What’s next you ask?… We get rid of her.

The war has ended, but not the way Star Commanded wanted. They are not happy. An excerpt from The Starflower.

Malik flipped through the headlines without speaking. Her office was perfect for interrogation: austere, snow-white, windowless walls, angular, black-upholstered furniture. Glare from the overhead burned Abramyan’s eyes. Despite his formal uniform and sweat-beaded face, he felt naked and cold. He knew what Malik would ask, and he had no answer.

“How did you let this happen?” she shouted, throwing up her arms. “You told me Zimmon would never be put in any combat zone. Sidelined, you said.”

Her gnarled, brown-mottled finger poked from her black sleeve at the projection. WAR ENDS – STARFLOWER VICTORIOUS! She flicked to the next headline: STARFLOWER ENDS WAR! Then the next: STARFLOWER BLOOMS! “Who authorized Zimmon to end the war?” Malik’s robe flared like an angry cobra hood. 

“And this, AAAArrr.” She raked skeletal palms down her face then pulled up the next projection. The classified transmission indicated that, without authorization, military units had gone on alert and prepared to head to Bai-Yota in support of Five Squadron. “Our battle fleet supported her,” Malik screamed. “We were very, very lucky this didn’t go further.”

Abramyan had read the traffic. Each condemnation came like a twisting spear thrust. Jen Djada, the only other Councilor in the room, sat quietly by the door.

Malik spoke to Abramyan’s stone silence. “What’s next you ask?”

Abramyan couldn’t help blurting, “Lord Malik, Bai-Yota was a surprise. I didn’t, Zimmon didn’t, HELL, the Aldrakin didn’t know. They thought they’d catch us—”

“Excuses? Now you make excuses?” Malik gripped the edge of her desk with shaking, predator talons. “I’ll tell you what’s next. We get rid of her. That’s all, just get rid of her. We do it clean, we do it quiet, but we get rid of her. Soon as she reaches Corydon, you know those Under-lovers will be all over her…and Creatives, a lot of Creatives see her as some sort of righteous underdog.”

Abramyan trembled like a child caught in a snowstorm. Behind him, Djada’s jaws flexed.

Malik blew a long breath. “We can’t afford an uprising. Not now, not this close. Some of us are already in transition.” She examined her cadaverous hand then pointed toward Djada. “You still have contacts with the Rii-Chaut? They hate us but love our money.”

“I’ll tell the Yazza Hetman we have more business for him.” Djada’s self-assured demeanor unnerved Abramyan. “Ojai Khan staged the incidents that started the war. He can be discreet. When do you want it to happen?”

“Ojai Khan, yes, that went well.” Malik clapped her hands silently then pointed. “And when you see Khan, tell him I’m angry about the Silkani raid. That base was off limits. We say where to and where not to attack.” Djada gave a leaning bow from her chair.“As to the when question. Don’t have Khan kill Zimmon too soon. That would raise suspicion. We don’t want to make this little Starflower girl into a martyr.” She tapped a finger on the desk. “Let’s be positive. Unders love the Starflower. We love the Starflower, too.