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

by Gibson Michaels

  Mraz also introduced Raan to the human drink called beer, which he liked very much, and Raan had introduced Eileen Thorn to a Raknii version of sparkling wine that she was enjoying thoroughly. Tables of human, Raknii and Trakaan delicacies were laid out on separate low tables just outside their circle. With a pleasant breeze blowing and ideal temperatures, the warm sunny day almost felt much like a family picnic.

  Raan had been astounded by all that Planet-Master Mraz told him, of what all he’d learned about humans during his three years in submission to them. For all their incredible ferocity in battle, they were obviously an honorable and respectful race, who claimed that they preferred peace and understanding to conquest and warfare.

  It had taken Raan some time to finally come to accepting the validity of Mraz’s shocking admission, that he thought the Raknii’s penchant for attacking other races without attempting to talk to them first, was most unfortunate... in that he’d come to actually like many of the humans, once he’d gotten to know them. That evolved into a new and alien experience for Raan as well, as he was surprised to discover himself agreeing with Mraz on that point too. It really was a great shame that such two noble races had gotten off to such a bad start and were currently so dedicated to tearing each other’s throats out.

  * * * *

  The Planet Slithin

  June, 3868

  Ben Stillman’s Confederate 2nd Fleet was currently in orbit around Slithin. Transports waiting in the fringes of the solar system had been called in after Stacy Irwin’s three lumbering asteroid-battleships finally arrived. Using the new TBG manufactured English/Raknii translators, Ben had called down for the planet’s surrender under the same terms that Fleet Admiral Kalis had demanded at Kitty Litter, three years earlier.

  Planet-Master Paeb recently received word of the changes in supreme-mastery from an incoming spaceliner, diverted to the planetary capital and arriving from Raku while the battle still raged beyond the asteroid belt. Now, with an alien fleet and those three monstrous asteroid-warships orbiting overhead, Paeb had been only too happy to comply with the new supreme-master’s edict to surrender if attacked by humans. Strangely, these unknowable humans demanded only several relatively small plots of wilderness upon which they planned to construct fighter bases, amazingly enough, without using Raknii slave labor.

  Behemoth, Defiant, all three surviving battlecruisers, the two heavy cruisers and four light cruisers which comprised most of the heavy elements of 2nd Fleet were all in desperate need of overhaul, after the mauling they’d taken from 800 heavy-missile laden Rak fighters during the battle. Raknii space tugs were bringing in the hulks of the four light cruisers and the one heavy-cruiser that had been destroyed, where they’d be cannibalized for repair parts. It was hoped that 2nd Fleet’s heavies could be tacked back together enough to reach hyperspace again, so they could limp back to human space where they could finally get the yard time they so richly deserved.

  In the meantime, a squadron of Raptors was heading back across those vast life-voids, en route back to Kitty Litter. They’d need a hell of a lot of refueling stops along the way, and those pilots would definitely be sporting a few new hemorrhoids after so many uninterrupted days of sitting in the cockpit of a Raptor, but it was absolutely vital that Fleet Admiral Kalis be apprised of all the nasty surprises the cats had waiting for them, when 2nd Fleet arrived at Slithin.

  * * * *

  The Trakaan Planet Troxia

  July, 3868

  An unexpected, unscheduled spaceliner arrived at Troxia from Klista carrying a diplomatic pouch for Region-Master Raan. Diplomatic pouches were another human invention, supposedly inviolate property or information under international law and treaty... whatever “international” really meant. From his prior agreements with Fraznal, which had brought peace, limited trade and an exchange of planetary property between the Raknii and the Trakaan, Raan had a decent grasp of what a treaty was. But he was still having trouble gasping the concept of a non-united humanity existing at least semi-peacefully with one another, while divided into separate political entities known as “nation-states.”

  He and Admiral Kalis had spent days discussing this strange concept, one which Fraznal could offer no help in understanding, as the Trakaan were also a united race. Trakaan records, from monitoring humanity’s progress over thousands of cycles, were filled with examples of mankind’s almost continuous wars between these various “nations,” and they, too, had difficulty understanding exactly why it was that humans hadn’t abandoned this unworkable arrangement millennia ago.

  “Unlike the Trakaan, who are primarily of a single race, or the Raknii who are generally made up from two, with the Raknaa as a subject subspecies, humanity is composed of many different races,” explained Kalis.

  This was another area where both Raan and Fraznal failed to grasp the distinctions that Kalis was trying to make. Both understood the obvious racial, cultural and political differences between the Raknii and the Trakaan.

  They were totally different kinds of beings, so how could it be otherwise?

  Even Raknii subjugation of the Trakaan during earlier times hadn’t changed that. Trakaan were Trakaan and could never be Raknii, no matter how one might endeavor to emulate the other. Raan and Fraznal also easily understood the racial, physical, intellectual and cultural differences between Raknii and Raknaa. While the two species were obviously remotely related in the far distant past, they were now very different creatures, retaining only passing similarities in outward appearance. It was an established, scientific fact that, in general, Raknaa possessed intelligence levels less than half that of the Raknii, which explained how it was that the smaller, weaker physical race had come to dominate the larger and physically stronger one. In creating their race, Dol had given the Raknaa the brawn, while he gave the Raknii the brains. Both were necessary for survival, and the Raknii ruling the Raknaa was as natural as the brain directing the movements of the body.

