“Almost twice what they had the first time,” she guessed, given the size and number of the sensor spikes they had detected, “maybe slightly more.”
“So, I am faced with fighting more than twice the humans who came before, with no supply chain? With no reinforcements?”
Silence answered him. He glanced at the others around him, seeing them turn their featureless faces down to the deck in fear.
“Why don’t we just destroy these new humans and complete our work?” one of them asked. The supreme commander looked at him, seeing no averting of his gaze. He saw the high sheen and rich brown color of his carapace indicating his young age, but his status evident in his size and overt strength was on show.
Arrogant youth, he thought, he still thinks that attitude can overcome insurmountable odds. The commander didn’t voice those opinions; showing weakness in front of any of his underlings was tantamount to suicide, but this one was even more dangerous. He was one of dozens of Va’alen from other clans who had been attached to the mission as either an opportunity to gain honor or else as some inter-clan bartering to strengthen bonds or repay debts. This one was there to earn glory, and the commander suspected that the glory would be to seize control of the mission and lead them to victory. The arrival of the aliens, foolishly broadcasting their planet’s history along with the detailed information about their physiology, had sparked panic initially. Not panic among his ranks of warriors, not among those who had volunteered for the mission, but among the weak and pathetic. Among those who were in this system distant from their home world without choice. It was those reluctant ones he had to inspire to work hard to achieve new mission goals now, and this upstart from another clan, who almost matched his size but boasted less than half of his age, was spreading his poison at every opportunity.
“Because, Aq Qa’shal, we have fewer than a thousand ships left at our disposal,” he began carefully, almost quietly so that the youth challenging him knew that he was speaking directly to him for his benefit alone. “Because we are stranded without reinforcements until this device can be made to work and we can send a ship back to our own system, so that it can be replicated and the clans can send ten thousand ships back to wipe out the humans, to eradicate them from the galaxy, to invade their home world and take all of their resources in punishment for the brave Va’alen they have killed here.”
His voice had risen with each sentence he spoke, and that made the rest of his entourage who were all of his own clan cower in submission with their blank faces turned down. The challenger did not cower. He did not adopt a pose of submission. Instead he stayed tall and resolute, but just as he made no show of deference to the supreme commander, he was also very careful to offer no confrontation. His behavior, which he knew would not go unnoticed, pushed the limits of their social interactions as far as they could possibly be pushed without either one of them being forced to lay down a challenge.
The would-be challenger broke the deadlock with an insincere bow which was automatically mimicked by his mate, who stood three paces behind him.
“Supreme Commander,” Qa’shal said acidly without investing any reverence of respect in his tone, “I am certain that if any Va’alen was equal to the challenges we face here, it is you who would triumph.”
Da’kath, frustratingly disarmed by the words and the face-value respect shown by them, was powerless to challenge him without provocation and if they ever got back, the Borka, their assembly of clan elders under guidance of their Hive Lords, would hold him responsible for the challenge and find it unwarranted. He would be forced to pay the price of the young Va’alen to his clan, and that price would be exorbitantly high enough to ruin him.
That was if the Hive Lords didn’t tear his limbs from his body beforehand.
And that’s if I even won the challenge, he thought sourly as he considered challenging the warrior again. Although young and inexperienced, he couldn’t deny the power and ability in the youth, so he decided to play it politically.
“And what would you suggest as a strategy, Aq Qa’shal?” the commander asked carefully, emphasizing his underling rank of Aq to his superior rank of Muq. A ripple of unease went through the entourage from his clan, because they knew the question was as much of a challenge as the false compliments he had received. The younger Va’alen from another clan was faced with an impossible choice; back down and defer to the supreme commander, which was to openly accept his leadership and make any subsequent challenge harder to explain, or else suggest a strategy and risk death if that strategy failed.
To his credit, or at least in testimony to his youthful arrogance, he didn’t hesitate.
“If I had the honor of being made Supreme Commander,’ he began dangerously, “I would send the hive further away into the system and avoid conflict with the humans… yet… I would scatter our forces and hide them, order them to bide their time until called to fight, and when the device was ready to send back to our world, I would launch our offensive – send wave after wave at them until they were destroyed, and we could take the system again and return bathed in glory.”
The supreme commander realized exactly what had just happened, and far from manipulating the youth, he saw that it was in fact he who had been played so expertly into a corner. The rash statement prompting action had been designed to make the supreme commander consider a challenge, and his supplication invited the political play for a suggestion to be made. Now the commander had to dismiss the proposed strategy, which would be very damaging if his own plan were less than perfectly successful, or follow it and risk the political challenge that an underling was responsible for any success.
He had been played, and it was all he could do to not tear the arms from the entitled brat. He didn’t because it would be politically unwise, and also because he couldn’t be totally sure that he would win the physical contest.
“If you had the honor…” the supreme commander mused icily. “Perhaps one day you will have the honor, but for now you do not. I will consider your strategy.” With that, he turned back to the chief engineer, who had been watching the interaction as though either of the powerful Va’alen would launch an attack on the other at any moment. The engineer dropped into a kneeling position of subservience.
