by Aer-ki Jyr
Hamob was suspicious about the claim he was still alive, but it was time he found out, so he made his way to the Era’tran delegation…who were shocked he was still alive…and joined in on the non-public discussions taking place.
And the recklessness that Mak’to’ran was proposing.
If the Zak’de’ron could be made to stand down, this system and all others would be stripped of their planetary defense stations save for one. That meant of the 6 located here, 5 would be removed and shipped out to this Grand Border Mak’to’ran was talking about colonizing and holding against the Hadarak minions.
The Ranto’non were speechless when that point was made, and only out of courtesy did they not scream ‘no’ the moment it was suggested. They were silent, and rightly so, for stripping their heaviest defenses in the middle of a war for their own survival was folly in the highest regard.
Then the delegation said something that was even more absurd. That Mak’to’ran had agreed to Star Force’s annexation of the Era’tran and any other race that wished to be free of this war and focus on the Hadarak. The Uriti were coming to ensure that freedom, while anyone who wished to maintain their independence could deal with Itaru on their own.
Mak’to’ran…or an imposter more likely…was demanding they surrender to Star Force or be left to die piecemeal against Itaru.
The Era’tran delegation was not demanding, arguing, or insistent. They were very gracious and understanding of the stupidity of what they were suggesting, leaving all the ill will for the recipients of the message. That kept the shouting to a minimum, but the Ranto’non kept looking to Hamob for instructions, as if they could not believe this was really the wisdom of the Era’tran. And if it was, they might have to forgo their long apprenticeship relationship with the legendary race and take their chances on their own.
Hamob did not side with the delegation. He had a responsibility to uphold the honor of his race and a debt to pay to the Ranto’non that had sheltered him from the empire-wide war when he had nowhere else to safely run to. But he also needed to figure out what was really going on, and if the delegation was being honest about a number of secure spacelanes already opened up by the Uriti and their escort fleets, then he had a pathway to get to Holloi and see for himself about Mak’to’ran’s resurrection.
Hamob told the Ranto’non to do nothing until he returned, and if he did not to assume all the galaxy was still hostile and hold out here as long as they could on their own. They gave him an escort fleet of 9 ships to increase his odds of making it past the J’gar patrols if they were still out there while the Era’tran Domjo insisted they had to keep moving from world to world spreading the news and couldn’t afford to interrupt that mission to return Hamob to Mak’to’ran. Time was already against them, and they had to move on after a few days here to the next known friendly holdout.
The Era’tran Elder did not hold out much hope for Mak’to’ran truly being alive, and if he had suffered an injury of the brain then he might be in the plight of an unwitting tool for Star Force or others, but the declaration of a safe path had been more or less true. They encountered some J’gar ships, usually in pairs, along their way, but none of the larger task forces necessary to pounce on well-guarded convoys.
Then they passed through a Hjar’at system that showed an entire moon laid to waste by orbital bombardment…or on the surface, at least. The moon itself was still intact, but those who had been living on it were not. The planet beneath them showed marks of combat damage not yet repaired, but most of it was intact and full planetary shields had been reestablished according to his sensors. Hamob chose to stop here to talk with the Hjar’at, whom he had heard were hit first and hardest by the Zak’de’ron, but apparently they had been able to hold out in this mid-level system.
But more than that, there was now a Uriti with accompanying Star Force fleet in the system, and the presence of the beast was now confirmed by both the ship’s sensors and his own eyes. It was a smaller copy of the original known as Hawkeye, and it was shaped like a great bow in space with an arrow cast across its center. An ancient weapon used by large armed bipeds that did not deserve the naming credit of this dominant war beast.
The Hjar’at confirmed the stories to Hamob, and he found himself growing more hopeful and terrified at the same time. The Hjar’at here were now identifying themselves as part of the Star Force empire, and even using their emblems on their own ships and buildings. He demanded to know why they had knuckled under to the Rimward empire when they refused to do so with Itaru and everyone else throughout history…and their response was elegantly simple.
“They are giving us the power to fight the Hadarak, and relying on us to protect the Grand Border that they cannot. This is a merger of equals, not submission.”
Hamob couldn’t believe he had heard that from a Hjar’at, let alone a field commander, and after he had plied as much information out of them as he could, he continued on with his small Ranto’non fleet to Jamtren, hearing other such stories along the way, but not encountering any more Uriti.
Not until he got to the Era’tran capitol.
He had no issue jumping in, but when he arrived he was met by a combined Star Force/Era’tran warship fleet and not one, not two, not three, but four Uriti were in the system and mingling about with the most insane amount of ship traffic he had seen since the war began. There looked to be ships here from nearly every V’kit’no’sat race, and they were arriving and exiting along dozens of jumplines, not just the secure route here he had been promised by the courier ship.
His fleet was queried immediately, and once he made his presence known he was given priority access to Holloi, but before he could receive landing coordinates a drop pod rose up from the surface and demanded to be let onboard to search and confirm his identity before being allowed to progress any further onto the most revered world in Era’tran possession.
