“Now you would say that?” Z’Vorta said, sneering.
Krajenar gazed downward at the tabletop. She felt numb. “The infiltrator had been heavily modified, connected so deeply with the internal computers of the listening post. If our soldiers hadn’t killed him, he likely would not have survived long on his own once disconnected. His heavy modifications reached an abhorrent level. Invasive surgery had replaced nearly half of his internal organs with mechanical alternatives. We assessed all of this was needed as a means by which he could monitor the multitude of surveillance feeds. Since he appeared to be on a solitary mission, we thought he had been modified to meet its specialized needs…”
Krajenar paused. Images of the Sekkalan thing still spooked her. She cleared her throat, and then said, “There were other unusual aspects of physiology. Much of his skin was shimmering silver, like the texture of a solar panel, with bits of black swirling within it. At first, we thought this was a purely cosmetic change. We also found indications of other elective surgery. Nose transformation. Ear size equalization. All of this led us to believe their race had developed a vanity and focus on social aspects, not war.”
Z’Vorta frowned. “I recall your brief on this. You told us that they would likely attempt diplomatic relations once they established direct contact again.”
Krajenar looked up from the table and offered a meek nod to Z’Vorta. “Yes, sir. That was our conclusion then.”
“What about those cosmetic changes now, Major Attazahal?” Nefav Hoekoloth said.
Krajenar shook her head. “My staff is bringing out the corpse to have a second look at the mottled skin and the facial reconstruction surgeries.”
Mokisiaan military intelligence chief, Under-General Drazir, said, “We intend to reopen the investigation on every aspect of this situation to see what we might have missed.” As his words trailed off, the general’s gaze fell onto Krajenar.
A weighty pause overpowered the room. To Krajenar, she felt as if she stood on the precipice of outer space itself. One wrong step and its vacuum would suck the life out of her.
Finally, Deputy Governor Q’lesh Tiqh leaned forward, her chair creaking out an ominous groan. “I will take all of this to the Governor. He is preparing to give a speech to the public even now to calm them and tell them we can handle this. I expect you all to ensure he is not lying.” She turned to Mid-General of Defensive Operations Onto Tatshalu and said, “You will accompany me to further brief the Governor on your plans to hold off the attacks raining down on our home soil. Expect some hard questions.”
Deputy Governor Tiqh returned her attention to the others. “As for all of you, but especially Major Attazahal and her team of analysts, we have underestimated our enemy, and we need to reclaim our advantage. Meet the challenge, for the sake of us all. Ameo Nihav.”
The Deputy Governor pushed away from the table. Everyone present stood to show respect for the venerable Mokisiaan as she edged out from behind her seat and exited the room. After her departure, the rest of the attendees broke up and headed off to fulfill their respective tasks.
Under-General Drazir drifted up to Krajenar. Looming close, he hissed, “You know what I’ll say.”
Krajenar nodded and said, “My father already said it once, sir”
“A good man. The best. Prove your family’s name is still a worthy one. Go. You have your orders.”
Summoning some strength from the faint shadows of her ancestors, and more from the revulsion she felt at the smoldering ruins of her career, Krajenar said, “Yes, General. I won’t let us down.”
<> <>
Aboard the Sekkalan cruiser, War Claw, Urhmikor Tekla, the Sekkalan Supreme Military Commander, looked on with a stony, impassive exterior as various troop landings continued on the northern continent of Mokisia.
Commandant Boekkurs, the landing controller, considered the ongoing procedures with satisfaction. His emotional range no longer allowed for anything more pure. Observing the precise execution unfold before him, he was not elated, not worried, just satisfied. He watched and analyzed the imagery with real-time processing speed and memory access beyond any unaugmented Angorgal mind could match. “We should have considered a more potent target, considering the lack of resistance.”
Commander Tekla understood the hypothesis. He would not call it regret. The landing controller simply offered a revision for consideration when planning future missions. Still, Tekla disagreed. “No. Momentum might have been lost, and we still had too little real-time data. It would have cost too many soldiers.”
Commandant Boekkurs was a strategist. He planned operations to be implemented by others. As such, he always stood far from any battle. “So?”
Tekla was familiar with the trouble. He would have laughed if laughter were still possible for him. His objection to losses had not arisen out of something foolish as emotions. “You do not see it because it is my place to see it. We replace what does not function because it must be done.” Tekla had personally executed a dozen subordinates in the last year for their inability to use their hardware and software to expectation. “We do not waste that which functions well. Each of us is a resource, built for a purpose and of value to our masters. We are here to eradicate the past, and become the future. We cast off what does not work, but we must not lightly dispose or lose that which functions as intended. To waste one who is pure would be of great offense to our order. Do you now understand?”
Boekkurs nodded and said, “I do, my Commander.”
“Then continue, and remember that we do not wish waste. Even of our enemy. We are here to purify them, if we can, then we shall make them part of us, and grow Sekkalan support for our Ruuksauro redeemers.”
“And if we cannot, we shall purge them.”
“Yes.”
Just then, a white lab-coated older Sekkalan entered the bridge and shuffled her way toward Tekla. She reached him and said, “My Commander, we have received some data from one of the recon groups beyond Sceytera. Far beyond Sceytera.”
