Barbarians
Author: HeWhoLooksSkyward
Date: 2022-01-18T00:00:00+00:00
Publisher: anonymous

Table Of Contents

- Table Of Contents -
Barbarians - Chapter 1
Barbarians - Chapter 2
Barbarians - Chapter 3
Barbarians - Chapter 4
Barbarians - Chapter 5
Barbarians - Chapter 6
Barbarians - Chapter 7
Barbarians - Chapter 8
Barbarians - Chapter 9
Barbarians - Chapter 10
Barbarians - Chapter 11
Barbarians - Chapter 12
Barbarians - Chapter 13
Barbarians - Chapter 14
Barbarians - Chapter 15
Barbarians - Chapter 16
Barbarians - Chapter 17
Barbarians - Chapter 18
Barbarians - Chapter 19
Barbarians - Chapter 20
Barbarians - Chapter 21
Barbarians - Chapter 22
Barbarians - Chapter 23
Barbarians - Chapter 24
Barbarians - Chapter 25
Barbarians - Chapter 26
Barbarians - Chapter 27
Barbarians - Chapter 28
Barbarians - Chapter 29
Barbarians - Chapter 30
Barbarians - Chapter 31
Barbarians - Epilogue
The Barbarian War - Chapter 1
The Barbarian War - Chapter 2
The Barbarian War - Chapter 3
The Barbarian War - Chapter 4
The Barbarian War - Chapter 5
The Barbarian War - Chapter 6
The Barbarian War - Chapter 7
The Barbarian War - Chapter 8
The Barbarian War - Chapter 9
The Barbarian War - Chapter 10
The Barbarian War - Chapter 11
The Barbarian War - Chapter 12
The Barbarian War - Chapter 13
The Barbarian War - Chapter 14
The Barbarian War - Chapter 15
The Barbarian War - Chapter 16
The Barbarian War - Chapter 17
The Barbarian War - Chapter 18
The Barbarian War - Chapter 19
The Barbarian War - Chapter 20
The Barbarian War - Chapter 21
The Barbarian War - Chapter 22
The Barbarian War - Chapter 23
The Barbarian War - Chapter 24
The Barbarian War - Chapter 25
The Barbarian War - Chapter 26
The Barbarian War - Chapter 27
The Barbarian War - Chapter 28
The Barbarian War - Chapter 29
The Barbarian War - Chapter 30
The Barbarian War - Chapter 31
The Barbarian War - Chapter 32
The Barbarian War - Chapter 33
The Barbarian War - Chapter 34
The Barbarian War - Chapter 35
The Barbarian War - Chapter 36
The Barbarian War - Chapter 37
The Barbarian War - Chapter 38
The Barbarian War - Chapter 39
The Barbarian War - Chapter 40
The Barbarian War - Chapter 41
The Barbarian War - Chapter 42
The Barbarian War - Chapter 43
The Barbarian War - Chapter 44
The Barbarian War - Epilogue
The Barbarian Betrayal - Prologue
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 1
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 2
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 3
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 4
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 5
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 6
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 7
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 8
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 9
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 10
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 11
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 12
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 13
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 14
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 15
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 16
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 17
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 18
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 19
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 20
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 21
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 22

Barbarians - Chapter 1

Are we not good enough?
Are we not brave enough?
Is the violence in our nature
Just the image of our maker?
Are we not good enough?

Rise Against - "The Violence"

Leandra Singh gazed up at the towering spires of the Triumvirate’s capital city and did her best not to succumb to dismay. It wasn’t easy, for the structures seemed tailored to humble its visitors. The blue and green alien skyscrapers were perfection brought to life, their clean simple lines giving an almost ethereal impression to Humans like herself. Even after all this time, Earth couldn’t begin to match their architecture, and yet these same buildings were ancient. They were already old long before Mankind built his the first pyramid, though they gleamed as if they had constructed them only yesterday. They were ageless, awe-inspiring...and the symbol of everything she had grown to hate about this alien land.

Admit it, the job is getting to you; she thought to herself, especially today. Once a year she had the unenviable task of carrying a petition to the highest leaders of the Triumvirate, and as she stepped inside the building and placed her palm against the lift panel, she wondered if this time she’d be able to keep her feelings to herself. Just how many times could you pound your head against the wall in frustration, before you threw in the towel?

The doors slid open, beckoning to her, as she steeled her resolve and stepped inside. She heard no sound as the doors closed behind her, no sense of movement felt as it carried her to the very top floor of the Ministry Center. If there was a center of power in the ancient Triumvirate, it was here; the individuals waiting for her the latest holders of an office that stretched back to a time when Man wore animal skins and hunted Wooly Mammoth with flint-tipped spears.

A point they ensured Mankind was not allowed to forget.

The doors slid open once more as she arrived at her destination. The Ministers of the Triumvirate awaited her in their Chamber, as poised and perfect as ever, and as she stepped forward, she regarded each of the three individuals as she prepared herself for her address.

The Saurotaur Minister Lassoarth gazed at her, her hands folded as she watched her approach with large golden eyes. Her species had a serenity that any human monk would envy, their green pebbled skin covering a shape reminiscent of the Centaurs of legend. Her head was broad and ridged, and a trick of the light made it almost seem if she were smiling. Leandra knew better than to take that at face value; in fact, the unfailing politeness known to her people made it even more difficult to accept their decisions.

Flanking her was the Ophipteran Minister Qomzoixaa, his transparent dragonfly wings in constant motion, while his flat snake-like head weaved and twitched as if to music only he could hear. His green conical eyes darted about in search of predators, returning to her far too often to be anything resembling a hopeful sign.

On a raised column between them rested a smooth polished sphere...the Ronin Minister Σ 121 Sub Δ. The artificial race had earned its name because of the loss of their Creators, who had disappeared millennia ago in some ancient disaster. Their mechanical servants had remained, undergoing their own form of evolution in the years that followed.

Leandra came to a halt a respectful distance from the waiting Ministers, her head bowed as she greeted them. “Ministers, I bring before you a Petition from the Governor-General of Earth, a request to improve our standing in Triumvirate society and government.”

Lassoarth inclined her head, inviting her to come forward. “We look forward to hearing your Petition, Ambassador. Please proceed.”

She stepped forward, raising her head, the robes of her office swishing about her as began to speak. “In the ninety years since our races first met, Mankind has held a Probationary status in the Triumvirate. We understood your reasons, for we are a young race compared to each of yours. Humanity knew it had much to learn from you, and over the years we have striven to meet the benchmarks for advancement you have laid out for us. With your help we have abolished war, ended poverty, and taken the first real steps towards the future our species has long dreamed of, and feared would never come. Your guidance has taught us much, though often the lessons have been difficult to accept. And now we stand before you, a race united, asking for the opportunity to stand beside you, not as supplicants...but as equals.”

Lassoarth and Qomzoixaa shared a brief glance, while the thoughts of Σ 121 Sub Δ were impossible to discern. They’d danced this dance so many times before, and each knew well the steps to perform, and yet despite it all, Leandra hoped this time, it would be different.

The Ophipteran’s wings buzzed as he turned back to face her. “Your people have come far since we met so many years ago and while you have impressed us with your progress we feel that any change in your status would be premature since as you said you are still a young race.” They would have left any human trying to get that sentence out in a single breath gasping by the effort, but for the Minister’s race, it was simply the way they spoke...as once again they dashed her hopes.

“…may I ask why?” she asked with care. Keep that temper of yours in check! Leandra cautioned herself, as she searched his face for answers. “Have we not met every criterion you have demanded of us? What else must we do, to gain acceptance among your ranks?” She knew she was grasping at straws…but they were all she had left.

The Ronin Minister’s artificial voice emanated from the column it rested on. “It is illogical to grant your race increased status, Ambassador. There are still disturbing elements to your society that would make any such alteration ill-advised. Despite our best efforts, your people still show an unhealthy attachment to violence and self-destruction.”

Even though she’d known it was coming, hearing those words went down hard. “Ministers, Mankind has not fought a war in our living memory. We screen each child from before birth for any genetic or biochemical markers that might signal a propensity for violence. We have made the mental health of our people every bit as important as their physical health, and the medical establishment monitors us for any warning signs throughout our lives. So I ask you again, Ministers, what else must we do?”

“All you say is true, Ambassador,” Lassoarth said, “yet your kind still seeks violence as entertainment. This racial trait concerns us, for why would any sane sapient embrace such an unhealthy form of recreation?”

The Guilds, she sighed, it always comes back to the Guilds. Channeling Mankind’s warlike impulses into something peaceful had not been an easy task, and for those individuals who found traditional sports too tame for their liking, they had formed the Guilds. With elements of both Gaming and Historical Recreation, the Guilds offered the masses an outlet that appealed to their baser instincts and yet was about as dangerous as Tiddlywinks. They fought battles within the safe confines of computers, and the yearly Finals drew as much (if not more) excitement as the World Cup. It was safe, it was harmless...and for the Triumvirate, proof Humans were just as bloodthirsty as they’d always been.

“Minister, I submit our choices of recreation should have no bearing on our Petition,” Leandra replied through a clenched jaw. “There is no actual conflict, and it harms no one. It is mere competition, nothing more.”

“Ambassador what you see as a harmless activity we view as a symptom of some deeper pathology which makes it impossible for us to grant your species the license it seeks though you should not feel disheartenment by this and use our criticisms not as a denunciation but as a guide for self-improvement,” Qomzoixaa got out, as she fought to keep her own temper in check...which would only prove their point for them.

“Ministers,” she said with a clenched jaw, “we are not you. It is discriminatory to judge us by these kinds of arbitrary standards...standards written long ago, without taking into consideration our unique racial characteristics. If you would just give us a chance, we will prove to you our worth.” Even though she’d known the odds were slim of them granting Earth’s Petition, hearing the words out loud tore at her.

“As you yourself stated, Humanity has made great strides since our first encounter,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said in measured tones. “But you seek to claim a privilege you are not yet ready to wield. In time, we hope you will be, but that day is not yet here.”

