The Code

by Doug Dandridge

  “Mission accomplished, ma’am,” Nazzrirat reported over the com.

  “Head back to the training room for debrief. And good work.”

  Nazzrirat knew he should have felt pleased that he had won the fight, that his superiors thought he had done a good job as a soldier and leader. All he felt was fatigue, mental and physical. He knew that before the day was up he would lapse into the almost comatose sleep of grief that his people went into after the death of a sibling. His commander would have to cut him and his surviving brother some slack. If not, they could go to hell.

  * * *

  GORGANSHA HOME SYSTEM.

  “We’ve opened the gate, ma’am,” said Rear Admiral Natasha Khrushchev over the wormhole com that was going through the same portal.

  Her force, a battleship, a trio of light cruisers and five destroyers, were all arrayed to go through the newly opened gate. They had taken their com wormhole and used an expander to turn it into a gate that would fit the battleship, as well as all of the others behind it.

  “Any reaction from the Gorgansha?”

  “We have some ships starting to boost our way. But nothing has opened fire.”

  Natasha smiled. There were no ships within beam range of them, and any missiles fired would take at least five minutes to get into close attack range.

  “Everything ready with the other gate?”

  The other gate was the one near the orbit of the inhabited capital planet, used to send materials in to aid the Gorgansha in building up their fleet. With things moving the way they were, the Empire was not about to leave the gate close to the planet, intact.

  “Ready. On your command.”

  “Let’s do it. I want us out of here before they have a chance to stop us.”

  The ships all boosted toward the gate, led by the battleship, which disappeared into the mirrored surface of the wormhole with a ripple. The cruisers followed moments later, then the destroyers. The gate immediately started to shrink as the expansion supports folded up and went through the portal themselves. In less than three minutes it was a small object ten centimeters across. It was fully stealthed, very hard to detect. A few seconds after shrinking the small portal reoriented itself and started boosting away, a reaction engine sending a small stream of plasma through.

  The other gate followed suit, doing the same thing. In less than three minutes all human presence in the system was gone. Moments later the orbiting warehouses that held many of the largess of products the humans had sent them fell apart. Structures and materials fell into dust. A signal went out, and every piece of human tech in the system stopped working, cores burnt out. In most cases the Gorgansha techs found out immediately that their high tech stopped working. In others they didn’t realize it, until they tried to engage said tech.

  * * *

  “Dictator. The human ships are leaving.”

  “How in the hell are they leaving?” screamed Hraston Gonoras, jumping up from his throne and storming toward the holo that held the face of the reporting officer. He wanted to plant his claws in the officer, probably the reason the male was reporting from a distance.

  “They opened their wormhole gate and went through, my Lord.”

  “Follow them. Send missiles through after them.”

  The dictator felt his blood pressure rising as he watched his plans fall to crap around him. First, he had not heard anything from his fleet commander, and wasn’t certain he had carried out his orders concerning the humans. Goran had been told the dictator’s wishes before he went off to meet with and support the humans. The dictator had a feeling that the male, who seemed to get along too well with the humans, might find a way to circumvent those orders.

  Then he had figured he could use the ships and crew of Admiral Khrushchev as hostages for the behavior of the human fleet admiral. But if they were already out of his reach?

  “Too late, Lord. And we’re getting reports that the tech they gave us is falling apart.”

  “Traitors,” screamed the dictator. “How dare they go back on their promises.”

  The males in the chamber all stared at him, wondering if he were delusional. After all, he was the one who was about to stab the humans in the back. Somehow the humans had found out, and now they were preemptively taking the power out of his hands.

  “Bring me the family of Fleet Commander Goran,” he screamed at the top of his lungs, picking up a decanter of drink and throwing it across the room at a servant. The servant was frozen in place, not sure what to do, and the heavy crystal vessel struck him in the face with a splatter of blood.

  More males ran from the room, eager to get out of his presence, using the excuse of carrying out his commands. The dictator stormed back to his throne and threw himself onto the comfortable seat, putting his face into his three hands and scowling, wondering who he would kill next.

  The family of that traitor, he thought. He would execute them, one by one, and have the video delivered to the fleet commander, along with a command that his second kill him and take charge of the fleet.

  Where the hell are those sluggards, he thought, waiting for his people to drag the family of the traitorous commander in front of him, forgetting that it might take some time to get them to the palace. Every moment that passed his anger grew, until he was fantasizing killing all of the servants who had not carried out his will immediately.

  A holo came to life in the air to his left front, the face of one of his enforcers looking out at him with troubled eyes.

  “My Lord. The Fleet Commander’s family is gone.”

  “Where in the infernal regions have they gone to?” growled the dictator, wishing he had the male within arm’s reach so he could strike him.

  “No one knows, Lord. The neighbors say they have been gone for over a week.”

  “Take the neighbors into custody. Interrogate them and get whatever they know out of them.”

  Gonoras didn’t wait for a reply, pulling the plug on the enforcer and sending a com request, really more of a demand, to his Chief of the Police.

