Extinction Wars: 02 - Planet Strike

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Please,” Sant whispered, with a tremor in his voice. “You mustn’t speak at a time like this. It is sacrilegious. That the globe shines shows us the Great Maker hears our prayers.”

  “You can’t believe such nonsense,” Ella whispered to him.

  I grabbed her sleeve, gave her a significant glance and shook my head.

  She made a face, looking as if she was going to say more.

  “This is important to them,” I whispered.

  “The sphere isn’t holy,” she told me. “It’s old, maybe ancient technology. I’d like to study it, Commander. Maybe it could be helpful to us with the object in the portal planet.”

  “No, no,” Sant whispered, sounding scandalized. “Only the purest Lokhar can handle such a relic. For a human to touch it—we would have to kill every one of you and burn your planet. Now I implore you, compose yourself and feel the awe of this singular moment.”

  Ella looked pissed. She wasn’t letting go of this.

  I gave her a stern glance and tugged at her sleeve one more time.

  Finally, reluctantly, she drew back. The tigers nearest us were too fixated on the moment to have noticed our whispered conversation, with their a glazed manner. I actually saw drool spill from one marshal’s open mouth.

  I wanted to view this through Ella’s eyes. The radiance of the globe was making me edgy in a way I didn’t like. If this went on much longer—

  But no, the old adept raised his paws, mumbling liturgy, no doubt. With a deft and reverent move, he put his paws on the radiant globe. He pulled the object toward him, and the light dimmed. Finally, he tucked it away within his robe, although I noticed a bump there like a man with a big concealed carry weapon.

  Tears glistened in the adept’s eyes. He cleared this throat.

  Tigers stirred, pulling themselves off the table, sitting upright. Many adjusted their caps and smoothed their uniforms. Others blew their nose and dabbed their wet eyes. It was an emotional occasion, and it took time for the Lokhars to settle down.

  “The Great Maker grants us His blessing,” the ancient adept said in a quavering voice. “We are His Chosen Ones to do His holy bidding. We have been given a sign that our task will succeed. If in it we die, we die.”

  “If we die, we die,” the Lokhars chanted, every one of them, including Sant.

  The old one looked as if he would continue to sermonize. Admiral Venturi must have given him a signal, though. The adept swiveled his trembling head until he faced the admiral.

  “This is glorious news indeed,” Venturi said.

  “We are the Lokhars,” the adept said.

  “We are the Lokhars,” everyone else chanted.

  “We are the Lokhars,” the admiral said in a soft voice.

  Finally, the adept lowered himself until he seemed to sink against his chair. An equally ancient acolyte shuffled forward and patted the old one’s head. That would have been demeaning to a man, but not apparently to a tiger. The pat must have signaled the end of the religious ceremony.

  Venturi rose, and he held his own object. His was blue and small like a TV remote. In the end, that’s exactly what it was. With a click, he switched on the table. I don’t know what kind of technology you’d call it, but I could look down into the table and see what I took to be an estimation of hyperspace. It seemed as if the table sank twenty feet. I could see the objects on the screen with perfect clarity, even though I sat so close to it and peered at a sharp angle.

  Ella told me later that she couldn’t see the images as well until she moved in close to the table.

  The admiral spoke about the coming mission, its importance, the objective and the heinous nature of the Kargs.

  I learned then why the attack-craft were suicidal. The Lokhars couldn’t exist for long in hyperspace except while aboard the dreadnoughts. The massive starships were special in many ways, with thick ultra-effective shielding holding back the baleful influences of hyperspace. Those in the fighters and other space vessels would have short lifespans. The same would be true for legionaries on the portal planet. Venturi speculated that the deeper the legionaries traveled into the planet, the more shielding they would have from hyperspace and the longer they could survive. Those who would remain on the surface in giant fighting tanks would only have a limited amount of time to achieve their military objectives.

  Listening to the monologue drove home to me the suicidal willingness of the Lokhars to go the last mile. I didn’t hear anyone balk about doing this. Every tiger looked dedicated and each seemed to realize there was no return from the Karg-held portal planet.