Twelve times she had come before this body to make this same request, and twelve times they had turned her down. Others had stood on this same spot before her, and others would come after...and all the while the Triumvirate dangled a carrot in front of them, one she had long suspected they would never relinquish. Despite her best efforts to remain calm, their condescending words dug into her flesh. Easy for them to call themselves evolved and mature! The Saurotaurs and Ophiptera were herbivores, and the Ronin machines. Mankind could never meet those impossible standards.

Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, she thought with a cold smile.

“From the day we met, you’ve looked down at us,” Leandra said with quiet fury. “You’ve sneered at our savage nature, insinuated we’re little more than half-evolved apes, and every time we’ve done as you asked...as you demanded...you’ve moved the goalposts.” Lassoarth and Qomzoixaa looked at her with sudden alarm, drawing back from her anger. “You sit here safe, behind your planetary shields, and dare to judge us for having to claw our way out of the muck. And what have you become?”

A sneer appeared on her face, even though in some recess of her mind she knew she was feeding their fears. It didn’t matter, she’d been bottling it up for far too long, and nothing would stop her from letting it out now. “Stagnant. Static. Torpid. You haven’t made a scientific advancement in a thousand years, and you haven’t colonized a new world in three thousand. Your population has been declining for centuries...and yet here you sit, impugning us.” Leandra knew she was rapidly talking herself right out of a job, but she no longer cared. It felt too damn good.

“You built yourselves a Utopia,” she charged on, as the Ministers seemed to be searching for a means to escape her wrath, “and you’ve pissed it away. We would give anything to have just the smallest piece of what you’ve built, and yet you still deny us any technology beyond the most basic. Just how long to expect us to be your whipping boy before we cry ‘Enough!’”

Her chest heaved as she ran out of invective to hurl, her nostrils flaring, her face flushed with adrenaline. The herbivores shrank back, unable to speak...but the machine suffered no such qualms.

“Your outburst is the most convincing proof of all that your species is not yet ready,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said. “If you cannot contain your emotions, how can you claim equal status? Your entire argument collapses under its own weight, Ambassador.” The Ronin were famous for having no emotions, but Leandra could hear the gloating in its voice.

“You’re right, Minister,” she said at last, “we’re not your equals.” The red-hot anger that had been running through her veins only moments before had become something much colder...and crueler.

“...we’re better,” Leandra hissed, before turning on her heels and storming out of the chamber, leaving chaos in her wake.

Barbarians - Chapter 2

I’ve been here since dawn of time
Countless hatreds built my shrine
I was born in anger’s flame
He was Abel, I was Cain
I am here
I’m hell unbound
Burn your kingdom to the ground

Metallica - “Here Comes Revenge”

Acolyte Nassat knelt before the symbolic flame, his fore and hind legs tucked in close as he bowed his head in meditation. The Saurotaur faith was a simple one, focused on quiet contemplation, and for those that chose the ascetic life filled their days with seeking answers to the Great Truths from within. Did one choose their Path, or did Fate decide? Is Reality something that could be measured, or was it an illusion? The internal debates that went to the core of their faith did not come easily to him, but he had vowed to find the serenity he saw on the visages of the older monks.

“Is Morality constant, Acolyte, or is it a reed in the wind?” he heard behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Nassat turned to see the Venerable Eashray regarding him with hooded eyes, as he struggled to answer the question.

“It is constant, Honored Venerable,” he replied, after a moment’s reflection. “A Morality that bows to outside forces is not Morality, but Corruption.”

The elder Monk drew himself up. “Defend your position,” he challenged.

Nassat swallowed. “Morality is a doctrine that guides us, to help us choose good from evil,” he said. “Good does not cease to be Good because one’s circumstances change, nor does Evil cease to be Evil. An outside force may demand otherwise, but that does not alter Truth.” He looked up to his Master, praying his answer was the correct one.

The older Monk smiled. “Quite so, young Acolyte. Truths are eternal and inviolable. They are the amassed wisdom of millennia, tested and proven again and again. To think otherwise based on a whim is indeed Corruption.”

The young Acolyte smiled in return, his hide rippling with the pleasure of Eashray’s approval when an odd thought entered his mind. “Master...what if we found new data? Some new Truth we had not known before? Could that alter Morality?”

The Venerable’s smile disappeared. “And what supposed Truth do you think we have not yet discovered, young Nassat? Wiser minds than yours have searched for answers since the dawn of our history, and if such Truth did exist, we would already have found it.” He sniffed at the still prostrate male, who bowed his head once more.

“Forgive my impertinence, Honored Venerable,” Nassat blurted out. “I ask only because you teach us to question. Does that not mean there are still Truth’s yet to learn?”

“We teach you to question to learn those Truths,” Eashray said. “To internalize them, and make them your own, not to question the collective wisdom of all those who have gone before. Or do you believe you are more enlightened than they?”

Nassat's head bowed even deeper. “...of course not, Honored Venerable,” he whispered.

The Monk glared at him, and then jerked his head towards the doorway. “Assist in preparing the evening meal,” he commanded, “and while you do, reflect on your transgression.”

“Yes, Honored Venerable,” Nassat replied, as he lumbered to his feet and scurried away before he incurred even more penalties. But as he made his way to the kitchens, his mind kept returning to the Monk’s reaction.

He’d only asked a question.

A soft chime announced an incoming call, as Leandra looked up from the report she’d been perusing...only to blink in surprise when she spied the Governor-General’s official seal on her screen. She took a moment to tuck an errant wisp of hair behind her ear and take a calming breath before pressing the “Accept” button on the com.

“Governor, this is indeed an honor,” she said, as an elder male with silver hair looked back at her.

“Ambassador Singh,” Governor Granville nodded. “I’ve just received a com from the Triumvirate Ministry. It seems your recent visit made quite the impression.” He gazed at her, with no hint as to his thoughts.

Leandra stifled a sigh as she nodded in return. “I was just finishing my report, Sir,” she mumbled. “I’m afraid I let my emotions get the better of me, and for that, you have my deepest apologies.”

Granville didn’t answer immediately, letting the silence draw out as she fought the urge to fidget in her seat. “Sir,” she said at last. “If you desire my resignation, you’ll have it within the hour.”

The Governor let her stew a bit longer, before shaking his head. “That won’t be necessary,” he said at last. “To be honest, I’ve been expecting this.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You have?”

“For some time now, in fact,” he replied, as a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Leandra, you’ve lasted longer as Ambassador than any of your predecessors. Did you ever wonder why?”

The question caught her off guard, but as she turned it over in her mind, she found herself curious. “Not until now, Sir,” she answered. “I guess I’d always assumed they just decided to move on.”

“They did, but that wasn’t the reason they resigned,” Granville said with a shrug. “Eventually, they were all overwhelmed with the sheer futility of the post…just like you,” he said. “The Triumvirate hasn’t budged a centimeter in ten thousand years on any subject. Even acknowledging us was a huge change in their policy...and it wouldn’t have happened at all if we hadn’t literally landed on their doorstep.” The exploration vessel that stumbled onto the Triumvirate had suffered a mechanical failure and diverted from their original course to make repairs. Earth would have found them sooner or later...the size and location of their region of space made that inevitable...but the first meeting was an accident.

Leandra nodded in agreement. “Nothing ever changes with them. I guess I hadn’t realized how it was affecting me until this last meeting.”

“They can be downright infuriating, and if it wasn’t for the technology they’ve shared, we would have walked away from the table years ago.” He leaned forward, looking at her. “I can offer you another post...perhaps a Cabinet position on Zion?”

“That’s… a very generous offer, Sir,” Leandra said, in something of a daze. She’d been dreading this conversation; certain she would face his wrath. To discover he was anything but displeased with her was quite the reprieve. “May I have some time to consider my options?”

“Take all the time you need,” he smiled. “After all, I’ll need to screen candidates for your replacement. If you have any recommendations, I’d be happy to entertain them.”

“I have a short list,” she smiled. “I’ll forward it to you immediately.”

“I look forward to reading it,” he answered. “Let me know what you decide. Granville, clear.” The screen went blank as he ended the transmission.

Leandra leaned back in her chair and fingered her necklace. It was a tempting offer, as one of Earth’s older colonies Zion would be a step up, and a nice addition to her résumé. It was a shame in some ways to leave the Ambassador post, but the Governor-General was right...nothing ever changed in the Triumvirate.

A cold wind swept across the barren landscape, as a lone warrior made his way up the small hill, to the Place of Skulls. The chieftains of a thousand clans lined his path, each bearing a torch as they waited in silence. Though their technology had advanced over the long bitter years, this place was sacred. Their distant ancestors had first landed here, little more than starving refugees on broken ships, falling to their knees and rejoicing that the Fates had granted them even one more day of life.

Dakik was a harsh world, demanding much from those that called it home. Only the strong survived here, and yet it had shaped his people as a stone hones a blade. A vow was made in this place, long ago, and as time marched on the people of the Khonhim race prepared themselves for the day when that vow would be fulfilled.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz reached the top of the craggy tor and turned to face the waiting horde. His nostrils took in the acrid air, his jet-black eyes gazing at those surrounding him, old allies and foes alike. He bore the scars of countless battles, and as his fingers caressed the worn dagger at his hip a thin smile of triumph appeared on his lips.

“Countless ages ago, our forebears made a pact,” he intoned to the silent crowd. “They were a beaten people, defeated...the ragged remnants of a once proud race. Hounded from their lands, fleeing with nothing but the cloth on their backs, watching in sorrow as their loved ones were torn from their grasp, and left to perish. This, we remember.”

“We remember,” the horde chanted in reply.

“Those that survived the Dark Years passed the tale to their children, and their children’s children,” he continued. “They vowed that one day they would take back what was theirs, to avenge our honored dead.” Jiyazh took a moment to let the crowd reflect before he continued. “But the Khonhim were few in number, struggling to survive, so it was up to their descendants to fulfill to vow. They charged their progeny to prepare for that sacred day, to hone their skills, and become even greater than they had once been. This, we remember.”

“We remember,” the horde answered.

