A Greater Duty (Galaxy Ascendant Book 1)

by Yakov Merkin

  But that was enough of the religion distraction. His true goal had not been accomplished; he was still none the wiser about dealing with the emotion flashes. After a long moment of silence, Darkclaw formulated a question that should have neatly encapsulated what he wished to know, while not revealing anything.

  “What I truly wish to know is how you can exist and function effectively with all of those distracting emotions in your mind. It is one thing I cannot understand. You seem to be able to effectively command, but are not emotions such as anger and fear capable of clouding your judgment?”

  Nayasar shrugged. “I’m not quite sure how to answer, really. Feelings come naturally. It would be like explaining how to walk. But I think I can at least answer part of your question. While we do not hold back our feelings generally, we do train to be able to function despite the more distracting ones. Military training, and command training in particular, helps us to improve our ability to focus, to push rash emotions like anger and fear to the back of our minds, and to focus on the battle. I’m still fully aware that I’m afraid, or angry, but I keep the objective forefront.”

  “I would also add,” Felivas interjected, “that when we’re in a stressful situation our adrenaline surges, which naturally assists in the focusing. Of course, strong feelings can occasionally get the better of us, but that’s what support officers are for.”

  Frustrating answers. None of them seemed likely to help Darkclaw in his situation. Was he simply supposed to ignore the flashes? How was it possible? Perhaps there was another direction he could try. “Another thing I do not understand is how you can differentiate between emotions? They are all at their core merely chemical releases within the body, but that would not translate into the mind understanding what it means.”

  “That’s also something we do naturally, or at least we can once we’ve passed a certain age that our minds can understand the meanings,” Nayasar said. “You know, I’m beginning to believe that you genuinely do not feel emotions,” she continued.

  If only you knew. Darkclaw felt a sudden urge to laugh, but instead coughed once. He could tell them the truth. It would allow them to more easily help him, and at this point he doubted that they would think less of him for it, though Nayasar might take credit. But that might commit him to living with these feelings, which was unacceptable. Once he spoke with the High Lord, he would find a way to rid himself of them, or the High Lord would do it himself. And it would not do to admit the emotions only to eliminate them later. Abruptly, Darkclaw realized that there was little more he could ask directly without telling them what was happening to him.

  “I told you as such, several times.” Darkclaw glanced toward the exit. “I believe we each have duties to attend to if we mean to be ready for the attack on the Algen system by tomorrow. I thank you for the time spent to answer my questions,” he continued. He needed time to himself now. Lying to the Felinaris was becoming more difficult.

  “A good idea,” Nayasar replied. “We can escort you back to your shuttle.”

  “There is no need. I know the way.”

  Nayasar raised an eyebrow. Of course she doubted him only when he spoke the truth. “Alright. I’ll contact you soon to discuss plans for the attack. And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you gave me the okay to test you to see if you are truly emotionless.”

  Darkclaw nodded. “Thank you again,” he said to both of them. Before they could reply, Darkclaw exited the prayer room with his silent escorts. He expected them to not be far behind, but as he made his way down the long hallway to the lift they still had not left the room. Only as the elevator doors were closing did he see the pair emerge, talking about something or other. For a moment Darkclaw considered holding the lift, but before he could make a decision the doors had shut and the elevator had begun to descend. He had to find a way to rid himself of these feelings, before he became completely undone.

  CHAPTER 8

  Grand Admiral Nayasar stood in the center of the Felinar’s command deck, hands resting on the wide back of her command chair, staring into the mass of light on the display screen as the ship traveled through hyperspace. She was dressed in full combat gear; over her standard armored uniform was an additional layer of fitted felinite armor and the various devices that came with it. The twin long knives she favored rested in sheaths attached to the armor on her back. A pistol hung from her belt, as did her helmet. Another pistol was strapped to her thigh.

