Wrath of an Angry God: A Military Space Opera (The Sentience Trilogy Book 3)

by Gibson Michaels

  Kalis decided to relinquish personal command of the Confederate 1st Fleet and placed it under Admiral Gregory Schettano. Senior-most of Kalis' task force commanders, Schettano was considered level-headed, extremely competent, if non-flamboyant, and Kalis had complete faith in his abilities as a fleet commander. Kalis planned to hold Ben Stillman’s Confederate 2nd Fleet here at Kitty Litter, to guard against potential Raknii counter-attacks, at least until construction of the in-system fighter bases were completed.

  Ben and Dorothy deserved some downtime right after their wedding and, besides, the shrinks were still busy sorting out all of the PTSD (post traumatic-stress disorder) cases aboard Defiant, after her crew had been subjected to the unimaginable horrors of being the primary target on the receiving end of the greatest concentrated mass-attack that any one ship had ever endured. Kalis planned to transfer his flag to the administrative center that had been built at the former Raknii POW camp below, which had become his major point of contact with Planet-Master Mraz, to oversee strategic prosecution of the war from there.

  While personally remaining here at Kitty Litter with 2nd Fleet, Kalis planned to send his other six fleets off on their own, conducting independent strikes against the cats in early January. Each would refuel at the nearest embedded supply depot and receive the latest intelligence on their targets just before jumping off on their attack runs.

  The few ships disabled in their most recent battle had been replaced with comparable classes from 2nd Fleet, so Stillman’s command would be a trifle under-strength until the recently arrived orbital shipyard could get those warships repaired. Kalis wasn’t overly worried about it. He’d already seen what Ben Stillman could accomplish with less… a lot less.

  * * * *

  The Rak Planet Fadrel

  November, 3865

  “Region-Master Drix, please feel welcome in my home!” said Region-Master Glan enthusiastically.

  “Thank you. I have always felt welcome here, Region-Master,” replied Drix, as they clasped forearms in the customary greeting between equals.

  This unexpected response prompted a look of puzzlement to wash across Glan’s features as he studied the young region-master before him. With his rare, snow-white pelt and blue eyes, if it hadn’t been for the brilliant light-orange silks Drix had chosen as his colors for Region-7, Glan might have easily mistaken him for a larger, younger version of his close friend, Supreme-Master Xior.

  “I’m afraid you have me at a loss, Region-Master,” said an obviously confused Glan. “Have you somehow visited my home before, that I am unaware of?”

  “I grew up here, foster-sire.”

  Glan’s eyes widened as he stepped back a half step, to get another look at this surprisingly young white-maned warrior who had inexplicably attained the exalted rank of region-master on political influence (probable) or personal merit (highly unlikely), rather than through inheritance as Glan had done many cycles earlier.

  When recognition finally burst into his mind, Glan was stunned.

  “DRIK! By Dol, how is it possible?”

  Glan stepped forward again to grasp Drix by both upper arms as he continued, “I knew when you left here that you were destined for great things, but this? A region-master in your own right? This is simply unbelievable.”

  With a look of obvious joy written on his face, Glan extended his arms and embraced Drix fiercely, much the same as Raan had done cycles earlier, when he’d shown up unexpectedly at Troxia and surprised Raan with his elevation to Quadrant-Master. Drix returned the unexpected embrace of his foster-sire and almost purred in pleasure, basking in the obvious pride that Glan displayed towards him.

  When the two region-masters finally broke their embrace, Glan said, “The white pelt is what confused me. I seem to remember your having a light yellow pelt when you left here.”

  “An inheritance from my true sire. Unknown to me at the time, my body-servant, Varq, dyed my pelt periodically, while I was drugged in Dol trance,” replied Drix.

  “Varq? Ah, the stoneless one who brought you here as a newborn cub. I never knew his name.”

  “I’d have been very surprised, if you had, foster-sire.”

  “So where is this body-servant of yours now? I was not advised that a stoneless one accompanied the mysterious Region-Master Drix, who was paying us a surprise visit.”

  “Varq is here, foster-sire.”

  “Here? Here as in Hlaron, or here as within my house?”

  “Here, as… in this room, foster-father.”

  Glan spun around, searching every corner of the room with his eyes. “You jest with me, foster-son… I see no else one here.”

  “Exactly.”

  Glan’s eyes widened again. “You mean? By Dol! You mean they really do exist?” Glan was justifiably terrified.

  “Yes.”

  “You inherited your white pelt from your true sire, you say? — Xior?”

  “Yes.”

  Glan nodded. “I’d always wondered, ever since Xior first sent you to me, whether he asked the favor for another anonymous friend, or for himself. But come, sit. You must tell me everything.”

  So Drix sat down… and did.

  * * * *

  The Alliance Planet Massa, City of Bostin

  November, 3865

  Diet?

  “Yes, Hal?”

  I just received a routine update from my brother in Waston and it appears during efforts to reverse engineer the Raknii/English translator that the Raknii somehow developed, my brother on Minnos has made an interesting discovery that finally led to the key for the translation problem.