  I wondered about that. What made them willing to die to save the universe? What had made a suicide bomber back home willing to kill himself? Why had the kamikazes flown their planes into American ships during WWII? In the end, it seemed to me, it had been a mix of love of country and their religious beliefs. In Afghanistan, I’d hated the suicide bombers. I’d lost friends to them. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t try to figure out the other man’s motives.

  From what I’d seen of the two races: Lokhars and Jelk, it was clear Claath and his brethren were smarter and filled with greater cunning than the Lokhars. But a Jelk wouldn’t die for anyone or anything. He served himself. Their corporation worked to feed them. Lokhars had loyalty, courage and a willingness to die for the betterment of the group.

  Eventually, Venturi sat down, opening up the discussion. One by one, marshals, generals, officers and adepts rose. They spoke about courage, devotion to duty, hatred of the Kargs and a desire to shut forever the dimensional door between space-time continuums. There was little talk about how to fight better or offer some sly maneuver. I had the sense the Lokhars understood one thing: how to advance into the teeth of enemy fire.

  I was beginning to get a better handle why the assault troopers had beaten the tigers each time. The Lokhars had hurt us, but in the end, our superior tactics had won out.

  As an adept sat down and another marshal rose, I spoke up. “Excuse me, Supreme Lord Admiral Venturi, but could I please see a projection of the portal planet?”

  Silence descended and all the tigers swiveled around to stare at me. I’d never felt more like a pariah.

  “It speaks,” a marshal said, the one standing, a burly female with a five-claw symbol on her cap. I believe her name was Marshal Danyal.

  Venturi stood.

  One of the marshal’s aides saw this, stepped behind Marshal Danyal and whispered in her ear. Upon seeing Venturi on his feet, the marshal hurriedly resumed her seat.

  “Many of you have wondered upon our human…ally,” Venturi said. “Their leader requested the honor of attending a strategy session. This I granted, for the oracle has stated its desire that an army of human troopers join us in our crusade.

  “I’m aware of this ancient breach of etiquette. Yet the humans are also sacrificing their lives for the betterment of our race. Could I stand on the old codes when blood willingly stepped forward for such a holy cause?”

  “We must obey the ancient dictates if we desire the Great Maker’s blessing,” the old adept said, the one who had lifted the radiant globe earlier.

  “I do not want to pick a quarrel with you, Esteemed One,” Venturi said.

  “I am not sure I agree with Purple Tamika’s reading of the oracle,” the old adept added in a quavering voice. “The humans’ presence in our dreadnoughts sullies our crusade. The Creator has chosen the Lokhars to guard the Forerunner artifacts. He has not chosen these ill-befitted creatures, these hounds of the devil Jelk.”

  “They soldiered for the Jelk under false pretenses,” Venturi said.

  The trembling old ancient struggled to his feet. He faced the admiral. “Let me repeat the key phrase of your statement, Supreme Lord: ‘They soldiered for the Jelk.’ How can you impugn us with their presence? No. I say we must slaughter these vile sub-devils and rid ourselves of any taint of evil.”

  “But the oracle—” Venturi said.

  “Purple Tamika misread t
he oracle!” the old adept shouted. He aimed a trembling finger at Venturi. “You jeopardize the mission, Supreme Lord Admiral. You have accepted the underhanded reading of the oracle by a self-serving—”

  Venturi pressed a stud on the table. A klaxon blared into life.

  I clapped my hands over my ears.

  Finally, the admiral removed his finger, and the blaring sound stopped. It left a ringing in my ears.

  “I am Prince Venturi of Orange Tamika. I have led many Tamika raids, and I signed the Accord of Ten. There is peace between Purple and Orange, and because of that, I saved our Tamika from certain destruction. We have made our peace with Purple. They view the Great Maker and the oracle from the same vantage as us. Let me ask you a question, Esteemed One. Do you refute the Accord of Ten?”

  The old adept had lowered his arm. He looked down as his shoulders slumped.

  “Do you refute the Accord of Ten?” Venturi asked again, in a louder voice. “As leader of this mission, I demand an answer.”

  The old adept’s head snapped up. “You demand?” he asked.

