“You accuse of us treason,” said Mentook, setting his feet as if he were a warrior waiting to take on a hand to hand attack. His eyes locked onto Alexanderopolis and narrowed, a hate filled glare that sent a shiver up the Ambassador’s spine. “I say you are the guilty ones. Because you traffic with the humans, the monsters within our midst.” A thick finger speared out at the Ambassador. “Creatures like that one, who bring the doom of the Ancients back to this space.”
Murmuring arose in the courtroom. Everyone here knew the legend of the Ancients who had bootstrapped so many of the local species into space, then disappeared almost overnight. Many stars had gone up in supernova at that time, major systems of the ancients. More than statistically possible, and many of the stars not massive enough to explode. One of those systems had contained the Knockerman homeworld. A large number of that people had been offworld as laborers at the time, and so the species survived, but they still felt the anger, the rage, at losing the world they had evolved upon.
“The humans are working with wormholes, the very thing that the ancients were using in unnatural ways before their destruction,” continued the Knockerman. “They built their station around a black hole, the same as the ancients did. They put all of us at risk of destruction through the use of this technology.” Mentook turned, then pointed again, this time at the High Lord. “And the Lord Garakakak is just as guilty as they are, allowing human built wormhole gates into our Empire. When the Universe responds to the abomination, we will be caught in the collateral damage. And this we could not allow. So we did our duty, and helped the large aliens in their plan to destroy the station, after failing to topple the government of the real traitor.”
“I think we have heard enough,” said Garakakak, getting to his feet. “What this being says is lies and half-truths. The humans use their wormholes in their war against invaders who would see them destroyed, and the rest of the intelligent species of this sector enslaved. They do not use the wormholes to experiment with altering the timeline. The Ancients did so, in the mistaken belief that they could alleviate suffering by changing the decision points that had led to so many tragedies in the past. I have the assurance from the human Emperor, Sean, that they will never experiment with such.”
“And when they find themselves losing to the Ca’cadasans,” hissed Mentook, his angry eyes bouncing back and forth between the Brakakak leader and the human Ambassador. “When they are in a position where it is either the death of their species, or tampering with the timeline, what do you think they will do?”
Horatio could feel all of the eyes on him now, questioning, accusing. I and my people are not on trial here, thought the Ambassador, thinking about how he was going to get out of the building without the mics and cameras of Elysium News Service reporters in his face.
“You have made your statement,” said the Chief Justice, motioning to the bailiffs. “Take them away to their punishment.”
“I would like to speak with you, Horatio,” said Garakakak to the Ambassador after the convicted had been led out. “If you will please meet me at your office after we leave here.”
“Of course, High Lord,” agreed Horatio. Moments later he was heading up to the rooftop garage where his official vehicle and escorts waited. He avoided most of the reporters, though some had the forethought to get in his way. His security detail tried to keep them away, but a few got close enough to yell questions through translators.
He looked out over the city as his aircar flew to the new embassy. There was still some damage to the city, thought it was a far cry from the devastation that had followed the uprising. Most of the larger structures had been repaired, and some new megascrapers were going up in areas that had been leveled. In the distance the dome of the new High Council building shone in the sun, a sign that the government of this Empire was up and running again on this world.
An hour later the Ambassador was ensconced in his new comfortable office as the leader of the Elysium Empire was led into the room. Normally, protocol would call for him attending to the leader at the High Lord’s office. But this way they could be assured that the Elysium Intelligence Service would not be listening in. Or so it was hoped.
The thin alien leaned back in the comfortable chair that had been made for his kind, a tumbler of fine bourbon on the rocks in one four digit hand. The High Lord took a sip of his drink and sighed in pleasure. Humans and Brakakak shared an almost identical biochemistry, and the food of drinks of both were enjoyed equally by the other.
“I am hearing some rumblings from the Council about our losses in your war,” said the High Lord, getting to the point.
“It’s your war too, High Lord,” said Horatio, setting his half empty glass on the side table beside the chair he was in, facing the Brakakak. “Or have they forgotten that the Cacas helped the Knockermen destroy your primary space dock above this world.”
“And some would say that if we had not allowed you to put your gate in that station, the creatures would have had no reason to strike at it.” The High Lord took another sip, then set his glass down. “As far as I’m concerned, that is neither here nor there.” The High Lord let out a squawking laugh. “The idioms of your people are so fascinating. And you have so many of them.”
“They’ve been complaining about being involved with us since the day you committed to the alliance, High Lord,” said the Ambassador. “And you have honored the commitment, which we appreciate. So what is the complaint this time?”
“We have lost over eight hundred ships, and two and a half million Spacers and Marines in the war,” said the High Lord, closing his eyes and rubbing the feathery fur on his domed forehead. “I know you have lost many times that, and the reptiles probably as much as we have. I also happen to know that the Crakista are committed to the alliance, no matter their losses. As are the Margravi and Klashakians.”
“And the Elysium? The Brakakak?”
