“Fine.” Tommy sighed. “Our governments weren’t perfect, but…”
“Perfect?” Gelna laughed. “I’ve seen wild animals that can cooperate more efficiently. You’re practically wild yourselves.”
“Maybe.” Kale grinned. “So what if our economies and governments are based on ‘survival of the fittest’; we still kicked your tiny little asses twice.”
“Three times,” Tommy corrected. “Now that we’ve taken some of their worlds away from them.”
“That’s right.” Kale prodded Gelna. “Now you’re losing your own territory, and it’s all because you still think you belong at the top of the food chain.”
Gelna glared off into the distance.
“As long as your people keep thinking that way,” Tommy said quietly, “more are going to die on both sides.”
“And it won’t be mostly clones either,” Kale added. “The Dactari who died in your last invasion, and the ones who’re dying now are all someone’s family members.”
“It’s more than that,” Gelna groused. “But you’re right, the fact that we’re losing and nobody seems to know… It does plant listening devices on me.”
Kale scratched his head, looking askance at his alien friend.
“I think,” Tommy began slowly, “that you mean ‘it bugs you’.” A shake of the head. Dheema was a language in which idioms were more about the image and less about the words conveying them. Gelna had obviously heard someone say they were bugged by something and derived the wrong image from it.
Kale snorted. “I keep telling you, English sayings don’t paraphrase well. Just use the original words.”
“Wait,” Tommy looked at Gelna. “You just said that getting your asses kicked wasn’t all that’s bothering you. What else is eating at you?”
Gelna sighed. “It’s these damned ships,” he said quietly, as though trying to hide it from Keeva. “When ever I’m aboard, I feel like a child. I don’t know why, but it… bugs me.”
Holding Ground
Council Hall, Lychensee, Weirfall
Admiral Towers took a deep appreciative breath of fresh air as he stepped across the narrow gap from shuttle to docking platform. He rarely set foot on the planet, but he had ample reason today.
The Weiran ruling council was demanding to know when they would see the kind of concrete action that would help boost their strangled economy. They dragged him onto the carpet every couple of months but, this time, he knew the meeting would go well.
They had two planets of strategic economic importance joining the fold.
Caul grabbed Towers’ arm. “John, I’m getting a message from your Major Willsen.” He stood there in silence for a few moments, nodding gravely as he read the sentences on his retinas. “Turn on your wrist-pad.”
Can’t have twenty minutes where everything is going our way, Towers grumbled. He was dreading the appointment he had made for later in the week, and this was an ill-timed reminder that he would soon have tiny projectors inserted into his own eyes by a Midgaard surgeon.
Then he forgot about the surgery.
Mickey’s message advised that a fleet of almost sixty enemy warships was on its way to Tauhento.
Ordinarily, this would have been an excellent opportunity for Towers to practice some of his favorite curse words, collected during a lifetime in the armed services, but he had been expecting this.
An icon began to pulse on his wrist pad.
“I’m calling Hu Gao,” Caul advised as he started for the rear door to the council chamber. They had anticipated a counter-attack and had a five carrier task force in full readiness, under Admiral Hu, waiting to stop them.
The Chinese admiral’s face appeared on the pad. “I’ve just read it,” he said simply. “We’ll leave this evening and arrive just after the enemy commits. I’ve already sent a small craft to warn Lothbrok.”
“Good hunting, Admiral,” Towers replied before closing the connection. They walked through the decidedly unimpressive door that sat twenty feet behind the council podium, where a Weiran councilor was haranguing his colleagues.
The man stopped in mid-phrase, turning with feigned surprise at the approach of the two senior Alliance leaders. “Why, here they are now,” he declared, as though the entire assembly hadn’t been waiting for them. “Perhaps they can explain why they want us to give them tax revenue when they’re the single biggest reason our tax-paying industries are shutting down!”
To the councilor’s obvious surprise, Towers showed none of his usual reluctance to take the podium. It was a reluctance that the appeasement faction had always relied upon. Those in the council who advocated for a return to the Republic could always rely on him for a few easy points. Every few days, one of them would demand an answer to Weirfall’s economic woes, and fleet command would have no answer.
Today seemed to be different, and the councilor yielded the podium with some reluctance. Still, he had just made the usual show of demanding a response and he could hardly refuse to allow an answer without looking like a hypocrite.
Both Towers and Caul mounted the podium to flank the sound receiver.
“Selfless servants of the Weiran people,” Towers began with the standard form of council address though it always threatened to bring out a sarcastic laugh, “we bear the best of news.” He grinned at the alarm on the face of the councilor that he had just displaced.
“The brave people of Weirfall have kept the faith with us through incredible difficulties.” He paused to let them acknowledge their own self-sacrifice, though none of these men and women had shared the hardships of their constituents. They still had to deal with all the complaints, he mused. I suppose that could be a hardship, for a politician.
“We can tell you now that your time of suffering is at an end. As I speak, Alliance troops are patrolling the cities of Tauhento, secure in the knowledge that our ships control Tauhentan space. Fighting side by side with the local resistance, we have put an end to centuries of Dactari rule.”
