When the Guns Roar

by Eric Thomson

  Anger lit up Trage’s eyes.

  “You forget yourself, Brakal. Even a clan lord who sits in the Kraal cannot address an admiral of the first rank in this manner.”

  “Bah.” Brakal waved away Trage’s protest. “I will speak my mind as I see fit. Someone must because it seems most here in the Forbidden Quarter no longer cling to reality. I come from the front lines, Trage. I have been fighting the humans for many turns now and they are not the weak, undisciplined, anarchic primates Mishtak claims. But you see more clearly than he does. Surely you understand that if after so much time we are still far from winning the war, then we are losing it. Perhaps not because of glorious battles but even if it is only through attrition, the humans will, in due course, make paupers of us. And an empire of paupers cannot hold its star systems together for long. The war must end — now. Before Mishtak pushes the empire into a crisis which will topple the dynasty.”

  “I disagree. So do the council, the regent, and the admirals serving me.”

  “Only because you dismissed the admirals who experienced defeat at human hands and know final victory is forever beyond our grasp.”

  A grunt of disbelief escaped Trage’s sunken chest.

  “Is that what this is about? You being dismissed into the inactive officers’ reserve because of failure?”

  “No. You did me and the empire a favor. Now I can actually do something more productive than chasing human phantoms between the stars.”

  “Mishtak and the regent would rather you stay on your estates and leave the conduct of the war in the hands of those not tainted by failure.”

  “I see. You are warning me off at his orders, no doubt. Why am I not surprised? Mishtak enjoys hiding behind his minions. Surely you know me well enough to understand I do not care what Mishtak and the emperor’s mother prefer. I care only about the empire, the ruling dynasty, and their continuing survival.”

  “Perhaps you should care more about your own survival.” Trage’s words, intended as menacing, came out in a low hiss followed by convulsive coughing.

  “Yours seems in greater question. Are you well?”

  When Trage finally recovered, he brushed off Brakal’s concern.

  “The vicissitudes of old age married to hardship. You were saying you cared about the empire and our ruler? Then do not interfere. Some might consider setting the Kraal against the council during a time of crisis as an act, if not quite of treason, then one of deep disrespect. Perhaps even an attack on the council’s honor.”

  “Take care, Admiral. You step on dangerous ground. The Kraal has always been independent of the council and the emperor. It may act as it wishes in pursuit of the common good.”

  Suddenly, Brakal felt immensely tired and irritated by Trage and his willingness to let incompetent political creatures such as Mishtak rob him of his honor in return for power and wealth.

  “Was there anything else? Or did you invite me merely so you could pass along Mishtak’s desire I bugger off into the sunset? If so, please tell that rear echelon fornicator the next time he wishes to threaten me, I shall see his fat arse ushered into my presence.”

  Brakal felt amusement when he saw Trage’s already taut leathery skin tighten further at the insults.

  “One day, you will go too far. Then Clan Makkar will look for a new lord.” Trage waved imperiously at the door. “You may leave.”

  “See to your health, Admiral.” Brakal climbed to his feet. “It would be a shame if you died in office before the war is over. Considering possible successors as commander-in-chief would be even more inept than you are, we might well suffer our greatest losses before the imperial government regains its sanity.”

  **

  Once back in the car’s privacy, Brakal recounted his conversation with Trage almost verbatim for Regar and Toralk’s benefit.

  “It is what we expected,” Regar said with a dismissive gesture once Brakal fell silent. “We knew Trage would not offer you a return to active duty as an admiral of any rank. But threatening you, even indirectly, might be evidence Mishtak is worried about the Kraal meeting again after so long and taking him and the council to task for their conduct of the war.”

  “And so he should be because we will. By the way, I think Trage is dying.”

  “We are all dying.”

  Brakal scowled at the Tai Kan officer.

  “Faster than the rest of us, I mean.”

  “Infected by the council’s moral rot no doubt.”

  “Where should I take you now, Lord?” Toralk asked. “It is still too early for your meeting with Admiral Edronh.”