  “Twenty minutes to arrival in the Algen system,” stated the Felinar’s navigator, Flight Officer Tafar. “Tyrannodon signal jammers and Snevan interdictors should be in position.” She continued.

  “Very good,” Nayasar replied. “Send the order to all ground forces to remain on standby; I don’t expect the battle over the planet to take long, and we don’t need to give the Algen more time to prepare.” As she spoke, Nayasar gathered her hair behind her head, then tied it into a snug tail, securing it with one of the elastic bands she always wore on her wrist for this purpose. It was a chore, true, but it was either that or cut it shorter, and Nayasar liked the effect the golden hair had when she kept it at a decent length. She liked looking like her head was shining, and it was one of the only ways that she felt her name fit her at all. Nayasar in Felinari meant shining star; a name she never felt had fit her personality, despite numerous attempts by others to convince her.

  As she finished dealing with her hair, Nayasar tried to remember the last time she had led a ground assault. Early in her career as an officer, once she had managed to coerce her superiors into allowing her to do so despite her societal position, she had led a number of small-scale raids, usually targeting criminal groups, with the occasional terrorist group, on Alliance business. Since then there had been next to no opportunity. The last Darvian Conflict had been settled before large-scale infantry operations became necessary, and not long after that Nayasar was promoted to ranks too high to allow her to partake in such small-scale operations.

  Nayasar stretched her arms, simultaneously savoring the feeling and regretting not having kept to a proper training regimen. It must have been at least five years, probably longer, since her last field operation. Far too long since she had been able to fight an enemy face-to-face. While she would not give up her command position for anything, there was always a part of Nayasar that longed for the thrill of close combat. While it would never be quite the same as it had been in the old days—a sizeable force would be tasked with protecting her while she was on the ground—it would be a welcome change. It was only a shame she would not get a chance to face the enemy commander, as the Algen, like most peoples, kept their leaders in the rear. Cowards. Leaders who hid in the back could never inspire loyalty. Way back, before the Unification, when Felinaris made war on each other, battle would often be decided by single combat between the leaders. A much cleaner way of waging war, if unfortunately outdated.

  Nayasar glanced at the countdown timer at the base of the display screen. Still over fifteen minutes until arrival and she was already itching to get on the ground. The fight in space had better not take long. Nayasar attempted to relax herself, but she was finding it difficult, which was odd. It couldn’t be just that she so looked forward to the battle on the ground… suddenly she realized what it had to be. This would be the first time that she would be fighting alongside Executor Darkclaw. Somehow she knew that was the cause of her anxiousness, though she couldn’t figure out why. After all, she never felt anxious about fighting alongside Felivas, who she cared about more than anything. Maybe it was because Darkclaw had willingly stepped aside to let her organize and command the ground operation, despite his status as leader of their allied forces. This was her chance to prove herself capable as a leader, despite what Darkclaw might term her emotional handicap. Fortunately, Darkclaw was not the type to attempt to find flaws in her actions; he just stated facts, and would be brutally honest. If he could get nervous, he might even feel as she did now. Before Nayasar knew it, her mind turned to the completely enigmat
ic Tyrannodon, as it had regularly since their first meeting.

  If asked, Nayasar did not think she would be able to quantify exactly why she felt such a strong connection to someone who was in so many ways her opposite and was, almost certainly, incapable of reciprocating her friendship. The only sound answer she could come up with to her own question was that she owed Darkclaw and, by extension, his High Lord, such a tremendous debt for giving her the opportunity to avenge the dead, which also had perhaps saved her from losing her mind for lack of being able to do anything. Perhaps she had also been intrigued by the puzzle he had presented as a living, breathing being that was incapable of feeling emotions. She still didn’t understand how it was possible and still felt to some degree that Darkclaw was more than a living machine, mentally, despite his repeated assertions and proofs to the contrary. But if that was the case, how did it explain his actions in the memorial. For a brief moment there she had thought she had succeeded in bringing out something, only to come up short. For a moment, he had seemed about to try and comfort her, but had either held himself back or for another reason opted not to continue. Nayasar shook her head. He had probably just read somewhere that that was something he might have been expected to do there, but had not found a logical reason to go through with it.