“Finish your work,” Da’kath ordered, “or I will replace you with someone who can, and personally recycle your worthless carcasses.”
He turned and stalked away, his entourage scurrying after him in their pairs, with the exception of the clan challengers who walked tall and proud, and considered the impossible choice he faced.
Returning to his headquarters he leant heavily on the reflective expanse showing the system, claws clacking on the surface over the icon indicating the entry jump points for the humans. Another, closer icon showed a second sensor reading, where just one of the human ships had emerged into normal space too close to them for comfort. He had only a few thousand Va’alen, belonging predominantly to his own clan and well over half of them warriors, but they were stranded in the system and now faced the arrival of more humans just over a light year away. Those numbers, he mused angrily, were almost twenty percent lower than what he had come with because of his recent losses.
His clawed hands contracted, sharp ends scratching on the glass surface in angry frustration, as he couldn’t think of a better way than the suggestion he had been manipulated into asking for. His anger abated slightly as he considered how he could blame the challenger if the plan failed, but he could claim he had inspired creativity through leadership. That way, whatever the upstart from their allied clan would say should carry no less weight than his own reports.
Allied! he scoffed to himself. Perhaps ‘allied’ wasn’t the right term; more of an enemy at a truce for the sake of a joint venture.
The four main clans had always operated like that, at least as far back as his family’s legends had gone in the stories passed down through generations. At various points in their species’ history, two of the main clans would alw
ays be at war with one another. Some of the lesser clans would be brought in as proxy soldiers but usually the major clans fought for honor and position among their own. Missions such as the one he had been awarded command of saw him given the title of supreme commander, as other clans had sworn fealty to him and his clan leadership for just so long as he commanded the combined forces. Such collaborations weren’t uncommon, not when the prize was too large for any one clan to fund the expedition, but the politics were what the commander hated the most.
Heavy footsteps behind him made his back stiffen, his finely-honed senses shooting the alert across his brain like a ship’s main cannon. The sensation of completeness came to him and he relaxed. That feeling only ever relaxed him when his mate was close to his side. He stood tall and turned to face her, looking down on a tall and strong Va’alen warrior with a lighter carapace than his own. She was smaller than him, but nearly every other Va’alen was, and those who came close to his size and strength swore fealty to him, which he trusted above all else.
All with the exception of Aq Qa’shal, that was.
“You have decided, Supreme Commander?” she enquired with a tone of voice that indicated her opinion. He should have decided by that point, and if he had not, he should decide now and accept that choice.
“I have,” he responded in their own hissing, sibilant tongue. “Let the upstart have his plan, and if we suffer any losses, it will be he who answers for them. I will make sure of it.”
“It is not the Va’alen way,” she said simply. She stopped and ducked her head slightly, bowing her shoulders in a small but noticeable gesture of submission when her mate had reared up to tower over her as he issued a low growl. She closed her mouth to render the face of her carapace featureless, hiding her pointed teeth so no sign of challenge could be misconstrued by her mate.
“I will not be undermined,” he snarled, “not by some clan-challenger upstart and never by you.” His anger held him in place for a moment until she spoke.
“I do not challenge you, my mate,” she said firmly, “I only wish for your command to be clear and recognized.”
“It is,” he snapped with less anger than before, “and it will remain so. Give the orders; our forces are to divide into squadrons and lie in wait – not hide, make that clear – until I signal for action. The Hive Lords are to be removed from the Hive, with their permission of course, and spread out in the sector for their protection.” She bowed deeper and walked away to give the orders. They would scatter their forces, they would hide their hive and they would destroy the humans. Then he would lead a fleet of ships to their home world and take it.
“Ensure that sufficient supplies are sent to the moon base with a strong escort,” he threw over his shoulder at her. If nothing else, he hoped to salvage the invaluable precious metals which would serve to not only elevate his family’s standing in the clan, but also strengthen the entire clan’s position as the strongest of the leading houses.
“I mean it,” he added, “I want at least half a squadron there and I want them well equipped. I doubt the humans would find them anyway,” he thought out loud, hoping that his guess was accurate before adding, “and make sure they come from Qa’shal’s clan. That way the upstart can’t cause trouble.”
~
Aq Qa’shal stalked into his own quarters and finally allowed himself to pour out his frustration. He pounded the supporting pillar of the chamber with double blows from the clawed fists of his right and left arms in turn before spinning away in rage and letting out a muted snarl in place of a battle roar.
His own mate followed him, but the sense of completeness her presence brought served to calm him only slightly.
“Old fool,” he spat at her, as though it was her fault in some way, “dull-hided, weak, crusty old fool.”
“He is a fool,” Qa’shal’s mate agreed in a tranquil voice which he knew was an attempt to manipulate him into settling, “but he has played into your hands. You will strike a fearsome blow to the humans and all Va’alen will know that you are the better leader. They will turn from Da’kath and you will be named Supreme Commander. He will order our forces to run and hide, but your squadrons will destroy the human fleet and make this system safe for our forces once more.”
