Terminus Cycle

by Dave Walsh

  “Mission is go,” a voice cut through the static. “I repeat, mission is go. Good hunting. We will fall back and regroup. See you at the rendezvous point.”

  That wasn’t a Krigan voice, that was for sure. “Tyr,” he shouted into the comm unit. “Tyr!”

  “What, Ingen?”

  “Wipe them the fuck out.”

  “Copy.”

  The Krigans in the front began firing rapidly. He knew that the flanks would be diving over onto the troops to take them by surprise. The ten behind the crates were jumping over them, and he searched for another feed to get a better angle. He skimmed through a few before he found a long shot of the Krigans surrounding the enemy. There were less and less shots being fired; instead the Krigans were hacking and slashing away with their axes.

  The feed was black and white, so the blood was just flashes of gray that arose before the bodies dropped to the ground, but it was everywhere. He didn’t see a single Krigan downed or even hurt. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins. He felt a wave of pride wash over him as Tyr landed the last death blow with his ax on a downed opponent.

  He heard footsteps from outside of the comm room and picked himself up from the chair, walking out to greet the warriors returning from the very, very brief battle. He couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear knowing that another plan had worked, that the Krigans would live to fight another day.

  “Take Tralgar and Onjen to get stitched up. The rest of you get some rest,” Tyr shouted before seeing Ingen. “Yet another success, Ingen. Sooner or later, they might give up on us.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” he said. “They’ll just send more troops.”

  “Well, that is later; this is now. Now we see what is going on in Krigar.”

  “I agree,” he said as he headed back into the comm room. “I haven’t gotten much yet, but I know that the attack is coming.”

  “Your intel was spot on again, Ingen, as were your tactics. If that were me, I would have just rushed them all, and we would have had thousands of Krigans here, not twenty. Krigar would be in serious trouble.”

  “Yeah, we are doing all that we can. Do you think that Krigar will be able to hold out?”

  “I do,” he said. “Although I do wish that you and I were there with them. I don’t like this hiding in caves nonsense. I’m the ruler of the Krigan people, and I should be in Krigar, leading our men into the battle.”

  “You and I both know that they would target you, Tyr. If they got to you, there would be chaos. This way, we stand a better chance, and the Krigans know that you are safe, that you are planning their defense. They just don’t know where you are.”

  “The Banished will figure out where I am eventually, if they haven’t already.”

  “They have no clue what Tyr, the Jarl of Krigar, looks like. They just know that it’s a blond guy with muscles and a pulseaxe. I’m pretty sure there are a few of those in Krigar to keep them busy. Plus, we made sure that no one knows where you are hiding,” he added, remembering how difficult it was to convince the proud Tyr to basically go into hiding. Ingen understood how important he was to the Krigans, though; he was a symbol of hope and needed to fight on and have his tales of conquest spread by rumor alone.

  “I suppose you are right,” he agreed as he sauntered over to the bench that he was standing on before and sat down, letting out a sigh. “If only I could be in Krigar, fending off the hordes.”

  “I’m getting a few reports here and there, Tyr. Nothing big yet, but they are reporting movement, early exchanges. The reports we had seem to be accurate about the size of their forces. Krigar will not fall tonight, Tyr.”

  “Good.” Tyr pulled his boots off and massaged his left foot. “I’ll be able to sleep better knowing that, although I don’t think that I’ll get much sleep at all without knowing where Alva is.”

  “Same here.” Ingen remembered back to how difficult it was to let her go for both men. They knew that she was capable, but it still felt wrong to make her a part of the war.

  “So now what?” the Krigan leader asked.

  “We wait.”

  016. Politics

  Captain O’Neil

  Captain O’Neil stood looking out of the window in his office with Admiral Navarro’s voice barking from behind him. Navarro was sitting at O’Neil’s desk, which didn’t escape O’Neil as he took in the still unfamiliar sights of Omega. It signified where he was at in the power hierarchy and sent a strong, loud message.