Tekla turned to the aged female and said, “Chief Scientist Rilz, this data must be of a high order for you to interrupt our processes here.”
“With apologies, but we understood from our last consultation over a year ago that you sought immediate notification under certain circumstances. Your comms are blocked except for military messages right now, so I sought you out myself.”
“Am I to presume that your presence here then means that a breeding expeditionary component has found a possible match for expansion?”
“Yes, my Commander. They appear similar to hairless primates, about our size, and are bipedal tool and weapon makers. Onsite examinations show promise in terms of intellectual capacity. It is quite possible they could fulfill the bio-extension enhancements we seek.”
Tekla glimpsed the progress of the landings and noted the Sekkalan troop advances under way. He turned back to Rilz and said, “Between your data and our triumphs below, this day stands unique in our great history. Our overseers will assuredly be pleased. We should have consultations far more often moving forward, Chief Scientist Rilz.”
<> <>
It was now Krajenar’s turn to hand down displeasure and orders. She could have been a roiling thundercloud had she been the sort to lose her temper, but she never found that particular leadership style to be effective.
Instead, she shook her head in a weary sort of disappointment. Rather than blaming individuals, she blamed them as a group, hoping this would induce shame without breaking anyone in the process. “Was there even a single element of this initial assessment that was right?” Krajenar said.
None of them spoke, hearing the rhetorical question for what it was. They had been a good team, having provided multiple assessments that helped guide the Mokisiaan forces to victory after victory in the conquest of Esmeria. They were used to being in this briefing room to toast their successes, and not to suffer the wounds of defeat.
None of them dared to mention how Krajenar’s preconcepti
ons and pride had often influenced them, especially in their decision not to investigate Sekkalan physical oddities further. No, none of them raised the specter of their leader’s faulty guidance. They were military and understood how things worked. A commander in the crosshairs only meant pain among the lower ranks. They just had to weather the storm.
Fortunately for her team, Krajenar did not intend to crucify them for long. Shaking her head one last time, she pointed at her autopsy expert and said, “What do we have on the second look at the captive?”
Senior Warrant Officer Paz’egh leaned forward. “The degree of invasive technology inside his body was at a level we can only begin to consider and contemplate. Neural networks blended with computer networks. Muscle tissue connected seamlessly into body-enhancing mechanical drivers. An operating computer core the likes of which I have never seen had subsumed a third of the brain capacity. The choices they made in that regard are terrifying. Regions of the brain most noted for reasoning, memory, and learning have been virtually removed. Much of this specimen’s stomach no longer really existed, as we know it, having been replaced with some sort of battery pack. It’s as if he ran more on electrical power than biological sustenance.”
Lieutenant Roustak Qev’arc, the computer software and virus analyst, grunted and hissed. “By the graves of our forefathers, what sort of monsters are we dealing with here?”
Paz’egh shook his head, “No, they are definitely Angorgal. These are the Sekkalans. They have simply embraced an advancement protocol unlike anything we’ve ever imagined. But, yes, with some of these changes, they lack what we could consider basic Angorgal nature. Practicality and purpose rule them, I would say.”
“Can we be sure their whole society has embraced this nature?” Krajenar said. “We first decided this had been an isolated example, modified so that he, or it, could handle long periods of time monitoring the data that the listening post received.”
Again, everyone avoided mentioning the fact that Krajenar had been the one to decide on that assumption.
After several seconds of awkward silence, Captain Len’aa Stokkard, an engineering expert, spoke up. “What we missed the first time was how well integrated this technology is. You know the mottling of their skin? We had assumed it was a cosmetic conceit. But we were wrong.”
All eyes twisted toward Krajenar for her reaction. Deputy Governor Tiqh’s words from the earlier meeting echoed in her memory. We have underestimated our enemy, and we need to reclaim our advantage. Meet the challenge, for the sake of us all…
Krajenar focused on the female subordinate who raised the miscalculation. She hesitated, then said, “Go ahead, Captain, help us understand more about them.”
“Yes, ma’am. The skin is a type of nanite technology that absorbs solar power or light energy generated from artificial sources to help run the internal hardware. Amazing technology. All of this speaks for a shift in their way of thinking. There must have been a breakthrough on Sekkalan that gave them a sudden leap forward in technological capability. This would not have happened all at once. This captive was not a prototype. The way his body is blended with the machine components has an elegance and long-term assurance to it. This has been done thousands, if not millions of times. I would not be surprised to realize their entire society has some level of this augmentation. Likely, the majority have a very high level of alteration. They are transforming their segment of our species and trying to transcend our style of existence. Improve on it.”
All around the briefing table, mouths twitched and faces curled.
Krajenar held up a hand to hold back their worry. “Listen, all of you. Do you remember the bio-weapon machines we encountered on Esmeria? We all cringed in horror at the very idea of facing those beasts. Although crafted as war machines, we found the lynchpins that let us tear into their weaknesses. What we are now looking at here is another such weapon. It is new. We have to analyze it. But there is a difference. Even now, we are struggling to hold back these red-chested deviants from striking deep into us here, on our own world. We are already fighting them on our own soil, so we do not have the luxury of time. Otherwise, there is no difference.”