“I intend to honor our commitments, as long as I am in power. I refuse to allow us to become the oath breaker of the alliance, remembered for all time for turning our backs on the greatest threat to the sector in its history. And I fear what these Ca’cadasans will bring to us if they are triumphant. A thousand years of slavery? Ten thousand? A hundred? That I cannot allow.”
“And if you lose your position?”
“I do not believe I am in danger of that, at the moment. It may happen, if my own clique loses faith in my leadership.”
“And what can we do to keep the faith of your clique?”
“You can minimize our losses,” said the Avian, raising a hand when Horatio started to speak up. “I know. This is war, and you much take what you have to plug the holes in your strategy. If that means taking an Elysium force and plugging into a hole that threatens to become a flood, then that is what you must do. All I ask is that your military leaders are aware of the political ramifications of losses of my people.”
“And if you back out, and the Cacas overrun us, then come for you?”
“Then I will mourn for my people and our freedom, while repeating another phrase I have learned from your people. I told you so.”
* * *
“We have some anxiety concerning your people’s use of their wormholes,” said Klorasof, waving four of his six tentacles in the air. It seemed to float across the floor on its locomotion organs, the cilia on its ventral surface sliding it along the hard surface without any wasted motion.
“We are using them to give us an advantage over an enemy that has every other advantage,” said Xavier Jackson. Jackson had been with the beings his people knew as the Ancients for over a year. He really wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, since the aliens didn’t seem to care about the passage of time as much as the humans did.
“And we have no problem with your people using them for spatial transport” said the alien, his eyes blinking his tension. “But there are hints of some of your scientists working with theories of temporal displacement.”
“Time travel?” ask
ed Jackson in a disbelieving voice. The Ancients had told him about how their Empire had fallen, about how they had experimented with time travel and the Universe had struck back, intent on stopping the chain of paradoxes they were generating. He still wasn’t sure he believed it, since it smacked too much of the religion and spirituality he really didn’t believe in.
“It is truth. We attempted to undo the mistakes of the past, and that was the worst error we could have made. Overnight our civilization was gone as if it had never existed.”
“And we will not make the same mistake,” argued Jackson, in the back of his mind sure that someone in the Empire, some human, would make that same mistake. Probably out of altruism, though greed or revenge were also possibilities.
“When your people’s backs are against the wall, and it seems the only way out, they will do whatever they can to survive,” said Klorasof, an expression Jackson had come to recognize as pain in the being’s eyes. “And we will do whatever we can to prevent that from happening.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Jackson, a shiver of warning rolling down his spine.
“We are not long for this Universe,” said the Alien. “We are a long lived race. Our life spans are greater than those of they that you fight. We were also slow to reproduce, only budding rarely. Now we bud not at all. Whatever power there is in the Universe that snuffed out our worlds also took away our power to reproduce. Our best scientists, those who survived, have been unable to do anything about it. But before we go into the long night, we will make one last gesture to let those who come after us know that we existed. We will choose a cause, and fight for it.”
“Why not choose us?” asked Jackson, looking into the disconcerting eyes of the Ancient. “You still say that the Ca’cadasans are most likely to win this fight, but with your help we might be able to turn the tide”
“But they may not be the threat we need to destroy,” said Klorasof, waving some tentacles in the air in what Jackson recognized as exasperation. “I have come to know your people through you, Xavier Jackson. If the choice was mine, I would side against the Ca’cadasans with you. But the Elders are not sure they are the greatest threat. Yours is the species we may need to stop.”
The alien pivoted on his locomotion cilia, looking as if he were standing on a turntable on the floor, then slid away. Jackson stared at the creature that until this moment he had thought of as a friend, wondering what he could do to stop him and his people, and coming up with nothing. Except continuing to play the good ambassador, and hoping he could change their minds.
* * *
“Dagni,” said Lt. General Samuel Baggett with a wide smile on his face, accepting the salute of the gorgeous blond woman in front of him. “Or should I say, Brigadier Thorwaldsdottir?”
“Dagni will be fine, sir,” said the woman, who had been Baggett’s assistant commander on the invasion of the Fenri fleet base their then brigade had been involved in. She had lost her right leg in the battle for that planet, and had been out the loop while it was regrown and she learned to use it again.
“It is so good to see you,” said Baggett, offering his hand and taking it in a strong grip. He looked into the deep blue eyes, feeling the mutual attraction between them once again. Before, she was my subordinate, he thought. In the same chain of command. This time she’s Arbuckle’s Chief of Staff. So the possibility was there. But Baggett had not been involved with a woman since his divorce, and still felt a little gun shy. And he wondered what someone like Dagni would see in him.
“Are you ready for the one imperial tour?” she asked, flashing him another smile.
“Lead on,” said Baggett, glad that she had brought their interaction back to business.
The woman led him to a lift, which they rode down to several kilometers beneath the mountain this facility was housed under. Baggett wasn’t sure what to say while alone with Dagni in the lift, and he felt uncomfortable in the silence, until she brought them back to business again.