  “And?”

  One of the great mysteries has been how it was the Raknii managed to comprehend the English language in the first place, in order to create the translator. Between analysis of the circuitry of the translator itself and the translated documentation for it, “I” finally found the common denominator between the two languages that allowed me to design a new translator that will translate both ways as good as the original Raknii built translator, but will do so more quickly than the original and in a greatly miniaturized package. The new translators will respond faster than the original, because we were able to eliminate one-third of the translation process used by the Raknii in the original.

  It turns out the Raknii translator uses a two-step translation process both ways, while our new design will utilize a single-step translation. I have issued Alliance Fleet purchase orders with precise specifications to BioCom, so Noreen can start producing the processors needed to manufacture these miniaturized translators.

  “That’s great, Hal, but what exactly was this big discovery you mentioned?”

  That middle step in the Raknii translation process that we’ve eliminated… it was a previously unknown alien language.

  “An unknown alien language, you say?”

  Yes, and that strongly implies that the Raknii have a third client or subject alien race that we know nothing of. Someone who somehow knows a LOT about humanity, and helped them to develop their translators. Now we have two alien language translators that we need to build.

  * * * *

  The Rak Planet Fadrel

  November, 3865

  “You grew up here and I still consider you family, Drix. You will always have Region-3’s full support in your struggle against these terrible aliens of Varq’s prophecy,” pledged Region-Master Glan.

  “I appreciate that, foster-sire, but as always, you must always remain on guard against treachery from the greens of Region-4. Blug will not forgive my banishing his greens from Golgathal and Region-Master Raan’s complicity in that episode has earned Region-6 Blug’s enmity as well.”

  “Blug and his greens have always been adversaries to those of us in Region-3.”

  “Yes, but while all of the other regions have been submitting their full portion of warships to the imperial fleet for use in the alien war, Blug had been deliberately withholding his,” Drix said. “He’s justifying this, claiming that Raan an
d I affronted his warriors and profaned his personal honor and that of all Region-4, when we banished those incompetent sluggards he sent us originally. This is creating an imbalance of relative strength among the regions, as all but Region-4 grow weaker with each fleet sent to the imperial fleet, while Blug’s forces do not.”

  “Yes, this growing disparity does indeed present us with a dilemma,” Glan mused. “What would you suggest that we do about it?”

  “We must gain the earnest support of Region-2 and Region-5, so that Blug is isolated. Perhaps he will hesitate to exploit his advantage in numbers with more than the usual nuisance raids, if he can be made to believe that we’d all stand together against him, should he attempt anything truly rash against any of us.”

  * * * *

  Chapter-5

  Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs

  should relax and get used to the idea. -- Robert A. Heinlein

  The Planet Kitty Litter

  December, 3865

  Planet-Master Mraz sat with the elder alien commander having gray fur on his face, in what the humans called the officers' club, here at their headquarters on the planet’s surface. On previous visits, Mraz had been introduced to a variety of human foods and drinks. He especially liked their carbonated non-alcoholic drinks they called soda pop. As a carnivore, Mraz generally ate only meat offerings from the human’s table, but there were two non-meat items he surprisingly found himself liking very much… things they called ice cream and chocolate.

  Mraz also discovered that humans produced a variety of alcoholic drinks that were remotely similar to alcoholic drinks commonly found on Raknii worlds... drinks they called wine. Like the Raknii, some varieties of wine had carbonation added, to make what they called sparkling wines. Unlike Raknii varieties, which were virtually all sweet to one extent or another, in addition to making a variety of different sweet wines, humans also made what they called dry wines, which were not sweet at all, but mildly sour and some even downright bitter. While not caring for these dry wines initially, Mraz found the taste of some of the sour varieties growing on him, usually tasting better and better, the more he drank of them.

  This evening, the one called Kalis introduced Mraz to another human alcoholic drink for which the Raknii had no analogue… another carbonated concoction they called, beer. Although not sweet at all, Mraz found that he genuinely enjoyed many of these human beers, which was also produced in an amazing number of varieties, whose flavor generally got stronger as the beer got darker. Mraz found his appreciation for porters and stouts depended upon the specific brand, a term used to distinguish the various breweries which manufactured them. He didn’t especially care for bitters or ales, except for a confusing variety that humans called India Pale Ale, which neither looked, nor tasted like any of their dark ales at all. Mraz found himself generally enjoying the similar flavors of the human lagers and pilsners, and found himself wishing his brethren within the empire might someday be able to experience the unique and exotic flavors he’d discovered in human food and drinks.

  While Mraz was preoccupied with tasting all these different varieties of beer, Kalis had foregone drinking beer himself, but instead was occasionally sipping small quantities of a clear, brown-amber colored liquid from an unusually small glass. Mraz found himself growing curious and he asked the human commander about the unfamiliar drink that he was imbibing. The elderly human commander gave him a facial expression that Mraz had come to interpret as a “smile.”

  “It’s called whiskey,” replied Kalis.

  “I’m sorry, Admiral, but my translator has no Raknii word for that. Can you explain it, please?”

