front and back by two similar hovercars, each carrying a few Ttaunz diplomats and at least half a dozen elite bodyguards from the Ttaunz Defense Force. Under a darkened purple sky, the three hovercars flew low over the patchy ground on route to negotiate with a leading clan of the N’noa Tribal Nation. Taorr always admired the hospitality and imaginative art of the Farooqua N’noa. His own kind, the allegedly more civilized of Faroor’s two species, could learn a thing or twenty from them.
    “A year ago, you began accompanying me on many of my mediations,” the Kudoban continued, breaking Taorr out of his reverie. “Why?”
    “You’re a Kudoban. Why not just read my mind?”
    All three of Zojje’s near-lipless mouths twisted into frowns. “You know Kudobans cannot scan other’s minds without consent or unless in extreme situations.”
    “ Luja , I was joking,” Taorr said contritely. “But seriously…my life had no purpose besides where the next party was, like many aristobrats my age still are. I actually thought once I would be lucky to eventually marry Uarya, daughter of Kyagon.”
    Zojje’s coppery features, round and bug-eyed, barely flinched. “What changed?”
    “Going abroad for university. Tolemus-Meson University on Candra, in the Vega Sector,” he replied brightly. “At first, I despised my father for sending me somewhere so…so alien and common. To that, he said, ‘When you take my position, you will encounter situations far more alien than a foreign university!’
    “He was right. Those three years on Candra was like coming up for air when I didn’t even know I was suffocating. Changed my perspective on everything.
    “When I returned to Faroor two years ago, everything I had thought held meaning didn’t. Even how fellow Ttaunz spoke sounded foreign. And for Uarya, with how she treated others and cared for nothing but herself, I have nothing but contempt. Before long, the feeling became mutual.”
    Taorr shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Former comrades, particularly my younger brother, had little patience for my new outlook. Regardless, I began to truly see the corrosive discord between Ttaunz and Farooqua everywhere I went. This schism is also driving away countless settlers and merchants from trading on Faroor, which is our primary source of commerce…”
    “And around this time, your father began to fall ill?” Zojje asked.
    “Precisely.” Taorr gestured at the Kudoban. “As heir to the Magnal throne, my duty is to do more than express my displeasure. Not when I can change it for the better. I’ve dispatched every negotiator on this sphere versed in the Farooqua kineticabularies to assist us in the peace talks. Ttaunz Defense Force contingents patrol every major city-state on Faroor, but are stretched to the limit. The Union