by Sean Robins
I challenged the officer, who was a master-race model and had five inches and twenty pounds on me, with my eyes. “It isn’t like he can do anything about it. His king has guaranteed our safety.”
“Still, we are here to win hearts and minds, not to make new enemies.”
“ ‘New enemies’? Look at him! He hates us already.” Then I asked the officer, “What’s your problem? Have I killed your father by any chance?”
The man’s face turned several shades of red. He stared me in the eyes and snarled, “No, only my sons, and my unborn grandson. And a hundred million other parents’ sons too, Kingslayer.”
“Oops,” I said. “My bad. A hundred million sounds like an exaggeration though. Drama queen much?”
Tarq gave me a hard look just as Kurt kicked my left shin.
I swear, one day I’ll learn to keep my mouth shut.
“And on that day, pigs will fly,” said Venom.
When we entered the palace’s conference room, the Xortaag delegation was already there, sitting around a red oval table. Their king, dressed in a black and red tunic embroidered with gold thread, was at the head of the table. On his right, there were three similarly dressed men, obviously brothers, all looking like me, giving us evil eyes. Our old friend General Maada, in fleet uniform, was next to them, but it looked like he was trying to keep a distance. There were six other men and women on their side of the table, three in military uniforms, three in civilian clothes. I guessed they were high-ranking politicians or fleet officers.
They didn’t say anything as we took our seats. No welcome-to-our-planet, no handshakes, nothing. Only Maada nodded towards me, almost imperceptibly.
The king got straight to the point. “You have told us you have a peace offer.”
“We only accept your unconditional surrender,” announced one of the three men.
I opened my mouth to answer, but Kurt put his hand on my arm and shook his head. I said nothing, mostly because I didn’t want him to kick me again.
“These are my sons,” said the king. “Crown Prince Darlaan, and his brothers Prince Montaari and Prince Kallool. And I believe you already know General Maada.” He didn’t introduce the rest of the people around the table. They probably weren’t very important.
“And I agree with my son,” he continued. “We normally would not have even agreed to this meeting, but General Maada insisted we should give you people a chance, and his words carry a lot of weight around here.”
I managed not to look at my fellow conspirators. Good thing the Xortaags couldn’t read my mind, compliments of MICI.
Well done, Xornaa.
“If it pleases the king, I will present our offer,” Tarq said so politely that I was certain he was poking fun at the king.
Fortunately for us, the king didn’t get that. He nodded like a pompous jackass.
Tarq rose to his feet. “We are aware that the idea of conquering the universe was first presented by General Maada as a means to save your dying planet and deal with your overpopulation problem. What if we could offer you an alternative solution, one that did not involve genocide?”
“And what would that be?” asked the king.
“As the humans say, a picture is worth a thousand words,” said Tarq. Then he put his PDD on the table in front of him and touched the screen. A holographic image of a planet appeared. It was dead—no vegetation, no water, and no atmosphere. Then, as the planet was rotating, things changed. An atmosphere encompassed the planet, oceans appeared, and the landmass was covered with lush green vegetation. We found ourselves looking at an Earth-like planet that could obviously sustain life.
I held out my hands. “Behold: Genesis.”
Tarq looked confused. “As in the Bible?”
“Are we supposed to understand what that means?” asked the king.
I rubbed my forehead in frustration. Was it too much to ask that the people who actually trekked among the stars understood a simple Star Trek reference?
“Terraforming,” said Tarq. “We have the technology to do it, and we will share it with you. It will take longer to terraform a planet than to conquer one, but there is nothing to stop you from doing ten at a time.”
Darlaan jumped to his feet. “We are warriors! What do you suggest we do on those planets? Farm?”
Except for Maada and the king, all the other Xortaags in the room started talking at the same time, every single one of them agreeing with the crown prince.
“Yes!” Maada’s voice reverberated in the conference room. Everyone closed their mouths and looked at him in shock. The scariest conqueror in the universe was the last person expected to agree with a peace deal that would turn warriors into farmers.
“Commander Tarq is right,” continued Maada. “We were doing this to save our species, but if there is a way to do so without massacring other sentient beings, we must explore it.”
Now I was officially scared of Xornaa, even though I knew that for her magic to work, her marks had to have some natural inclination towards what she wanted them to do. It was weird to think General Planetary Genocide wasn’t fond of killing people.
The king looked thoughtful. “Experience has taught me to value General Maada’s counsel. I am open to considering this option, but I have a million questions.”
The politicians and officers in the room murmured their agreement.
“Will this terraforming of yours really work?” the king asked Tarq.
“Absolutely. With our help, there is no limit to the number of the planets you can terraform.”
“I’d like to point out the alternative is you keep fighting us,” I said. “How has that been working out for you recently?”
“Shut the hell up,” Kurt murmured under his breath.
“Father, you cannot possibly consider this,” said Darlaan. “We are a proud race of warriors. We value our way of life, and the filthy humans and insects cannot order us what to do. Have you forgotten how many of our people were killed by these people, including two of our beloved brothers and your sons?”
I protested, “Maada killed one.” But nobody paid any attention to me. They were all transfixed on Darlaan. It was kind of weird.
