by TR Cameron
Kraada leaned forward and placed his forehead on the floor in supplication. Starbursts filled his vision, and he cried out.
In his mind, he stepped free of his body to stand at the front of the cathedral. A motion from above drew his gaze, and the statue of Lelana was incandescent as the goddess emerged from it. She spread her wings wide to glide down and join him at the altar.
"Lady," Kraada began, only to be silenced as she placed a finger upon his lips.
"I understand, Hierarch. We see all. We know all. What is in your heart is true. You are, as ever, attuned to the will of the gods. Have no doubt of that."
Long-held tension released, and if he hadn’t been holding himself rigid to honor his deity, he would’ve sagged to the floor in relief.
"It isn’t your heart that’s the problem, Kraada Tak. It’s your head." She reached a slender finger and touched him on the center of his forehead. An icy tingle spread outward from that point until it was all he could do to remain upright through the shuddering cold that suffused him. "You’ve lost your singular focus and don’t see the next move. I’m here, this once, to help you find the right path."
He watched silently as she grew to tower over him. The menace in her words, that before was only felt, was now also seen. She resumed speaking, glaring down at him, "The game you play has become predictable, Kraada Tak. Fortunately, this can be turned into an advantage. Your enemies have begun to believe that your strategies are only a single layer deep. You must hereafter work on two fronts. First, lay deeper plans, and more plans behind those, so that in penetrating one set, your opponents find themselves beset by new hazards."
She rose, retreating toward her pedestal at the apex of the cathedral. He reached out as if to hold onto her, to keep her there, but his seeking fingers found nothing to grasp. He stumbled to his knees with arms and wings outstretched in a plea for continued commune with his goddess. Her final words echoed from above. "Second, it’s time for a strategic distraction. A play out in the open that will serve as a misdirection to the subtle plans going on underneath."
Lelana faded, and Kraada was left lying on the cold stone. He sobbed in sorrow for his failures, and in relief for the unprecedented chance at atonement afforded to him by his patron goddess. After an unmeasured time, he pushed his exhausted form to its feet and stumbled from the room toward his chamber. The wound in his side pulled with each step, compromising his balance and reminding him of the battle with Drovaa Jat where he’d earned it. "Even from the grave, you vex me, old friend," he said to the air beside him. The next step made it ache harder, drawing a grimace, and he continued the conversation with his fallen foe until he reached his bed and sleep took him.
Half a day later, Kraada stood before his military officers in the Planetary Defense Center. The meeting room had been remodeled in the time since he replaced Drovaa Jat. Before, officers sat around a large oval table with the marshal at its apex. Now, the room was more like his cathedral. A lectern was at the front of the room with a display screen behind and to the right. His officers stood at attention in the otherwise empty space, ordered by rank in rows, and by service in columns. This arrangement put the senior member of each of his divisions directly in front of him, where he could communicate with them most effectively. He paused for a full minute, then another, letting the silence hang while he looked into the eyes of those who led in his name.
"We have become distracted, deflected from our true goal as we focus on threats that have not yet materialized. I speak, of course, of the Domeki vessel that has appeared among the humans."
His newly appointed seneschal, who was by his side at all times save when he slept or meditated, triggered an image of the ship on the main display. Kraada bestowed a nod upon him, momentarily admiring how he’d learned to anticipate his needs so well. He turned back to the assembly. "From here on, we’ll treat the Domeki vessel as if it’s simply a very powerful vessel wielded by our enemy. We’ll avoid it when possible, until and unless we possess overwhelming numbers, at which time we’ll attempt to destroy it."
"Pardon, Hierarch, but don't you mean capture it?" The supreme commander of his Navy, Joriia Kin, had a disrespectful slouch to his posture for a man supposed to be at attention, Kraada thought. "No, Service-Captain, I do not mean capture it. I mean destroy it."
He stepped out from behind the lectern and paced the line in front of his commanders, almost wishing one of them would take the opportunity to attack him, so he could properly employ the dagger secreted along his forearm. "I know that in the past these ships have been treated as pristine relics of a higher technology, which they no doubt are. I have no doubt that previous captures led to marked improvements in our own technology. And if this was a simple war of territorial conquest, I’d hope to add it to our collection and turn it over to our best and brightest minds for analysis."
His pacing brought him to stand in front of Joriia. Turning, he looked the man in the eyes. "However, you’d all do well to remember that this is not about gaining wealth or territory. This is a holy war, and our singular purpose is to deliver on the promises given by the gods, so that we may free our ancestors from the in-between."
Kraada resumed pacing. "We will eradicate the humans, whenever and wherever we find them, on our march to their home world. When we reach it, we will wipe them from the galaxy. And know that when we leave this realm," he gestured broadly to indicate the surrounding universe, "we will travel to paradise, rather than spending eternities in the cycle of waiting and rebirth, only to wait again."
He moved behind his podium, and said in a soft voice that was no less threatening for its lack of volume, "Are there any further questions on this matter?"