  But from what Raan and Fraznal could see, the racial distinctions which differentiated humans were primarily just variations in skin color. Yes, admittedly there were other minor differences, such as the shape of the nose, the thickness of lips, the tilt of the eyes and even the amount and distribution of muscle mass and body fur, unique to humans of a particular skin tone, but neither could understand why humans placed such divisive emphasis on these mere trivialities.

  “Our differences between our various races is deeper than merely skin color or physical attributes,” continued Kalis. “Each possesses their own unique cultural, religious and philosophical differences as well.”

  “If wars have been so common throughout human history, as seems to be the case,” opined Raan. “How is it that these kinds differences between you remained after dominance combat had been resolved? Did not the victor then impose his own culture, religion and philosophies upon the vanquished?”

  “That was attempted at various times throughout our history,” said Admiral Eileen Thorn. “But it never worked. The victors found that attempting to impose foreign culture, religion and philosophy by force was like stomping on a flaming liquid, in the attempt to extinguish it.”

  Raan snorted. “That only splashes the flaming liquid everywhere, causing the fire to spread even farther.”

  “Exactly,” said Thorn. “Attempts to eradicate cultures, religion or philosophies using external force only compressed those beliefs, causing pressures to build within the vanquished society. As you know, compression generates heat and sufficient amounts of pressure can cause spontaneous combustion, producing violent explosions. So it is amongst humans.”

  “But obviously, life experiences over time offered proof that some ideas are inherently superior to others, in that they worked better in practical application,” said Fraznal. “How is it that humans did not then adopt the superior ideas and discard the inferior ones? That’s a question about human behavior that has baffled our scientists for millennia.”

  “Within humanity, the definitions
of ‘better, superior and inferior’ can be very subjective,” answered Kalis. “What one culture might define as ‘good and right,’ another might define as 'appalling or evil.’”

  “No, I’m not talking about purely theoretical philosophy,” said Fraznal. “I meant the adoption of ideas that have been demonstrated and proven through physical application as resulting in consistently superior results.”

  “Again, who is defining what constitutes ‘superior?’” asked Kalis.

  Fraznal was frustrated. “Is it not obvious when a certain result is desired and a specific procedure consistently produces a higher yield of that desired result, it should be then defined by all as ‘superior?’”

  “What if one of the primary steps in that procedure violates a major cultural taboo?” asked Kalis. “For example, what if the only known source for a rare chemical compound that was a vital, primary ingredient in the manufacture of a miracle drug capable of alleviating suffering and saving millions of lives through the eradication of disease, was found only in the mashed brains of your innocent children?”

  “You present a paradox, where great good can only be accomplished by the commission of even greater evil,” hissed Fraznal. “It is obvious that the purposeful killing of children to save the lives of adults could not possibly be considered ‘superior’ under any circumstances.”

  “What if they only used the mashed brains of children that died of natural causes, or were stillborn?”

  “On the surface that might appear permissible,” Fraznal said. “But that would make those chemicals a rarity and therefore highly valuable. There are mental defectives found within any civilization, who comprise a criminal element, which, with sufficient monetary incentive, would not hesitate to commit murder to acquire resources of such value. No, a civilized society could not allow for such an incentive for such extreme evil to exist among them. The manufacture of such a wonder drug must, of necessity, be outlawed.”

  “Then by your definition, much of humanity is not civilized,” replied Thorn. “We’ve learned that once discovered, something cannot be ‘un-invented’ or knowledge ‘unlearned.’ If something can be done, then it will be done, regardless of governmental efforts to prevent it. It’s stomping on flaming liquid again.”

  “You actually make drugs from the mashed brains of your children?” asked Fraznal, shocked.

  Kalis laughed. “No, that was just an extreme exaggeration to make a point, but there are things common in some human cultures that you might consider nearly as bad. That was my whole point —cultural and religious differences between various portions of humanity are often so extreme, they produce totally incompatible points of view. That, in itself, prevents us from ever achieving the kind of unity found within your two cultures. I’m afraid that mankind will always be doomed to remain divided into separate nation-states.”

  “Then you are doomed to always be fighting endless wars amongst yourselves,” noted Raan.

  “Exactly,” said Kalis. “That’s how we became so infernally good at it. We’ve had a lot of practice.”

  * * * *

  The Planet Slithin

  July, 3868

  After eight weeks of exhaustive repair work, none of 2nd Fleet’s damaged warships were anything approaching battle-ready, but at least they were finally all functional enough to reach hyperspace again. All would be limping back to Kitty Litter, and then probably onward to Norf Fleet Shipyard at Ginia for desperately needed structural repairs.

  Defiant was the only real question, and that was really more of an emotional issue than a logical one. Ben and Dorothy both had deep-rooted emotional attachments to Defiant, and to her crew. But the damage that she’d sustained in that horrific missile attack was just too extensive to try to slap a bandage on in the field. Undeniably, the old warhorse definitely needed an extensive overhaul, and that meant she had to go home.

