Hand of the Empire (Rise of the Empire Book 8)

by Ivan Kal

  To deal with a new race, the trial of confrontation was required. The Krashinar always gave them two options to prove their intentions—by allowing for a sharing of minds, for the horde to test and see who they were at the core of their beings, or for the price of blood to be paid, a sacrifice for the hunt. Never again would the Krashinar give something without a price being paid. And no race had ever accepted to be tried peacefully; always they chose to spill blood. Attacking without warning. That was fine by the Krashinar, as it was a good way to test the newly raised hunters.

  The Old Scar pulled more from the senses of its beast and those around them, and a clearer picture of the intruder formed. It was definitely something new, and large. Far larger than any such hollow they had encountered before. Larger even than the spawnery it had just inspected. The Old Scar sent orders to the First-tamer, instructing the tamer to move the Araxi away from the spawnery and to arrange the rest of the pack into hunting formations.

  The thing before them was powerful; there could be no questioning that. The Old Scar wondered what would’ve happened if its pack hadn’t been here for the small inspection; would they have lost the spawnery? Or was this to be their first peaceful encounter with another race?

  “Hunt-master,” one of the tamers started. “We are detecting a mind reaching for us.”

  “Well… Let us see what the intruder has to say.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Herald of War

  Powered by the amplifier, Adrian’s mind reached across the system. It was a great tool, but it did limit one’s power. It did not increase one’s telepathic strength; it only added reach, and the further away it went, the less power you had. At such distances only mind-speech was capable. Once Adrian had wondered if they could turn the amplifiers into weapons, to reach to other ships and disable their crews, but it had proven impossible. At most they could speak with another being.

  His mind rode the Sha, and he felt a large mind, but one that was somehow primitive. For a moment Adrian wondered if the Krashin truly were sentient interstellar life forms, but then another mind reached for him. It was strange, seemingly coming from the primitive mind, yet clearly distinct. And then it answered.

  It was not speech as Adrian understood it, yet he heard words. However, there were other things attached to it: sounds, images that he couldn’t understand, colors, and smells. His telepathy interpreted the mess as words.

  “Answer, Krashnaa, to be consumed-of-life-understanding to drain and learn. Hunt the intruder, sacrifice for price. Satisfied for terms?”

  Adrian glanced at the crew around him. All had been plugged in, and all heard the same things he did. By the looks on their faces they didn’t understand either. Adrian tried to divine some kind of understanding from the message, but there was nothing clear that he could glean from it. He understood the individual words, but their overall meaning eluded him. And that was something that shouldn’t be possible.

  The People had designed telepathy for every race. They had designed their minds to think along the same lines. Variation was allowed, of course, and so there were races that had languages that were difficult to be pronounced, or races that hadn’t yet evolved to the point where they had gained telepathy. But there had never been problems; translator programs usually had no problems with other languages.

  But this message had not been in a different language. His telepathy had interpreted it and he heard it in his own. Yet he did not have a complete understanding; it was as if his mind couldn’t quite understand the communication’s concepts, as it had no reference for the way that the alien mind thought. And so he ended up with this half-mangled jumble of words. But that was impossible, unless… Unless the Krashin had not been meddled with by the People, unless they had evolved on their own. That would make them the second intelligent race known to have evolved in the galaxy independently, and it would explain why no race that had ever encountered them could truly communicate with them.

  The People had been masters. Their telepathy had been designed to adapt, to convey intent of communication and convert it into something that the one receiving the message could understand. But this was outside of its scope. His telepathy was trying to understand something that it had no basis of comparison for.

  “Do you have any ideas?” Adrian asked.

  “Sorry, no, I can’t make sense of it any more than you can,” Iris said.

  Adrian thought furiously about a way to communicate with them, to get them to understand. Then he remembered that the Sowir communicated with a mix of words, images, and memories—while the content of their telepathy was clearly distinct, their method of communication was at least more similar. Adrian focused, compiled a message, and then threw his thoughts at the Krashin.

  “I come from a people far away from you. I am here to speak with you peacefully, and I wish to negotiate a trade with you. We have the same enemy,” Adrian sent, sending images of the galaxy with the territory of the Krashin and the Empire lit up, then images of himself and a Krashin standing side by side exchanging goods, and lastly an image of Erasi races attacking both the humans and the Krashin.

  He hoped that the Krashin could understand the meaning behind his images, if not the words themselves. They waited for the Krashin to respond, and Adrian tried to think of anything else that he could try. Then, several minutes later, they got a response.

  “Answer, Krashnaa, agree be consumed-of-life-understanding, to drain and learn. Agreement satisfied for terms?” it said again. He could feel that it was a question, only the words made no sense again. But this time among the mess of sounds, smells, and colors, there were images that he could interpret.

  One image showed a large Krashin standing in front of Adrian, its mouth opened and its tongues slipping into Adrian’s skull. Adrian recoiled from the image. Another image showed Krashin fighting the Erasi, and another the galaxy as the Krashin’s borders expanded. Harsh sounds followed with smells of blood—or at least that was how his mind interpreted them.