  “We could head directly for the Bloody Lance now and enjoy ourselves,” Brakal replied, naming a lower town tavern favored by Deep Space Fleet non-commissioned officers and junior ranks serving at Shredar’s military spaceport. “But since we are already here, perhaps I should visit the Kraal’s sacred Red Chamber and breathe in its atmosphere at least once before we assemble in the Jakrang instead of the Forbidden Quarter. Take us there.”

  Toralk guided the Makkar estate car through a grid of avenues and boulevards crossing at perfect right angles until they came to a massive red and gray granite construct on one side of the Forbidden Quarter’s central plaza, facing the enclosed imperial palace. A five-level stepped pyramid with a flat roof, the building had been the Kraal’s home since time immemorial.

  The legislative chamber which took its name from the color of the wall hangings and leather upholstering of four hundred chairs arrayed in a circle around an arena-like speaker’s area filled most of the pyramid. Offices for those employed in the Kraal’s service occupied the rest.

  They stopped by a front door surrounded with carvings of beasts, demons, and gods culled from Shrehari mythology. More fantastic creatures adorned the upper edge of each level, staring down at those who would petition the Kraal.

  “Hah.” Brakal pointed at a carving as he climbed out of the car. “That is precisely Trage’s appearance nowadays.”

  Regar glanced up and squinted.

  “An imp of the Death Bringer? Not entirely inappropriate considering the Deep Space Fleet’s growing losses.”

  Massive bronze doors, each leaf bearing the imperial dragon, silently drew aside at their approach, revealing an elderly Shrehari male in simple dark robes. He bowed his head at the neck.

  “Brakal of the Makkar. Welcome to your house and home, honored noble of the four hundred clan lords who make up the Kraal. May your great family’s banner forever hang from the Red Chamber’s rafters. I am Gvant, Chief Keeper of the Kraal’s Records.”

  Brakal returned the man’s bow.

  “Well met, Gvant. Your courtesy does you honor.”

  They stepped into a vast, high-ceilinged, but short corridor adorned with ancient images of long-forgotten battles.

  “The north wind brings rumors, Lord Brakal. They say you intend to summon the four hundred and see them sit in the Kraal for the first time in many turns. If so, may I say this is not before time?”

  “That is indeed my intent.”

  “Then what may my staff and I do to bring about this felicitous occasion?”

  “Help me with matters of protocol and do what is necessary so the Kraal may legally meet in the Jakrang instead of here.”

  Gvant’s face froze in an expression of disbelief.

  “The Jakrang?” But before Brakal could speak, his features regained their mobility and took on a thoughtful air. “May I assume you believe summoning the four hundred to the Red Chamber would entail peril? Not because it is the Red Chamber but because this place is within the Forbidden Quarter?”

  Brakal inclined his massive head by way of acknowledgment.

  “Your assumptions are correct, Gvant. I must make sure the Kraal assembles in peace, far from forces that might interfere with its ancient rights. Here, within these walls, the council’s writ is law. And it has a full Tai Kan regiment, if not more, to enforce its will. Out there,” Brakal waved at the hallway’s polished stone wal
ls, “those who respect the Kraal’s freedom can watch over our safety with troops sworn to the empire, not the council.”

  Gvant bowed again.

  “I understand, Lord Brakal, and will assist in any way possible so the Kraal may assemble in the Jakrang. Mishtak’s council has ruled for too long with no oversight by those whose interest in the empire’s welfare runs deeper than that of politicians because they understand blood and tradition. Since the Kraal has not met in over six turns and you are the first of the four hundred to call it up, the honor of speaker is yours until it elects one. Should you wish it, of course.”

  Brakal bared his fangs.

  “I wish it.”

  “So I shall write it in the records. When will you stand before the Kraal?”

  “In one full change of the moons. Let the exact date be given once every one of the four hundred acknowledges their duty to attend.”