  Ben could simply transfer his flag to CSS Leviathan or to his former flagship Independence, just as Rear Admiral Irwin had transferred hers to CSS Gargantuan. The problem was that Dorothy Fletcher-Stillman was both Defiant’s captain, and Admiral Stillman’s wife, and Defiant and Stillman were destined to part ways. No captain ever wanted to voluntarily relinquish command of a major warship, especially one as renowned and revered as Defiant, but no woman ever wanted to voluntarily go home, either, leaving her husband to the unknown terrors of interstellar war, when it was within her power to stay with him.

  In the end, Dorothy finally had to admit to herself that all of the emotional turmoil she put herself through, over the question of choosing between her ship and her husband, was actually kind of silly. Yes, she’d striven her entire career to finally achieve the captaincy of a marvelous war-dragon like Defiant, but there would be other ships if she wanted them. She’d dreamed all of her life about meeting and marrying a man like Ben Stillman, all the while never really quite believing that God had actually created such a magnificent, mythical creature. It was really a no-brainer. As much as she loved her ship, Ben meant more to her than Defiant. Ben meant more to her than anything.

  In an emotionally charged change-of-command ceremony, attended by all of 2nd Fleet’s senior officers, Captain Dorothy Fletcher-Stillman formally relinquished command of the battleship CSS Defiant to Commander Lancelot DeSalle, and was immediately appointed to the position of Chief of Staff by her husband. There was a lot of below-decks snickering at the irony of that appointment, as everyone already knew exactly which staff it was that Dorothy Fletcher-Stillman was chief of, and had been ever since the admiral first laid eyes on them… er, her.

  * * * *

  Chapter-21

  Constant kindness can accomplish much. As the sun makes ice melt, kindness causes misunderstanding, mistrust, and hostility to evaporate. -- Albert Schweitzer

  The Trakaan Planet Troxia

  August, 3868

  “I have recently received a communiqué from my government, which I believe may have a direct and positive effect to the outcome of our discussions here,” said Raan.

  “I thought that the only member of your government who is of higher rank than you, as a region-master, would be your supreme-master, is that not correct?” asked Fraznal.

  “You are correct,” replied Raan. “Perhaps I should have said that I have recently received a lengthy communiqué from our supreme-master, which includes a specific directive that may directly impact the results of these negotiations.”

  “Would that we had actually arrived at any specific results in these negotiations,” snorted Kalis. “We have spent considerable amounts of time discussing cultural philosophies and differences between us... and please do not take me wrongly here. These topics are indeed vital to promoting understanding between our races. I’m just saying that we have yet to achieve any concrete points of agreement about potential future relations between our two races, which might result in mutually agreeable terms under which this terrible conflict between us might be resolved, and peaceful relations established.”

  “Yes,” said Fraznal. “We have invested considerable time in building the foundations for such an understanding. Perhaps we should proceed with raising the actual structure, should we not?”

  “Admiral Kalis,” said Raan. “I have studied the terms that you offered Planet-Master Mraz for the surrender of Golgathal, and I have had extensive discussions with him concerning the effects upon the daily lives of our people there, since his capitulation. I confess, I am somewhat mystified in that while humans rule there, they do not really seem to. It appears that our people have generally been left alone to govern themselves, and except for the lack of additional colonists and shortages of materials and supplies that would normally be coming in from other parts of our empire, the average Raknii citizen perceives little, if any real differences between life in the empire and life under human rule.”

  “I am gratified to hear you say that, Region-Master,” replied Kalis. “That was indeed, my intention.”

  “Is it the same on all
of the other Raknii worlds that humans have taken from us?” Raan asked.

  “It is on all the ones that my Confederate Fleet has captured,” Kalis assured him. “I issued guidelines to the admirals in command of the Alliance and Sextus fleets, and I am told they are being followed, but as they answer to foreign governments, I have no way to enforce that.”

  Raan seemed surprised at that. “Are you not the Supreme Allied Commander?” he asked. “Can you not simply command and they obey?”

  “In military matters, yes — such as who attacks where, and when,” Kalis responded. “But in policies concerning the occupation of conquered enemy planets, the admirals answer directly to their individual governments in Waston and Astin. I can only advise.”

  “Then my world was indeed fortunate to have been conquered by your Confederacy,” exclaimed Planet-Master Mraz. Kalis gave his Raknii “friend” a wry smile, but did not otherwise reply.

  “Region-Master Raan,” said Fraznal. “Might I enquire as to the contents of this missive that you recently received from your supreme-master, which you claim may have significant impact upon our discussions here?”

  “It appears that there has been a change in the supreme-mastery within our empire recently. Supreme-Master Xior is dead and his heir now rules in his stead.”

  “My condolences for your loss, Region-Master,” said Kalis sympathetically. “Might I enquire if these instructions that you mentioned were issued by Supreme-Master Xior prior to his death, or by his heir who rules now?”

  “By his heir, Supreme-Master Drix.”

  “DRIX!” exclaimed Fraznal. “Tell me… no, it’s not possible. It must surely be a coincidence.”