At least that part hadn’t been stripped away by the war or Star Force, and Hamob reluctantly went to the hangar bay to present himself for genetic identification to the search team…only there was no ‘team’ onboard. Just a single Era’tran with Zen’zat escorts.
“Hamob, it is you,” Mak’to’ran said, striding towards his old mentor.
“But is it you?” he countered, also walking forward to meet him.
“I have limited memory loss, but I am myself. Only more powerful now that I have broken through the barrier to Essence. It was what allowed me to fully recover while under attack here. Had I not been so fortunate I would have been dead within minutes.”
“Again, you mean,” Hamob said as he plied Mak’to’ran telepathically, with the other allowing him into his mind for verification. Something that he would not do for anyone else. Not even Alden.
“What have you done to our race?” Hamob asked after he was finished. This was Mak’to’ran, thank the stars, but he was not behaving like the Era’tran he knew.
“What did you do to our race?” Mak’to’ran demanded, still extremely happy Hamob was alive, but with a little vexation from the past resurfacing. “You attacked the Zak’de’ron in defiance of my orders.”
“I did not. The others on the Council saw you killed and wanted vengeance. I could not convince them otherwise.”
“Vengeance? That holds a double meaning.”
“And accurate on both counts. They did not know who to strike at for your death, and they still wanted the Zak’de’ron dead for past actions. They did not know what else to do, and I did not have an alternate path for them…at least not one that was convincing. They wanted war and we got it. I could not stop them, and once the decision was made it would have been foolish to let them fight without Era’tran assistance. They had made it clear they were going to do so anyway, and I was able to leverage them into sticking to your battle plans precisely. They worked quite well.”
“And this is why I brought the Era’tran into Star Force,” Mak’to’ran growled. “Without my oversight the empire immediately began its own se
lf-destruction. It has not learned, Hamob. And I have no time to teach it. We are in the grip of the Great War, now, and here. We must answer the call, as one empire, and the Rim holds the leadership that is truly worthy.”
“So you have submitted to the Humans and their Uriti?”
Mak’to’ran shook his head. “I am very pleased that you are alive, but I have grown considerably wiser since we last spoke. Star Force is not conquering us. They are upgrading us so we can do the task we were always meant to. We are still independent, in all the ways that matter. What we are not free to do is fail. They will not allow it.”
“Perhaps the definition of ‘freedom’ is one of the memories you have lost?”
“Holloi was dead when I woke,” Mak’to’ran said, with the pain evident in his voice. “The Zak’de’ron were here, decimated, but slowly consuming the hatchlings we had left. All the Elders chose to die on the front lines when the planetary shields were penetrated rather than live to fight a long defeat. They succeeded in thwarting the main thrust of the attack, but not one remained to lead what was left. If I had not woke when I did, Jamtren would be theirs. The old guard is gone, save for you and I, and hopefully a few others still hiding as you were. I have an empire of hatchlings, Hamob. And Star Force can teach them to be what the Zak’de’ron always promised us and failed to fully deliver. Hunters of Hadarak.”
“I came here, not only to see if you were alive, but for the sake of the Ranto’non who have sheltered me. You are ordering them to transplant all but one of their planetary defense stations? What madness is this?”
“It is the genius of Star Force, but it is only the beginning. We must colonize the Grand Border. Every system, every planet. We cannot allow any foothold for the Hadarak, and we must not allow any minion to pass through. That is our task, while Star Force uses their Essence warships to defeat the Lurkers that we cannot. We must become the Grand Border, Hamob…or we can return to a pointless war for survival with the Zak’de’ron that may or may not play out before the Hadarak destroy us both. What would your counsel be, my old friend?”
“To have your brain examined for faults.”
“It already has been, numerous times,” Mak’to’ran said deadpan.
“I will need a great deal of convincing.”
“As has everyone else. Including the Zak’de’ron.”
“The Uriti have fought them?”
“Fought? No. They have stomped on them. Four worlds destroyed that would not submit and continued to send out raiding parties, two of which were aquatic. After seeing the results Itaru was quick to negotiate an Armistice, though without the Urrtren it cannot be implemented everywhere.”
“Your courier said nothing of an Armistice?”
“It was negotiated here 4 months ago. Any systems claiming Star Force possession will be left alone. Any ships bearing their mark will also be left alone. But anyone not joining in our fight against the Hadarak and wishing to continue the war against Itaru or go their own way will be fending for themselves.”
“So it is true? You are leveraging them with the threat of destruction without support if they do not submit to Star Force.”
Mak’to’ran growled. “I had hoped you would be quicker to understand, but so be it,” he said, producing a galactic hologram with all the updated information Star Force and his own limited scouts had provided. “See for yourself what we face, then tell me we have the luxury of coddling the holdouts.”
Hamob interfaced his armor’s systems with Mak’to’ran’s so he could alter the hologram at will, but it didn’t take long before his mouth hung open in disbelief.
“How is this possible?”
“When you abandoned the war, they gained free reign in many Regions. Did you think Star Force could stop them on their own? Or was the Elder Council so blind with rage they could not think past their bloodlust?”