“And in the fullness of time, Fate smiled upon the Khonhim,” he said with pride. “Our numbers grew, our children lived and thrived, and it was good.” Jiyazh paused once more, as his features darkened. “But the people forgot their vow, turned their backs on the promise of their ancestors. They became scientists, and teachers, and walked the Path of Peace. Fate saw the Khonhim falter and weaken, allowing themselves to become soft and without honor...so Fate intervened once again, and sent to us the Flaming Star, the rock from the heavens. It smashed into this world and brought us pain and sorrow. This too, we remember.”

“We remember,” the horde said once more.

“And so, we began again...but this time we did not forsake our vow. The Path of Peace led to our downfall, so instead, we chose the Path of War. Clan warred against Clan, Tribe against Tribe, brother against brother, and each generation that followed grew stronger than the last. Our People have been to the fire, felt the smith’s hammer as it shaped us, all to prepare us for the day when we would honor the vow.” He searched the crowd, his gaze landing on a grizzled warrior with a single remaining eye. Jiyazh lifted his hand and pointed him out. “Mobhudh and I have faced each other in battle countless times. I have tasted his blade, and he mine.” The older man nodded in agreement, returning his unwavering look. “And yet today, I call Mobhudh my kinsman...for today we are all kinsmen.”

A hungry growl began to spread amongst the horde as they listened to his words. “For today...this day...we fulfill our forebear's vow. This day we mount our ships and return to our ancient lands. This day we take back what was ours.”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz, the chosen leader of his people, pulled his dagger from its sheath and raised it to the sky. “This day, we remind those that tried to destroy us we have not forgotten our vow...for we remember!”

"WE REMEMBER!" the horde screamed, as they raised their own blades to the heavens, the howling winds carrying their promise across the land.

Barbarians - Chapter 3

Oh, a storm is threat'ning
My very life today
If I don't get some shelter
Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away

War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away

The Rolling Stones - “Gimme Shelter”

Φ Prime Ξ 57 sent out a mental command to one of the Positron Collectors in stationary orbit over the microquasar, ordering it back to the storage facility. The Triumvirate relied on Matter/Antimatter annihilation as an energy source, but even for their advanced technology creating antimatter was still a labor-intensive process, with little reward. It was far simpler to mine the valuable substance, and the best location to find any measurable amount was in the two jet streams radiating from the microquasar on the edge of Triumvirate space. There were smaller harvesting facilities elsewhere, but the Giayaam microquasar was by far their most productive site.

The collector began its journey back to storage, crossing paths with its replacement. The high energy jets were destructive, and the collectors could survive their onslaught for only very brief periods before a replacement was required. The entire operation was automated, apart from Φ Prime Ξ 57 itself, though given the Ronin’s artificial nature that could be argued either way. It was far too hazardous an environment for mere flesh and blood, so by long tradition, a rotating corps of Ronin assumed responsibility for the operation. The job required lightning fast reflexes and attention to detail, areas in which the mechanical Ronin excelled. On rare occasions, it would transfer its sphere to one of the various automatons involved with the collection process to handle operations directly, but other than that it was a tedious and routine assignment.

A proximity alarm suddenly clamored for its attention. It was far too early for its replacement to be arriving on station, so Φ Prime Ξ 57 diverted some of its attention to the signal. Multitasking was also one of its racial abilities, but when it examined the source of the signal more it found itself at an unheard-of loss for words. It had detected a fleet of ships in the vicinity, and on closer inspection, they were of a type unknown to the Triumvirate’s databanks. A new race, perhaps? Φ Prime Ξ 57 hoped that wasn’t the case, even though it had been almost a century since they had met the Humans from Earth, they were still struggling to accommodate the fledgling species. There was a rather vocal minority, one that Φ Prime Ξ 57 found itself in agreement with, that believed the Triumvirate would be much better off sending the humans packing. Their technology was primitive in the extreme, and their culture even more troubling. Their history of violence made them a poor fit, in its opinion, but the government had overruled the minority faction.

These ships were not Terran or Triumvirate, so that begged the question of what they were, and what its response should be. Should it attempt a greeting, or quietly gather data? The one thing it could not do, however, was send a message by com back to the Ministry. The microquasar’s emissions played merry havoc with the Ansible Faster-Than-Light system, but it had another method it could use. Φ Prime Ξ 57 had several message drones available, but they would be detected by the unknown ships if they were launched.

The system updated its information, and Φ Prime Ξ 57 realized with an uneasy feeling that was a moot point. Some of the ships had broken off the main body and were now heading his way, and it realized just how unlikely it was that they were just dropping by for a friendly visit. First Contact with the Humans had been with a single ship, not an armada, and with that acknowledgement, the decision became a simple one. It took less than a second to upload its sensor data into the message drone, and moments later it was sent roaring off to Triumvirate territory.

Φ Prime Ξ 57 watched in shock as a ship destroyed the drone less than two minutes later, killing it with a powerful energy beam.

A thousand scenarios raced through its electronic mind, and they all ended the same way. Still, there was something else it could try. Once again it uploaded its data, but this time it sent all its drones haring away, each in a different direction. It would be all but impossible for the alien fleet to intercept every one of them, ensuring that at least some would make it back.

The alien fleet reacted instantly, its ships splitting off in pursuit. They must have guessed their purpose and decided that no message would be allowed to be sent back to the Ministry. More beams slashed out, and one by one the drones blinked out of existence until the last one disappeared from its sensors. It took Φ Prime Ξ 57 several seconds to accept what its sensors were saying...it had been certain at least one drone would have gotten through. That every single one of its drones had been destroyed shook its confidence to the core, and several more minutes ticked by before it attempted one final tactic of desperation. Focusing its com system on the nearest vessel it beamed a message on maximum gain.

Unknown ship, this is Triumvirate space. We are not a threat to you and request a chance to speak. Please respond.

Twenty minutes later Φ Prime Ξ 57 received a reply, as half a dozen ships blew it into component atoms.

Leandra Singh stood on the balcony of the Embassy, staring up at the sky. The sun had just finished setting, and as she gazed out over the alien city the first stars began to appear, distorted as always by the planet’s shield. She’d never gotten used to the sight, and seeing them unfiltered once more was something she looked forward to when she assumed her new post on Zion. No date was set as the candidates for her replacement were still being vetted, but she had every confidence that Governor-General Granville would handle it quickly and efficiently.

A polite cough behind her pulled her from her reverie, turning to spot her assistant Amadeo Riese holding a pad and wearing a polite smile. “Madam Ambassador, the latest update for Earth,” he told her, holding up the tablet. She waved him over and took the device from his hands, giving it an almost cursory glance before affixing her signature and handing it back. “See that it goes out immediately,” she told him, as she once again turned her sights to the alien sky.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded, tucking the tablet back under his arm. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, not tonight,” she answered, before giving him a wry look. “It won’t be long before you’ll be breaking in a new Ambassador,” she said with a smirk.

Riese chuckled. “I’m sure we’ll muddle through somehow, Ma’am,” he replied, before pausing. “Madam Ambassador, may I be blunt?” he asked in suddenly serious tones.

Leandra raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Amadeo. What’s on your mind?”

The dark-haired man took a moment to respond. “Ma’am, I just wanted to say it’s been a pleasure serving with you...and that I understand why you’ve decided to move on. You may not want to hear this but I believe you’ve done a lot of good during your tenure.”

“I didn’t make so much as a dent, not after twelve years,” she snorted. “The Triumvirate have created their perfect little society, and nothing is allowed to rock the boat.” Her features softened, as she regarded him. “But thank you, for your kind words.”

“I beg to differ, Ma’am,” he replied. “I believe the Ministers were listening to you. They  just couldn’t bring themselves to accept it.” He shrugged, sparing a moment to glance into the sky. “Their entire culture...their entire history...is wrapped around the central tenet they have created the perfect society. Their minds aren’t able to accept any data that conflicts with that.” He spread his hands out in an almost Gallic gesture, before cocking his head in curiosity. “You know, something has always puzzled me.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Leandra asked him.

He pointed up at the night sky, at the odd greenish overcast at the distorted stars. “Their planetary shields. Why do they even need them? Are they that fearful of meteorites?”

She paused for a moment, before looking back up at the sky. “You know, we’ve never gotten a good answer to that,” she admitted. “They’ve been up there so long, I’m not sure they even remember why they created them.”

Amadeo chuckled. “They’re not alone in that. Did you ever hear the story about the flower of Catherine the Great?”

Leandra stared at him in confusion. “A flower? No, I don’t think so.”

His grin grew wider. “According to the legend, Otto von Bismarck was visiting the Tsar’s Summer Palace in St. Petersburg, while serving as the Prussian Ambassador. One day he noticed a guard standing watch in the middle of a meadow. Being a military officer, he knew there was no reason for a sentry to be standing alone in a field so he made inquiries, and everyone he asked said the same thing; ‘We have always had a guard posted there.’” His eyes twinkled with delight as he waited for her reaction.

The Ambassador tried to play it off, but curiosity got the better of her. “All right, I’ll bite. Why was a guard posted in the middle of a meadow?”

Her assistant chuckled once again. “They managed to track down an old pensioner, who recalled a story told to him by his father when he was a boy. As he told it, Catherine the Great was on a walk one day when she spotted a daffodil, the first one that spring. She ordered a guard to stand watch so no one would trample it...” He paused for dramatic effect, “...one hundred years earlier.”

She stared at him in disbelief, before a giggle broke free. The more she tried to stifle it the worse it got, until there were tears in her eyes as she staggered against the railing in fits of laughter. Amadeo laughed right along with her until she could get herself back under control again. “Oh, that’s perfect!” she snickered. “Do you think it’s true?”

Riese grinned once more. “I don’t know. I hope it is. There’s something about the sheer absurdity of it that appeals to my belief in the perverse nature of the Universe.”

Leandra wiped her eyes, before placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you,” she told him, “I needed that.”

“Anytime, Madam Ambassador,” he smiled, holding up the tablet. “I’ll send this out immediately.” Amadeo gave her a brief polite bow. “Goodnight, Ma’am.”