None were forthcoming, but Kraada saw doubt on several faces. He shook his head and announced, "You have your orders. You’re dismissed." He turned and stalked from the room, his seneschal in tow.
"When we reach the cathedral, I wish to not be bothered. I have a sermon to prepare." Chanii nodded silently.
Three days later, Kraada was in his accustomed pre-service space, peering through the spy hole into his cathedral while one of his junior priests handled the rituals starting the ceremony. The congregation was divided, members of the church leadership on one side sending accusatory glares at members of the military leadership on the other. Whatever hopes he’d had about unifying the church and the military, they hadn’t been realized during his tenure as the head of both. At the appointed moment, his attendants pulled the doors open, and he swept into the room. Unlike his normal colorful ceremonial robes, today, Kraada wore only black—a rich ebony that seemed to draw in all the available light and cast him in shades of gray. He walked without sound up the center aisle, meeting the eyes of the leaders, meeting the eyes of the top echelon of each of the castes, meeting the eyes of the few common folk lucky enough to gain admittance to the cathedral on this eighth day.
Kraada turned and walked just as slowly back toward the front of the church, letting the silence hang and the uncertainty build. He felt the tension, the dissatisfaction, the outright anger. And he was prepared to answer it.
When he reached the altar, he spun, and raised his arms. "Brethren, welcome on this holy day, to the worship of our gods. By gathering together, we signal our commitment to them, and our commitment to making their will a reality. We ask them to grant us their blessing as we do their work."
The congregation dutifully responded, "So may it be."
"Today I wish to speak of distractions, my friends. Distractions that take away our ability to accomplish the things we must accomplish. The distractions that cause us to fail in service to our castes, to our organizations, to the emperor, to the gods. Distractions…" He let the last word fall off, as if uncertain what he’d say next. It was an act, of course. The planned emotional manipulation of a master performer. The sermon had come to him in one dizzying session. His frantic energy had made it necessary for his seneschal to record his words as he paced and dictated.
"The X
roeshyn people have become distracted." He met the eyes of a few chosen members of his congregation in silence, including Joriia Kin, whose challenge to him from days before still rankled. A rustle sounded at the back of cathedral as the emperor and his attendants entered. Enjaaran moved at a ponderous pace as he made his way to the section of the church reserved for him. Upon arriving, he sat in an ostentatious display of his importance. Kraada waited patiently until the room had stilled again. He saw the smirks on the faces of several of his congregants at the perceived slight by the emperor.
Kraada smiled.
"Distractions, as I was saying, stop us from fulfilling the will of the gods. At this time, we need to be one people. Yet we focus on the petty concerns of our castes, of our organizations, of our..." He let the audience fill in the word from his earlier pattern, without speaking. His eyes were locked on to the emperor for anyone who didn’t immediately gather his point.
"We may appear to focus on our responsibilities. We may appear to be serving the gods, our organizations, our castes, our emperor. But, in truth, we are distracted because we are serving ourselves."
He clasped his hands before him and shook his head to show his disappointment in them. "The gods don’t reward those who serve themselves. They don’t reward those who serve their castes. They don’t reward those who serve their organizations. And, with all honor to our esteemed leader, they don’t reward those who serve their emperor. The gods reward those who serve the gods." He threw up his hands and lurched into motion, pacing the front of the cathedral as his voice rose and quickened.
"Service to the gods requires focusing on their words, not on those of others." He stared down one of the emperor's bureaucrats. "It requires living up to their expectations, not the expectations of others." This time, he stared at a military officer. "It requires them to discard that which is not the will of the gods." He locked his gaze on the emperor himself. "For those things—power, wealth, influence, and all the other desires that so often drive our lives—are distractions."
Kraada looked up at the statues that crowned the space. "If we focus on the gods’ will, we shall be a unified force, and we can accomplish anything. If we focus upon our own desires, we are discordant, and we are doomed to fail."
He strode to the front of the room again and folded his hands before him. "Ask yourself, this day, will you only appear to serve the gods, and be a distraction to our people? Or will you cleave to true service to their will, and be one of the whole? Choose now, for this is the pivotal moment in the existence of the Xroeshyn people. Today. This minute. Choose."
Without another word, he stalked from the cathedral.
That night, as Kraada lay in bed contemplating the path he’d chosen with that day's sermon, his seneschal ushered in a cloaked figure. He rose on his elbows to regard the entrant as she pulled back her hood slightly to reveal a thin, severe face with a strange deadness in her eyes. She stood and silently accepted his inspection.
"Report."
Her voice grated, no doubt having something to do with the scar he saw peeking up over the protective collar she wore. "It is done, Hierarch."
"In a way that will leave no questions?"
She nodded and clasped her hands behind her back. "Every bone in Service-Captain Joriia Kin's body has been reduced to fragments with a mace. The final message is his officer’s sword, run through his heart and into the floor beneath."
Kraada reclined in his bed again and closed his eyes. "Excellent work, Variin. Henceforth, you will be my protector, always at my side."