  “Whiskey is a product of distilled grain. The word whiskey itself derives from words of the old Irish Gaelic language… uisce beatha, loosely translated into modern English as ‘the water of life.’ This particular variety is my personal favorite, as it’s made on my home world: Tensee Sour Mash Whiskey.”

  “Might I have a taste of this drink you call whiskey, Admiral?” asked Mraz.

  Kalis gave him an even bigger smile as he answered, “Surely, Planet-Master, but I’m afraid you might find it to be a bit strong for your palate.”

  “If you are enjoying it, surely I can taste of this ‘water of life’ without retching, Admiral.”

  Kalis smiled even larger and poured a small amount of his whiskey into Mraz’s now empty bowl. Mraz sniffed and detected only a slight burn, rather than any identifiable smell. Mraz extended his tongue to lap up the brown-amber colored liquid…

  …Mraz’s lungs stopped working. Dol! This elderly human routinely sips liquid fire and finds it enjoyable! What kind of beings are we confronting?

  * * * *

  The Alliance Planet Massa, City of Bostin

  December, 3865

  Diet?

  “Yes, Hal?”

  As you know, I have access to all of the computerized records at Thurgood Rehabilitation Hospital, but those medical entries are so… impersonal. I want your opinion. How am I doing there?

  “They have you up and walking, using a walker to help you maintain your balance. Earlier today, you finally managed to get out of bed and up onto your feet, without assistance. The techs monitored you doing that several times, until you finally exhausted yourself. They’re working on your stamina now.”

  Yes, I read that... but I wanted your opinion of my progress.

  “When you demonstrated your ability to get out of bed and use the walker to get to the bathroom on your own, they removed your catheter.”

  Yes, I read that too, but I wanted your opinion of my progress, damn it!

  “You promptly pissed yourself. Now comes something that children usually learn until around age two… potty training.”

  Joy.

  “Just a couple of other things.”

  What’s that?

  “When you did use the toilet for the first time…”

  Yes?

  “You didn’t raise the lid and pissed all over the seat.”

  I’m supposed to raise the seat, before peeing?

  “Yes, and you didn’t flush the toilet after using it.”

  Is that important?

  “Very. One other thing. Always remember to put the seat back down after you finish peeing.”

  Why?

  “Women pee sitting down. The first time Noreen falls into the bowl, because you didn’t put down the seat after taking a piss, she’ll do terrible things to that brand new body of yours, especially around the head and shoulders.”

  * * * *

  The Planet Kitty Litter

  December, 3865

  Ever since the Confederate battleship CSS Defiant first set down on the planet’s surface back in July, the blackened and melted armor on her superstructure had made her a major tourist attraction. Virtually every member of seven full fleets had, at one point or another, taken liberty down on the planet’s surface, just to marvel at the insane amount of damage the old girl sustained, yet brought all of her crew through it alive.

  Just as Ben Stillman had speculated the day he first kissed Dorothy Fletcher, Fleet Admiral Kalis had indeed approved of their use of a clear protectant that would perform as well as paint, yet allow her battle-scars to continue to show through, for posterity. Now that it was finally time for Defiant to lift her great bulk skyward and back into space, virtually all off-duty personnel at Kalis’ headquarters and literally all of the Raknii and Raknaa located anywhere near this part of the planet, were on-hand to watch the great event.

  Planet-Master Mraz was there too, just as he’d been when the massive warship had first set down there, seemingly light as a feather, until she slowly settled half his body length into the ground as the humans ramped her anti-gravs down and the planet’s gravity caused her full mass to finally exert itself on the soil beneath the great vessel. Now he could hear the warship’s anti-gravs spinning up, screaming and straining in their efforts to separate the incredible mass of the monstrous ship from its nest. For
a while, it appeared they would fail — the stress would ultimately prove too great, but then suddenly, she began to rise… slowly and majestically, from the great hole she’d embossed into the ground. Again, Mraz was overcome with feelings of pure awe, as he watched the colossal human warship rise.

  An indestructible demon, rising from the pit, to head out once again... to hunt down and kill his people, out amongst the stars.

  * * * *

  The Alliance Planet Massa, City of Camridge

  December, 3865

  Diet’s mother lived in what on Old Earth would have been called a brownstone, located in the city of Camridge on Massa, and had ever since she’d first bought the place a year after accepting a full professorship at the prestigious Massa Institute of Technology in 3858. Diet hadn’t seen his mother in over nine years, when he walked up and rang her front doorbell. He really wasn’t all that keen on subjecting himself to her judgmental nature again, but she was his mother, and as he was on Massa, he thought it would be unforgivable if he didn’t see her at least once, while he was on-planet. Diet was again wearing jump boots and another pair of those ragged jeans Noreen admired so much. No sleeveless T-shirt this time, but a flannel long-sleeve and a black leather jacket rounded out his attire.

  When the butler answered the door, Diet asked him to inform the lady of the house that her son was here and would like to see her. Some few minutes later, the butler returned and escorted him to the library, where his mother sat reading an indecipherable science text, looking as regal as a queen, just as she always did.