Seizing his chance, Galika had sent an anonymous transmission to leading Tigrid Senator Lucama Dario, one of the greediest cats in the Senate. He was very careful to include detailed schematics and scans of the area that showed the exact boundaries of the vein. He also made sure to emphasize the juicy tidbit that none of the other races had laid claim to the deposits, creating an opportunity too good to pass up. If Dario acted quickly, he could corner the market on ovaritanium, making billions in the process.
True to form, Lucama Dario had leapt at the chance. Under cover of darkness, he had mobilized a small militia of guards, police, and mercenaries and taken control of all access to the vein. And, quite predictably, the other delegates had erupted in a storm of protest and accusation which Galika quickly put to use. By pulling on the strings of those delegates he controlled, he had planted seeds of discontent and mistrust throughout the government, and Filius’ peace became clouded with the threat of conflict.
“So close,” he mused, taking another sip from his glass. “After so many years, the wait is nearly over. All that remains is that final push, and everything will fall apart.” Of course, he had prepared for that as well, discretely siphoning weapons and ammunition to the armies of various races through a group of corrupt officials. By carefully controlling the size of the shipments, he had ensured that when war began there would be chaos as territories tried to cope. And he had also made certain to better equip his own people than any of the others, as well as manipulating the strings of the Leonid military to cement his position as Supreme General when the war began.
The board was set, the pieces were in place, and now all that remained was the first move, which would begin the deadly game he had laid out. It was the other races of Filius versus Galika Lukanol and the Leonids. Winner takes all, including the loser. It was a game that would decide the fate of the entire planet. And it was a game that, no matter how well the others tried, Lukanol was sure to win.
The thought brought a smile to his face as he fingered the ostentatious ring on his hand, the ornate sapphire and gold crest actually the symbol of the ancient Filian Dynasties. It was to his great annoyance when his musings were interrupted by the pager on his desk. He tapped it sharply, and the voice of his secretary filtered through. “Sir, delegates Dafili, Vahiki, and Kathim to see you, as requested.”
Lukanol smiled and activated the microphone. “Excellent. Send them in, Miss Rozwari. And call up a catering cart as well. I’m sure we’ll be a while.
Seconds later, the ornate wooden doors to Galika’s office opened, admitting the three lions into the auspicious chamber. Galika rose to his feet and smiled warmly. “Welcome, gentlemen. Please, be seated. I’ve already asked for food and drink to be brought up.”
The other representatives nodded and took their places before looking at Galika expectantly. For a few moments he remained silent, just gazing at the three lions seated across from him. Then he cleared his throat and looked at Dafili, fixing him in his sharp gaze. “Now, I trust all our preparations are proceeding smoothly? Weapons, spies, informants…”
The other lion brushed a spot of dust from his suit. “Everything is in place. The weapons have been distributed to your specifications, and all of our operatives are in position.” He smiled and flicked a silver lock of hair away from his face. “All we need now is the command.”
“Excellent.” Galika interlocked his fingers and turned his attention to Vahiki. “And what of our media informants? After all, we want to make sure the public knows what goes on in this conflict, or at least what we want them to.”
Jokarad shifted in his seat. “All in order. The people will hear what we want them to hear.”
Lukanol nodded and turned to Kathim. “And you. I presume our hit men are in position? I want to be sure any dissention will be dealt with promptly.”
Zetopa nodded. “All armed and accounted for. The only thing they need is your command.”
Lukanol sat back in his chair, thinking. For several moments, all was silence as the three delegates waited for their leader to speak. Finally, he sat forward once more, a wicked gleam in his golden eyes. “Very well. I think it’s time we set things in motion. Arrange a conference with the other leaders at the nearest convenient date. It won’t be long now before everything falls into place.”
He grinned and twisted the ring on his finger, feeling the contours of the ancient crest. “And then… Then we will rise to power once more.”
Over the next few weeks the media was consumed by a firestorm of stories revolving around the Tigrid’s seizure of the ovaritanium mines and the fear of war. Day after day the reports told of meetings between leading Senate members, but every one ended in crushing disappointment as negotiations broke down. No matter how hard the other leaders pushed, the Tigrids remained unmoving, and the harsh rebukes of Lucama Dario did nothing to ease the tension. With every passing sunset, hopes for a peaceful resolution to the conflict dwindled, and many began to prepare for the worst.
Amidst the mounting fear, Matakh felt a heavy weight building within his heart. With every failed meeting, every dismal headline, he grew more and more depressed. The changes in his behavior were a cause of great concern to his family, and his parents did all they could to try and lift his spirits. But every day he spoke less, and his appetite was beginning to suffer. He spent much of his time now sequestered in his room, praying and reading his Bible in a desperate search for comfort. Meea was growing especially concerned for her older brother, but even she couldn’t find a way to improve his mood.
Only one thing ever seemed to break through Matakh’s depression, and that was the continued visits of the little fox. Ever since that morning weeks before, the Etaris had made it a point to leave meals out for him, and more often than not they would find the plates cleaned off, a small trinket attached to them. He still remained in the shadows, and they never caught more than a brief glimpse of him. But nevertheless, the young fennec had become a large part of their lives, as well as a light for Matakh’s otherwise dark days.
Then, towards the middle of July, the newspapers exploded with a story that brought the first ray of hope in weeks. ‘Delegate Galika Lukanol Requests Gathering of Racial Leaders: Warrior Gone Pacifist? Filius Can Only Hope.’ When he read the headlines, Matakh finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel he had been trapped in. Everyone knew about Galika Lukanol, and while he was famous for his aggressive tactics and explosive nature, he was also one of the most influential people in the Filian Supreme Senate. If he chose to vote for peace, the chances of resolution would increase by leaps and bounds. That day, Matakh had spent hours in prayer, pleading that this hope would not be proven in vain. All that he, and the rest of Filius, could do was watch and wait for an event that could change its future forever. The fate of an entire planet rested in the hands of one person.
Chapter Three: The Hammer Falls
“Is everything ready?” Lukanol demanded as he strode down the Senate Building’s Main Hall, Delegates Dafili, Vahiki, and Kathim at his heels. His tail twitched erratically behind him, and his eyes were blazing with concentration. “Talk.”
Vahiki nodded, trying his best to keep pace. “Just as you wished it. Everyone is present and accounted for, and we have operatives in place in case things don’t go quite as planned.”
Lukanol nodded. “Perfect.”
The four lions were on their way to one of the Senate’s spacious conference rooms, where the meeting between all the leading racial delegates of Filius was set to take place. All throughout the building, tension seemed to hang like a cloud. Word of the meeting had spread like wildfire, and as the four lions made their way through the halls, everyone seemed to part around them. All eyes glanced furtively at the passing felines, in particular the tall, imposing figure of Lukanol himself.
For his part, Galika seemed totally oblivious to his surroundings,