  He said, “We have increased our guard presence in the wastelands and are prepared to guard Speera during tonight’s raids.”

  “Good,” Navarro said. O’Neil was distracted by how complicated things had gotten over the past few years and how it was only getting worse. The informant for the Krigans was no longer Professor Cox asking for favors from military personnel who owed him a few; it was now Captain Peter O’Neil. The thought made him sick to his stomach, but he knew that it was the right thing to do.

  “Tonight, O’Neil,” Navarro sneered. “Tonight could be the night where we finally break their spirits!”

  “Yes, sir,” O’Neil said in a monotone as he nodded again. He wasn't even trying to pretend that he supported the action against the Krigan capital.

  “O’Neil,” Navarro sat as he stood up from O’Neil’s desk and strutted over to the window next to O’Neil. “I get the impression that you don’t agree with this action tonight.”

  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  “Granted,” Navarro said.

  “I understand that you are upset about Slattery, sir.” He swallowed hard, shaking his head. A part of him still believed that all of the bloodshed and trouble could be reversed, that there could be a peaceful solution. “But don’t you think that rushing in like this plays into their hands?”

  “I understand your concerns, Captain,” he said. “But ye of little faith. We’ve fed them faulty intel with the few guards we planted in the wastelands. We surmised that the few guards we have been losing in the wastelands over the past few months coincided with the attacks that we lost. Most are not privy to much intel but just enough to be troublesome. They’ve gotten lucky, Captain,” he concluded as he clenched his gloved fist into a ball. “Tonight, we move in to crush them once and for all!”

  “Then what?” O’Neil looked up at him, unsure of how Navarro would react.

  Navarro burst out laughing, a rare display from a man of his stature. He slapped O’Neil hard on the back. “That’s rich, O’Neil! Then, then,” he repeated as he cleared his throat and straightened out his uniform. “Then Omega is ours! None of the rest of the civilizations have opposed us. None of them! It’s only the Krigans. And when their great city falls, then they fall. Then Omega is ours, and we can finally begin doing what we came here to do: Build ourselves a new home.”

  “Understood,” O’Neil said. “Although I wonder about these Cydonians. They could pose a threat down the line, couldn’t they?”

  “They won’t -- stop worrying. I’m off,” Navarro said as he turned away. “I have to rendezvous with the commanders. Hell, I might even take part in the siege tonight. Wouldn’t that be a rallying cry for the men?”

  “Absolutely, sir,” O’Neil said. “You’d get to witness the victory firsthand.”

  “I like that,” he declared as he pointed at O’Neil. “Okay, enough. I must be going.”

  O’Neil held his hand up to his temple in a salute as Navarro faded from view. When he was gone, O’Neil took a deep breath and slumped over into his chair; it still warm from Navarro sitting in it. He stared out the window for what felt like a long time, wondering if that night would be the end of the whole thing, if he’d end up exposed, if it would all end in failure.

  There was a good chance that the Krigans would all be wiped out in one fell swoop or demoralized that night, and then the rest hunted down as the full colonization commenced. It didn’t even matter if they found out that he was leaking information or not. What mattered w
as that O’Neil would have to live in this new world, supporting the perpetrators of the worst atrocity committed by humanity in at least two hundred years. His name would forever be linked with genocide, even if the winners were writing the history book and chalked it up as a grand victory.

  The thought of that made him even more sick. He activated his console only to see a message from his ex-wife, Jeanette. He thought to himself that things could always be worse, that he could still be married to her. O’Neil shook his head and turned on the message, her face illuminating the screen.

  “Peter, it has been weeks now, and you haven’t returned my messages. Look, I know that we weren’t supposed to date anyone publicly for a while, but with Michael, things are just...”

  O’Neil flipped the screen off, shaking his head. She was going to do what she wanted, and there were more important things to be concerned about than public image.

  His door slid open, and he turned to see Jack Dumas in the doorway. “Sir,” Dumas saluted him.