  “A wise choice. Since we Keepers of the Records act on the speaker’s behalf, rest assured we will prepare that which needs preparing. Give us the final time and day, and we will turn the Jakrang into an open-air version of the Red Chamber. In the meantime, I am at your disposal for any matter of procedure and protocol.”

  “Then I will avail myself of your knowledge. But at this moment, I would breathe in the Red Chamber’s atmosphere.”

  “Certainly.” Gvant gestured toward a massive set of carved doors dominating the short corridor. “If you would follow me, Lord Brakal.”

  **

  “I feel satisfyingly refreshed,” Brakal said with an air of contentment as he climbed into the car. “Though I entered the Red Chamber before as a spectator, this was my first time as a member, and for some mystical reason, the ghosts of those clan lords who sat and deliberated in there over the ages spoke to my soul. It was as if they approved of my quest.”

  “Then they would be the only beings, living or dead, within the Forbidden Quarter’s walls who do so,” Regar replied, settling across from Brakal in the passenger compartment. His lips curled up in a smile. “Present company excepted.”

  “There are more, though they do not know it yet. Take us to the Bloody Lance, Toralk. Admiral Edronh will soon make his way there to meet me.”

  “One question. Why did you tell Gvant you would call the Kraal together in one full change of the moons? I thought you wished to do so the instant you found enough supporters. Misdirection?”

  “Precisely. If I can assemble the four hundred in under a full change, I will take my enemies by surprise. You are not the only one with a devious mind, Regar.”

  “It pleases me to hear you say so.”

  A mass of gray clouds moved in as they left the Forbidden Quarter and headed for Shredar’s lower town, occluding the afternoon sun. The city, never particularly cheerful to behold in the first place, at least in Brakal’s eyes, took on a patina of impending gloom even though sunset was still hours away. He noticed Regar staring intently through the rear window and frowned.

  “A problem?”

  “Perhaps. If I were as paranoid as Mishtak is surely becoming, I would put a Tai Kan spy on your tail. One in a vehicle capable of keeping pace with yours.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing catches my eye yet, but we are still in a more salubrious part of the city.”

  They rode on in silence while Toralk tackled ever narrower streets, dodging refuse piles spilling into the roadway and negotiating blind corners with more verve than Brakal preferred. He finally stopped near a rundown, two-story stone building that had been old well before the first Shrehari left their home system aboard crude otherspace ships.

  A sign depicting an armored, lance-wielding Shrehari hunter from a bygone era impaling an impossibly large jakarl, one of Shrehari Prime’s most feared predators, hung above a wooden door polished to a deep black over hundreds of turns.

  Regar jumped out into the street before Brakal could move, quickly joined by Toralk, so both could scan the immediate area for threats. When none seemed apparent, the Tai Kan officer gestured at his superior to exit on the tavern side, using the car as protection while he entered the establishment.

  But the moment Brakal climbed out and stretched to his full height, a muffled crack reached their ears, followed by the sound of metal striking granite less than one hand span above Brakal’s head. Small, sharp pieces of stone struck his skull, drawing a muffled curse. He ducked, but no second shot followed the first. Toralk and Regar, guns drawn, took shelter beside him, eyes searching for the shooter.

  “Electromagnetic sniper weapon,” the latter said. “That was meant as a warning shot. Considering the limited sightlines in this area, an expert would not have missed at such short-range, and common thugs do not use EM guns.”’

  “If you are correct, then how would they know to watch this place?” Brakal asked.

  “Either Admiral Edronh or someone in his employ betrayed you.”

  “It cannot be Edronh. He hates Mishtak with the same passion as I do, and he holds the same grievances against both Trage and the council.”

  “Then you better warn him he has a traitor in his house.” Regar holstered his weapon and straightened his back. “I think it is safe to proceed.”

  — Fifteen —

  “A Tai Kan spy in my retinue?” Rumbling laughter escaped Admiral Edronh’s throat. “You are a strange one, Brakal. Why blame one of mine for allowing those motherless turds to send you a warning via sniper when there is an actual Tai Kan officer in your retinue.”

