Spacer forces focused on destroying meatships wherever they were located. With extreme prejudice.
The Ejjai thought it funny and amusing to feed their victims into the automated butchering machines naked, alive, and screaming. Man, woman, and child. Of every age. Nothing got wasted.
The invaders gathered together in great numbers when and where possible to watch the entertainment spectacle.
To the Ejjai. Meat was meat. Some of them even preferred their meat rancid, and threw in rotting corpses, even their own dead and wounded from the fighting.
And they broadcasted vids of their many atrocities on every known channel, in order to strike fear in any who opposed them.
But for Spacers, it had just an opposite effect.
The scanners showed nothing but Ejjai left alive on Rinnier-3. Just clone factory ships and plants spawning more clone armies. Bot factories mass-producing weapons, arms, gear, and more invasion fleets.
With no one left to save on Rinnier-3, there was no further need to hold back.
Naero and the Spacer Marines unleashed holy burning hell on the invaders.
Every strategic weapon, every bit of heavy ordnance fell upon the Ejjai in a firestorm of fury and destruction.
The clone factories, fleet and weapons factories, and the meat ships and plants all got carpet bombed into oblivion with low-yield atomics and neutron bombs.
Then naval fleets sent in gunships and Meks to exterminate anything of the enemy that still lived or twitched.
When the scanners showed no trace of enemy life remaining, the defense fleets shot away to engage the enemy once more at the next objective. No quarter for the clone forces was even considered. There was no reasoning with the Ejjai or their masters.
No mercy. No prisoners. Total, absolute war against the invader.
But listening to the chatter among the Clans and the fleets, Naero gauged the dark mood of her people around her in the conclave. Hearing the frenzy of growing waves of extreme opinions and overt hatred being expressed and broadcasted all around her, Naero knew she had to reach the central arena of the Grand Conclave ASAP.
To hear what was being said and decided therein, and have her own say.
She pushed her way wearily through the tight, swelling crowds to reach the fore. She made out the shrill, echoing broadcasts of what others like General Ingersol demanded.
Ingersol currently held the floor at the center of the Grand Conclave, the Great Circle of Deliberation.
He led the charge for wiping the Gigacorps out of existence. And not just their fleets and military.
His raving voice carried over the speakers.
“How long? How long have we suffered at the hands of our great enemies? How many wars? How many wasted generations and useless deaths of billions of our people? Century after century? I say no longer. The murder and the madness ends here, and it ends now. However ruthless it sounds, we now have a golden opportunity to take final vengeance against our foes, and eliminate them once and for all. We cannot be soft or compassionate. This is not the time for weakness. We must be bold and merciless, just as we know our foes meant to be with us. If we do not seize this one chance, we are doomed.”
To Naero’s surprise and horror, hundreds in the assembly cheered Ingersol’s words.
Which of course only encouraged him to go further.
“Our recent dead and our dead through the ages call out to us to avenge them, once and for all!”
Swelling approval from many in the crowd chilled Naero to her very heart and soul, and every bone in her body. To hear the Clans like this sickened her and made her deeply sad.
No, my brave people. Not like this. We cannot win like this.
Yet many others in the throng held back in uncertain silence and shock. In hesitation and fear at the fiery mood. Some looked alarmed and sickened by what they heard. What they continued to hear.
She finally reached the forefront.
Admiral Paithe Nelson of Clan Nelson rose up in the assembly and tried to speak. “General Ingersol. Yours cannot be the only voice in this Grand Conclave. That is not the law of our people. Others must be allowed to speak and have their say as well on these grave matters. Will you not yield or at least share the floor with other voices?”
At that the general grew defiant. “I will not. The floor is mine, and it shall remain mine until what needs to be said and done, is said and done!”
“You tell ‘em General!”
“They couldn’t stop the Corps. They had their chance!”
“Others must be allowed to speak!”
“Yield. Yield!”
“Yield the floor. Yield the floor!”
“No, let him finish! Let him talk!”
“I will not be silenced!” Ingersol raged. “We have this one fleeting chance. Here is what must be done to save our people and assure their freedom and security for all time. I know it sounds harsh, but it must be done. First, we have all of the Gigacorps navies and fleets helpless and at our mercy, but only for a very short time. What should we do with them all?”
“Kill the murdering bastards!”
“Yeah! Kill them all!”
“Destroy them. Just like they did to my brother and sister! They drove them into a star and murdered them!”
“Yeah, that’s exactly right. Do what they did to us. Blow them all up or use robot towships to drive them into the nearest star. That’s exactly what they’ve been doing to our captured ships and crews for the past few months. They deserve the same fate. Let’s give it back to them, a hundredfold!”
“Yeah, they’d do the same thing to us!”
“That’s what they were doing to our people!”
“That is not honorable!” Someone shouted. “We are Spacers. We don’t execute prisoners wholesale who have surrendered to us in good faith!”
“We are not murderers!”
Ingersol shouted them all down once more.
“Honor be hanged! We’re talking the survival of our race here. Our species. Just a few days ago, our enemies were well on their way to doing just that. They had us on the ropes, on a path to total extinction. What good did our so-called honor do us when they were kicking our butts every day? Wearing us down and slaughtering our brave people wholesale? Our enemies don’t show us any honor or mercy. What do we owe them?”