  “I am on my warship en route to battle,” Venturi said. “I am the Creator’s representative in his hour. You know that, Esteemed One.”

  “You spout the principles of Octagon Lars.”

  “Yes,” Venturi said in a ringing voice.

  “I have no more to say,” the adept whispered.

  Venturi rapped the table with his knuckles. “No! First, you must answer me. Do you refute the Accord of Ten?”

  The ancient one reached into his robe. “I hold the stone of God,” he said. “Do you refute it?”

  “No,” Venturi said. “I would like to point out however that it shone with radiance in the presence of the human commander.”

  The old adept swiveled around to stare at me. His eyes burned with fervor. Finally, he withdrew his hand from the robe. “The stone has shone,” he said. “I cannot refute the Great Maker’s blessing. Now I will lessen and you will grow greater,” he told Venturi.

  “We both go to battle the menace of the age,” Venturi said in a softer tone. “We both go to die.”

  “Yes,” the adept said, and he sank back into his seat.

  Venturi scanned the throng. Then he addressed me. “Do you still wish to speak?”

  “I do,” I said.

  “Then stand, and tell us your words.” Admiral Venturi thereupon sat down, waiting for me.

  I stood up, and I scanned the assembled throng. The tigers were on a crusade, and none of them believed we were coming back. I didn’t like that. How should I word this? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to make anyone angry. I wanted them to see sense.

  “I am grateful for this chance to see the Lokhars in their glory,” I began. “I had not realized until this moment that the Lokhars were the chosen of the Creator.”

  Tigers gasped, and stares of amazement filled many eyes.

  “It is true. We of Earth…”

  I wanted to tell them we of Earth would hunt every Lokhar them down and blast them to death as they had done to us by nuking our world. Instead, I bent my head, looking at the table. I had to control these surges of rage against my newfound allies. I had to think of the greater good.

  “He is overcome with zeal,” a tiger whispered.

  “He is reverent toward our crusade,” I heard another say.

  I almost smiled. The tigers misunderstood my silence. Well, I suppose it was for the best.

  Looking up, I said, “We face a terrible foe in the Kargs. It is good that two races from our universe join together to fight for life. I admire your willingness to sacrifices your lives. All here know that the Lokhars are the bravest of the brave. Yet as I’ve listened to you discuss strategy…”

  I couldn’t help but pause. I’d heard almost no strategy discussion at all. Maybe it was coming. Thus, I paused to let someone correct me. No one did, though. Instead, many tigers hunched toward me. I already knew enough to realize they were interested in my words.

  “As I’ve listened to you,” I repeated, “an idea boiled into existence. Perhaps the radiance from the Creator’s stone lit my mind with understanding. I have been thinking deeply on ways to defeat the Kargs—”

  “By fighting!” Marshal Danyal roared as she bagged a fist against the table. “We will defeat them through our valor and with our laser rifles. We will march to victory, killing and being killed to reach the holy object in the center of the portal planet.”

  Murmurs and cries of assent filled the chamber.

  “Thank you, Marshal,” I said. “Your ringing endorsement for the coming fight gladdens my heart.”

  “I—”

  “Hold,” Venturi told Marshal Danyal. “You must let our…our…ally speak.”

  “Thank you, Supreme Lord Admiral,” I said. “I have heard about the valor of Lokhar legionaries. I have even seen them in action.”

  Ella sucked in her breath, but it appeared that none of the tigers present understood my implication.

  “So I know that each of you here is dedicated to the mission of saving our space-time continuum. Since I am not a Lokhar, I view these proceedings from a different vantage point. I bring my human insights to the mix. I admire the idea of driving in with ten million legionaries, inexorably drilling to the center of the planet. We will slaughter ten billion Kargs.”

  “Ten billion?” Marshal Danyal asked. “There are ten billion Kargs on the planet?”

  “He cannot know the precise number,” the old adept said. The ancient gasped as if overcome by a new thought. “Do you have precognitive insights?”

  “Are you a prophet?” Marshal Danyal asked me.