  “Jack,” O’Neil said. “Today is a busy day. What’s going on?”

  “You have a visitor, sir.”

  “Oh?” He looked on, confused. There were no other scheduled appointments for the day, it being the strike day and all. “Who is it?”

  “I know you told me to handle all of these matters...” He trailed off and tugged at his collar. “But sir, she insisted on speaking directly to you.”

  “You don’t mean...”

  Young Alva walked into the room, her Helgean cloak still over her head. O’Neil scowled. The girl and Dumas knew better than to report directly to his office. O’Neil had given them the information that they needed. They knew about the strike. What more could he possibly do? O’Neil stood up, straightened out his shirt and walked around the desk, offering his hand to her.

  “Alva,” O’Neil greeted her as he waited for the girl to take his hand. Alva reached out and softly shook it before letting go. “What can I do for you?”

  “They were worried that things would be more difficult after tonight and that I wouldn’t be able to get here in time to relay anything back to the stronghold.”

  “Ah, yes,” he said. “I understand. Probably not a bad idea. If the attack squad fails in this attack, I’m not sure what will happen. What I am sure of is that Navarro will be overflowing with rage and looking for vengeance.”

  “They won’t succeed,” Alva said as she shook her head, removing the cowl from her head and letting her hair spill out. “Ingen and Father will lead us to victory, just like they’ve been doing this entire time.”

  “Your confidence in them is reassuring, that’s for sure.” O'Neil pointed at the seat in front of his desk. “Please, sit down. Do you need a drink or anything?”

  “Thank you.” She smiled as she climbed into the oversized chair and sunk into it. “I don’t need anything.”

  O’Neil looked to Dumas, who nodded and exited the room. “So do you know what their plan is for tonight?”

  “Only a handful will be at the stronghold, the same with the other strongholds. Most of the Krigans will be in Krigar, waiting to counterattack.”

  “Do you really think it will be enough?” he asked, legitimately concerned over how the siege would go. Jonah was an intelligent guy, but Navarro seemed dead set on that night being the end of the war between the Krigans and the Fourth Fleet. The Earth Ministry’s forces were far beyond anything on the planet, and it really did feel like a matter of time before it all just ended.

  “Your people came over two cycles ago now,” she stated. “Two of your years, and we are still holding out and still doing damage to your people. One Krigan warrior is worth more than a whole unit of Banished.”

  “From what I’ve seen,” he said. “That estimate doesn’t seem that far off. Look,” he began as he scratched the back of his neck. “I was just going to go eat dinner in my quarters, and it isn’t much, but you are welcome to join me if you want. I know that you came a long way and risked a lot to come out here.”

  “I’d like that,” Alva said.

  He led the Krigan into his quarters and prepared them both a dinner of venison and potatoes. They both ate in relative silence. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her -- there were still a lot of questions running through his mind about the Krigans, about life on Andlios, and how these strong people had somehow held off the Fourth Fleet for two years. But they were both preoccupied with the thought of the attack that night and the repercussions that it would have.

  If the Krigans could truly hold the Fourth Fleet’s attack forces back and even drive them out of Krigar, there would be panic among the Fourth Fleet. While O’Neil wasn’t privy to all of the conversations, he had sat in on a few of the comms back to the Earth Ministry, and they were growing restless. Admiral Navarro was given full reign over the conquer and assimilation of Omega, and it had been a failure thus far. They weren’t happy with his lack of progress, and attacks like the one on Krigar were coming from a place of both desperation and bravado.

  The Krigans were initially sloppy, proud and disorganized. From what O’Neil had read, they went through multiple changes in leadership, with the current Jarl of Krigar (Alva’s father, Tyr) currently in charge of the Krigan people. Things under him were not perfect, either, but there were a growing number of Krigan victories since Tyr took over, which meant, by proxy, that they were Jonah’s victories.