“Nothing!”
“No! We can’t do this!”
“Here’s what we do: after we destroy all of their fleets. Next, we drive the Ejjai clone hordes systematically into all of the remaining Gigacorps worlds as well. We don’t even have to soil our hands. We let their own weapon that they unleashed against us go out of control, turn on them, and finish them off. Then we wipe out the Ejjai, and one quarter of the galaxy now belongs to us. Completely. In this way, it’s the Corps and the landers who will be wiped out. Not us. They brought all of this upon themselves!”
Elder Naeden Vaughn of Clan Vaughn rose up from the small group of elders present and and spoke firmly but with calm reason. “Very well, general. You have more than had you say, now,” the elder told him. “You have not the authority to defy the Council and the Elders, and circumvent the rule of law. In your zeal and your passion to help our suffering people, you forget yourself, general. Your station and your duty. Yield this floor, or share it with others. That is a direct command!”
“Never. I hereby invoke marshal law and all of its statutes!”
“You cannot. You have neither the power, nor the authority.”
Some of Ingersol’s people drew weapons and brandished them. Adding to the chaos and uncertainty of the situation.
“I have no choice but to act, with High Admiral Klyne recovering from the wounds he suffered at the Battles in the Dyson-23 Sector. I am now, in fact, the acting High Commander of all Spacer Naval and Military forces. I act for the good or our race. For our very survival!”
“This is wrong. Unheard of. Illegal! Admiral Thackery and General Walker and several others still outrank you
in the chain of command!”
“And where are they? Not here. Therefore, I am in command!”
Other elders stood up with Elder Vaughn. “General, you are gravely mistaken. You must yield. We are the Clan Elders. You cannot defy our direct authority. That is our law!”
“I can and will do so. I make the laws now. I act for the security and survival of our race! Tell me, all of you. Will you stand by and let me be silenced? You know I’m right. You know what must be done! Where were these weak old men and old women when the enemy was slaughtering us each day? Where was the Council then? The High Command? They we’re hiding from the truth. They couldn’t stop our foes. They failed us all. They had no answer then, and they have no answers now. I say we have this one window of opportunity to defeat and destroy our foes once and for all. How long will it last? Not long.”
Complete confusion and madness rocked the great circle of deliberation and echoed throughout the crowds.
Some attacked Ingersol’s people and disarmed them. Others took up arms with them, joining their cause. Things looked as if they would turn very ugly with every instant that passed.
“General. You will yield and be silent!”
“I will not. Listen to those who failed us all time and time again. They will lead our people to defeat and death. Defy them if you want to live. Defy them and follow me! To do what must be done.”
“General, you will yield this floor!”
Naero had listened to enough folly and madness. She used up the last dregs of her Cosmic energy to transport herself into the circle of deliberation, opposite and behind General Ingersol.
53
The glittering central chamber of the arena rose up with towering black paneled walls and viewscreens set up all along its great, oblong length. Rows of nanoseats populated in great concentric rows around the Circle of Deliberation.
Naero tasted dust, sweat, and blood in her mouth. She kept her togs set to a long dark black, battered coat-cloak and hood that concealed her combat armor and rank, and obscured her white face, which she kept pointed down. She had no microphone, so she used the power of the voice so that all might hear her words.
“The general yields the floor. He has yielded it to me. By all our laws, all have the right to speak in the Great Circle.”
Ingersol whirled around in surprise. He recovered quickly, and laughed.
“I yield nothing. Who are you? What is this? More tricks and empty theatrics? Why the disguise? Show yourself. Tell us your name. No matter in any case. Begone.”
Naero pulled her hood back, and showed her face proudly, lifting her head high.
And the long glistening, blue-black hair that was her birthright from her beautiful mother spilled down her back and all around her.
And the crowd strained and struggled to make out who she was as she turned bravely to face them.
“A few may know me and my Clan. I stand before the Elders, the Council, and the High Command in great honor and respect for you and our people and our ways, for I have fought and bled for my people. I am a warrior who has earned the right to speak in this hallowed place.”
Ingersol sneered at her. “Using the old formalities will not change anything, spacechild. Someone take this ignorant girl away. She is not fit to share the circle of deliberation with me. I know her now. The niece of a hated outcast. A reckless youth, barely a Mystic adept, a cowardly failure who slunk away in fear and let our enemies murder her companion–in order that she could take her superior’s place! Remove her. She and her name have no honor here!”
Naero spread her stance and parted her cloak, drew forth the gilded energy cutlass of her rank.
She he drew her blade forth and held its sizzling, bright blue length high aloft for a single moment.
The assembly beheld her rank, and more and more, many began to recall and recognize both her and the pose she struck.
One that still burned bright in the hearts of many fighters.
“I am Strike Captain and Mystic Adept Naero Amashin Maeris. And I will not stand by while the honor and memory of my Clan, and the laws of our people are soiled and misled by gutless lies and folly!”
She turned around so that all the crowd could see her for who she was, casting off her cloak and brandishing her blade again.
