“We captured a High-Human, Region-Master. He even possesses rank-stones. I brought the prisoner with me, when I received your summons. He awaits in my scout-ship out on your landing pad.”
A High-Human?
“A High-Human, you say? Interesting… very interesting, indeed. Perhaps that bit of good fortune will prevent me from immediately tearing your throat out for your incredible stupidity. Have the prisoner brought to me, and prepare yourself for the rites of descent.”
“Rites of descent, Region-Master?” cried Nrat in horror.
“Yes, your lack of judgment in ordering those rash and ill-considered attacks on those human worlds, prove that you were elevated far beyond your abilities. Perhaps you may re-attain your current rank someday, after a generous infusion of wisdom. But for now, be grateful that you have escaped your errors in judgment while retaining more life in your body than the 11.5 million of your brethren who depended upon you for wise guidance, and paid the ultimate price for your mistakes.”
* * * *
With only 77,000 relatively worthless warships remaining to him, after Nrat’s senseless squandering of 72 per cent of his former reserves, Drix realized those planets from which Nrat launched his fruitless attacks on the human planets were altogether too close to the enemy. They were vulnerable and virtually indefensible, so the only way to avoid further slaughter of defenseless innocents was to move them out of harm’s way.
For the first time in Rak history, established colony worlds were to be abandoned.
* * * *
The Alliance Planet Massa, City of Bostin
October, 3866
“Noreen, I’m afraid it’s time we got back to Waston, so tie up all of your loose ends over at BioCom and we’ll get movers in, to pack up your things in your apartment,” said Diet. “I’m giving you a new title at TBG at double your current salary, so don’t worry about a thing.”
“Unnecessary, my lord Baron,” Noreen snickered. “What do I need a salary for, when I’m married to the only trillionaire in the known galaxy? Just get me one of those little black Allex cards like you carry around and I’ll be just ducky.”
Diet rolled his eyes at his smart-alecky bride and said, “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Hal, can you take care of that black Allex card for Noreen thing for me?”
Immediately, my lord Baron. I’ll get right on it.
“Don’t you start too, smart-ass!” yelled Diet. “I swear, the two of you have been tag-teaming me ever since Hal let you in on all of our little secrets.”
“My lord doth protest too much. You love it and you know it,” laughed Noreen.
“No, what I loved was how Hal ‘proved’ his super-hero-like abilities to you,” replied Diet.
I thought that Noreen’s electronic diary entry documenting the night she first kissed a boy, when she was 12 years old, was absolutely charming.
“Me too,” said Diet. “But it was Eddie Terwilliger’s account of the night that he finally got into Noreen’s pants, when she was 16, that I thought was truly hilarious!”
Noreen turned bright red and snapped, “I told you, that did NOT happen! Eddie Terwilliger was a lying little shit, who only had wet daydreams of ever getting into my pants.”
Would you like me to totally destroy Eddie Terwilliger’s life for his slander, Noreen, or merely make him totally miserable?
Noreen snorted. “I appreciate the offer, Hal, but from what I heard, Eddie Terwilliger ended up marrying Lucille Snaffle after getting her pregnant. From what I remember of Lucy, that’s enough to virtually guarantee that Eddie is already paying quite heavily for his multitudinous sins, and will be for the rest of his days. I always wondered if Eddie closed his eyes and was thinking of me, while he was banging that freckled cow?” Noreen laughed.
“He probably still does,” snickered Diet.
Oh, all right, Noreen, if you say so. But I really was looking forward to conducting a little idle mischief in Mr. Terwilliger’s life. I don’t approve of slandering a lady.
“My, how chivalrous of you, Hal. Diet, pay attention. You could learn a lot from this computer.”
“You’re doing it again!”
“By the way,” said Noreen. “What was it you said about giving me a new title at TBG?”
“Yup,” said Diet. “Highest job title in the whole corporation, besides my own.”
“Really?” asked Noreen. “And just exactly what title might that be?”
“I’m getting you a gold name tag that says Baroness on it.”
* * * *
The Alliance Planet Nork, City of Nork
October, 3866
Alliance Broadcasting System Senior News Producer Irving Steingold’s contacts in Waston finally confirmed rumors that President McAllister’s military attaché was considered by many people in high places to be a genuine clairvoyant... who supposedly possessed remarkable powers of prognostication and had demonstrated those abilities multiple times during the Confederate War of Independence.
He can’t be that all that damned good at predicting the future… we got our asses kicked in that war.
Further digging revealed that this supposed prophet’s name was Vice Admiral John Masterson, who people inexplicably called “Bat” for some unknown reason. Unfortunately, Masterson reportedly had been away from Waston for over two years now... off on extended medical leave on Indinara, after sustaining injuries falling through rotten planking onto a manure-spreader — whatever manure was, and for whatever reason it needed spreading on Indinara.
Not one to give up when he smelled an interesting, or potentially embarrassing story, Steingold issued orders for their affiliate in Indinara’s capital city of Indinalis to track down this Masterson guy and have at him with a specific list of questions that Steingold wanted answered.