  “Ten minutes to arrival, Srei Felitzvah,” Tafar stated, and Nayasar realized that she had been standing still, staring into the hyperspace light show for more than five minutes. She sighed. Now was not a time to get distracted. Nayasar unhooked her helmet from her belt and sat down in her command chair, resting the helmet on her lap. Suddenly, she had an idea.

  “Open a channel to the Hudecar,” she ordered.

  * * *

  Darkclaw was sitting quietly in his command chair as the fleet neared the Algen system when an indicator on one of the chair’s arms began to flash, indicating an incoming transmission. It was from the Felinar. Why would the grand admiral contact him now? The plan was already made and was already in motion. The operation over the planet was not complex enough to discuss further, and she had already explained to him her entire plan for taking the planet, down to the last detail. Ignoring her was not an option however, though Darkclaw did not intend to do so even if it had been an option. Remain focused, he reminded himself. He would not allow a conversation with Nayasar to compromise the bit of useful knowledge he had gained from his time with her and the admiral.

  He accepted the transmission and activated the small display screen embedded into the arm of the chair. “What is it, Grand Admiral?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry,” she began, “I’m not changing the plan at all,” she began. A bad sign already. “All I want is to ask you where you plan to land once the battle over the planet is over.”

  Land? Was this an attempt at humor? His traveling down to the planet was not part of the plan. Nayasar was fortunate that he had not attempted to forbid her from doing the same. It was a foolish, risky show of strength, placing the highest officers in the most dangerous situations on the ground. A single shot could decapitate the entire army. Furthermore, Darkclaw and his own forces were not to be part of the primary attack plan at all. However, Darkclaw could accept Nayasar’s insistence about leading, which came from Felinaris culture; the Felinaris army would survive her death if she was killed. But what was she trying to do now? Did she really think that he would voluntarily do the same? Sending one of them down was risky enough.

  “I was not aware that I had planned to join the battle on the surface, Grand Admiral,” he stated.

  “I know,” she said with a smile that probably would have said a lot if Darkclaw could interpret it, “but I do recall you asking how we are capable of dealing with emotions while under stress, and that you agreed to let me test you to see if you are truly unfeeling. This would be the perfect opportunity to show you firsthand, and satisfy my curiosity. You shouldn’t have a problem anyway, since you’re incapable of feeling fear, after all.” She smiled again. Darkclaw was beginning to think a smile could mean anything.

  “I do not think it is wise to risk both of us in such a dangerous situation,” he replied. “Additionally, my forces were not a part of your battle plan. I will not compromise the operation to satisfy my question and your curiosity.”

  “Don’t worry; it’s safe enough, just bring a unit or two to support you. Also, this will most likely be the safest opportunity for you to try leading from the front. The fight on Darvia will be much heavier, and soon enough we’ll be fighting the Legion. If you do feel comfortable taking part here, at least we’ll know for the future. And actually, I did plan with you and some of your forces in mind. I may have forgotten to mention that earlier.”

  Nayasar had not forgotten anything. She had simply waited to inform him until there would be no argument to be had, or worse, she had only now decided this. She was also trying to imply that he was afraid, Darkclaw was sure. It might have been worth it alone to join her to prove himself, not that he would, or could, feel offended if she thought him to be afraid. And she did have a point. And the fact that no high ranking Felinaris officer had fallen in ground combat for decades made the proposal a little bit more reasonable. Also, the longer this conversation continued, the greater the chance he would lose his focus. With no avenue to victory, it was better to accept the lesser defeat.

  “Very well. Send me the coordinates you plan to land at, and I will join you on the surface once the battle over the planet has concluded.”

  Nayasar smiled again. “Excellent. See you on the ground. May the Omnipresent watch over you,” Nayasar concluded as she ended the transmission.

