The Blockade

by Jean Johnson

  “You cannot do this! You are members of the Alliance!” he protested, glaring at her with pupils so wide, she knew from her language transfer that he was on the border between hunter-mode and prey-mode.

  “Our charter, Governor, has not yet been accepted by the Alliance states,” Jackie clarified.

  That, oddly enough, was a legal point that the K’Katta had stressed as an advantage. Whatever the Terrans did before formally joining the Alliance could not reflect upon the Alliance rules, because the Terrans might be allies but were not a part of that system. Yet. By the same token, the K’Katta had made a request that made Jackie’s own conscience in these rather brutal steps easier to bear. A request easy enough to accept. After all, it was the objects of war they were trying to destroy, not the Salik people.

  “The Alliance has authorized the use of full force specifically against your military industry. They want everything that allows you to wage war against them to be destroyed. We Terrans have the capacity to ensure that destruction, and the will to ensure it. Your people, Governor Sh’naq-wzz-Tiell, made the mistake of whittling down the Alliance forces to the point where they have to rely upon Terran technology and determination to win this fight. Your people have also made the mistake of refusing to distinguish between Terrans and V’Dan . . . which makes it necessary for us to win this fight.”

  “You’re not a very moral species if you’re willing to kill civilians,” he told her. From the way his cheeks and brow dimpled, it was meant as a compliment. “You are a worthy opponent. Bring your troops down here and fight us grip to grip!”

  She had seen the devastation the Salik ground forces could wreak in open terrain; even if shot midair, a dying Salik soldier could literally fall upon an enemy with damaging force, and they could leap unnervingly prodigious distances. Her answer held that threat firmly in mind.

  “No. We are not actually here to fight you, Governor,” Jackie added, while yet more targeted areas flared with light and blackened with ash. “We Terrans are here to destroy your capacity to wage war. Your spaceships, your weapons, your troop transports, your support structures, the objects you use to fight the rest of the Alliance. That is it. That is all we are here to do. It is the only reason we are launching these bombs. Our priority targets are your spaceports, munitions depots, weapons and war-machine caches, your military bases, and the industries that create and repair those things.

  “If, after those things have been destroyed, you continue to insist on fighting with empty grips, then we will begin targeting major population centers . . . because those are where your soldiers are created, and therefore are to be considered part of your ongoing war industry. If you refuse to surrender before then,” she cautioned mildly. “That choice is yours, but it does have a time limit. Our bombs are not radioactive, but they will cause problems with the weather and the atmosphere on your colonyworld. Of course, the Terran government assumes no liability or responsibility for fixing the damage wrought to Llghk Pwok or any other Salik-held world because of your refusal to surrender immediately. We have no interest in settling on your planets, so we will not be affected by any damage.”

  An especially large flare made the governor wince, slit pupils narrowing against the brightness of whatever view that might be. His eyestalks swiveled back to peer up at her, his skin quite dimpled with tension. “. . . You have bested me. The government of Pwok surrenders to the might of the Tehranz.”

  “Do you surrender completely, agreeing to follow all of our commands?” Jackie asked. More explosions. They were getting close to the halfway point on how many BM bombs could be spared to attack Pwok. The planet had hundreds of MT-class casings orbiting it, but only so many that could actually explode. “Please answer in V’Dan on a wide-band broadcast so that the members of the Alliance understand your compliance, or lack thereof.”

  Two more explosions. The Salik flinched, cheeks relaxing, but that patch of skin between nose and stalks rippling subtly again. “Yes! Yes, Pwok surrendersh completelllly! All soldiers, cease your huntings!” he added in his native tongue. “Pwok must surrender to survive through these harsh currents and starvation times.”

  She typed in a command and spoke in V’Dan. “Thank you for your cooperation. You have a fifteen-mi-nah reprieve to evacuate the remaining sites . . . that is, once the current round of bombs finish dropping. Some of them are now too close to be stopped.”

  “That ish nnnot enough timme!” he protested. “We nneed more time to effacuate!”

