Alliance

by Bruce S Larson

  “Maybe you can design better ones.” Laas said.

  “Maybe!” Shu’anff’s comparatively deep voice rose to a chirp. He was glad he was an engineer, at last. And, that he was accepted. The fearful stares had abated. Now, most people were curious about him and his large frame, normal for his own kind. He was glad to answer questions, and to employ the skills of his first-loved profession.

  “With generations, maybe we will gain enough knowledge to use what’s inside the vault. Safely.” Myra said. “I don’t think Buran could. Not fully.”

  “He was a great scientist.” Shu’anff said. “But, well, I’d like him better as a teacher than an admiral. More people would survive.”

  “Are you sure?” Niko asked with a playful tone. “Maybe his examinations were just as lethal as his ship. Would you live through them?”

  “I’m not sure he did,” Myra said with a low sigh.

  A collective grumble of anticipation rolled behind them.

  “Right. Do it Shnoff.” Niko said.

  His thick, brown finger covered the button designed for a Poledorian digit. The image of a section of the canyon flew part from an explosion. The camera shook and the screens went black. The room was silent.

  “Uh, I guess I needed to secure the cameras better.” Shnoff made the universal gesture of a slow, sheepish shrug.

  What once were pieces of planets had become simple but powerful weapons. With their assault halted, the fragments formed a chaotic debris cloud around the hemisphere of the battlefield on the Slags. Now they took on a familiar, safer formation. Gin coordinated with Proxis and Granok to use the ships in celestial engineering. Now the planetary fragments held a narrow, equatorial orbit with the ingot shield as a flat, shepherd moon. The result was a stable ring circling the planet Hell.

  Sentience did not require ceremony in all cultures. Ceremony for Proxis was piloting his hellship, even in standard orbit with nothing to fight. He did so now with reluctance on the top deck, not in front of his dais. Another duty called him away to see space with his eyes, not his screens.

  Observance for the fallen was a shared, cultural trait for most of the alliance. The principal commanders and many warriors gathered on the top deck of Anguhr’s vast ship. The aegis was scaled low so that all could see into space. Zaria projected a protective dome for those less able to tolerate stellar radiation and vacuum.

  The psychological barriers of traveling aboard the ships of many armageddons were left on the battlefield. The ring of fallen planets served as the memorial site for the slain of all forces. The bodies of Bandor, Drokatt, unique aliens, and demons left the hellships in identical cylinders to orbit within the ring for remembrance. The train of cylinders flew towards the arc of the ring visible beyond the shadow of Hell with open space as its backdrop.

  “Though I give our fallen tribute, our future still concerns me,” Bahl said as he watched the cylinder train. “The great spider, Shia Phring, still hangs in her hidden web.”

  “She has aged from menace to guardian.” Zaria said as she stood near Gin in her emerald armor.

  “A guardian. Of the Dark Urge.” Bahl furthered.

  “She will protect her charge, and thus the galaxy.” Zaria replied. “When fear is removed, other emotions, other realizations can flourish. The Dark Urge was driven by fear. Now she is a child. She can grow again as something more than the bringer of terror.”

  “With her guardian, her mother, as a giant spider.” Bahl glanced from space and to Zaria.

  “This world is known as Hell.” Zaria said, keeping her gaze at the new, planetary ring. “So, I see nothing strange in that.”

  Bahl glanced down at Solok. The demon seemed to be smiling.

  “So long as there is some hope of renewal, then why we are here is solemn but not wholly gripped in sorrow.” Inaht said, and sighed.

  “The great beast would appreciate a smile,” Bahl said as he watched the flight of the cylinders again. “His smile was difficult to discern on that reptilian face. But I imagine it was their more often than we knew.”

  “Yes. Now it is in our memory.” Inaht sighed again. “But many stand here because of his bravery. So, thank you, Aekos. Farewell, my great pain. My savior. My friend.”

  “Farewell to them all. Fine allies.” Gin added.

  Anguhr stayed silent. He thought of personal loss, and of the future. He had thought he lost Uruk, and he returned. He had only a recorded message from his mother, now itself a memory. He had nothing from his father, except his life and knowledge of his father’s sacrifice to preserve it. He glanced at Bahl, and thought of the part the Khan played in his parent’s history, and of the war just won that he and Bahl fought as allies. That was a legacy he could now define, free of revenge.

  Zaria turned to Anguhr. She cocked her head as if her mind caught a passing thought. “The future? Is it an empire, or an alliance, silent General?”

  Within his helmet, Anguhr arched an eyebrow at Zaria. “It is, as ever, undefined. Destiny can only be revealed in hindsight.”

  “Then, does it exist at all?” Zaria asked with a smile.

  “I exist. I intend to continue doing so.” Anguhr answered.

  “And the universe will be stronger.” Uruk spoke up as he stood among the giants with a unit of Ignitaurs led by Mintek.

  “Yes,” Mintek said. He spoke almost in a whisper, but all Ignitaurs spoke the same words in a chorus as if chanting a spell. “For others weave webs, and some use them as snares. Your axe may be needed again, lord of demons, destroyer of tyrants.”

  “As will warriors once feared, so much they called us demons.” Anguhr said. “Keep yours and your allies ready, General Uruk.”

  “Whatever the challenge, we will be ready.” Uruk bowed his head.

  “All hordes answer your call, Destroyer.” Solok added with pride.

  “General Uruk?” Bahl turned to Anguhr.

  “Yes. A General commands a horde, and a ship. Uruk commands both.” Anguhr replied.

  “This implies—” Bahl began.

  “Yes. I am keeping both ships. Call it destiny.”