  “No,” I said. “Remember, I’m human. I speak from human perspectives. I don’t know the actual numbers; just that it’s going to be more than we have, right? We have ten million legionaries. So when I say ten billion Kargs, I’m simply expressing the idea that they’ll have a lot more soldiers on the ground than we do.”

  Expressionless tiger-eyes stared at me.

  “Many Kargs will be there,” I said. “We will likely have to kill them ten to one to reach the Forerunner artifact.”

  “Can we achieve such a kill ratio?” Marshal Danyal asked Venturi.

  “It could prove to be an impossible task,” another marshal said.

  Venturi rose to his feet. “Why do you say such things?” he asked me.

  “Uh…well, among humans, when we have a strategy session, we usually discuss strategy, tactics and odds,” I said.

  Lokhars glanced at each other in amazement.

  “Anyway,” I said, “I have a way to solve our dilemma.”

  Reluctantly, Venturi sat. The others regarded me anew.

  “I fought against Lokhars at Sigma Draconis,” I said.

  Scowls appeared.

  “I did not do so because I wanted to. Shah Claath, our Jelk, desired the reach the Shrine Planet there. During the battle, I observed Lokhar battle practices. Many of your weapons and tactics impressed me, by the way. Again, while in Earth orbit, I saw the Starkiens use your famous teleportation missiles.”

  Many of the tigers stared at the T-missile officer. He was shorter than the others, and his uniform a dull blue color. Something seemed wrong with his left eye, and I realized it must be glass. The pupil never moved.

  “In fact,” I said, “it was through using a teleportation missile that I gained my freedom from the Jelk and inflicted great harm against Claath.”

  By the shine in their eyes, that had their attention.

  “Therefore, I speak with more than a little experience about the T-missiles,” I said. “We’ve just seen that we face tremendous obstacles against the Kargs. It will be a bitter and difficult fight to reach the center of the portal planet. Yet we must reach it. We must turn off the Forerunner artifact and close the rip into the Karg space-time continuum. To that end, I suggest we make it easy on ourselves and insure our universe of victory.”

  “How?” Marshal Danyal asked.

&n
bsp; I nodded. “That’s the right question.” I’m surprised they hadn’t seen it yet. “We gauge the distance to the center of the portal planet and teleport the missiles there. Kaboom, we obliterate the Forerunner artifact and turn off the rip into the Karg universe. We save ten million Lokhar legionaries and escape back into our continuum with our lives.”

  “That’s brilliant,” I heard Ella whisper behind me.

  I stood there beaming. I’d thought it was pretty brilliant, too.

  The tigers sat in shock. A few slumped back against their seats.

  The ancient adept turned to Admiral Venturi. “Did you hear his words?” the old one asked.

  Venturi also stared at me. Slowly, he nodded.

  “It is the rankest blasphemy I have ever heard,” the old adept whispered. “We must skin him alive and set him adrift in space.”

  “Set him adrift!” Marshal Danyal roared. “He desires to destroy the Great Maker’s handiwork. He is a blasphemer.”

  “Oh boy,” Ella muttered behind me.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re wrong about that. The Creator didn’t make the Forerunner artifact. I’ve heard you say the First Ones did it.”

  “Aeeiii!” the ancient adept cried. “He subscribes to the Waylander Heresy. The crusade cannot abide heretics. Admiral Venturi, you must skin him alive with your own blade and offer him in sacrifice. This is blasphemy, blasphemy. We are all tainted by his presence. We must purify ourselves. We must—”

  Venturi pressed the klaxon switch. I knew now why it had been installed. The wailing noise stilled the adept thirsting for my blood.

  Finally, the ancient tiger slumped back into his chair, exhausted. Only then did the admiral remove his paw from the switch.

  “You have heard the human’s words,” Marshal Danyal said into the silence.

  “Listen,” I said.

  “No,” the adept wheezed. “We mustn’t listen to another word he says. He taints us. He taints us.”

  “I ask my ally to resume his seat,” Admiral Venturi said in a low voice.

  Reluctantly, I sat down.

  Ella patted me on the shoulder, and she whispered in my ear, “We’re caught up in a war by a bunch of religious zealots. This is worse than Claath.”