“Goodnight,” she replied, as he disappeared back the way he came, leaving her alone with her thoughts once more. Part of her would miss this place, but she was already looking forward to the views of Zion.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz stood on the bridge of the flagship Oathkeeper, filled with pride as he looked out at the fleet. They had drawn first blood, and while the engagement had been brief it had also been satisfying. The fleet had responded quickly to the flurry of unmanned craft, quickly dispatching them before they could escape, allowing them to keep the advantage of surprise. They could not keep their presence a secret forever, but as long as they could he had every intention of using it to maximum effect. He could sneak into the enemy’s camp like a thief in the night, hitting one isolated outpost after another, but the warrior within rejected that option immediately. They hadn’t fired a single weapon in retaliation, not one, and if that was true on the fringes of his territory, what awaited them when they struck at the adversary's very heart?

A cold smile appeared on his face, as he turned to his Helmsman. “What is the distance to the nearest core world?”

The Helmsman took a moment to check his display. “We could be there in less than two days’ time, Dhyaksh.”

“Then do so,” he commanded, as the fleet adjusted course.

Soon, his mind whispered, you will taste my blade.

Soon you will know real fear.

Barbarians - Chapter 4

The start of Armageddon
It was just another day
We all saw the news, nothing to say
So many friends are missing, our family members gone
So we all pray that God help them be strong

Good Charlotte/Mest/Goldfinger - “The Innocent”

The crew of the Earth ship Wayfarer sat in a parking orbit high above the Triumvirate planet Jituttaz, waiting for authorization for resupply. Their erstwhile allies had spent ten millennia raising the concept of bureaucracy to high art and seemed to take extra joy in inflicting it on the poor backward humans.

“I don’t believe this!” Gernot Roldán snarled, pounding the console in frustration. “Twelve more hours? For what?”

Captain Nneka Hollands shook her head at her Exec as she read the message on her display. “According to this, a ‘Safety and Compliance’ Inspection.” She took a sip of her coffee as she eyed her officer with sympathy. They were traveling to the outer quadrants, searching for new habitable planets, and it was just good sense to top off their consumables at one of the remote Triumvirate worlds before heading into the deep black.

Despite all the hoops they were being forced to jump through.

“Better we spend a few hours in orbit cooling our heels than turn back two months early,” she reminded him. “You know how the Triumvirate operates, so why are you so surprised?”

“I’m not surprised, I’m frustrated,” Gernot growled. “I’m sick and tired of being forced to sit at the kid's table.”

“You can’t change who they are,” Nneka said with equanimity. “Some things must simply be endured.”

Gernot snorted in disgust and started to reply when a blinking light caught his attention. “Captain...I’m reading something funny on sensors,” he said in surprise, his frustration now forgotten. “Multiple point sources have just entered the system.”

Captain Hollands sat up straight and pulled up her own display, her eyes going wide as the data started coming in. “... there are over a hundred ships burning hard for Jituttaz,” she said in shock, “and the computer doesn’t have their configuration in its memory banks.”

Roldán slaved his display to his Captain’s, blinking as he zoomed in the unknown ships. “If they’re not ours, and they’re not the Triumvirate’s...then who are they?”

“I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling about this,” she said, as she brought up coms. “We need to warn the planet,” she told her Exec, as an Ophiptera Control operator appeared on the screen. “This is the UES Wayfarer,” she blurted out, before the alien began to speak. “We’re showing over a hundred unknown vessels headed straight for Jituttaz. I don’t know what you can do, but I’d do it fast.”

The Ophiptera regarded her with what appeared to be insouciance. “Our sensors have already detected the unknown ships so your warning is unnecessary and while we appreciate the courtesy I can assure you should they prove hostile our shields are more than adequate in preventing them access though if you wish to leave orbit we will allow your departure.” The alien didn't appear to be perturbed in the slightest.

She didn’t waste a nanosecond on that decision. “We’ll take you up on that. Wayfarer out.” Hollands turned to her Exec. “Get us out of here now.”

“Engines are hot,” he answered, “Breaking orbit.” The ship began pulling away from the planet, as Gernot looked up from his console. “What’s our course?”

“Anywhere but here,” she snapped back at him, as they turned away from the incoming fleet. Captain Hollands brought up coms once more while keeping an eye on the display. “Earth definitely needs to know about this,” she said almost to herself, as they ran for safety.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz smiled as the enemy planet grew larger on his screen. “So... they cower behind their shields,” he said, as the glowing green sphere shimmered beneath them. “Are the Breakers ready?” he asked his Tactical officer.

“Yes, Dhyaksh,” the officer replied. “Awaiting your command.”

Jiyazh rose to his feet, savoring the moment. “Our forebears are with us this day,” he said with pride. “Far too long they have waited for their vengeance, but today, they shall have it.” His hand found the dagger at his waist, as his smile turned cold as space. “Fire.”

The twelve lead ships each belched an oversized torpedo, the missiles arcing away from the Armada and racing towards the planet.

“Dhyaksh, there is a ship leaving the planet’s orbit,” his Astrogator blurted out, as Jiyazh turned to her.

“An enemy ship?” he asked.

“No, Dhyaksh,” she replied. “It is a configuration unknown to us.”

Jiyazh spent a few moments pondering the strange ship’s fate, before deciding.

“Let it go,” he said at last, as he watched the Breakers reach the shield.

Captain Hollands held her breath as the Armada fired, though the computers quickly determined they were not the target. Heaving a sigh of relief, she kept watch as the torpedoes began altering their trajectory, spacing themselves around the planet.

“I don’t know what they’re thinking,” Gernot said in disbelief. “Nothing can penetrate a Triumvirate shield unless they want it to.”

Nneka said nothing in reply. She didn’t know who these people were or their capabilities, and without more information she wasn’t willing to place bets either way. The missiles flew in a  carefully synchronized formation, and as she watched she realized they were moving to equidistant points over the planetary shield. “We’re recording all this, aren’t we?”

“Yes Captain,” Gernot replied, “ever since we first detected them.”

Hollands nodded; her eyes still glued on the display. The missiles had reached their final trajectories and were boring in hard, and with one last burn, they impacted as one, detonating against the shield.

There was a pregnant pause as they both watched their screens when a sudden flash caught them both by surprise. Nneka sat in shock as she stared at the screen, but it was her Exec who spoke first.

“...it’s gone,” he whispered. “The shield...it just disappeared!”

The two officers stared at each other. “Those poor bastards,” Hollands whispered, as they raced out of the system.

Cheers filled the bridge of Oathkeeper, as the enemy’s shield vanished. “The way is clear,” Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz said with pride, beaming at his crew. Until this moment they had been unsure whether the Breakers would be effective, but now the proof lay before them. He punched a control on his armrest. “This is the Dhyaksh to all ships,” he announced. “The great day has come, and our enemy is defenseless. Attack ships away...and no mercy.”

The hull seemed to reverberate with the howls of the Khonhim, as the Attack ships disengaged from their tenders and screamed towards the planet’s surface. The pilots steered their small craft towards the major cities, searching for targets of opportunity. Power generation facilities, ports, water recycling plants, factory complexes…the infrastructure of the entire planet.

They launched the first kinetic projectiles as the ships hit the atmosphere, their hypersonic trails booming across the sky as they slammed into their targets, sending mushroom-shaped geysers of smoke and ash into the air as their objectives were obliterated, one by one. Millions died in the space of minutes...and it was only the beginning.

“Launch Assault craft,” Jiyazh ordered, as his warriors followed the Attack ships to the surface. The enemy had already felt the heat of their bombs.

Now...it was time for them to taste their blades.

The mood in the Ministry Center was a far cry from her previous visit, Ambassador Singh deliberated, as she approached the waiting trio. Earth’s Embassy had been a flurry of activity as the reports started coming in, and none of her staff, least of all her, was immune to the shock they felt as they watched the images. The transmissions from Jituttaz had been a horror show of death and destruction, as alien ships bombarded the planet, though what had followed had been even worse. Other craft had landed across the planet, disgorging bipedal aliens with what appeared to be four arms, and what they did to the helpless Ophiptera was all too familiar to the children of Earth. The winged herbivores begged and pleaded for leniency, but they were shown no mercy from the invaders. Images of civilians being gunned down or spitted on bayonets would haunt her for the rest of her days, and she was already preparing to head for the Center on her own authority as the Minister’s summons arrived.

Though what she could offer them other than sympathy was beyond her.

Qomzoixaa’s wings fluttered in distress, his hands wringing over and over as his conical eyes darted about as if the enemy was already here. Leandra’s heart went out to him...seeing his people murdered in cold blood must have shocked the gentle creature to the core. Lassoarth’s head was bowed in sorrow, and she realized with a start there was a trait Saurotaurs shared with Humans.

They both shed tears...and the trails running down her face were rivers of pain.

Σ 121 Sub Δ was as inscrutable as always, but even there Leandra thought she could sense the mechanical sphere’s distress. Stopping before the trio, she bowed her head in respect. “The people of Earth offer their condolences to the Triumvirate during this emergency,” she informed them, “and we stand ready to render whatever humanitarian aid we can.”

Lassoarth raised her head, and the look in her golden eyes was mournful. “We thank you for your words of kindness, Ambassador,” she struggled to get out, “but I fear we must ask more of you.”

Alarm bells started sounding in her head. “I don’t know what other aid we can give,” she said. “We will make our ships available to you for supplies and evacuation, and we can send medical personnel and food, but other than that I am unsure what it is you ask of me.”

Qomzoixaa jumped to his feet. “You must stop them!” he screeched, “Fight the invaders!” His normal speech patterns had become truncated and jumbled, his terror and anger coming out in staccato bursts.

Leandra drew a deep breath. “Fight them with what, Minister?” she asked. “We have no armies, no warships, no weapons. This very body demanded our disarmament, as you may recall. Even if we were so inclined, we have nothing to fight them with.”

“You are an inventive species,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said, “and your history is filled with examples of Humans fighting with nothing more than farm implements. You can use your ships to ram the invader’s vessels to destroy them. You have done so in the past, and can do so again.”

The human ambassador froze in place, as the shock of the Minister’s words congealed into cold fury. “We are not your attack dogs,” she said, “and we are not kamikazes!” Her body trembled as anger coursed through her veins. “How dare you ask that of us!”