  “You have had plenty of time,” she countered patiently. “The original fleet of ships attacking you warned you immediately upon their arrival that your military complexes would be destroyed. We confirmed this warning was given on our way inward via lightwave samplings.”

  “We did nnnot belieffe you!” he insisted.

  That phrasing pleased her. What she had learned of Salik xenopsychology, of Salik ruthlessness, allowed her to state calmly in his own language, “Your belief in our resolve is immaterial. Your resistance is immateral. And your admiration is immaterial,” she stated, knowing that her words would be a psychological blow to a species with a culture that greatly admired prey that fought back. Refusing to acknowledge Salik valiance, bravery, cunning . . . it was an insult to ignore them. “We are here, Governor, to destroy your capacity to fight.

  “It is a simple enough job, but one that we will complete,” Jackie told him, still speaking sonokinetically. The Salik considered Imperial High V’Dan to be a simple language, matched to a simple, softhearted, more-prey-than-predator species. “You may leave your people in the same locations as your military materiél, or you may evacuate them to shelters or places beyond the blast radius. It does not matter to us how many survive or not, so long as you are unable to fight back effectively with more than just your empty grip by the time we are through.”

  Another curse escaped him, this time something about sucking mud and begetting yet more vegetarians.

  “I do enjoy eating vegetables, yes, thank you for asking about my healthy dietary habits,” she quipped in Sallhash. “And no, I don’t need to know about yours.”

  That startled an odd nostril-whistle out of the Governor. An actual laugh, for his species.

  Switching back to V’Dan, she stated for the record, “The Governor of Llghk-Pwok has agreed to a complete and unconditional surrender, with the understanding that any resistance at this point will be met with lethal retaliation. We will also continue to target military infrastructure, both known right now and as discovered in the future. It is hoped that the Salik in this star system will be wise about surrendering and evacuating all such targets.”

  She twisted to look up and behind her at the Admiral. A’quon nodded and addressed the ships that might be listening. “If any inbound Salik vessels wish to alter course and head toward your sibling colonies to warn them, you are free to do so. In fact, it might be wise. You will want to evacuate those planets’ military targets as well. That is, if you care about saving your people’s lives.”

  She paused, then smiled with bared teeth. Hers were not the predatory, flesh-tearing kind of a Salik; hers were flat incisors, save only for her pointed canines. But that smile, delivered in that way, conveyed the same sort of threat found in the Human version as it would be interpreted by most of the other aliens.

  “You have indeed pushed us past the point where we have stopped caring about your lives. Thank you for your cooperation, Governor. We will now transfer you to the K’Kattan Councilor for Surrender and Capitulation Protocols. Please continue to cooperate, and urge your people to cooperate. We do have your position triangulated.”

  Another mutter in Sallhash, this time about farts underwater. The image on the screen shifted to the crossed and curved lines of the Eternal Empire, red and gold on white. Jackie blinked a couple of times before being quietly urged by Warden Superior Taq’enez to relinquish his seat so he could package up the conversat
ion with the Governor of Pwok, and all the destruction that had ensued. That was still ensuing, albeit given a brief reprieve of just a little more time for an evacuation.

  (Something’s disturbing you,) Li’eth murmured, joining her in rising. (What’s wrong?)

  (I just had the disconcerting realization that I find Salik epithets actually amusing,) Jackie replied, blinking a few more times. (Did you know what Llgkh-Pwok actually translates as?)

  (Yes, the closest comparison would be your Terran “Come and Get It” thing that your family called out when the roast pork was ready at the lu’au you held,) he replied, touching her back not so much to guide her out of the bridge, but because it was simply necessary to connect with each other.

  She leaned back into his arm, matching her stride with his so they could walk comfortably side by side. (Yes, but it just occurred to me that they just “came and got it,” in terms of harvesting what you plant. The Governor’s last curse in Sallhash was all about those who eat flatulence-causing foods having no right to complain about farts flavoring the lake water.)

