No more delays! He entered the vast hulk without any outward sign of trepidation, but once inside, his massive heart beat faster as he mentally reviewed his arguments one more time. On each side of him, the twilight of the interior of the once formidable Warrnam looked bleak and desolate; Hybralloy is considered to be totally rustproof, as well as being the strongest, lightest and most resilient alloy in the known Galaxy. Despite this, after centuries of exposure to the toxic chemicals increasingly present in the doomed planet’s atmosphere, the walls were streaked with rust and had worn thin enough in places to allow in a reddish glow that seeped through from the smog-laden atmosphere outside. Not one vestige of the original equipment remained, though the Control Room deck was still in place over his head. (This was the last piece of useful material available, left as a mark of respect to the battle history of the ship, before it had finally become unserviceable). Much of the needs of the Rhaal Narlav fleet had been met from this one wreck, over the preceding centuries.
The chamber opened up ahead as Varshak marched steadily and heavily forwards. His battle-hardened feet pounded on the steel deck all the twenty-six hundred feet towards the stubby tail of what was once a Galaxy-crossing ship. In the distance he could see the wooden raised platform where the Council sat, deliberating on the future, such as it was, of the planet which they had renamed some five centuries before in honour of their home world. The honour had been most fitting and ironic, as the Narlavs had destroyed that planet with the pollutions they had unleashed on it, much as they were now in the final stages of destroying this unfortunate world[9].
Varshak stopped before the stark but revered, centuries-old wooden platform and looked up into the gloom at the four members of the ruling council present. The ruling Council consisted of the Commanders of the five principal Warrnam, and theoretically was still empowered to act, when one member was unavoidably absent, even if that member were the ‘Prime Leader’.
They could make a decision without ‘the first’, without Daklan; it has been done before. He knew, too, that it had been over two centuries since that fateful decision, and that the civil war it had eventually precipitated would not be a good motivation for another such ill-considered pronouncement.
Varshak could barely make out the silhouettes of his fellow Warrnam Commanders in the light filtering through the cracked rear bulkhead of the craft. Now that his booming march was ended, silence descended once more on the cavernous chamber. He glanced respectfully in the direction of the invisible framework, lost in the darkness some four hundred and seventy feet up, raised his arms high above his head, then dropped them to his side once more. After this gesture of respect that was also a way of announcing a desire to seek an audience, he carefully posed with his right arm in front and his left behind, indicating his junior status, but turned his feet subtly to the left, giving the slightest hint of his challenge to their previous decision to wait, and his determination to change that decision.
“Speak!” A nameless but powerful voice commanded him, imperiously, echoing down from on high.
Varshak stood before the five seats of the Rhaal ruling council, his arms carefully immobilised now in an outward sign of his respect as he paused before beginning his argument.
“I am ready. My ship is ready, and my warriors are eager to begin the battle for Earth. Let me take my kham[10] of warriors to prepare our weapon of mass destruction, so that it will be ready when our remaining Warrnam have returned. Then we can begin our conquest of the planet without any delay.”
“Your request is contrary to the conduct of all Narlavs,” the anonymous voice continued, “Varshak is not leader of all from Rhaal.”
Varshak concluded that the speaker must be Commander Bathan, ruler of the second Warrnam. He exhaled heavily. Oh, that I had progressed far enough to hold a seat on the Council myself! Varshak took another breath as he wished to himself that he had, at least, known personally the fourth and fifth Commanders. Such familiarity might have meant a more favourable response, as fellow-warriors often respected those whom they knew, especially those who had shown their prowess by successfully completing difficult tasks. He continued his plea with true warrior bluntness, returning to his main point.
“I ask again, as the one who found this treasure planet, where no others have succeeded, for your permission to lead our forces to victory. Now is the time for the beginning of our bright future! Delay is a sign of fear.”
The lofty Council members brought their hands down decisively as one, though this was almost impossible to see in the gloom.
“Daklan, the Prime Leader, our greatest warrior, has not yet returned,” the Commander of the third Warrnam reminded him loudly. “You insult his pride by proposing to fight while he is away. Discovery, though worthy of praise, does not entitle you to usurp his position. It is not a sign of fear to wait for the Prime Leader, but a mark of respect.”
Varshak saw his small chance for greater glory slipping away. He knew that he could not explain (again) that his actions would be preparatory to the battle, not an attack as such, as this would be perceived as un-Warrior-like quibbling. He played his most dangerous and (also rather) un-warrior-like card, one of logic.
“But these humans, they are not like the ones we call slaves, the Shaatak. They have many wars amongst themselves. They are much stronger than the Shaatak. And they are many. We should attack them now, before they become stronger. There are about gachtasen[11] humans for each one of our warriors. My invention would reduce that number to sen rata[12] –still enough for us to enjoy battling for some time, and to subdue and enslave when we have won.”
“Perhaps they will be worthy opponents for us, then.” Commander Bathan, acting Head of the Council, folded his arms slowly, before unfolding them again – a gesture visible only to the other Council members. “But I think not. And they will soon learn who is to be Controller.”