“You have petitioned this body many times for full membership,” Lassoarth told her, her gentle voice becoming firmer. “If you do this, we will give your petition renewed consideration.”

“Consideration?” Leandra all but snarled. “You won’t even promise that to us? And if we fight your war, what then? When…if...the threat is gone, you decide once more we’re too violent?” Her hands clenched into fists as she glared at them. “There was an Earth ship at Jituttaz, and they were allowed to escape unmolested. So, it seems they don’t have a problem with us...only with you.”

She drew herself up to her full height. “We’re not your mercenaries, and we’ll be damned before we hurl ourselves at your enemy without the means to fight. I wish you luck, Ministers...because you’re sure as hell going to need it.”

Leandra turned on her heel and stormed out of the Center once more...this time vowing never to return.

Governor-General Granville watched the images from Jituttaz with a growing sense of dread. Humanity had come so far in the last century, but the Universe had other plans in store for them. He picked up and scanned Ambassador Singh’s blistering report yet again, before taking a deep breath.

There was an option left to them...one he had hoped would never be necessary.

He pressed a button on his console, connecting with a high-ranking member of his government...one whose duties were more than they appeared.

“Activate Vegetius,” he ordered.

.

Barbarians - Chapter 5

I don't know what you had in mind
But here we stand on opposing sides
Let's go to war
Let's go to war

We arm ourselves with the wrongs we've done
Name them off one by one
Let's go to war
Let's go to war!

Nothing More - “Go to War”

When Man Makes Plans...God Laughs

Leandra had been thinking about that adage a great deal over the last couple of weeks. After the Triumvirate’s repugnant demand of Earth, she’d had every intention of resigning her post on the spot and never setting foot in that chamber again. The report she’d forwarded to the Governor-General about the meeting should have come with a warning to use asbestos gloves while reading, it was so heated...and yet here she was, returning to the scene of the crime.

Only this time, she wasn’t alone.

There are many reasons individuals gravitate to government service. Prestige, a desire to serve, power, all those were common rationales, but there was one perk that while rarely discussed was also a draw...and that was being “In the Know”. Having insider information that no one else possessed was an intoxicating brew, and by the time someone got to her level, there were very few secrets you weren’t privy to.

…or so she’d thought.

The encrypted com she’d received from the Governor the day after she’d sent in her report had left her in a state of shock. She’d expected orders to evacuate as many humans as possible from the Triumvirate worlds, getting them out of the line of fire, but instead she was read in on a Top Secret, Burn-Before-Reading Plan called Vegetius, and when her briefing was over she had an overwhelming urge to smack herself on the forehead. In retrospect, she should have guessed something like it existed.

War and violence were innate to Man’s nature. Ever since humans had first evolved, they had battled each other, and for almost as long struggled to put it behind them. By the time humans had stumbled into the Triumvirate Earth was all but united and had made great strides in eradicating many of the root causes that had long plagued mankind.

But Man had been born a predator, and there was no way to completely eliminate the murderous animal inside him. When the Triumvirate had demanded Man lay down his arms and study war no more, they’d searched for ways to channel his aggression. Sports and athletic competition, always popular pastimes, helped some, but for those that found them to be a little too tame for their taste, they’d created the Guilds. It was an ideal solution, a chance to play at war without committing violence and had proved wildly popular. Warheads...the popular nickname given to the Guild’s most fervent fans...logged onto the battle boards to watch the action, discussing strategy and tactics as others would compare RBI’s, rooting for their favorite champions in a manner any Roman follower of the Gladiatorial Games would have recognized instantly.

For those that preferred a more hands-on approach, there were the Historical Reenactments. Borrowing from the tradition of the Renaissance Faire and organizations like the SCA, they expanded the pre-existing Reenactment groups into a fully immersive experience of life in those darker times. Schools would bring their students...to show them how much better things were now...and in the course of a year, a young pupil might witness battles such as Thermopylae, or Gettysburg, or Verdun, all in the name of education. It was a brilliant concept, taking the worst of man’s nature and turning it into a positive.

It was also a lie.

Almost a century ago, when the Triumvirate first made it clear Man must change his ways if he ever wanted to join their ranks, there were those who recognized the day might come when they would need trained soldiers once again. They created the Guilds and Reenactments to nurture and train their citizens as an insurance policy, should the worst ever happen. They inducted the participants into the “United Earth Armed Forces”, complete with swearing-in ceremonies and convoluted contracts. It was all very tongue-in-cheek, often the source of great ridicule by those who looked down their long noses at the Warheads...only buried in those same contracts was the assertion that the UEAF was no joke at all.

Proving yet again that no one reads the fine print.

The news of their real purpose swept across Earth and its colonies like a tsunami when Vegetius was activated. Not all Warheads were chosen, as they deemed some unsuited for psychological reasons, or because of physical impairments, while others were already in positions necessary for the war effort. So much to Leandra’s surprise...Earth, in fact, had an Army. Of a sort.

What it didn’t have were weapons.

Research and Development had continued unabated on a secure outpost buried deep within the Kuiper Belt. That much they could justify; on the off chance the Triumvirate were to ever get wind of what they were doing. But while they could continue to draft designs for new weaponry, building and stockpiling them was out of the question.

Which put the fledgling UEAF in the same boat the US Army had been in, circa 1937, when America had fewer men in uniform than Portugal and trained with 2x4’s instead of actual rifles. While they might have traded the Model T Ford bearing a “Tank” placard for top of the line VR equipment, the reality was much the same. An unblooded...and civilian...cadre of soldiers, who had nothing to fight with. But it was a start.

As she strode towards the waiting Ministers, a pair of rather unique individuals flanked her on either side. While Leandra was no Warhead herself, she was at least familiar with some of the more preeminent Guild luminaries...but even she found herself mildly star-struck when they’d arrived and placed themselves at her disposal.

To her left was a woman in her late 30’s, with thick black hair and a sandalwood complexion. Hélène Fujimoto, AKA “Helen of Troy”, the woman who’d sunk a thousand ships. Undisputed Champion in the Naval Warfare categories, who specialized in Space Combat. She now wore a gleaming white Admiral’s uniform, complete with gold cuff stripes, shoulder boards, and beret, her glossy black boots clicking on the polished marble floor. She was still adjusting to the fact that the “games” she’d been playing for years were now for real, but she’d adapted far faster than Leandra would, had their positions been reversed.

On her right was a man who needed no introduction, at least among humans. His mahogany skin and tightly kinked hair shot with gray had earned him his own Nom de Guerre...Marshal Kwasi Antuma, AKA “The Black Death”. Seven times Grandmaster in the Combined Arms Guild Finals, whose string of victories had set records unlikely to be broken in their lifetime. It was well known for opponents to quickly concede, rather than face him in battle. He wore a dark khaki tunic with green trousers, his jacket decorated with epaulets and brocade, with a small baton tucked under his arm.

(The UEAF uniforms had been chosen during a popular contest, several decades earlier. That they just avoided looking like something from a Victorian comic opera was more luck than design, in Leandra’s opinion.)

The trio came to a halt in front of the waiting Ministers, who looked even worse than they had during her previous visit. The faceless enemy had sacked another world in the interim, this one a Saurotaur planet, and a sense of desperation could be felt everywhere one looked. The once proud and haughty Triumvirate now bore the stink of desperation...and the Governor-General had decided that now was the perfect time for Earth to make its play.

“Ministers, I come before you today, charged by Governor-General Granville to deliver to you an offer,” she said without preamble. “Earth will fight...but on our terms.”

Qomzoixaa and Lassoarth seemed to be at a loss for words. They looked at each other, struggling to come up with a response, while Σ 121 Sub Δ answered for them both.

“What are Earth’s terms?” it asked...and once again, for a machine she swore she could detect a tinge of hope in its voice.

“Quite simply this, Minister. First...Earth will be in complete control of the war effort. You will provide anything we require to that end, without question.” Leandra gazed at the Ministers, but for the moment they chose not to respond. They knew more was coming.

“Second...that we won't fight this war alone. If you want the Triumvirate to survive, then your people will also fight...right alongside us.”

That got a response. “Impossible!” Lassoarth screeched, shying away from the humans. “We are pacifists! We cannot fight!”

Qomzoixaa’s vestigial wings fluttered so hard she almost thought he’d leap into the air…an absurd notion, as no Ophiptera had managed actual flight in several million years. “Our species are incapable of committing bloodshed!” he wailed. “How can you ask this of us?”

A thin smile appeared on her lips. “I told you once before, we won’t be your mercenaries. We can lead, but if you want the Triumvirate to survive then you will have to fight for it. Earth will not do this alone.”

“And if we should refuse your terms?” Σ 121 Sub Δ asked.

Leandra drew a deep breath. “In that case...Governor-General Granville has instructed me to inform you that humanity will withdraw to its borders. We will reject all calls for aid, turn back all refugees...and leave you to your fate.” She turned to the man on her right. “Marshal Antuma, based on current projections, what do you believe will be the outcome of that choice?”

The dark-skinned man cleared his throat. “Ministers...I regret to inform you that should you not agree to our terms, we project the Triumvirate will fall in less than a year.” The silence that filled the Center following that pronouncement was deafening. “We also project that casualties will be in the trillions.”

Lassoarth rose to her feet, descending from the raised dais on wobbly legs, making her way to the human contingent. “You would let this happen?” she asked in a whisper, her golden eyes huge with terror. “You would condemn us to death?”

Admiral Fujimoto regarded her with sympathy but stood her ground. “Minister...if you won’t fight for your own survival, why should we?”

Qomzoixaa made his way down to join his fellow Minister, reaching out for her hand. The two aliens stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity...before bowing their heads in surrender.

“We accept your terms,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said at last.

Leandra nodded. Despite the anger she’d felt towards them before, she took no pleasure in this. “There is one, final, stipulation, Ministers. Full and equal membership in the Triumvirate…effective immediately.”

It was almost an afterthought, the very thing mankind had striven for after all these years. “…agreed,” Qomzoixaa whispered. “Ambassador...until your government makes an appointment, will you accept the position?” He sounded deflated, defeated, broken. It brought her no joy to see him like this…but if Earth were to survive, they had no choice.