  Since then, the Krigans had become more organized, more efficient. They were utilizing military tactics at will. Not modern tactics, either, seeing as though modern tactics were based upon fleet combat with very little hand-to-hand combat or platoons of troops. Instead these were tactics taken right from history. It appeared that Jonah Freeman had a good handle on his history and had done a great deal of research into military history. It also helped that the Krigans were brutal and strong fighters.

  The Krigan tactics were scary, and O’Neil was happy that he didn’t have to meet them in the battlefield. He was especially happy that he wasn’t going to see what the Krigans were like when fighting in their home against invaders. He shuddered at the thought, looking at Alva, who had since moved to the couch and was sleeping.

  O’Neil was deep into this now -- there was no turning back for him, and he knew that.

  Alva was a believer. She believed with her entire heart and soul in her people, her father and Jonah. She was putting her life on the line just for the Krigan people to have a chance at living outside of the Earth Ministry’s rule -- and in a way, he was jealous. O’Neil didn’t have much to believe in anymore. It was all just dirty shades of gray. Maybe his cause was something to believe in?

  He laughed and shook his head, grabbing his tea mug and looking out the window over Speera. He missed his garden, that one thing that had brought him peace when he was worried or dealing with a problem that he had no control over. That night was one of those nights where tending to the garden would have at least taken his mind off of everything. It bothered him to remember that Sue was out there, in the wilds of the planet, far away from the troubles that were plaguing Andlios.

  Andlios. There was an interesting thought. The planet had always been Omega to him for his entire life. Omega was the planet that the Omega Destiny was headed to; it was salvation and a symbol of hope. Now they were on the planet, and all of that had disappeared. The locals had been calling the planet Andlios for just as long as humanity had known Earth as Earth, if not longer than that. Naming the planet Omega was the Earth Ministry’s way of implying ownership over it, of invalidating anyone else's claim to the planet.

  O’Neil remembered reading about Christopher Columbus and the search for the “New World.” Columbus was looking for the East Indies when he ended up in America, and out of some sort of impulse, he decided to call the locals Indios -- or Indians -- because that was where he was supposed to be. His American history wasn’t as strong as it could be, but the whole Omega Mission was beginning to feel a lot like the horror stories of the past. />
  He grabbed his holoscanner off of the table and sat down on the couch next to Alva, who was curled up into a ball, her robe on the floor next to the couch. O’Neil picked up the robe and draped it over the girl. Alva was a strong girl, that much was certain. O’Neil had always wanted to have a daughter, but Jeanette always had one excuse or another about why they couldn’t have children. In a way, he was glad that he didn’t have one now; he couldn’t imagine bringing a young life into a world like Andlios.

  This girl deserved better, though. He understood that. Alva was willing to die for her cause while she should have been enjoying what was left of her childhood. O’Neil sunk back into the couch before pulling up the historical entry on Christopher Columbus on his holoscanner. It seemed like a good way to pass the time while he waited to hear what happened during the siege on Krigar.

  * * *

  “Sir,” Dumas said as he stood in the doorway of O’Neil’s quarters only to find O’Neil sprawled out on the couch with the Krigan girl next to him. “Sir,” Dumas repeated loudly.

  “What?” O’Neil could feel the cobwebs clearing out, the holoscanner falling off of his chest onto the floor. He realized that he had fallen asleep reading next to the girl. Alva was still there, curled up under the robe. “What is it, Jack?”

  “I have a report on the battle.”

  “What time is it?”

  “06:00 hours, sir.” He still stood in the doorway at attention.

  “Come in,” O’Neil said, motioning at Dumas. “So what’s going on?”

  “The battle is over,” he told O'Neil as he stepped into the room, the door whirring shut behind him.

  “My god.” The horror washed over his face, and he turned pale white. “Already? I thought the Krigans would be able to hold out longer than one night. My god.” He looked down at the girl, feeling the great shame of knowing what the Earth Ministry had done to the child’s people. “I can’t...”