  (That is actually a little bit funny,) he allowed. (Gross, but funny. I’ll have to remember to share that with V’kol. He enjoys a good flatulence joke. I certainly can’t share it with anyone else, as a member of the Imperial Tier.)

  (Share it with my nephew Ahe,) Jackie offered. (He’s still at that age where flatulence jokes are considered hilarious.)

  (Good point. As soon as we can figure out what time it is back there, we can give them a call, maybe find out how Lani’s foot is doing.)

  (I love you for being concerned about her,) Jackie told him, nudging him with her arm. Just a little bump, to let him know she meant it wholeheartedly.

  In turn, he squeezed her subtly, arm slipping a little more around her ribs. At least until they had to part to get around one of the crewmen in the corridor outside the bridge. Their next task was to go help the V’Dan version of a councilor for managing surrenders and capitulations, to work as an adjunct and a watchdog over the proceedings.

  (You’ve told me how important ohana is. It’s family,) he reminded her. (Family is important even to my people.)

  That wrinkled her nose. (That reminds me. How is your eldest sister doing?)

  (Vi’alla? Last I heard was the same that you heard. If she keeps giving the Empress headaches, however, she just might find herself shipped off to a remote monastery.)

  (Make sure it’s not the one with that one priest from the Winter Temple in it, the fellow who kept trying to push his way into royal minds,) Jackie cautioned him.

  (Agreed. That would be bad. Maybe we’ll just get her shipped off to a colonyworld . . . except there will be a lot of Terrans escaping Earth and spreading out across the Empire, trying to find enclaves to settle in. At least, until we can get you your own colonyworlds.)

  (Let’s open up some of the newest ones for settlement that the V’Dan have already started to colonize,) she compromised. (We’re almost done refining the rules for who governs what, for those.)

  (We’ll still have a few years, while most of your people get filtered into the Alliance via military service,) he reminded her. (Once we get all of the Salik to surrender, and evacuated from any joint colonyworlds, then we’ll have to keep them blockaded, and that means a huge military force will constantly have to cycle through each Salik-held system. It’ll be a full-time job, watching for escaping ships, potential rebuilding of military infrastructures, and the insane members of each race that think smuggling in goods for black-market profits are worth the risk of being eaten alive by their clients.)

  (Nobody ever said it had to be easy,) she pointed out. (Which deck are we going to, again? This ship is too big.)

  (Two down, two corridors over, third door on the left.) He added a mental kiss to her brow. (And this ship is not too big. Your ships are just too small.)

  (We know, we know . . .)

  CHAPTER 12

  NOVEMBER 24, 2287 C.E.

  JUL 15, 9508 V.D.S.

  GLIGIELGKH

  SWISH-SWISH-PLIK 344 SYSTEM

  “So it is working?” Augustus Callan asked. “These star systems are surrendering?”

  “Yes, Premiere,” Li’eth answered him. “The plan is succeeding.”

  Jackie was supposed to be here, but she had been called away to consult with Darian on some of the information the xenotelepath had retrieved in this system. Li’eth knew everything she did, more than enough to make this report to the various leaderships, military and civilian of the Alliance. The V’Goro’s communications system had been hardwired into the Terran hyperrelay poking out one of its airlocks, and since the hyperrelay system used highly focused beams to broadcast through the pinhole aperture created by the devices, there was no chance of the Salik overhearing anything.

  It was an elegant way to communicate. Plans were already being drawn up to convert a minor section of this ship into the vacuum-pressured bay it needed for communication—Terrans had already tested the system to see if it could be used in its tiniest setting directly on one of their other planets, Mars, and had discovered that they could do so if it was done in a vacuum. Nothing bigger than a pinhole for streaming data, however; the gravity well of a planet could warp the opening into collapsing above a certain aperture size just as surely as a stream of atmospheric particles could.