A moment of stunned silence filled the huge chamber. Halfway up the rows of seats, a single councilor began to clap and it quickly spread. Cheers sounded, and they began to come to their feet, roaring with approval.
Towers held up a hand, asking for quiet and the assembly, long accustomed to respecting the gesture, returned to their seats in surprisingly short order. “This, of course, is not enough to allow ship production to resume.” He paused for a moment to read the room. It was still up in the air, especially after his admission.
“A Dactari revenge force was dispatched to Oaxes,” he continued, “to punish its citizens for the uprisings that followed the heroic escape of one of our captains.”
There was some grumbling from the appeasement councilors. Let them think you’re playing into their hands, Johnny boy, then yank the carpet out from under them. Towers was starting to enjoy himself. It might just look like talking, but this was combat. And he had the advantage.
“That same officer has returned to Oaxes,” he said calmly. “At the head of an Alliance task force. Of the twenty eight-enemy vessels engaged at Oaxes, only three frigates managed to escape.” The room had fallen silent again.
“The commodores of both fleets have agreed to remain at these two worlds,” Caul jumped in as planned – a show of Alliance harmony, “at the request of local resistance leaders. They will serve as the warlords of Tauhento and Oaxes in accordance with ancient custom.” It was slightly premature, as far as Oaxes was concerned, but they were reasonably sure of Harry’s chances and it was time to throw the dice.
“Those two worlds are now part of the Alliance,” Towers added loudly. “And we will defend them to our last breath, as we do Weirfall.” And there it is, he thought. If this were Oaxes, I’d be the warlord. I’ve just added two worlds that can revive your economy. You only have three worlds where you can sell ships, but you have a lock on those three markets.
This time, he let the cheering run on for several minutes. For the first time in thre
e years, these people could finally see proof that they hadn’t committed a serious blunder in accepting the Alliance presence.
Finally, he raised his hands. “We ask only for half of the revenue that used to flow to the Republic,” he stated. “Admittedly, that is currently a very small amount,” he added with a grin, earning a few chuckles. “But it will grow quickly as your people return to the finishing yards. It will grow as the citizens and forces of Weirfall, Tauhento and Oaxes turn exclusively to you for ships.” He grinned. “And it will grow as our share of your revenue is spent, right here, in Weirfall.”
He tacked that onto the end of his speech for emphasis. It was important to remind them that the money that they were being asked to give the fleet would mostly come straight back into the Weiran economy. Money was like blood – if it didn’t flow, it was useless.
A councilor, an appeaser, rose and held up his left hand.
Towers nodded to him.
“What happens, Admiral, when the Dactari decide to take back one of those worlds?” He waved his right hand around the room. “Everyone knows that the forces you dispatched from orbit are pitifully small.” The councilors near him nodded gravely for the cameras.
“It might interest you to know that a fleet of enemy vessels has been dispatched to Tauhento,” Towers replied nonchalantly. “Intelligence reports indicate they will be bringing mass drivers.” The Dactari were bringing nothing of the sort, but this meeting would almost certainly be viewed by enemy intelligence officers and it couldn’t hurt for them to think the Alliance was getting less than accurate information.
And it would scare the hell out of Alliance citizens everywhere. The bridges were already burnt – there was no going back to the Republic.
“They will be stopped,” Caul said bluntly. “We have promised our protection to the Tauhentans. They shall have it.” He glared at the councilor, who shifted his stance, bringing up a hand in a gesture that seemed to indicate a new question was in the offing. He must have changed his mind, because the gesture turned into a contemplative scratch of his chin and he sat back down.
“If there are no further questions,” Towers added, eager to get back to work, “we have some fighting to attend to.” It was entirely in Hu Gao’s hands at this point. There was nothing for them to do, but he wanted to leave while the leaving was good, and he knew Caul hated politicians even more than he did.
On their way out of the chamber, they received another call.
Another force was gathering, and it looked like Oaxes might be the target.
A Lesson in History
The Salamis, Oaxian Space
Harry stopped just inside the door to his quarters. The black-haired Bolshari was standing at the wall of glazing that formed the port side of his rooms, watching the drifting debris of the Dactari troop ship.
Perhaps because his mind would rather do anything other than dwell on recent events, he let his gaze wander. From behind, she could easily pass for a Human. Her height was unremarkable, but that was hardly a fitting word for her other attributes.
It’s mostly the eyes that give them away as being different, Harry mused. He looked up and started guiltily. Those large green eyes were looking at him in the reflection, catching him like he was some hormone-riddled teenager.
“Why?” she asked simply.
It took a moment of mental stumbling for Harry to realize she wasn’t referring to his current boorishness, though he almost wished she was. “What are they to you?” he asked as he joined her at the window.
“My people feel a responsibility for the Dactari,” she said softly. “Though their history has been less than exemplary, we wouldn’t condone something like this.”
“Your people were the administrators of the old Empire.” Harry glanced over at her, seeing the moisture welling up at the edge of her lower eyelids, trickling out to hang from long lashes. “That ended thousands of years ago, along with any responsibility you might have had for your military.”