  “My Lord.”

  “I want every family member of Fleet Commander Goran taken into custody and put to the question. Everyone on his and his wife’s side of the family. Every uncle, aunt and cousin to the fifth degree.”

  The eyes of the Chief Enforcer widened at the scope of what he was being asked to do. “All of them? On what charges?”

  “Conspiracy of treason. And this is a Dictator’s Edict, not to be questioned. Do it. I want as many of them in custody as you can get.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  The holo faded, without the permission of Gonoras, the male wanting to get away, and the dictator slammed his fists into the arms of his chair, making his attending sycophants jump. He starting to imagine the head of the Chief decorating the end of a spike at the entrance of his throne room.

  Later, he thought, glaring at a servant and motioning for that Gorgansha to approach. He needed his primary functionaries at this time. Later he could start replacing them, those he thought had failed him.

  “My, Lord,” said the servant, stopping ten meters away, his head down.

  “Come closer.”

  The servant hesitated, his body shaking.

  “Come closer,” screamed the dictator, standing up and pointing at the servant.

  The male shuffled forward, still hesitant. When he stood on the first step up to the throne the dictator struck, his clawed hands grabbing at the neck and shoulders of the servant. The male moved back, out of reach before the ruler could do much more than scratch the skin. The servant hesitated, not sure what to do, then turned and ran.

  “Kill him,” shouted Gonoras, pointing at the servant who had broken into a full run.

  The guards looked confused for a moment, long enough for the servant to get out of the chamber.

  “You fools. Bring him back, or you will take his place.”

  The guards looked at the dictator in fear, then at each other. Both turned and ran, getting o
ut of the room, hopefully on the trail of the object of his ire.

  Gonoras realized that he was now alone in the throne room. A shiver ran down his spine, all the way to the tip of his tail. He pulled his pistol and held it by his side, ready to defend himself.

  “Guard Leader,” he said, activating the com. “I would have a squad of your men in the throne room, immediately.”

  “Where are the guards I posted there, Lord?” asked the male, his face coming up on a holo. The fear that he might have failed the ruler moved across his expression.

  “I sent them out to grab a servant I wanted to attack. I didn’t realize I had sent my entire protective detail away,” He growled deep in his throat. “That’s neither here nor there. Send the guards, immediately.”

  Gonoras sat back down, waiting, thinking the whole time about what he was going to do with his fleet commander when he had him back in his power. Or the humans. He would take their ships, along with their tech. And….wait.

  “Get me the factory over-supervisor,” he said into the air, activating the com system.

  “My Lord,” said an older male some moments later.

  “Are the factories working to turn out more of the human technology?”

  “No, my Lord. Everything stopped working, and the templates fell into dust.”

  “Search your systems and see if we have any copies of them.”

  “At once, Lord.”

  He doubted there would be anything there, but it was worth a try. Now, he needed to get his defenses together. To make sure all of his people were loyal to him. And that any who were disloyal would no longer be around to become problems.

  Chapter Twenty

  Confront them with annihilation, and they will then survive; plunge them into a deadly situation, and they will then live. When people fall into danger, they are then able to strive for victory. Sun Tzu

  GORGANSHA SPACE. MAY 15TH, 1003.

  “Welcome aboard my flagship, Lord Kessarlja,” said Beata by way of greeting as her Marine honor guard snapped to attention.

  “Thank you, Admiral,” said the alien through the translator that hung around his neck.

  The Gorgansha was dressed in the fine clothes his people wore on his planet. The amulet of office hung from his neck, the symbol giving him the dictator’s power in this system and the space around it. He looked like many other dominant males the admiral had met since they had come in contact with the Gorgansha. Unlike many of the others, his primary wife accompanied him, dressed in similar fine clothes, her gaze traveling over the humans in a manner that showed she was an equal to her husband.

  The only world among the Gorgansha where such is possible, thought the admiral. On all the other Gorgansha worlds the females were completely subservient, with no rights. At first she couldn’t get respect herself from their males. Until she had shown her leadership and had saved so many of their worlds that they could no longer ignore her. Now many of them were treating her and her female officers as equals. But still not their own females.

  It wasn’t like the Gorgansha females were in any way mentally inferior to their males, not like the Ca’cadasans. Like most intelligent species, there was a discrepancy in physical ability between males and females. There were even some cognitive differences. But there were no differences in native intelligence. Though only in this system were they treated as equals to the males, though Kessarlja had to tread a careful path in how much he allowed his dictator to know. That male was a traditionalist, and was offended that anyone would show equality to mere females.

  Beata glanced over at Fleet Leader Goran, another traditionalist. Or maybe she should say once traditionalist. He seemed to be coming around to the Imperial point of view, and in fact had his own primary wife with him.

  Smart man, getting his family out of the capital, she thought.

  “You, of course, know Fleet Commander Goran,” she said by way of introduction.

  “And how does the Fleet Commander feel about the way in which our Supreme Ruler is treating with the humans?” asked Kessarlja, bowing a head toward the officer.