  He looked at the other leaders projected onto the conference cabin’s screens, making sure they were digesting the good news. “The ships sent to the Kagliej-Nokh System are reporting the same level of success that we’re having here at Gligielgkh. We broadcast the battle, destruction, and surrender of Pwok, along with the warning to evacuate their military centers.

  “They didn’t believe us at first, and that has led to an estimated tens of thousands of lives lost to the bombings, but with the BM- and MT-class missiles striking their surfaces at different intensities calibrated to do the minimal amount of effective impact and explosion damage, we have convinced them we are sincere in our targets and our resolve,” Li’eth stated. “This system surrendered half an hour ago. We gave them the minimum amount of time to evacuate to limit how much war materiél they could evacuate with their personnel, and the bombardments have since resumed, removing their ability to create any more war machines,” he told them. “Surprisingly, the MT-class weapons are turning out to be far more efficient at that task than the BMs have been, for anything but the larger military bases.”

  The Gatsugi President flushed a bright bluish green in surprise. “They are/are? How/Why is this so/happening?”

  Touching the controls on his console, Li’eth sent them prepared files of surveillance footage. The craters displayed were devastating, but only on a scale of tens of mitas, instead of hundreds of mitas wide. “One of our technicians on board the V’Goro pointed out that since they’re aerodynamic and have their own thrust systems, they could be used as kinetic-impact weapons. Their mass is known, and we have access to atmospheric pressure information for all sites.

  “After that, it’s just a matter of calculating how much additional thrust to add on top of the local terminal velocity to create an impact of sufficient strength to obliterate a target,” he stated, and smiled slightly. With closed lips, of course; this was an amused smile, not a fierce one. “The mathematicians aboard the V’Goro have been amusing themselves with trying to calculate the exact kinetic impact required for each strike off the tops of their heads, then guessing an estimation of the damage spread.”

  “Meioa War Prince,” President Marbleheart chittered through his translator box, “please remind these mathematicians that this is not a matter for jesting and betting. Lives have been lost with these impacts.”

  “. . . Of course, Meioa President. I will chastise them,” Li’eth replied quickly. To a V’Dan—to a Human—sometimes a member of his species just needed to jest and joke in the face of horrible things, to alleviate the strain
. But he understood the solemnity of the moment. “We are aware of the seriousness of these strikes. The stress of it has led to inappropriate levity.”

  Marbleheart flexed the fingerclaws of one of his forelegs. “We understand that pressure and strain can trigger inappropriateness. We appreciate more effort on your part in mindfulness and awareness to prevent it from happening again.”

  “Arrre you still on schedulle for arriving at the next system?” the War Princess asked them, returning to the topic at hand. “The trrransports we loanned are slightly ahead of schedulle.”

  Li’eth nodded. Before he could actually speak, however, the conference-room door slid open, and Jackie entered. Holding up a hand to stave off questions, he said, “Please wait. The Grand High Ambassador has arrived.”

  “And I will be glad when I am not wearing three hats at once,” Jackie said, slipping into the seat next to Li’eth’s. He quickly shifted the focus of the cameras so that they recorded her image as well as his.

  “Thrrree hats?” the Choya military leader asked.

  “Ambassador, military supervisor, and chief of psychic operations. We have a slight-but-serious problem, meioas,” Jackie stated, staring straight into the pickups, her expression sober and somewhat exhausted-looking. “The plan to extract locations of hidden military industry is working at a far higher cost than anticipated.”

  “What cost is that, Grand High Ambassador?” Empress Hana’ka asked her.

  “The minds of the Salik are very different from ours. Accessing them creates a sort of dissonance distress in the xenopath doing so—it is not dissimilar, I think,” Jackie added, “from the distress a K’Katta would feel when tapping into the mind-set of a natural predator.”

  “Natural predators the Salik are,” Fearsome Leader Siirrlak stated. Since this was a conference call and not a conference meeting, the Chinsoiy delegation did not need to be relegated to a zeolite-lined suite of rooms connected only by a thick window and a comm unit. They were all connected via comm units right now. “How enduring are the mind-walkings?