  Was that a threat, or was he simply misunderstanding them? He composed another message, returning the image of the Krashin with his tongues in Adrian’s head and then replacing it with that of the two of them peacefully exchanging items, then an image of the galaxy where both the Empire and the Krashin territory expanded into that of the Erasi.

  And again the Krashin responded, “Answer, Krashnaa, agree be consumed-of-life-understanding, to drain and learn. Hunt the intruder, sacrifice for price. Decision satisfied for terms?” He sent the same image of the Krashin and his tongues inside Adrian’s skull, and then followed by another where Krashin ships attacked the Herald of War. The second image was followed by angry emotions.

  “Damn it.”

  “Perhaps we should leave, take time to figure out a way to talk with them?”

  Adrian tried again, sending another message.

  “We are not here to fight or threaten you in any way. I just want to talk, I want us to be friends,” he sent, also sending images of the Krashin and himself working together alongside his feelings of desire for peace and friendship. He didn’t even knew if they understood emotions, but he needed to try.

  Their response was faster this time.

  “Decision, Krashnaa—Hunt the intruder, sacrifice for price. Confrontation satisfied for terms.” The images were now only of their ships fighting the Herald of War, but underneath it all he could taste a sliver of emotion. He recognized something that to him, at least, felt like resignation.

  This was not how he imagined this meeting going. He was at a loss. It felt like with each interaction he had gained more understanding, was closer to true communication. But it was not enough; their telepathies were fundamentally different. He tried to devise another message, but one of the crew interrupted him.

  “Lord Sentinel, twenty of their ships have entered the skim. They are coming here!”

  Adrian closed his eyes. He didn’t want to fight them. But he felt like the answer was right there in fro
nt of him—he could almost taste it.

  “Raise shields, but don’t fire. I need time to figure this out.”

  The Krashin ships dropped out of the skim and started surrounding the Herald of War. A part of his mind that was watching the holo admired their coordination. Then they opened fire, their weapons striking against the Sovereign’s shields.

  Adrian was surprised to see that their weapons were so powerful. With only twenty ships, they wouldn’t break through a Sovereign’s shields any time soon, but they were most certainly capable of it. The ship leading this assault was the one with which he had been communicating. And now that it was closer, he could feel the primal mind of the ship itself. It was a living being, after all. He didn’t know how that was possible, yet it was.

  Adrian pulled his attention from the attacking Krashin, and pulled himself into his mindspace. Time outside of his mind slowed to a crawl as he replayed the Krashin messages in his mind thousands of times. He was certain that he was missing something. He just didn’t know what.

  The Krashin had spoken with him; they were coordinated, and they hadn’t attacked blindly. That meant that they were most certainly intelligent, conscious beings. They had made peace with the Hasre, so he knew that they were capable of negotiating. But before they had reached an agreement they had fought. But he couldn’t understand why. If they were able to understand the Hasre, why did they first fight? Did they misunderstand each other at the beginning?

  His thoughts moved back to the Krashin message. He was certain that it was a question, and that nagged on his mind. If they were xenophobic, if they had always intended to attack, why ask a question? What did “consumed-of-life-understanding, to drain and learn” mean? Did the words that he had heard mean the same things that they wanted to tell him? Or was it just the closest thing that his mind could come up with. Each time when they had sent him the image of them attacking the Herald of War, there had been emotions of anger, and yet their last message was followed by a feeling of resignation. But every time they had showed him an image of Adrian’s head being eaten, the emotions behind it were eager and peaceful. And why would they threaten him twice? It made no sense to him; if they had been intent on fighting, there would be no need for them to threaten two different things.

  He remembered that their messages had been questions. They had wanted something from him. He analyzed the messages thousands of times, his mind working faster and faster. Then it dawned to him—they were asking him to choose. A choice between ‘consumed-of-life-understanding, to drain and learn’ and ‘hunt the intruder, sacrifice for price’. Was that what their fight with the Hasre was? A price so that they could come to terms? A test? If the second option was combat, then what was the first? The Krashin’s tongues in Adrian’s head may have meant something else to the Krashin—perhaps it hadn’t been meant as a threat?

  And then things clicked in his mind. Of course—a race of telepaths, like the Sowir. To them, the sharing of memories of minds was the only way to actually understand one another. To know one’s desires and wants for certain. The Krashin had to be the same. They wanted to know Adrian’s people, to understand everything, and to know their intentions. But he wondered why they would have an option for battle, something that required blood to be spilled. Unless…it was cultural, a way to see a race’s mettle? When the Hasre barely won the battle, the Krashin had then agreed to the terms the Hasre asked.

  Would it be the same if he had the Herald of War destroy their fleet? Or was there still a chance for a peaceful resolution? Adrian brought his mind out of his mindspace and opened his eyes. His crew was moving the ship around, but they still hadn’t returned fire. The shields were holding, but the Krashin seemed to have doubled their efforts to take them down. Adrian used the amplifier and sent a new message to the leading ship.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sol

  Ryaana walked into the Lord Sentinel’s office, making her way to the table. She sat down hard and looked at Hayashi, who was acting as the leader of the Sentinels in her father’s stead. He studied her intently with a raised eyebrow.