  Edronh, a middle-aged Shrehari cast from the same mold as Brakal, eyed his colleague with amusement.

  “Yet it must be so. On my side, only Toralk, Regar, and I knew about this meeting. Toralk would sooner kill himself than betray me, and I peered into Regar’s soul long ago. His oath to me as Lord of Clan Makkar is unbreakable. And since I cannot conceive of you embracing the Tai Kan, it means one of yours betrayed this meeting to his true masters.”

  A thoughtful expression replaced Edronh’s mirth.

  “If you can answer for your people, then I shall examine mine. Unfortunately, that may not be easy. I made no secret of my destination nor the fact I was meeting you since the idea we of the four hundred might be targeted simply for speaking with each other is inconceivable.”

  “Someone conceived of it.”

  “Evidently. But they forget we are made of sterner stuff. Besides, if I harbored any doubts about supporting you before I heard of your encounter with a sniper, they would be gone this very moment, wiped away by anger at such unmitigated gall.”

  “Then you are with us.”

  “Of course. Did you ever believe otherwise? Though the idea of asking those damned humans for an armistice pains me, I can think of no other way to staunch the bleeding. Not when Trage is replacing front line senior leaders at an increasingly rapid rate.” Edronh took a healthy swig of his ale. “What happens next?”

  “Getting those Kraal members who were dismissed by Trage to join us is the easy part. We know in our bones that victory is forever out of reach. However, convincing members who either never served in the Imperial Armed Forces or retired before the war will not be quite as simple. They hear only what Mishtak and his tame kroorath whelps deign to tell citizens of the empire and believe our final triumph over the cowardly humans requires just one more successful battle.”

  Edronh let out a disconsolate grunt.

  “Cowardly humans indeed. Whoever sold us that myth deserves decapitation with a rusty ax, one wielded by the most inept low caste butcher.”

  “Sold us? You mean sold it to the council and the regent. They decided a short, decisive war was just the thing to consolidate their power after the old emperor died.” Brakal waved the sidebar away with an irritated gesture. “No matter. We can punish the guilty once we remove Mishtak. Who among those not aware of the true situation do you think you can convince?”

  After a few moments of thought, Edronh gave Brakal half a dozen names.

  “I cannot promise they will
listen and accept a distasteful truth, but at the very least, I will give them reasons for doubting the official story.”

  “Good. Ask those who accept the truth if they would open doors for us so we may convince others who never fought the humans. I need a majority in favor of forcing the council’s hand on the first vote. It will send a message the regent, Mishtak, and Trage cannot possibly misinterpret. We must do everything we can to remove the council without bloodshed.”

  “But you will spill blood if necessary?”

  Brakal allowed himself a fierce rictus.

  “Spilling the blood of politicians so I may save military lives has always been a particular fantasy of mine, but it is best if we do not set a precedent for violent regime change.”

  “Agreed.” Edronh drained his mug. “If that was everything, I will find out who sold his soul to the Tai Kan before I call on our Kraal colleagues.”

  “It was.” Brakal climbed to his feet. “I will summon the Kraal into session at short notice, so be ready.”

  “I live in a constant state of readiness, as is required of all good Shrehari warriors.”

  **

  Brakal and his retainers reached Clan Makkar’s Shredar estate without further incident, but as they passed through the main gate and entered the walled-in compound, Regar turned to Brakal.

  “If I can offer a suggestion, Lord. Conduct further meetings in more refined surroundings, where would-be Tai Kan assassins will find less scope to send messages or make a kill. Everyone in this poxed city knows of your intentions by now, making any attempt at discretion futile. Be as open as you dare. That way, should anything happen to you or other Kraal members, it will only further discredit Mishtak in the eyes of the four hundred and make regime change even more imperative.”

  “That was my intent. I am pleased my thoughts match those of my tame spy.”

  Regar curled up his lip.

  “Tame? Hardly. I merely placed my not inconsiderable skills and ruthlessness at your service for the rest of my natural life.”