“I will, Minister,” she murmured. “For the interim, at least.”

“I suppose we should rename the Triumvirate the Tetrarchy,” Σ 121 Sub Δ pointed out.

“An issue for another time, Minister,” Leandra told him. “At the moment, we have a war to fight.”

Lassoarth raised her head. “Agreed,” she said in resignation. “What do you ask of us first?”

Leandra turned once more to Marshal Antuma. “After much discussion and debate, we have come up with a plan. I’m afraid it will take time to build up the Armed Forces we require, so the first phase will be a Naval approach, while we train and arm.” He nodded at Admiral Fujimoto to pick up the thread.

“We will require as many ships as you can find,” she informed them. “We understand they will be nothing but freighters and passenger vessels, but they will have to do for now. We don’t have time to construct proper warships, but we can much more quickly modify what we already have, and buy us enough time to prepare our forces.”

“It will be so ordered,” Qomzoixaa responded. “And then?”

“And then,” Marshal Antuma answered, “you will need to select citizens to report for training. We recognize that mixed units are simply unfeasible, for several reasons, so we have simplified things on that end. The Ophiptera will report to Admiral Fujimoto,” nodding in her direction, “for fighter training. We can build fighters much more quickly than cruisers or battleships, and given your species evolution we believe it would well suit their abilities, once they’ve been trained.”

He turned to face Lassoarth. “We will train the Saurotaurs as Infantry, and as for the Ronin...”

A wry smile appeared on his face. “...we have something special in mind.”

Barbarians - Chapter 6

Let's get down to business, to defeat the Huns
Did they send me daughters, when I asked for sons?
You're the saddest bunch I ever met
But you can bet, before we're through
Mister, I'll make a man out of you

Mulan - “I'll Make a Man Out of You”

Preparing for war takes time. There are no quick fixes, no shortcuts, and no easy answers, and time is the one commodity always in short supply. As Napoleon Bonaparte said to one of his officers, “Ask me for anything but time.”

The alien horde was coming, and they needed time to build an Army that had a prayer of victory. Humans were all too familiar with this brutal equation, so once they made the decision they rolled up their sleeves and went to work. One by one they worked their way through the problems facing them, and now the Triumvirate (or Tetrarchy, the name change was still in limbo) were lining up...albeit reluctantly...to do their part.

Problem #1 - They would need a Navy to defeat the horde. Actually, they would need two Navies...the initial stopgap task force comprising of freighters, and the purpose-built fighter squadrons that so far existed only on paper. Without those ships, the rest was moot.

Solution - There were several spacedock facilities scattered amongst the various planets. The word had already gone out to the merchant fleet to make for the nearest port and begin retrofits, while plans for the new fighters (dubbed the XF-101 Comet, an Endo/Exo-Atmospheric design) were being distributed. They needed the freighters now, so they had first priority. When those retrofits were complete, they would give the dock space over to the fighters.

Problem #2 - A modern military needs more than just ships. Weapons, communication equipment, transportation, much of which did not yet exist. The Triumvirate was a textbook example of a Post-Scarcity society, meaning that its citizens could have anything they wanted on demand...but the fabrication centers created items retail, in ones and fives and dozens. The Army needed weapons in the thousands, the concept of mass production not existing anywhere within Triumvirate space.

Solution - Mass-Production fabricators could be built, but that would take time...time the Triumvirate did not have. So instead the government simply seized control of all the fabricators, “For the Duration”, and placed a strict rationing regimen for civilian goods on the populace while they cranked guns and artillery pieces out, cottage industry style. It was an imperfect solution but it was the best they could do in the time frame they had to work with.

Problem #3 - A military needs more than just fighters. The shipyards needed construction crews, the Army needed clerks, cooks, drivers, logistics specialists, the Navy needed all those plus individuals trained in shipboard duties...the list went on and on, and they needed them immediately.

Solution - This one was simple. They were already drafting soldiers, so they made detailed lists of what they required, and the closest civilian analogs already in existence. They would hand a clerk in a shipping company a uniform and put them to work doing what he had been doing all along, with some additional training regarding the military’s needs. Most of the support personnel draftees whispered a fervent prayer of thanks to their respective deities that they were not being called on to fight and buckled down in their new roles.

Problem #4 - Creating the tools an Army (and Navy) needed was simple enough, training the pacifistic Triumvirate races to use them was quite another. Teaching a Saurotaur, for example, how to disassemble, clean, and fire his weapon was child's play. Teaching him to point it at the enemy intending to kill was another matter.

Solution - Unlike the senior officers, drawn from the Guilds, a very different sort of individual was needed in the trenches. Someone with practical, first-hand experience in turning civilians into soldiers, a specialized profession that had not been needed in almost a century. However, they had the next best thing, the Historical Reenactors. Training camps were one scenario they’d practiced over the years, and now...

...they would do it for real.

Acolyte Nassat shivered as they directed him and the other draftees to a large open-air holding area. Like the rest of his species, he’d given a huge sigh of relief when the humans announced they would fight the horde...only to be quickly followed by abject terror when he’d learned the Triumvirate races would be fighting right beside them. He consoled himself with the thought the odds made it unlikely he himself would be one of the poor souls sent to war, and if by some strange twist of fate they selected him, then surely they would make an exception for a priest in training!

But as he quickly discovered to his horror, the odds weren’t in his favor, and there would be no exceptions. He’d pleaded with the Venerable Eashray to intercede on his behalf, reminding him of the conversation they’d had on Morality. This was a perfect example of why they must hold fast in their beliefs of pacifism, or suffer the very Corruption they feared.

Only to have the Venerable turn on him, informing him it was his duty to serve as they had commanded him, to save the Triumvirate from harm. His betrayal had shocked Nassat to the core, and at first, he assumed this was another test. He’d begun his rebuttal when Eashray had quickly silenced him, reminding him that in their ancient past, there were always some of the herd that were sacrificed to save the whole. The Venerable’s voice shook with anger as he condemned the young Acolyte for his cowardice, when other, more important individuals, needed to be kept from harm.

It wasn’t until that very moment that Nassat realized the Venerable was referring to himself, that the ancient priest...one in no danger of being drafted, because of his age...willing sacrifice not only his beliefs but his fellow Saurotaurs if it meant he would live.

The sheer hypocrisy of the spiritual leader he had once looked to for guidance shattered him, and it was a troubled and broken young man who had reported for induction, a few days later. There had been few exchanges amongst the new draftees, most were too terrified and shell-shocked to engage in any conversation, other than whispered prayers. As he owned no other garments Nassat had reported for duty in his Acolyte robes, quickly finding himself offering what little consolation he could to those seeking solace. Unfortunately, no one was able to offer solace to him in return.

They now wore name tags on lanyards around their necks along with an identification number, written in both their own language and the strange-looking human script. From there they boarded transports that ferried them across the provinces to a remote location in the wilderness, arriving at a new camp still under construction. It was the most primitive cantonment he had ever seen, instead of the permanent structures he’d expected to find most of the edifices seemed to be constructed with either thin plastic sheeting, or in many cases, actual fabric. They would make for poor protection from the elements, and Nassat made a mental note to point out this deficiency at the first opportunity.

The holding area was a roped off meadow near the buildings, and a short distance away he spotted an odd collection of walls, ditches, and sections of fence that seemed to serve no purpose at all. It was all strange, but as he struggled to make sense of what use it could serve, a strange hush came over the crowd. Nassat scanned the area around him, before spotting the cause.

A single human approached them, dressed in loose-fitting mottled clothing wearing a broad-brimmed hat...and everything about the Earthling screamed Predator. A hundred sets of eyes watched the bipedal alien as he made his way to the front of the enclosure, before taking position on a small raised platform. He folded his arms behind his back and scanned the herd with a carnivore’s eye, and Nassat could feel the others desperate urge to bolt...but one look into the human’s face made him too afraid to move.

“FALL IN!” the human barked, as every Saurotaur in the enclosure flinched at the sound of his voice as if they’d been physically assaulted. “On the ground beneath you, you will see ten yellow lines,” he continued, ignoring their reaction. “You will place yourselves in rows of ten on each line, your front hooves touching the edge. Do it now!”

Nassat and the others scrambled to comply, but in their fear, their attempts to do as the human had ordered quickly descended into chaos. “God damn it!” the human shrieked, “can’t you damn aliens do anything right?” He jumped from the platform and waded into the crowd as the draftees tried to get out of his way, but those in the rear penned in the front ranks, holding them fast. The human grabbed a fellow Saurotaur and dragged him to the line, pulling his head down and pointing. “Right fucking there! Do you see it?”

The terrified individual could only offer a quick bob of his head in reply, but that only seemed to set off the human yet again. “When I ask you a question, you will answer with ‘Yes Drill Sergeant!’ Do you understand?”

“...er...y-yes...Drill Sergeant…” the fellow mumbled.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?” the human screamed, “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“Yes Drill Sergeant!” he howled, and Nassat was certain he was only moments away from passing out from fear. His yellow eyes were wild with terror, darting about as he searched for escape...but that too drew the human’s ire.

“EYES FRONT GOD DAMN IT!” he shrieked. “You will look straight ahead, and nowhere else. Do you understand?”

“Yes Drill Sergeant!” came the reply, but it was sporadic at best.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” he screamed again.

“YES DRILL SERGEANT!” the herd howled in response, as the human looked at them in disgust.

“Pitiful...just goddamn pitiful.” He eyed his first victim, searching for faults, before snorting in disgust and moving down the line. “How many did I say were in a row?”

Nassat struggled to recall what the human had just told them, but some of the others spoke up first. “Ten!”

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” the human screeched. “TRY IT AGAIN GODDAMN IT YOU USELESS BASTARDS!”

“TEN DRILL SERGEANT!” the herd wailed.

“THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE THERE TWELVE IN THE FRONT RANK?” the human screamed, “CAN’T YOU USELESS FUCKS COUNT? I WANT TEN RANKS OF TEN RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!”