I didn’t need to be a telepath to see the sudden change in the atmosphere. The Xortaags in the room nodded in agreement. Now everyone was looking at us with murder in their eyes, even Maada and the king.
Darlaan went on a rant. He was moving his hands wildly and talking about his willingness to sacrifice himself in order to save “our sacred way of life” when Xornaa whispered, “Darlaan’s brothers are controlling the rest of the Xortaags.”
“No way!” exclaimed Tarq. “Even the king? I thought his powers were much stronger than everyone else’s”
“It’s very subtle,” she replied. “I bet he doesn’t even suspect he’s under a psychic attack.”
“Can’t you do something?” urged Kurt.
“I have to touch people to influence them, and even if I didn’t, do you really think I could go against three members of the royal family?”
“Kill them! Kill them, I say, and feed their corpses to our Zandzoks.” Darlaan was close to foaming at the mouth. “After that, we will crush their pathetic fleets and rule the universe as gods, which is exactly what we are!”
I could see the poor Xortaags still suffered from a god complex and wondered if some therapy would help. I could refer them to an excellent therapist.
The officer I’d taunted before stepped forward, touching his sidearm. The rest of the guards followed him. Maada stood up, staring at us with hatred, and drew his weapon. He started walking around the table, coming towards us.
Terror filled me. I would’ve been less scared if I saw Death himself walking in my direction.
“Kill them,” yelled Darlaan.
“Kill them,” echoed Maada like an automaton, getting closer.
The other three officers stood, guns in hand, and joined him while repeating Darlaan’s command like a mantra. Several guard
s approached us from behind. We were completely surrounded.
I felt all the blood drain from my face and the hair on my nape and arms stood on end. It was one thing to face death during a dogfight, with adrenaline soaring through my veins and my faith in my own invincibility still (well, mostly) intact; it was a completely different matter to do it unarmed and helpless, like a trapped animal, unable to fight back, surrounded by Xortaags. Fear flooded my systems, and I thought my heart would explode. I wiped the beads of sweat that had appeared on my forehead and wished we’d brought the whole fleet with us.
I knew we couldn’t trust these bastards to keep their word!
And we were about to pay for that mistake with our lives.
I racked my brain looking for an option but found none. There wasn’t much I could do against a group of armed Xortaags. I looked at my friends to see if they had any ideas. Xornaa had always been difficult to read, more so under the Akakie hologram, but she was sitting still like a freaking statue, not even blinking. Kurt’s face was ashen, and tendons were standing out in his neck. “Wait until they get closer,” he whispered. “Our only hope is to try to disarm them.”
“And then what?” asked Xornaa. “The four of us are going to fight off the whole planet?”
“At least we can take a few of them with us, especially Maada,” I growled.
And Tarq…
Tarq was closely examining our faces and grinning from ear to ear, obviously enjoying himself. He caught my incredulous stare and flashed a mocking smile. “You people keep forgetting who I am.” Then he touched his PDD, which was still on the table.
A holographic recording appeared above the table, showing Mushgaana’s four brothers talking to someone who wasn’t in the frame. Then we heard a voice that was unmistakably Tarq’s, speaking in Xortaag language. “I must say I am surprised you let Mushgaana get so much power.”
“We had bigger fish to fry,” said Darlaan’s holographic image. “We were going to kill the old man”—he said “old man” with such contempt that it sounded like an insult—“but he went ahead and named Mushgaana as the crown prince, thus ruining our plans.”
Tarq touched his PDD and stopped the recording.
The room became so silent that you could hear a pin drop, a fly flap its wings, or two mosquitos have sex.
Darlaan’s jaw hit the floor, and his face became whiter than a vampire’s. He looked like a man who knew his life had just ended.
“You were planning to kill me?” bellowed the king, his face twisted in rage.
“Your Majesty, please allow me to introduce you to your sons—or at least to who they really are,” Tarq said casually, rubbing it in. The manipulator-in-chief was very, very good at his job. “And I feel obliged to point out Mushgaana’s death puts a target on your back.”
The three brothers froze. They stood motionless except for their eyes, which swerved inside their sockets. All the other Xortaags in the room seemed to let go of the breath they were collectively holding. Maada looked at the gun in his hand, then at the brothers, and fury flamed in his cold black eyes with such intensity that it scared the hell out of me.
“General?” the king asked softly.
Maada holstered his gun and walked towards Darlaan, taking his time. The prince’s eyes widened in horror, but he still couldn’t move a muscle. All he could do was stare impotently at the general walking towards him.
Maada stopped in front of the doomed man. “I warned you I would kill you the next time you got inside my head.” He grabbed Darlaan’s head and twisted it.
I heard the man’s neck snap all the way from my side of the table. Darlaan collapsed on the floor, eyes still wide open, staring at nothing.
Maada pointed at the other two statues in front of him. “What about these two?”
Prince Montaari and Prince Kallool (I guessed one was the crown prince now but didn’t know which one), two of the most powerful men in the galaxy and members of the Xortaag royal family who possessed scary telepathic powers, wet their pants at the same time. And who could blame them, with Maada standing in front of them, cracking his knuckles?