“Mak’to’ran…this is unwinnable.”
“Nearly so. Star Force can defeat the strongest units, perhaps all of them in time, but they cannot stop their minions. There are too many, and too many infested worlds to spawn more. Without the V’kit’no’sat Star Force has no chance to stop this menace. They don’t have enough time to build the Grand Border. We are their only hope for victory. And they are our only hope for survival. Without us they have to abandon V’kit’no’sat territory and attempt to build the Grand Border along the Hula Hoop, but by that time…”
“…the Hadarak will have so many minions it will not matter,” Hamob finished.
Mak’to’ran produced a second, smaller hologram over top the first. A hologram of the Star Force symbol, which he now wore in multiple places on his own armor, subtly added to the design.
“This symbol has many layered meanings. It is the letters of their name, and also an infinity symbol representing their longevity, endurance, and endless pursuit of advancement. But as fate would have it, it is also split into two halves. I am told that, as of now, that represents the Rim and the Core of our combined empire. One cannot survive without the other now. Both must be united as one empire, as it should have been all along, but I was too blind to see their wisdom and strength. I am not making that mistake again.”
“It looks like it is too late, no matter what path you choose,” Hamob said meekly.
Mak’to’ran laughed. “Hopeless? No, Hamob. Not hopeless. This is our chance at true victory. We can smell it now, and we will not let the scent escape us again.”
“What do we have that can defeat this?” he said, gesturing to the sea of Hadarak icons across the Galactic Core that had come insanely farther since the fall of Itaru than his worst expectations had accounted for.
Mak’to’ran huffed, then stiffened as Hamob felt a Lachka field wrap his body and lift his great mass off his feet with ease.
“Do not underestimate the power of Essence, my friend. It enhances all our normal abilities, in addition to bringing its own unique variety, and I am a mere novice,” he said, letting the wide-eyed Era’tran back down. “Star Force is mastering it, and it will take the Hadarak’s most impressive abilities out of play. They can no longer threaten us with immunity. All they have is the swarm tactics we long ago learned to defeat. We are the superior warriors in the portion of this war that we must fight. We have the advantage. And now we have a great amount of work to do, and little time to do it. Our fight is with the Hadarak minions. We must draw a line in the stars, and none shall be allowed to pass.”
“You are either insane or inspired. I honestly do not know which.”
“I have seen evidence, and felt firsthand the power of an enemy that we cannot defeat, Hamob. Only Star Force can, and they are not ready for that intergalactic war. Now that I am accustomed to that dread, the Hadarak no longer scare me. I see them as they truly are, and why they can defeat the Founders that built the Great Temples in this galaxy. The Hadarak cannot defeat their Essence, which is why they fear it so, but the Founders cannot defeat their minions. This twin approach to warfare is why the Hadarak dominate, and Star Force must also fight in this manner. And who knows better how to kill minions than the V’kit’no’sat?”
“Only if Star Force shields us from the monsters.”
“That is their role, and the Grand Border is ours. Help me, Hamob, and we can achieve the impossible duty that the Zak’de’ron only feigned allegiance to. Star Force is giving us the chance to stop being frauds and to live up to our mandate.”
“And Essence truly gives Star Force the means to cover us while we fight the minions?”
“It does. And I am the only V’kit’no’sat that can wield this power. So only I know how outclassed we are in this type of warfare…but the other empires in the universe lack what we possess. The ability to defeat the swarm. We stick to our strengths and cover each other’s weaknesses while we seek to lessen them.”
“Those sound like Star Force words.”
“They are, and now they are mine as well. The trailblazers are far wiser than we ever anticipated, and I hav
e learned much these past few years from the one who has devoted himself to upgrading the Era’tran race. Others are taking the Hjar’at and I’rar’et, plus whoever else joins us. They are spotting our weaknesses in a way only a former enemy could, and they are teaching us to armor over them in the way we ironically taught them by issuing defeat after defeat. They had to learn or die, and now we are in the same situation. We learn, or we die, Hamob. And I have chosen to learn…”
10
January 29, 128829
Neev’to’san System (Grand Border, Era’tran Zone)
Olten’san
The Era’tran cargo ships were escorted into the system with a scattering of small warships to guard them, though nobody expected any trouble here. The J’gar had withdrawn their fleets from the Grand Border, as far as everyone could tell, and many of the V’kit’no’sat civilian vessels were assisting with the evacuation of races native to the zone and far ahead of the Hadarak battle lines. There were many people between there and here that needed moving as well, and they came first for the Rimward evacuation teams, but the V’kit’no’sat were splitting their efforts and devoting a large amount of their resources to clearing the zones they were being tasked with holding.
The massive tuning forks spread out in the system, going to multiple planets, but the bulk of them came to Olten’san…a lightly inhabited planet that was now barren, as it had been before a group of settlers had discovered the highly valuable Corovon deposits in the wastelands and decided it was worth setting up shop. Those initial mining colonies had expanded into a planetary civilization numbering 284 million…all of whom had been recently kicked off the world for their own safety.