The herd broke down into chaos yet again...but this time it was chaos with purpose. It took a few minutes for the herd to sort themselves out, as the human cursed and shoved them to their positions, but finally, they stood in formation as he’d commanded.

The Drill Sergeant stalked the front rank like the predator they knew him to be, before coming to a halt in front of them. He glared with a menace Nassat had never experienced in his life, and he wanted nothing more than to avert his gaze from those threatening eyes...but he stood where he was told, looking straight ahead, his body trembling with fear.

“My name is Drill Sergeant Lin,” the human said at last, in something approaching normal tones, “and in the next few weeks you will come to know me better than you know yourselves.” He smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about that display of incisors. Nassat was convinced he was sizing them up for their nutritional value.

“You will learn to march like soldiers,” Lin continued, “shoot like soldiers...and if I tell you to, die like soldiers!” The predatory grin got even wider as he patted a strange object on his hip. “And if any of you think of running...think again. Because if you do, I will fucking shoot you.” He pulled out what had to be a weapon, a sleek black device that was even more menacing than he was. “If you don’t think I’m serious, then I suggest you try me.” He gazed over the herd as if he was searching for something. “No takers? Fine...less paperwork that way.” He slid the weapon back into its container and pointed over at the odd collection of walls and fences.

“That, boys and girls, is the Obstacle Course,” Lin said with glee. “Every day, you will run the course. If you piss me off, you will run the course...and every week the walls get higher, and the ditches wider.” Nassat could only stare at the structure in horror, now that he understood its purpose. He wanted them to navigate that?

Drill Sergeant Lin cackled with delight as he saw their reaction. “Company Bravo, 1st Battalion...welcome to Hell.”

Barbarians - Chapter 7

We come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow
The hammer of the gods
Will drive our ships to new lands,
To fight the horde, singing and crying,
Valhalla, I am coming!

Led Zeppelin - “Immigrant Song”

The suite of rooms that had become the de facto military headquarters still had something of an unfinished look. For convenience, they’d located HQ in the Ministry Center, though even that simple decision had been hotly debated. There were some who worried about the optics...that to outside observers it might appear as if Earth had staged a Coup d’état during the Triumvirate’s (or Tetrarchy’s, they had moved the subject to the back-burner for the duration) hour of need. So far none of the races had raised that point, but Minister Singh and some of the cannier human observers assumed it was only a matter of time.

There was a small but vocal minority that had suggested doing just that...after all, how would the Triumvirate stop them? The malcontents were quickly squelched, but Leandra couldn't help but worry the idea might gain traction, especially if things went south on the war front. She’d made it her business to stay abreast of any developments, and offer a political viewpoint when needed. Other than that she did her level best to stay out of the way of the professionals, and let them handle the business of running the war.

“Where are we at with the freighter conversions?” Marshal Antuma asked his Naval commander.

Admiral Fujimoto grimaced. “Nowhere near what I’d like,” she admitted. “We have twenty-seven converted, with another thirty-two in various stages of being upgraded. On the plus side, the spacedocks are hitting their stride, so those numbers should climb in the next few weeks.”

“And the minus side of the equation?” Antuma asked.

“Weapons production,” Fujimoto sighed. “Most of the fabricators simply aren’t capable of meeting our needs. They designed them for domestic consumption, and retooling them for our purposes would be a gigantic time-sink. The fabricators we can use are running three shifts nonstop, but we’re still falling behind on our quotas.”

The Marshal nodded, taking that in. “Is there anything we can do to increase production?”

Hélène shook her head. “I’ve crunched the numbers until I’m blue in the face, and I keep getting the same answers. Any personnel or resources I pull off fabrication and shift over to constructing new fabricators will give us increased output, enough to meet our quota...in eight to ten months.”

“By which time the war is likely to be over,” Antuma said, “one way or another.”

“Exactly,” Fujimoto agreed. “If you order me to I can rob Peter to pay Paul, but I’d advise against it. If it was just weapons for the freighters we were talking about, I might risk it, but we still have to build the Comets...and what we have planned for the Ronin.”

Marshal Antuma leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head and gazing up at the ceiling. Hélène had dubbed it his “Thinking Pose”, and she settled into her own as he worked through whatever problem his mind was tangling with.

“Amateurs study Tactics, Professionals study Logistics,” he murmured, drawing a chuckle from his counterpart.

“Even with fabricators and FTL drive, that hasn’t changed,” she agreed. The smile quickly left her face, as she leaned forward. “I still don’t like the stratagem we’ve come up with for the freighters,” she said grimly. “Assuming everything goes according to plan, we stand a decent chance of blunting their advance...but how often does that happen?”

“Never,” Antuma breathed.

Admiral Fujimoto nodded. “I’ve reached deep into my personal bag of tricks and pulled out every scheme and ruse to pull this off, but it’s a crapshoot at best.” She eyed him across the table. “No matter what happens, most of those crews won’t be coming back.”

“I know,” he said, “but what choice do we have? If we don’t slow their advance, we’ll have nothing left to defend.”

Hélène digested that for several moments, though it was nothing she hadn’t already known. “We need more intel,” she said at last. “I’ve been poring over the imagery we got from Wayfarer, but it doesn’t tell us much. Their ships didn’t face any resistance, so we know nothing about how well they’d stand up against someone who's willing to fight. But their formations are sound, with decent coverage between ships. That tells me they know what they’re doing.”

Kwasi simply shrugged. “Until your freighters meet them in battle, we won’t know how formidable they are.” He sighed, “But you’re right, we need more information.” He took a deep breath. “We need someone on the ground.”

The Admiral gave a low whistle. “Gonna be damn difficult, inserting a team under their noses. It’ll have to be pure human, you realize. The trainees from the other races are nowhere near ready for an Op like that.”

“Believe me, I’m all too aware of that fact,” the Marshal said. “But could you do it? Get a squad onto one of the occupied worlds if you had to, without being detected?”

Her eyes lost focus as she considered the problem. “I can get them in,” she said at last, “but getting them back out?” Hélène shrugged. “They’d have to find a way past the ships in orbit, and at the moment I’m not sure if that’s even possible. Plus it’ll mean pulling resources from our other commitments.”

“Can’t be helped,” he said. “We’re shooting blind here, and that will hurt us even more than a little slippage in our refit schedule.”

“It’s likely to be a lot of slippage, but I take your meaning.” She cocked her head, regarding him. “Have someone in mind?”

“A few,” he admitted. “I’ve been considering it for a while now, and I’ve been looking at who we have with the right skills. I’ll find the bodies,” he assured her.

“Make sure you tell them it’s likely to be a rough ride if I have to sneak them past an invasion fleet ” she warned him. “I just wish we had more of a pattern to work with. I’d prefer to send them in before an assault, rather than after. With only two worlds attacked it’s more than a little challenging trying to guess where they’ll hit next.”

The Marshal started to reply, but as he began to speak an Ophipteran aide, who silently slid a tablet onto the table before withdrawing, interrupted him. Antuma picked up the pad and started to read...only to close his eyes in pain as he set it back down.

“...make that three,” he hissed.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz stepped off the Assault craft and onto the surface of the horde’s latest conquest. This planet belonged to the machine race, making its architecture and infrastructure unsuitable for the needs of the Khonhim.

But that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight...they burned.

The first two worlds had fallen like overripe fruit, and Jiyazh knew this planet would be no different. The sagas of their forebears had spoken of terrible battles, but whatever their enemy might have been long ago, they were now mere shadows of their former selves. They had followed the Path of Peace for so long they had forgotten their past, forgotten them, and had become little more than mindless prey animals. There was a part of him that regretted that, for what challenge was there for a warrior against an enemy that would not...could not...fight?

Against any other species, he would have shown mercy. Taken their surrender as a matter of course, and treated them with the respect due a fallen adversary. But his forebears demanded otherwise, their spirits crying out for vengeance, and until all the enemy’s worlds lie broken and ravaged at his feet, they would not slumber. They had waited many long years for this day, and he would not deny them their revenge.

The riven and shattered housings of the machine minds lay scattered everywhere, as he walked alone through the strange alien city. Like their soft fleshy allies, the machines had tried to run, tried to hide, but there was nowhere they could go that the Khonhim would not discover, sooner or later. It did not make up for the lack of struggle, but it would entertain the horde for a time, as they tracked them to their warrens and dug them out of their holes.

They would find uses for the ones they allowed to live, if one could call a machine alive. They had taken prisoners from the other worlds, and even if those pathetic creatures could not fight, they could still serve the Khonhim in other ways. They could man their factories, till their farms, serve in their homes. Even the poorest of the horde might have their share to choose from, though that concerned him. What would happen to the people then? The Flaming Star had shown them the error of their ways once before, bringing them back to the Path of War so long ago. It now formed the centerpiece of the horde’s banner...but once they had slaked their thirst for vengeance, would they still remember the lesson it had taught them?

He had searched long and hard for the answer to that question, but their forebears were silent on that subject. If in the fullness of time they sent yet another rock from the heavens to show them their error, then so be it. He would accept their judgment, for he had already given them what they had desired for so very long.

The flames burned higher in the shattered community, the smoke filling his nostrils even as he spied a machine attempting to flee. It housed its mind in some wheeled contraption, a delivery vehicle of some sort, and even before he could make a conscious thought his weapon was in his hands, barking as he fired. The first shot appeared to have done no damage, but the second and third rounds did. A screeching cry erupted from the machine creature, the sound of metal being torn apart by a saw blade as it ground to a halt, its lights dimming before going dark for good.

“Dhyaksh!” he heard one of his officers cry, “We have found something!”

Jiyazh holstered his weapon and turned towards the sound, spotting a squad moving towards him, bearing something on a litter. As they drew nearer he recognized the polished metal sphere they carried, the brain of one of the machine folk. The squad came to a halt before him, as the officer pounded his clenched fists to his chest in salute.

“Speak,” he commanded, as the officer bowed his head.

“During the sack, I discovered this creature,” he answered, pointing to the sphere. “It wore the body of a four-legged walker, and I thought to have some fun with the beast. I tore away its limbs, leaving only stumps, and we laughed as it still tried to escape.” A sneer appeared on his face as he looked with contempt at the machine.