"Yes, Hierarch," she said with the same inflection used in reporting his enemy's demise. He closed his eyes and fell asleep to the sounds of his seneschal arranging a pallet for the assassin to stay in his bedroom, stretched protectively on the floor between the door and his bed.
Chapter Six
"Prepare to leave the gravity wave," announced the holographic representation of the alien consciousness that was the soul of the Pandora.
Everyone sat up a little straighter, including Kate. She hadn’t left the bridge during their travel time. Instead, she’d worked the sensors and gathered data on the strange unreality of gravity wave transit. The colors differed from both wormhole travel and tunnel drive, and Pandora had offered an alternate view that reduced those colors outside the human visual spectrum to their approximations within it. Kate watched both, side-by-side on the main display, and was impressed at the greater range of the aliens' senses.
"Sound battle stations," she ordered. Her tactical officer triggered the alert, and the ship was bathed in a soft orange light that grew bright, then faded in ten second cycles.
"Should we be worried, Pandora?"
The hologram gave what Kate interpreted as an alien version of a shrug. "According to my knowledge, Commander, everything in the system should be dormant. However, my rest phase began near the middle of the process for our forces, so I have no way of knowing what happened afterward until we arrive."
"Okay. Seems like that's the best we can do."
"Yes, Commander."
Without further warning, the Pandora slipped out of the wave and real space reformed around them. The main screen showed a system with four planets circling a cooling sun, already shifting into the less brilliant shades that were characteristic of a white dwarf. Each planet supported several moons. The battle display filled in with lines and ellipses as the computer calculated and drew their paths.
"We’re receiving a query from the base. I’m attempting to negotiate our approach."
Kate frowned. "Tactical, be ready with countermeasures." It was standard practice upon reentry for shields to be up and balanced, so she didn't need to give those orders.
"Aye, Commander."
The battle display showed a swarm of tiny objects leaving one of the moons, headed on a straight-line path to the Pandora.
"Negotiations failed, Commander. The base has launched defenses."
"Time to impact?"
"Fifty-seven seconds, Commander."
"Taking evasive pattern Gamma," Kate announced. "Let's get a little distance. Tactical, countermeasures, but don’t attack the base."
"Affirmative."
"Why did it launch, Pandora?"
"Unknown, Commander Flynn. The protocols were changed during my rest. I’m now attempting to evade the security measures and access the base controls."
The hologram fell silent and adopted her thinking pose—gaze lowered, one hand absently stroking the creature around her neck, a sense of having drawn inward somehow palpable in her stance.
"Alrighty then. Guess it's up to us."
The Pandora's countermeasures had eliminated about half of the incoming torpedoes at a distance, but the remaining missiles were uncomfortably close. Point defense cannons spun up and fired their destructive slivers. The torpedoes evaded in a way that human versions never could, corkscrewing onto new courses that gave the Pandora a little more time, but made it more difficult to track and destroy them. She swiveled toward her tactical officer. "Diaz, take control of our energy weapons and see if you can pick off a few. I'll set up firing patterns to engage the base with the rest."
On the screen, she watched as the missiles approached. They covered a 270-degree arc, and almost 150 degrees of vertical approach. Kate preset an escape vector that would allow the Pandora to evade any torpedoes that made it through.
Hopefully.
"You know, I think one of Cross's presents would work in this situation," she mused out loud. A smile spread on the face of her tactical officer. "I have just the thing, Commander."
Kate answered with a matching grin. "Do it, Diaz."
At the appointed moment, the Pandora stood on her tail and rocketed upward, causing all the torpedoes to fall into a line behind her as they adjusted to follow. Diaz ejected an explosives package from the rear of the ship which detonated moments later. The powerful explosion caught the lead torpedoes, and they added their own offensive power to the conflagration. The cha
in of destruction removed every enemy missile from the display.
"Great work, people." Kate leaned forward in her chair, her restraints the only thing that kept her from launching out of it in celebration. "Set course for that base."
"I have accessed the installation's missile defenses, Commander. They’re now off-line."
"Excellent, Pandora. Thank you."
"You’re most welcome, Commander. I suggest strengthening forward shields and targeting the emplacements with energy weapons.” On the main screen, the alien base grew larger, spinning slightly as it expanded to show the defensive positions that the ship referenced.
"This gives us a clean path along a very narrow vector, am I right, Pandora?"
"You are correct, Commander. Although the base will undoubtedly rotate once it analyzes our intentions."
"So, our approach will have to be fast and hard. You’re suggesting we land on the surface of that thing?"
"Affirmative, Commander. I cannot convince the base to open a docking bay, but I should be able to release an access hatch."
"All right then." Kate hit a series of icons on her display to connect to selected personnel. "If you’re hearing this, it means you are part of our boarding team. Please report to—"
Pandora interrupted her. "I’m unlocking the armory now, Commander Flynn. You’ve gained a new level of access to the ship’s functions."
Kate blinked as she processed both parts of that statement. Then resumed speaking, "Report to the armory." She released her gravitic restraints and stood.