“But without their portal technology I am still at the mercy of the old fool. I should challenge him. I’ll rip the limbs from his dusty corpse.” He turned and slammed two more salvos of vicious punches into the inanimate structure, until dust rained down on him from the ceiling of the chamber.” His mate bowed in supplication, her body language and words showing deep respect and reverence for his mastery.
“Powerful Qa’shal,” she crooned softly as she kept her head bowed and raised the upper limbs of both sides to him, “your plan is good. It is destined to be successful and when it is–”
“If it is,” Qa’shal interrupted petulantly.
“When it is,” his mate corrected him gently, “you will be able to take control of all Va’alen forces here and return victorious. We will have our pick of the galaxy for a ruling seat, and I would expect to see us on the Sovereign Assembly soon.” Her words sobered him. They stifled his anger and smothered it with a blanket of ambition and hope.
“Very well,” Qa’shal agreed as he stood tall, “the old fool can wait for his demise. Order my squadrons to mobilize so we can crush the humans.”
Chapter Three – Deep Space near the twin suns
“Still nothing?” Torres asked, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. He had kept the crew of the Ichi at battle stations for close to half a day and knew that if he was feeling the strain, the people rotating on the tactical stations and gun positions would be worse off.
“Nothing, Sir. Not a peep,” replied the young officer at the tactical station.
“Alright,” Torres responded, “signal the crew to stand down but remain at general quarters. He stood, nodding to Sarvanto to take the chair as he walked to the captain’s quarters set just off the main bridge. He sat at his terminal, entered the newly encrypted details to access the subspace comm array and completed the final security check to make the ultra-long-distance call by scanning his bio-implant chip. The screen came to life to inform him that his access was granted, when the door gave a whistle like an old ship’s pipe.
“Yeah,” he said, seeing the door hiss aside and smiling as Amare Eze walked in. She was wearing her ship’s uniform of the same dark blue flight suit, but from her tousled hair he guessed she had just stood down from a gun position and removed her armor.
“Hi,” she said, returning his smile in a very unprofessionally intimate manner.
“Hi, yourself,” Torres said, returning the smirk as though they both shared a secret, like schoolchildren.
“Calling the Admiral to tell him it’s a ghost town out here?” she asked, leaning around his terminal to look at the screen. Torres fought the urge to kill the display and risk offending her by showing a lack of trust.
“Yeah, it’s eerie. Like they’ve packed up and left or something,” he said.
“How could they?” Eze answered, her curious and smooth accent washing over him as she perched one cheek on the corner of his desk, “you destroyed their ticket home, didn’t you?”
“I think we did,” Torres responded with a frown, “but who knows? They might have had another device, or built one, in the time we’ve been gone…”
“And they might’ve just abandoned the system and set off home. They might have cryo-technology or be in sub light speed reach of another gateway device. They might be hiding ready to jump out on us for a surprise party.”
Torres’ brow wrinkled into deeper lines. The thought that their enemy could be lying low somewhere was not lost on him, but unless they had managed to mask their signatures in the few months the fleet had been back on Mars rebuilding and refitting, he saw no way that the Va’alen could be hiding from their sensors.
“No,” he said, “they’re here somewhere. It’s our job to find them
.” Eze leaned closer, opening her mouth to say more, when her comm device pinged and a voice emanated from her left forearm.
“Viper, Grip,” Brandt’s voice said confidently. Eze leaned back with a playful look at her captain and secret lover to activate the comm.
“Go ahead, Commander,” she said, not taking her eyes off Torres.
“Combat crash deck in five,” Brandt ordered with her casual ease of authority in giving a brusque order in such a way that nobody took offence.
“Aye aye,” she said back, killing the comm link and standing with a sigh and a last wistful look at Torres. She turned and walked away without another word, pausing at the door to fire a deadly-accurate wink at him.
Torres shook it off and straightened his face as it didn’t serve to contact the fleet admiral wearing a look like an excited teenager. The call went through, connecting and going immediately on hold as he imagined Dassiova walking from the bridge to his own cabin, where he sat and activated the terminal. His gruff and unimpressed face filled the view in front of Torres.
“Report, Captain,” Dassiova said as he leaned back to sip on a steel mug of something hot. He looked at it, confused as he was expecting coffee and instead found himself drinking a kind of soup that he didn’t recognize.
“No trace of the enemy, Sir,” Torres told him in a voice that sounded more confident than it truly was, “they didn’t react to us jumping in. No sign of any search or pursuit.”
“Good,” Dassiova said, not seeming to share the young captain’s unease, “maybe the bastards have packed up and gone home?” He sipped his soup again, the look of confusion gone to be replaced by unexpected satisfaction.
“Perhaps, Admiral…” Torres said, allowing a note of trepidation to creep into his voice.
“Spit it out, son,” Dassiova said, “just say what’s on your mind.”
Conflict: The Expansion Series Book 3 Page 3
