© 2011 by Rigel Ailur
Published by Bluetrix Books, Smashwords edition
Copyrighted material. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce in part or in whole without the express prior written consent of the author.
All characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.
"We need ships. Our own ships." Talian fought to keep the desperation out of her voice but knew she failed miserably at the effort. She slammed her palms onto the round table with more force than she'd intended, angry color suffusing her normally fair complexion. Talian could feel the roiling emotions from the woman across the table even through her own. Portia was embarrassed for her; worse, neither Portia nor the others recognized the peril.
Talian took a deep breath, shoring up her mental defenses as she did so. Broadcasting her exasperation would not help. She spoke using a much more level tone of voice. "Mimion needs to build its own fleet. We can't always depend on offworlders. The Shtawlky saved our planet once, but it shouldn't be up to them. It's been over a hundred years, and we still haven't done anything."