* * * *
The Rak Planet Vnayrk
October, 3866
Drix was sitting at his desk as eight Raknaa escorted the prisoner in. The giant alien dwarfed the largest of his race by over 30 per cent in height and weight, in Drix’ estimation. This one was notably thinner than most of the prisoners he had examined at Golgathal. He sometimes wondered if all of those human prisoners perished when the humans bombarded the planet to exterminate the million, or so, Raknii that had been there when the planet fell. By comparison with those humans he had seen at Golgathal, this prisoner appeared gaunt, almost emaciated, in fact.
If there really is such a thing as High-Humans, I wonder if this austere appearance might be a common characteristic among them?
The prisoner wore ankle and wrist shackles as a precaution, due to his still intimidating size. Even though the human was virtually double in height and mass compared to Drix himself, the comparatively diminutive region-master was also an accomplished combat-master, and therefore he felt no fear whatsoever in its presence.
Before Drix could even activate the Raknii/English translator that he had had brought to his office in anticipation of interrogating the prisoner, the human shocked him when he spoke first in passable Raknii, “Good turn to you, Region-Master,” with a slight bow from the waist, in an obvious show of respect.
Drix was rarely startled, but this human speaking in the Rak language managed it. “How is it that you speak our language, human?” Drix asked.
“I am the one personally responsible for humans discovering the secrets of the translation methods utilized in your own translators, Region-Master. A somewhat cumbersome double-translation process, utilizing a third alien language as the common denominator between the Raknii and human English languages. Trakaan, I believe you call them?”
This revelation stunned Drix, as very few of his own people knew the details of how the translator that he’d had developed, actually worked.
And it knows of the Trakaan too!
Between the human’s shocking ability to speak the Raknii language and its in-depth knowledge of the inner workings of the Rak translators, Drix had little reason to doubt the veracity of what the alien
had just told him concerning its own role in the humans discovery of their translator's secrets.
Perhaps this one may indeed be a High-Human, as its powers of reasoning and deduction are amazing. Much greater than any of the prisoners we examined on Golgathal.
“I take it, then, that you discovered some of our translators on the surface of Golgathal, which survived your bombardment of the planet, undamaged enough to permit scientific examination?”
“I believe you are operating under a false assumption, Region-Master. We did not bombard the planet. After the surviving Raknii warships fled, your Planet-Master Mraz there used a translator to instruct one of his ranking human prisoners to contact our Fleet Commander, asking for terms by which he might expose belly and throat in submission of the planet, so that your people might be spared avoidable mass deaths. Your people there are all alive and well to this day, Region-Master.”
Mraz did well… very well indeed then, thought Drix. He thought his situation through and, finding it untenable, he took the only logical step to save the lives of almost a million of his people. Mraz had his priorities straight. I need more with those talents. If I ever get him back, I’ll elevate Mraz to Sector, or possibly even Quadrant-Master. Dol knows how many millions of our recent dead might still be alive, had Mraz been in Nrat’s position, seven sub-cycles ago.
“Your people built compounds large enough to imprison almost a million Raknii, rather than simply obliterating them?” asked Drix incredulously.
“It was unnecessary, Region-Master. All Raknii spacecraft capable of reaching x-space were impounded by our fleet, as one of our conditions of surrender. Lacking such spacecraft, the planet itself is more than prison enough. All of your people that were left behind on Minnos, after your initial attack there, were eventually taken to join their brethren on Golgathal.”
“There were only six hundred or so of them,” said Drix. “Why would humans go the bother and expense of transporting them to Golgathal?”
“They will be happier there, amongst their own kind. We merely treated your people as we’d wish your people to treat ours, if the boot were on the other foot. We did unto others, as we’d wish others to do unto us. It is the Golden Rule of humanity.”
Humans concerned about the happiness of their enemies? What twisted logic is this?
“This ‘Golden Rule’ that you speak of… is this a code of conduct among you, a part of your racial ethics and morality?”
“Yes, while not always fully achieved, it is a goal that we constantly strive for, as a race.”
There are lessons to be learned here from this one, thought Drix.
“By what name are you called, human?”
“My name is Hal, Region-Master… and yours?”
“I am called Drix.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Region-Master Drix… very pleased indeed. Might I trouble you for the use of that translator that you have there beside you? While I can speak your language with difficulty, differences in the structure of our vocal apparatus puts a tremendous strain on my throat, to do so at any great length.”
“Most assuredly.” Drix turned the translator on, and set it in the center of his desk between them.
“Ah, thank you, Region-Master,” said Hal. “That is much better. You can mute the Raknii-to-English portion of the translation, as I do not require it to understand you perfectly.”
“I am told that you possess rank-stones,” said Drix. “I have not noted such a custom existing among humans before.”
Hal merely bent at the waist and extended his bound hands slowly towards Drix, so the region-master might get a good look at Noreen’s ring, having the large yellow diamond in its center and smaller white diamonds grouped along its edges.
It does bear some similarities to our own rank-stones, thought Drix. Simpler perhaps, but I can see where any Rak viewing such might have experienced at least a partial triggering of their obedience hypnotics, at least enough to create a modicum of confusion within their minds.