  “I assume that your mission was successful?” he asked.

  “It was,” Ryaana said. “The problem is what we found.”

  “Is that the reason why you didn’t send word through the relays, and why you wanted a face-to-face meeting?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid,” Ryaana answered with a tired expression on her face.

  “What is it?”

  “We’ve greatly underestimated the Erasi’s spying efforts. And yes, we were right—I have proof that both the liberation force and the pirates had been funded by the Erasi. The pirates and the liberation force were supposed to begin major actions in our systems in five months’ time.”

  Hayashi paused, considering this carefully. “That is bad. Can we assume that that timetable would also mean Erasi action?”

  “I believe so,” Ryaana said and pulled out a datachip, putting it on the table. “That’s the list of targets. We took care of their base, but they might already have assets in place. We should move to secure those on the list.”

  He nodded. “I agree. I’ll pass this on to the Hand of the Empire—although I assume that the inquisitors will do the same?”

  “They will, but you should let the Fleet and the Emperor know.”

  “And the Shara Daim?” Hayashi asked.

  “I’m leaving as soon as possible for Shara Radum to talk with my mother.”

  “Good. This will mean that the plan will be pushed forward.”

  “Plan?” Ryaana asked.

  Hayashi winced; it was obviously something that he had not been supposed to say. “I swear, sometimes when I speak with you it’s just like I’m speaking with your father.” He shook his head. “I’m sure that your mother will fill you in. There is little reason now for it to be a secret, and we will need to move before the Erasi.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but let it go. “Very well, then. I’m off to deliver the information to Shara Radum.”

  ***

  Administrator Gotu sat in the Lord Sentinel’s office across from Sentinel Hayashi, going over the report about the Erebus.

  “Its systems showed themselves capable of interacting even with modern Erasi systems,” Hayashi said.

  “Yes, but it took them too long to gain access…” Gotu said.

  “Well, this report will go a long way to helping your teams improve on them for the Nomad fleet.”

  Gotu frowned at Hayashi. “Wait, you know about that?”

  Hayashi gave him a smug look without answering.

  Gotu then shook his head. “Right. Of course you know about it.”

  “Who do you think helped him come up with the idea?”

  “Well, it is a good idea if we manage to get everything to work. Otherwise it will be the biggest failure the Empire has ever engaged in.”

  “That’s why we have you. To make sure that it doesn’t fail.”

  “He gave me most of the files regarding the project, but there is one that is restricted… You don’t happen to know what Project Skywrath is?” Gotu asked hopefully.

  “Ah… That I do know. But it is restricted for a reason. Don’t worry, Gotu, old friend—you’ll see it in time.”

  ***

  Aranis watched from the transport as they passed through an access point. He was still amazed that they could use them, when even the Enlightened could not. But then again, when Ullax had locked the points, she had made them impossible to activate by anyone other than the surviving People. And Aranis assumed that since the children of Axull Darr carried his DNA, they were allowed by the system. The Enlightened had tried to activate the points on several occasions, but always they had failed. They could’ve constructed their own, but they had no need. They would’ve been an asset, but their resources were better placed on other things.

  They exited the point and arrived at their destination. Shara Radum, the home system of Ryaana’s mother—the Kar Daim of the S
hara Daim. He glanced at her as she read through something on her implant. Once in Sol, she had immediately registered him as a part of her support staff. With that position, he had gained new weapons and uniform, although he didn’t really know what his duties were supposed to be. In any case, he was going to be seeing a lot more now, and would have access to things that would’ve taken him a long time to see otherwise if he had rose through the ranks like he initially planned. He had been extremely fortunate in crossing paths with Ryaana.

  These last couple of decades, he had felt the inevitable looming over the horizon. The bargain he had made with the other Enlightened was nearing its end. He could feel it in the Sha—Ullax’s time was drawing to a close. He wondered if he would have the chance to see her before she died. He had made the bargain, forced the others to a consensus for the sake of the love he had for Ullax once, long ago. He gave her and the others time, a stay of the execution for the galaxy. He did not want for them to see what he and the others must do. He had gifted them with ignorance as a parting gift. And now only Ullax remained, her body near its limit.

  The galaxy was filled with life birthed by the People; it was the greatest crime they had ever committed. Yet they did not understand. For all of their knowledge, they couldn’t have known what so much life would’ve done to the galaxy. Doranis had been right—on his travel from Enlightened territory, he had seen it firsthand. The dimensional barriers were faltering, and their plans needed to be enacted faster than he had initially thought. He had underestimated the effects of so many races capable of wielding the Sha. Yet he could not help but question if it would be enough. Their project had been a success, and soon enough it would be ready. But with so many races, a few of which could prove problematic…it would be difficult for them to get everything in position.