“I am the daughter of Lythe Ivala Maeris and Tarthan Wallace Ramsey. Where are the brave who fought and bled by my side?”
She thrust her blade toward the ceiling once more and cried aloud.
“Remember the Omaria!”
Nearly the entire assembly of tens of thousands shot to their feet in unison and roared, fists rocketing high.
“THE OMARIA!”
The thundering cry threatened to shatter the ceiling above them.
Naero motioned for the throng to let her speak once more.
Ingersol scowled and clapped his hands slowly.
“A loud, brash young girl, who hides behind the fading glory of her dead parents, and comes here to threaten an unarmed superior with a drawn weapon? For shame. You truly have no honor.”
Naero faced him and sheathed her cutlass. “I threaten no one. I hide behind nothing. My deeds are well known to all.” She punched up holos of the many battles and campaigns she had been in on her wristcomp. The service reports and awards for valor and leadership that she had won during the Annexation War flipped and tiled up all about her.
They filled the very air. One after another, and spread to the viewscreens and holo displays.
Citations for bravery.
Citations for courage under fire.
Commendations for valor in great duress.
For gallantry above and beyond the call of duty.
For bravely leading her forces and her people to victory, time-and-time again against all odds.
Naero stumbled slightly from her exertions, still exhausted.
Blood still dripped from her many wounds.
Then she asked, “Can someone please display General Ingersol’s campaign history? The many battles he has fought in?”
Several on the Council responded. almost instantly.
Ingersol’s pitiful field record revealed only three minor campaigns.
Three, by stark comparison.
He was never in harm’s way or present at any conflict. Ever.
“So, a coward, who has never actually fought in a single battle, attempts to smear me as one? Who attempts to stain my service record, and the memory of my parents with outright lies and unfounded accusations? Is this who you would have lead us?”
Ingersol protested. “An interesting ploy. My service record is completely honorable. Of course I never saw combat. I am a strategist, and one of the best, as is well-known. I was never a field operative.”
“A coward’s excuses. While I come from the very front of the war. I still bleed from several wounds, earned in the defense of our peoples. I bear the blood of our foes, whom I slew in direct combat with my own hands.”
Naero shook her head slowly. “And I am weary, from three days of non-stop fighting without food or sleep. I barely have the strength to remain standing. But my duty drew me here, at all costs. To stand and speak before my brave people.”
“So tell us, after all that nonsense,” Ingersol said. “What would you advise us to do in our current situation?”
Someone needed to speak the truth. But she needed to take care.
“Come girl. We’re waiting.”
She pointed at Ingersol and then let her arm flop to her side.
“If we listen to angry, blood-thirsty fools and cowards. If we rush headlong to wipe out the landers and their fleets. What then? We will only be playing into the hands of our new enemies. Alien forces we yet know little or nothing about. In the long run, we will only weaken ourselves in doing so. These new foes want to play humans against each other, in order to defeat both sides. Just as they are attacking both sides this very moment, while we speak.”
Ingersol turned bright red. “The Corps were going
to destroy us! That is a fact! They allied themselves with these aliens and unleashed them on us. Now you want us to help the Corps? How is that even possible? I say death to them all.”
“Really? How many of us here really have the stomach for that? Think on that, everyone, very carefully. Is that who my people are? Is that why the Clans formed? To murder others wholesale? To make ourselves the greatest mass-killers in the history of our galaxy?”
Everyone hesitated.
“But very well. Let’s say the clever general is right. Let’s indeed kill them all, just like he proposes. Let’s kill all the landers. Millions. Billions. Trillions…Zillions.”
Naero paused to let that sink in.
“Yes, we are Spacers, but we are also still human. We still look like them. They still look like us. There are zillions of them. There are trillions of us. You’ve all seen what the Ejjai invasion hordes do to everyone on both sides of the border. They don’t care. To them, we’re all just meat. Just food. They serve alien races that are invading everywhere. We don’t know much about these new enemies, their numbers, their tactics. We do know some their tek is superior to ours. The point remains. We may very well need every ally we can get against these threats. Do the raw math. A war between Spacers and the Corps weakens both sides, so that these other aliens from the outside can easily defeat whoever remains.”
“What are you saying?” Ingersol fumed. “That we should ally ourselves with the Corps now? You cannot be serious. Ally ourselves with the very enemies who were committed to wiping us out?”
“No. Never with the Gigacorps. With the landers–the people. The Corps are Tyrants we know all too well. They have never given their people a choice in all of this either. And right now, its the people who are paying the real price. A very high price.”
Naero motioned to the terrible atrocities playing across some of the screens.
“My brave people, My Clans who I would give my life for. Who love peace and liberty. Look at these horrors our enemies have unleashed. Can any of you tell me that any civilian population–ours or theirs–deserves this kind of Cosmicide? You cannot with honor and good conscience be saying that. And this wretch wants us to let it go on? No–in fact–he wants to speed it up, and aid it, and direct it, and multiply it? How could we allow that? What would we become if we did? How could we hold our heads up? How could we face our elders? Ourselves. Our children?”
Spacer Clans Adventure 2: Naero's Gambit Page 36