  Darkclaw sent out a series of orders, to prepare a force that would accompany him to the surface, and appointed Fleet Commander Darkspine to take command of the fleet once he traveled planetside. Darkclaw would have preferred either Praetor Keeneye or Praetor Shadowpath to act as his deputy, but they had both been left in command of the occupied systems and Selixan Station, respectively. He would order one of them back to the fleet after the battle. Darkclaw then sat as he had before, counting down the remaining minutes until they would arrive. The Algen system would not be able to put up much of a fight in space, but on the system’s primary world, also called Algen, there was only one major city, which took up almost half of the landmass of the planet, and had a fairly well organized and sizeable police force that also served as a defensive army. Simply bombarding smaller towns would not be possible here, as damaging parts of the city might lead to damaging areas that were needed intact; though threats could be made against the other inhabited worlds in the system, they were sparsely populated and the primary world was not known to care all that much about their well-being.

  Darkclaw shook his head, then turned his attention back to the display screen. Decisions on how to complete the mission would be made later, if they were needed at all. There was still the possibility that Algen would fold once its space-borne defenses had been eliminated, as Kanor had. Once Algen fell, the rest of the system’s inhabited worlds would fall quickly enough.

  “The fleet is entering the Algen system now, Executor,” announced the flight controller in the flat, dry Tyrannodon tone that had been all Darkclaw had known and expected until his interactions with other races. Now, what had once seemed right seemed a bit off. The Felinaris command deck would sound nothing like Darkclaw’s own.

  As soon as the Hudecar came out of hyperspace, Darkclaw received his first report from the advance forces since long-range communications within the system had been cut off. He accepted it through the console embedded in the arm of his command chair. The report gave very few details. It confirmed that long-range communications were down; no enemy ships had escaped, and informed him that the still-cloaked Wounding Tooth-class disruption vessels had already begun attacking the ships orbiting Algen.

  The last notification was unexpected and problematic. Darkclaw had not given an order for those ships to attack. They had been ordered to remain hidden and continue to disrupt communi
cations, as they had done in every battle up until this point. True, Algen had one of the smallest space-based defense forces of all the worlds he had attacked thus far, but his forces would not, could not go against his orders. He would take these rogue captains to task for this.

  Darkclaw looked at the display screen again, and confirmed the report. A number of destroyed hulks drifted some distance from Algen, likely taken out by the Snevan interdictors, as he had ordered. His own ships were actively pursing what appeared to be several miniscule civilian vessels.

  Darkclaw opened a channel to the offending ships, six in total. “This is Executor Darkclaw,” he began. “Cease all pursuits and explain why you have deviated from your orders. Immediately.” The six Tyrannodon captains, each wearing full armor and thereby nearly indistinguishable from one another, appeared on the screen, and remained silent for eight seconds before they began to reply.

  “There is no explanation, Executor,” said one of them, the captain at the top left of the display. “I cannot explain why we deviated from our given orders.” At least they were honest and would not make matters even more difficult, as overly emotional beings were known to do. Still, this made the situation stranger. If there was no reason to do so, then why had they broken from the plan?

  “All went according to plan initially,” said another, the one on the bottom center of the screen. “At one point,” he continued, “one of the enemy ships, not aware of our presence, came near to colliding with the Whisper, under my command. In order to prevent a collision, I ordered it destroyed. After that, I do not remember very much, other than a very strong desire to destroy the remaining ships that I was unable to control. I apologize for my failure.”

  Darkclaw did not immediately respond. This new development was troublesome. Based on what the captain had said, Darkclaw was sure that they had experienced something similar to his own emotion flashes. Which made little sense given that Tyrannodons besides himself were not completely incapable of feeling. While they would feel less than most, and were capable of masking the emotions, they were not unused to feeling them. As if Darkclaw needed another problem to look into. He would have to deal more with this later, when there was not a battle to fight.