“My people were the Empire,” she replied, barely above a whisper. “More than seven hundred emperors, all Bolshari. When travel by space tunneling was forbidden, the economy collapsed and our Empire became one world.” She sighed, turning to face Harry. “When the Dactari announced the discovery of distortion travel, we thought the Empire could be resurrected, but we soon found ourselves evicted from our own world.”
“By the Dactari?”
She nodded. “They’d decided their time had come and it made them uneasy to have us looking over their shoulders. “They ‘retired’ us to a new home world, where they mostly leave us alone.”
“They forced you from your own world,” Harry said. “Why the hell would you still assume responsibility for them?”
“Because they are what we made them.” Her gaze turned to meet his. “We created them from the indigenous species of our world. They had gone extinct, but we used their DNA as the basis of the Dactari. Every trait was carefully selected to optimize combat efficiency.”
“So they really kicked you off of their own world.” Harry raised his eyebrows. “You said indigenous – where did your kind originate?”
“That knowledge was lost ages ago. We have only legends of legends. Ancestors that lived for much longer than we do now.” She looked back out as the debris moved out of view. The ship was turning. “Just as there have been new legends, word of people who live for centuries. Stories that they’re breaking the Republic’s grip on fringe worlds.”
“And your current home is one of those fringe worlds?”
She nodded. “I was one of the most ‘disposable’ members of our ruling family. I went to Tauhento to look for your people, but you had already left. I was recognized by a patrol and taken up to the station for my own safety.
“The simple truth is that they didn’t want me causing mischeif on one of their worlds. The Dactari find us hard to control because they have engineered instincts compelling them to obey our kind.”
“No wonder they wanted you off Dactar,” Harry interjected in a wry tone. He suddenly frowned and turned to face her. “Hold on – you said the ruling family, does that mean…”
“I’m directly descended from the ancient emperors.” She kept her gaze on the view outside. “Though, as I’ve said, I’m expendable, so they sent me to learn about you.”
It’s like I’m back in high school all over again, getting caught ogling the ‘royalty’, Harry thought. “My name is Harrison Young.”
“Eiboekna of the Faescoii,” she replied after a short pause. “Why?” She gestured out the window, returning to her original question.
“Because we couldn’t keep so many prisoners,” Harry answered. “Because they wouldn’t have surrendered until after we’d lost thousands of our own men.” He knew these were just arguments, not reasons.
“Because I hate them,” he said in a rush of emotion.
“But those Dactari were just warriors, like you, following their orders,” she said with a tremor. “Do they crave life less keenly than you?”
Harry closed his eyes. “Very much the opposite, I think,” he replied quietly, drifting into silence for a few moments. “With the centuries stretched out before you, the precious moments of life begin to lose their luster. I think the day may come when I decide that my body is nothing more than a prison for my soul.”
He opened his eyes to find her staring at him, her face deeply troubled.
“I had begun to hope you were nothing but simple savages,” she whispered, looking away again. “I could have excused you, for your ignorance.”
Distraction
The Kinzell, Lychensee
Dwight leaned on the wet graphene of the pedway railing. The carbon matrix was a good insulator and grew warm more quickly than concrete would have. Though massive, Lychensee was far lighter than it looked. The bones of the new city were all made from exotic carbon composites and weighed a fraction of the crude materials favored back home.
It was remarkably easy to ig
nore the constant stream of pedestrians behind him. From his current vantage point, sunsets appeared full blown as the systems star appeared beneath the suspended foundations of the new city. Sunrise, noon and sunset were the brightest times in the down-below. In between those times, the light levels were highly dynamic as the sunlight bounced off hundreds of mirrored buildings on their way down.
A light patter of rain began to fall from one of the many clouds of vapor that built up beneath the underside of the new city. An errant bolt of lightning jumped to the undulating carbon vines that supported the outer edges of the Kinzell, flowing into capacitors.
Dwight turned his wrist over and pulled back the bandage. It would be hidden from view by his watch, but first it would have to heal.
“What does ‘CL-13’ stand for?”
The voice startled Dwight and he quickly smoothed the breathable pad back over his tattoo. He turned to see a young woman in the mottled blue camouflage favored by the US Navy. Her brown hair was tied in a loose ponytail and she wore a bright yellow t-shirt under her tunic, a flexible panel near the neck of the t-shirt displaying a video feed of his own face.
Definitely not hardcore military, he thought. “It’s just a reminder of why I’m here,” he said, nodding at the shirt. “What’s the deal with the shirt?”
“Stopped your eyes from going any lower, didn’t it?”
He couldn’t resist a chuckle. “True enough, but it’s still in that danger zone where I wonder if you might think I was looking lower, not that I wouldn’t...” After a pause, he smiled and shook his head. “I’m gonna stop digging myself any deeper and just abandon that sentence. I don’t suppose you’d throw me a rope?”
She smiled. “Will an introduction do?” She held out her hand. “Captain Emily Colt.”
“Dr. Dwight Young.” He shook her hand. My hands must feel like ice, he thought as he let go.
“Yes, I remember who you are,” she gave him an odd look. “You were surprised that nobody from my group had turned. I’ll never forget the look on your face.” She leaned back against the water-slicked carbon, looking at him. “I take it you’re done with the inoculations?”
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