“I serve only the Narlavs; I wish only to honour our race by my actions,” Varshak reminded them desperately of his motivations. “I could set up the necessary–”
“You will wait until the remaining three ships have returned,” Bathan interrupted him with a voice as hard as the deck under Varshak’s feet. “Or I will find someone willing to challenge your right to be Commander of the ra gich[13] Warrnam of our fleet.”
Varshak wrinkled his eye space as he considered this.
“Much as I would enjoy such a battle,” he responded, his pupils narrowing at the thought, “I realise now is not a good time for me to remove another warrior from our rapidly diminishing attack force.”
There was a hint of laughter from the right, coming from one of the two lesser Commanders, no doubt. Varshak realised they could well have supported him, if he had been better known to them. They were more aware of the difficulty that the lower Commanders were having, finding sufficient warriors to fill their transports, as their response showed. The pollutions had killed many during the comparatively short time Varshak had been away, searching for a new home for his people. A most dishonourable death for a warrior.
“I will wait for the return of Daklan.” Varshak responded reluctantly. He understood his audience was over, and that he had failed. “I will not enjoy this delay.” He turned and walked quickly away from the Council before they could dismiss him, his move calculated to demonstrate his courage by turning his back on the greatest warriors of Rhaal.
The four members of the Council sat in silence as the sound of his footfalls diminished gradually. After Varshak had marched on the steel floor the entire length of the barren and gloomy hulk to the nose of the old Warrnam, the acting Head of the Council turned to consider who had broken the rule of dignity concerning Council meetings. He studied the faces of the Commanders of the fourth and fifth Warrnam carefully, then decided it was not worth pursuing.
“We trust that Daklan will return soon,” Bathan reminded the other three. “Tell your warriors to prepare for battle. Varshak may want his share of glory, and more. What warrior would not
? Tell your forces to wait a little longer, for there will be more than enough glory for all, when we take the planet called ‘Earth’ from the pitiful humans who now possess it.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Thorby Rudbek found inspiration in the rolling hills of south-eastern Alberta. Richard and Kirrina, Latt and Judy, Isaac and Ruth… came to be during a fateful drive across this wonderful scenery. Science Fiction was the perfect genre for their adventures, though this is really ‘Tender-crisp’ Sci-Fi, as the existence of these happy couples illustrates.
The Galactic Citadel series, begun in 'Ascent' and continued here in ‘Passage’, is about seemingly ordinary folks who find themselves tasked with extraordinary challenges. They might seem to harken from an earlier time, when heroes were really heroes, and the only wars worth fighting are ones which will protect the defenceless.
If you can escape from reality for a while in his stories and come away with that 'feel good' sensation - Thorby will feel he has succeeded.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Thorby is pleased to announce a big change to the visual impact – if that word can be used in reference to this volume☺ – of this, the second Galactic Citadel novel. Passage now has an exciting cover, thanks to the creative talent of Donna Harriman Murillo.
Isn’t it amazing, how she has captured the sense of simple excitement, the joie de vivre, as Richard and Karen fly across the vast expanse of Outpost 27? You can see other examples of her work on the 99designs website… and in other Thorby Rudbek stories!
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[1] Transplyous = An immensely strong but thin transparent sheeting made from layers of subtly differing synthetic materials, and designed for use as an air-to-vacuum interface
[2] Arshonnan super-strength synthetic material that can survive high temperatures. Sometimes termed: ‘black steel’
[3] Patan = Narlav word for seed-pod, used since the War as a derisive label for Scout Craft, based on the slight similarity in shape to the seed-pods of the main Narlav vegetable, Korpatnal.
[4] Siph = Narlav word for pebble, used since the War as a derisive label for Patrol Craft, based on the similarity in shape to wave-smoothed pebbles.
[5] Arshonnan word meaning originally 'not one of us', it became used almost exclusively to mean ‘the enemy’
[6] Arshonna’s Moon – About a tenth the size of Earth’s moon, in an orbit that would be geostationary (but it went backwards around Arshonna). Its density was actually very low, so it caused only very slight tides.
[7] Officially known as New Rhaal, as it is the second planet to bear the name, the first being the original home planet of the Narlavs, rendered uninhabitable almost 800 years ago by heavy industry and zero pollution controls
[8] Narlav numbering system (base 4) 1 sen = 1,0000 (note comas between 4 zeros) which is 256 (base 10)
[9] A world that in happier days had been known as Foruna, an Arshonnan colony planet
[10] Narlav numbering system (base 4) 1 kham = 1,0000,0000 (note comas between 4 zeros) which is 65,536 (base 10)
[11] gachtasen, or 200,0000 (base 4) is equivalent to 8,192 (base 10)
[12] sen rata, or eleven thousand (base 4) (literally, ‘1,0000 and 1000’) is equivalent to 320 (base 10)
[13] ra gich or 13 (base 4) is equivalent to 7 (base 10)
Passage Page 48