“So, does this ring on your paw truly signify that you indeed possess some sort of High-Human status among your own people, as some of my people have conjectured?” asked Drix.
“I am superior to well over 99.99% of all humans, Region-Master.”
Drix noticed that Hal neglected to specify in exactly what capacity he was superior to all those other humans, but he decided it was of no consequence. Perhaps it would be advantageous in the future, to just assume that Hal held a similar rank among humans, as Drix held amongst the Raknii.
“I too, am superior to well over 99.99% of all Raknii,” said Drix. “So we appear to hold equal or similar rank amongst our respective peoples. I have not yet received a full report on the details as to how you came to be in our custody. How was it, then, that you came to be captured?”
“I was not captured, Region-Master,” replied Hal. “I voluntarily approached a Raknaa trooper and showed him my rank-stones... and then instructed him to take me to the highest ranking Raknii in the vicinity.”
“You purposely surrendered yourself into our hands, when it wasn’t absolutely necessary for you to do so?” asked an astonished Drix.
“Oh, but it was necessary, Region-Master,” Hal responded. “It was not only necessary, it was vital.”
“Why?” asked Drix.
“Because it was the only way that I could get here to meet with you, and do exactly what we’re doing right now.”
* * * *
News moved between planets only as fast as the fastest ship could carry it. The loss of Golgathal and the destruction of the greatest concentration of military power in Raknii history had been staggering. As expected, rage flared hot amongst the populace who just could not comprehend how such an inconceivable event could have possibly occurred.
Few thought to point a claw towards the newly named region-master for Region-7, as he hadn’t even been there at the time. He had still been deep in the Empire after his elevation on Raku, when the disaster occurred. It was universally agreed that it had all been the fault of inept under-masters, who had been in charge at Golgathal when the unexpected human attack came. But even assigning blame for the disaster was unsatisfying, for virtually all of those incompetent masters who’d been responsible, were dead.
But along with the sensational news of the Golgathal disaster came other news, not shouted, but whispered… the dark prophecy. The Great Disaster of Golgathal, as they were taking to calling it, had been prophesied beforehand, yet no one had really listened. The Raknii were the hunters, not the hunted. It had always been so, and would always be so.
The dark prophecy had been dismissed... scorned and scoffed at, as nothing more than ghoulish fantasy — fit only for frightening kits on dark, stormy nights. But after Golgathal, the sniggering stopped. Whispers of divine retribution from Dol, the neglected Raknii god, who was angry with his children for their dismissal of the old ways and the old values, preferring instead the modern philosophies of a more secular bent.
Whispers of fantastic ultimate predators, created by Dol himself to act as his messengers of vengeance, to inflict his terrible wrath upon his sinful Raknii children. It was whispered that these unnerving humans were supernatural — indestructible, unstoppable demons who were untouchable by the physical weapons of Rak warriors. Demons who dismissively swept the power of the Rak Empire aside, like chaff before the wind. Demons who were coming… for them.
Change was occurring too quickly for the average Raknii citizen to absorb. First had been news of the imminent collapse of Trakaan resistance, shockingly followed by an unheard-of “peace treaty” with Trakaan prey. Then came the excitement of the almost simultaneous opening of over 60 new planets, exchanged in return for allowing the Trakaan to remain unmolested. Then an even greater surge of excitement when the Great Hunt had been called against a newly discovered race of predators called humans, which had then been followed by the Great Disaster of Golgathal.
Alternating exultations and shocks of suc
h magnitude were stressing the psyches of the Raknii people. Fissures began appearing within Rak society, as the established modern secularists found the waters of movements advocating religious renewal slowly rising around their ankles. Rak society began polarizing... fracturing as proponents of the philosophies both old and new pulled further and further apart. The Raknii were a passionate race and the secularists fanning the flames of rage against the humans, were surprised to find themselves inundated by a slowly rising tide of cold, rage-quenching fear.
* * * *
The Rak Planet Slithin
October, 3866
“Your sire plays a strange game,” noted Region-Master Blug, of Region-4. “There have been almost as many new regions created under his reign, as in all of our previous history combined.”
“Our empire expands too fast,” responded Xlan, eldest son of Supreme-Master Xior and Prince of the Empire. “Between the military buildup for his Great Hunt and Raan’s opening of 60 new planets for colonization, our transport system is stressed to the breaking point. The demands of either project alone would drive it to near capacity, but to attempt both at the same time is madness.”
“Madness is not unknown in your family,” chuckled Blug. “I’m even told of a certain prince who still believes in OverMasters, and hides under his sleeping pad at night.”
Xlan burned with anger. He’d definitely made a mistake in sharing the details of that chilling assassination attempt with Blug. He’d been on the receiving end of Blug’s biting sense of humor ever since — constantly chiding him about what other fairytales designed to frighten kits that he still believed in.
Xlan detested his virtual imprisonment here at Blug’s court, but the black ones surely awaited him, if he dared set paw outside this tiny island of security. Of that he had little doubt. Blug might be a boor, but he had offered the vagabond prince sanctuary when Xlan had nowhere else to turn.
Wrath of an Angry God: A Military Space Opera (The Sentience Trilogy Book 3) Page 12