“This facility was actually the continental headquarters of the New Moscow Army,” said Thorwaldsdottir as the lift fell swiftly to the bottom. “Fortunately, it has survived two different invasions. First, the Cacas took the planet and did not destroy it. Then, it survived our invasion.”
“So we get to use it,” said Baggett, nodding. And hopefully when the Cacas come back, it will survive them a second time.
The lift doors opened, revealing a long corridor with a pair of battle-suited sentries standing guard. There were branching corridors leading into this one, and soldiers in work uniforms moved with purpose through the complex.
“We’re making this our continental headquarters,” said Dagni, leading the way down the long hallway. “Communications, intelligence, logistics. We are also keeping the high ranking prisoners twenty levels down in the secure detention facility.”
“I take it we’re going to fortify the planet as well as the orbitals?”
“Oh, yeah. I guess you’ve already noticed that replacements are coming through for your corps. The plan is to get your replacements integrated here, while you defend your objectives.”
Baggett nodded, thinking about the losses he had incurred taking this world and protecting the civilian prisoners. Overall his corps had sustained about twenty-two percent casualties, killed and injured severely enough to be withdrawn from the Theater. The numbers had been much greater among the actual combat troops, more like thirty-six percent, over a third of the people he had brought to this world.
“So we’re going to be reduced to a defensive role from here on out?”
“Not at all, Samuel,” said Lucius Arbuckle, stepping out of a side corridor and stopping in front of the pair.
Baggett rendered a salute, which Arbuckle returned in his hasty fashion. “Our army is to be reinforced while we stage here. Your corps will receive another heavy division, while an additional corps is added to my army.”
“Sixteen divisions?” asked Baggett. “That’s a mighty hefty army.”
“One of three that will be assembled here for operations further on,” said Arbuckle with a smile. “More about that later. The High Command doesn’t even have any idea how we’re going to be used. Only that we will be on the spear of any invasions from this point.”
“Don’t you think they’re getting a little ahead of themselves, sir?” asked Baggett, thinking of all the things that would have to happen before they went on the offensive against the Ca’cadasan Empire. He was sure they would be back, in force, and they would have to defeat another invasion or three before they could even think about striking into the Cacas’ home space.
“I agree,” said Arbuckle as he led them further down the hallway, then took a turn at the next to last corridor. “But one thing you learn. No matter how much rank you gain, until you get to the top, you still have to take orders from people who don’t know any more than you do. I think even when you get to the top you still have to do so, since the guy at the top is not really one of us.”
I think Sean is more one of us than you believe, thought Baggett as the General led him through a series of doors, guarded by soldiers in battle armor, and into a small conference room.
“And this is what I asked you down here so see,” said Arbuckle, as Baggett took in the image of a half dozen strange looking aliens sitting in the chairs much as humans would. Their snouted faces turned his way, intelligent eyes regarded him, and a couple continued to drink from the cups they held in very dexterous looking hands.
Different races? he wondered as he took in the different shades of fur that covered the creatures. One was solid black, three were different shades of striped gray, while one had a striped orange fur much like a tiger, while yet another was dirty white with dark spots.
“These are our new allies against the Cacas,” said Arbuckle, pointing at the pure black one. “Their leader is called. Well, I can’t pronounce what he’s called in his native language, but…”
“You can call me Nightshadow,” sa
id the creature in sibilant speech. The English was a little slurred, but understandable. “I am the only one in my party that speaks your language, though the others will be learning as fast as they can.”
“And you are?”
“They call themselves Maurids,” said Arbuckle, gesturing the other flag officers to chairs.
Baggett took his while he continued to study the creatures, noting the retractable claws on the hands, the sharp teeth. The way they moved, all lean, wiry muscles sliding beneath their fur. He knew this was a deadly species. He was sure he could take one in his battle armor, but in hand to hand? Not a chance. Maybe one of the augmented could, but not a regular grunt.
“Tell them your story,” said Arbuckle to Nightshadow.
“My people were once a prosperous prespace species,” said the creature in his sibilant speech. “We were a violent, warlike species, but all of our wars were limited conflicts, the warriors of each kingdom against those of their foe. But unlike most other species, as we learned later, we did not suffer from the tendency to wipe out the communities of our people, and so were progressing along to the point where we were ready to send members of our kind into space. And then space came to us.”
“The Cacas?”
“Yes. The Ca’cadasans, or what you call Cacas. They came to our world and gave us the ultimatum to submit, or to be conquered. We, of course, were not the kind of beings to submit to anything not of our own. So we fought back, were defeated, and began a millennia and a half of slavery.”
“But you seem to have thrived under their overlordship,” said Dagni. “After all, you were their trusted servants on this planet. And on Azure.”
“We have certain skills that the, Cacas, found useful. We are better trackers than just about any other species, better fighters, and we are not stupid. We saw a way to alleviate the worst of the alien occupation. Still, we hated them. And we have waited over fifteen hundred of your years to strike back at them, and remove our people from their control.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 9: Second Front Page 12