“Jail,” growled the king.
The guards dragged the two men away, and Maada returned to his seat. Everyone was quiet for a minute or three. Except for Tarq and Xornaa, we all looked a bit shocked.
Then the king stood up. “Commander Tarq. We will have to iron out many details, but please inform your government that I agree with your peace treaty.”
I slumped in my chair and heaved a heavy sigh of relief. So, we’d done it again. If I had a penny for every time my friends and I had faced certain death, and yet had somehow turned it into a stunning victory since this mess started a little more than a year ago, I’d be a rich man.
“You are a rich man,” said Venom. “And if you keep finding yourself in life-or-death situations, at some point you have to question your choices.”
Now all I wanted to do was to run away from this damned planet and forget I ever set foot on here. Kurt smiled at me and held his arm up in a victory V. I smiled back. Thinking about the magnitude of what we’d achieved right now was overwhelming. Peace in our time. Humanity was saved once and for all, and with the Akakies at our side, God only knew how far we could go. We were all safe. My loved ones, my friends, my allies, my species. It was as if a beam of light was shining inside my soul. I tipped my head back, turned my face to the sky, and savored the moment.
For one brief second.
Goddamn it!
Then I heard my own voice resonating in the conference hall. “What about the planets you still hold—planning to kill off all the local inhabitants?”
“Jim, what the hell are you doing?” whispered Tarq.
“Atoning for Talmak,” I whispered back.
I’d failed to save the Arshans. I’d failed to save Liz. I’d failed to save Keiko, Josef, Peter, and thousands of other pilots under my command. But I’d be damned if I let untold billions die on Xortaag-occupied planets. Over my dead body.
“And mine, apparently,” muttered Venom.
The king, who looked like he was about to leave the room, turned back and glowered at me. “The Xortaag kingdom will not give up even one of its planets.”
“We don’t want all of them,” I said. “Only about the thirty whose locals are still alive. You don’t expect us to watch as you slaughter all those people, do you?”
“You sound just like Liz,” said Venom.
I take that as a compliment.
“That’s what I meant,” said Venom. “The caring, self-sacrificing, always-do-the-right-thing one, not the crazy jump-then-look one.”
Let’s hope we don’t die trying to do the right thing.
“Out of the question,” said the king.
I thrust out my chest, feeling a vein pulse in my forehead. “We’ll find a solution, or there will be no peace treaty.”
“And who exactly are you to dictate terms?” demanded the king. “I was under the impression I was negotiating with the Akakie government.”
I am Ironman.
I wished I could’ve said that out loud, but with the king glaring at me, I figured this was not the time to mess around.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Tarq. “We are fully committed to—”
“I’m the commander of the Earth fleet,” I declared, cutting him off. “You reject my terms, and during my next visit to this backwater planet of yours, I will be accompanied by my pilots.”
Maada mocked me. “What, with the whole nine thousand space fighters you have, and almost half of them the old, outdated models?”
How the hell did he know exactly how many ships we had?
“They won’t be alone.” Kurt stood up next to me, shoulder to shoulder. “The Marines stand by the fleet.”
I was pleasantly surprised when Xornaa joined us. She gave Tarq a pointed look, but he didn’t move his ass from his seat.
Xornaa shrugged. “You know, I’ve just realized with the three prince
s gone, there’s no reason for me to keep up this charade.” The Akakie hologram shimmered and disappeared, and a second later the real Xornaa stood there in her Marine uniform.
The king arched an eyebrow at her; then his eyes rounded, and his mouth opened and closed like an out-of-water fish.
“Hello, grandpa,” said Xornaa.
I didn’t have time for this family drama. There was no way in hell I’d let Maada mock me and my pilots and get away with it. “I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you,” I taunted him. “The way I remember it, the last two times we met in battle, I killed you once, and the second time you ran away.”
“Can I please—” Tarq started to say.
Maada’s face became the same color as his stupid space fighter. Seriously, what kind of an idiot would paint a space fighter red? The insufferable, pompous, superiority-complex-suffering kind. Who did he think he was, Manfred von Richthofen?
“I do not run away, especially from the likes of you,” he yelled. “I was going to help our forces dirtside. It was a strategic move, not that I expect you to understand strategy.”
Tarq tried again. “Can I please—”
“We’re both here now, you freaking Whiskey Delta,” I yelled back and pounded my fist against the table. “I see no reason why we shouldn’t continue our duel.”
Maada jumped to his feet. “I have had enough of this loud-mouthed upstart—”
Tarq touched his PDD, and a deafening screeching sound emanated in the room. We all covered our ears and stared at him.
He ran a finger across the PDD screen and the sound stopped. “Can I please offer a solution? You don’t need to kill the locals. You can coexist with them.”
The king sneered. “You think they are going to forget what we did to them and share their planet with us?”
“Yes,” said Tarq. “We can use the OMC-BOWS to make them.”
I objected. “Absolutely not! How is that different from what the Xortaags are doing right now?”
“It’s completely different. We can make our messages subconscious and unobtrusive. The locals will be free and conscious; they just will not feel a need to exact revenge on the Xortaags.”