Krajenar looked at Lieutenant Tikmort, her Psy-Ops specialist and said, “Now, what I need from you all, but especially you Lieutenant, is to know them. These are Angorgals, like us. Are they not? Then tell me what we need to do now to shock them. How do we set them back on their heels, and make them pause.”
Firing her next bit of inspirational demands at the communication expert, Krajenar said, “Captain Souhlins, we need to break open their comm networks. We have to hear them talking, to understand how they think, and what they want. We need to dig into the history of what they did to themselves so we can find weaknesses.”
Krajenar gestured to the entire room now. “You know the drill people. We’ve done this before, and we need to do it again. Mokisia has picked apart the defenses of the four other moons and righteously united them once again. Let us now show the Sekkalans the fools they are to try and turn the tables on us. We have the numbers. We have the worlds. Use your resources, get me answers, and then we can tell our soldiers how to send these devils screaming back into the void.”
A look of strength grew around the room. Krajenar nodded. “Get to it.”
With a bustle of energy, the team broke up. Already new ideas began to flourish as they began to talk amongst themselves. From this place, dozens of other meetings would form, and new ideas would emerge as analysts sought answers.
Krajenar waited as they left, letting them disperse while she pretended to examine her own computer pad with a look of confidence. The churn quieted. The room stood empty.
Almost.
“Well, that was some very nice bat shit, Major.”
Krajenar didn’t have to look up to know who had stayed behind. Major Taulan Vritak was her second in command, the one who ensured the tasks she assigned were carried out. Taulan held equal rank to Krajenar, and that was no mistake. While Krajenar was the positional superior, Taulan was her equal in everything else. For Angorgals, two heads were always seen as better than one. As a result, Taulan was comfortable calling out Krajenar like he had just done, but only privately in respect for the chain of command.
Krajenar put down the computer pad and met her executive officer’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Taulan leaned back in his chair. He was an orphan, one whose family had perished when a porous asteroid broke up after being hit with ground-based Mokisiaan energy weapons. Much of the rock disintegrated, but some pieces still managed to fall from the sky. Although Taulan was soon adopted by a family of servants, and was expected to accept that vocation as his own upon reaching the age of service, his experience with the rock that incinerated much of his village came to define his purpose of his life.
Once old enough to join the defense forces, Taulan never looked back. His growing expertise in astrophysics and weapon technology gained him some tentative acceptance among those who thought it scandalous for an orphan to turn his back on the traditions of the adoptive family. But for Taulan, the scandalous accusations that followed him in life meant nothing.
Reputation be damned, Taulan wanted to save lives. If that meant offending a senior officer whose family could crush his career with little thought, so be it.
Detailed to the Intelligence Services during the Esmerian campaigns, Taulan met Krajenar and was soon assigned to her unit. They had been inseparable ever since. His gaze met hers and he saw the Angorgal whom he adored as a lover, but he proceeded to hiss out his discontent nevertheless. “That little show you just put on. Every word of it was either bat shit, or you’re blind. I tend to think highly of you, so I decided you must be lying to them on purpose.”
Krajenar was willing to put up with a lot, but she was also under incredible pressure unlike any she had ever experienced. This was not the time for her deputy to question her leadership. She leaned forward, flared her nostrils and exposed her teeth. �
�Explain yourself quickly, Major. My time is short and yours is running out.”
Taulan didn’t back down. “Kraj, listen to me. Do you hear how you are passing out orders? You said we have faced this before. We haven’t!”
“We have won—”
“Against who? Other Angorgals? Yes. Other moons? Krajenar, do you not see the difference? We had our surprises, but in each of those cases, we held the advantage. Our firepower was the more impressive. Our technology was the more advanced. Our teams were the more integrated. Our headquarters were the more remote and unreachable. We were fighting enemies who were primitive or at least reduced. They were fighting against each other on their own moons as much as they were fighting us. We turned them against each other, even as we picked them apart.”
Krajenar opened her mouth, but Taulan cut her off.
“You need to hear this. Right now. We are not facing the same thing. They’ve conquered space with a massive fleet. They can live in space. That makes them virtually unreachable. They can move bridge exits seemingly at will. That makes for surprise attacks at will. Consider the implants. This neural surgery and modifications are years ahead of anything we have. Whatever genius led them to these leaps forward is not walking amongst us. Think about it. We are now like the ones who we have fought all this time. We are the ones invaded by a superior enemy. Imagine how the Bharatis, the Esmerians, the Kaladriaans, or even the Heluphites felt when we emerged from the quantum bridges. That is what we face now.”
Krajenar stared back at Taulan with blistering condemnation. She resisted striking him or calling him a coward. Deep inside, she feared what he said because she knew it was right. Instead, she mustered a subdued growl and a few words bordering on defeatism. “So, what would you have us do? Surrender?”
Taulan stood, surprised that Krajenar had not lashed out at him. He had expected at least that. Shaking his tired head, Taulan brushed Krajenar’s hand with his. She held it and squeezed.
War Torrent Page 4