  “I have never liked the way Hraston Gonoras acted toward them,” said the officer, bowing his own head toward the system governor. “They are not as us. They have different ways. And we shouldn’t expect an older and wiser culture like theirs to conform to our expectations.”

  “And I see some of their ways are rubbing off on you,” said Kessarlja with a smile.

  “We can discuss this in my conference room,” said Beata, motioning for her guests to go through the hangar hatch.

  The conference room had been set up for a long talk. There were trays of food arrayed along the walls, delicacies for both humans, Gorgansha, and several of the other alien allies. Pitchers of water and drinks sat on the table. Seats made for the physiologies of the Gorgansha were scattered around the table, as well as one singular couch for a Phlistaran.

  “Please be seated, gentlemen and ladies,” said Beata, moving to the chair near the head of the table.

  The seats of honor were reserved for the two Gorgansha leaders, the most important of the attendees. Humans crewman in dress whites moved around the table, offering Hors d’oeuvres and drinks. As soon as everyone was settled Beata got down to business.

  “We are here today to discuss the future of your Consolidation,” she said, gaining stares and glares from many of the Gorgansha in attendance. Goran gave a head motion showing that he understood, while Kessarlja gave a surprised look.

  “What gives you the right to determine our future?” growled the nobleman, glaring at Beata.

  “My Emperor has ordered me to make sure that your people are no longer conquerors,” said the admiral, returning the glare. “As to what gives us the right to do so, your Dictator engaged in an act of war against my Empire.”

  “Surely not,” squeaked Kessarlja. “He couldn’t be so foolish.”

  Beata didn’t have a full understanding of Gorgansha facial expressions, but she thought Kessarlja’s portrayed shock.

  “He did indeed,” said Goran, looking over at the nobleman and giving a head motion. “Hraston Gonoras had given me a directive to attack and destroy the human fleets in their weakened condition after their battles with the Artificial Lifeforms, right after they had sacrificed so much to save four of our systems. And they put paid to the Artificial Lifeforms once and for all.”

  Kessarlja’s visage dropped in shock, and he gave a head motion of negation.

  “My Emperor refuses to allow such a being to control the local space. Especially since we are also invested in this region.”

  “So you would have us as vassals,” growled Kessarlja, showing his teeth in a predator’s grimace.

  “Not at all. You will be free to govern yourself. The Empire will engage in trade with you under preferred status. You will be allowed to expand in any direction, as long as you don’t threaten Bolthole or Klassek. And as long as you don’t force your will upon other species in this region. If said species decide they want to be part of your Consolidation, that’s fine. Otherwise, you will respect their independence.”

  “All well and good,” said Kessarlja, his expression showing that he still wasn’t sure about the whole thing. “But we have a hereditary ruler, and he controls the fleet and the army.”

  “He controls less than half of the fleet,” said Goran, grinning. “I control the rest. And we have taken any officers still loyal to him into custody. The other officers saw what happened out here, how the humans fought and died for us. And most are enraged by his planned treatment of our allies.”

  “And Goran has the rest of my fleet as well, in support,” said Beatra, looking into the eyes of the nobleman. “We may not be as powerful as we were before this last battle, but I think we are more than a match for what the dictator has. However, we would prefer to not fight him, and destroy innocent warriors of your people who are following the only authority they know.”

  “What do you have in mind?” asked Kessarlja
, bowing his head. “Will Goran become the dictator?”

  “I don’t want the position, my friend,” said the fleet commander. “I’m a military man, ready to serve. I don’t want to rule. I want to serve someone worth serving. Someone like you.”

  Kessarlja’s expression changed to shock, like he had never thought the position might go to him.

  “Me? Dictator?”

  “Well, sort of,” said Beata with a smile. “We will want some changes to your government. It will be up to you as to whether your leader is a lifetime position, or one that rotates by a vote. And that ruler will not have absolute power. Sort of like our own Emperor.” She looked over at the Gorgansha females in the chamber, nodding at each one. “We will want your women to be treated like they are intelligent people. Maybe over time, since they will not know how to handle the power we want to put in their hands. But eventually they will be your equals, just like they are in our Empire.”

  “They are already our equals in my system,” said Kessarlja, looking over at his wife, then glancing at Goran’s.

  “It is a strange concept,” said Goran, reaching a hand to place it over his wife’s. “But it’s one I could get used to. Jrasta is already in charge of my household. I can’t think of any reason she shouldn’t be involved in the political life of our people.”

  “Will you do it?” asked Beata, looking into the eyes of Kessarlja. “At least at first. If you want out later, we can find someone to take the position.”

  Kessarlja looked over at his wife, who gave him a head motion. “I’ll try it. For a year?”

  “We would prefer two. That gives you time to make an impact and get out if you don’t like the position. And we would hope that you would stay longer.”

  “There may be some diehards that won’t want these changes,” said Goran. “We will need security to be tight. But my force will be behind you.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Kessarlja, giving a head motion of acceptance.