“And this interests me how?” Jiyazh asked.

“We soon grew bored of the game,” the officer blurted out. “I was preparing to dispatch it when it begged for its life.”

Jiyazh’s features darkened. “As do they all,” he growled. “If there is a point to be made here, I suggest you find it.” He was swiftly losing his patience with this warrior.

“Forgive me, Dhyaksh,” he answered. “I will speak plainly. As it pleaded to me, it claimed it had information...information of great interest to us. At first, I assumed it to be a ruse, a desperate attempt to survive, but then it spoke of something that stayed my hand.”

“Indeed?” Perhaps there was something to be learned here after all. He turned towards the sphere. “Speak, machine.”

A small tinny voice came from the orb. “If I tell you, you will allow me to continue my existence?” it whispered.

“I can show you what will happen if you do not tell me,” Jiyazh snarled. He withdrew his weapon once more and pressed it against the shiny metal. “Choose, machine.”

“...you are in danger!” the machine howled, trying to stave off its impending doom. “Even now, forces are being gathered to fight you!”

Jiyazh threw back his head and laughed. “Let them come! They will pose as little threat as you have!”

“You do not understand,” the machine whimpered. “The ones coming for you...they are not of the Triumvirate! The humans are a primitive species, but they are warlike and dangerous!”

The Dhyaksh froze, staring at the sphere. Slowly, he returned his weapon to its holster.

“...tell me more of these humans,” Jiyazh commanded.

Barbarians - Chapter 8

Gravity keeps my head down
Or is it maybe shame
At being so young and being so vain
Holes in your head today
But I'm a pacifist
I've walked La Rambla
But not with real intent

Manic Street Preachers - “If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next”

Formerly Acolyte, now Recruit Nassat, struggled to keep his weapon on the target, the way Drill Sergeant Lin had shown them. It wasn’t the fault of the weapon, no matter how much he would have liked to blame the evil thing cradled in his arms. The Mark I-B (the Mark I-A being the human variant) was a straightforward piece of technology, simple enough to operate, even if he could barely bring himself to look at it. No matter how hard he tried to keep the weapon steady on the target the barrel would slide away, or his hands would shake so badly aiming was impossible.

He was a disaster as a soldier, and he knew it, though compared to the other recruits in Bravo company he scored somewhere in the upper third. It was just that training to fight...to kill...was so foreign, so alien to his nature that every fiber of his being rebelled against it, no matter how hard he tried. The same was true for the others, though there were a few things he and his fellow Saurotaurs did well. Marching, for one, though being a herd species had something to do with that. When the situation called for large groups to do the same thing in unison racial memory seemed to kick in automatically. Individual tasks like weapons training were proving far more difficult.

“It’s just a target, people!” Sergeant Lin shouted, “You can’t hurt it!” He marched up and down the firing line, checking for safety. “Left side is ready…right side is ready, shooters...commence firing!” he ordered, as a ragged volley of coughs rippled up and down the line.

Nassat forced himself to concentrate on what they’d learned during Marksmanship training, as he began to squeeze the trigger. The helmet’s targeting system tied into the weapon clearly showed the bull’s eye he was supposed to be aiming for, and once he had it locked in the ammunition would do the rest.

And yet despite all the built-in advantages to the weapon he, using it with any proficiency seemed to be forever beyond him. The target seemed to swim before his eyes as the shakes started up almost immediately, and in his hurry for it to simply be over he jerked the trigger in rapid succession, emptying his magazine well before Sergeant Lin shouted, “Cease Fire!”

He cleared the weapon as they’d shown him, standing by as their Drill Sergeant checked their scores, before shaking his head in disgust. “Un-fucking-believable,” he snarled. “If that had been a real enemy out there, you’d all be dead!” The human glared at them all before turning his attention towards him. “Nassat! Front and center!” he shouted, as he winced in anticipation for what was to come. They’d all quickly learned that being singled out for anything was never good, but he carried his weapon at port arms as he trotted up to face the sergeant. “Recruit Nassat reporting as ordered, Drill Sergeant!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, as Lin glowered at the rest of the company.

“I think it’s time we had a real demonstration,” he said, as he reached into his pack and retrieved another magazine, handing it over to Nassat. “Lock and load, Recruit,” he ordered, as Nassat hastened to do as he commanded. That much at least he could do, they’d drilled over the simple procedure so many times he could perform it in his sleep. As he readied his weapon Sergeant Lin removed his sidearm and swapped out his magazine...as that evil smile appeared on his face once more.

“Combat is simple, boys and girls,” Lin told them. “If you don’t kill your enemy, he will kill you.” He turned and walked away from Nassat until they stood about thirty meters apart, before facing him once more. “The ammo you have loaded is a training round,” the Drill Sergeant explained, “just like what I have in my weapon. It won’t kill you, or cause any real damage...but it will cause excruciating pain if it hits you.” Nassat shuddered in sheer terror as he stared at the predator facing him, non-lethal weapon or no. Lin holstered his sidearm, as the grin on his face grew wider. “Allow me to introduce you to an old human tradition known as the Gunfight, Nassat. On the count of three, I will draw my weapon and fire. If you haven’t shot me by the time I do, well…” He cackled with glee at the prospect of causing him pain, as Nassat’s eyes darted about looking for an escape. There was none to be found...and even as he did the rest of the company sidled away, giving him a very wide berth.

“Are you ready, Recruit?” Lin asked, and what he wanted to say “Dear Creator, no!”, but they’d all learned by now there was only one acceptable answer. “Yes, Drill Sergeant!” he replied...even as he began to tremble in fear once more.

“Good!” Lin replied, licking his lips in anticipation. “One!” he shouted.

Nassat struggled to bring the weapon up but it seemed so heavy in his arms, as if suddenly made of lead.

“Two!” Lin counted off, and time itself seemed to slow down to a crawl as he fought to point the weapon at the human target. Please Creator, I don’t want to do this! his mind howled, even as he felt his finger tighten on the trigger.

“Three!” The human’s hand darted down to his holster, and it seemed impossible that any living being could move so fast as the weapon came free, whipping up to point at him...when Sergeant Lin suddenly disappeared.

Nassat stared in shock. What had just happened? His eyes whipped around in panic...only to spot the Drill Sergeant seated on the ground, drawing deep breaths as he grimaced in pain. He looked down at his weapon in horror, before returning his gaze to the human, who despite the pain he felt was now grinning at him.

“Good job, Nassat,” he got out, “you did it.” He pointed to a red mark on the center of his chest. “Good aim, too,” he chuckled, as he slowly rose to his feet.

The young recruit could only stare at him in dismay. “I’m...sorry, Drill Sergeant,” he stammered, only to have Sergeant Lin snarl at him once more.

“Sorry?” he shouted, “God damn it, when are you people going to fucking learn?” The rest of the company shrank back from him once more as he advanced on Nassat. “This entire company will go into combat! People die in combat, and the only thing that will keep you alive is what you learn here!” He stopped a mere handbreadth away and poked him in the chest. “We will perform this drill every day, all of you, until it becomes second nature...and anyone I catch stalling or missing intentionally I will shoot myself! Do you understand?”

“YES DRILL SERGEANT!” the company shrieked back at him.

Lin spent a few more moments glowering at them, before returning his attention to Nassat. “Next time, don’t wait so long to fire,” he told him. “The enemy won’t give you three seconds. He won’t even give you one.” The human paused, as his voice dropped to an almost conversational tone. “If you learn anything from me...learn that,” he said, before waving Nassat back to the others.

“All right, you useless bastards...draw training ammo and pair up. Time to see who wants to stay alive,” he growled...as Nassat struggled to process what had just happened.

HELL NO, WE WON’T GO!

HELL NO, WE WON’T GO!

HELL NO, WE WON’T GO!

Governor-General Granville stared out the window at the chanting crowd and sighed. They were peaceful, and from what he’d seen would likely remain so. He’d read about this kind of thing in the history books, but he’d never imagined he’d actually see an anti-war protest in his lifetime. They were a rather small, if somewhat vocal minority, but he was growing concerned that the sentiment would spread.

He should have seen this coming, Granville realized...and the irony of the situation bordered on the ludicrous.

Humans were such a contrary and cantankerous bunch. Tell them that the sky was blue and half of them would argue it was actually green out of sheer cussedness, while the more pedantic types would insist on pointing out it varied from black to red to yellow, before turning blue. A sizable bunch would contend it was all a conspiracy, while the rest would simply shrug their shoulders in contemptuous apathy. Sometimes, he didn’t blame the Triumvirate one bit for keeping them at arm’s length.

For ninety years humanity had chafed at the restrictions imposed on it, as they’d struggled to channel Man’s aggression. There had been plenty over the years that had demanded war...and now that they had one they were demanding peace. Granville hoped it wasn’t the same group in both cases, but you never knew. He sighed yet again as the crowd took up a new chant.

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!

WE DON’T NEED YOUR XENO WAR!

There wasn’t anyone in that crowd in actual danger of being drafted. The psychological screenings had been thorough, and any of the Wannabe’s that only played at war were unsuitable for the task at hand. Of course, there was no telling them that. The training camps that had sprung up around the globe were churning out recruits as fast as they could cycle them through, but by any realistic standard, they were woefully unprepared. Granville dreaded the casualty reports he knew would soon cross his desk...but unless they sent somebody out to fight, the Triumvirate would fall.

...and then what would happen to Earth?

Granville didn’t know, but the possibilities flat-out terrified him.

In the wake of the latest attack, they had called an emergency meeting as the Ministers requested (demanded, actually) that the newly formed units do something. They were trying to do just that, but these things took time…and no one was willing to wait.

“You must attack!” Lassoarth wailed, “before any of our other worlds fall to the invaders!”

Marshal Antuma did his best to maintain an outward appearance of calm. “Minister, we’re simply not ready,” he informed her. “We need more time to build up our forces.”

“How much more time will you require given that every day we delay means more casualties?” Qomzoixaa demanded.

“Our current projections suggest at least another month,” Admiral Fujimoto replied. “Any less and we risk not only losing the forces we send against them, but also tipping our hand. If we give the enemy an idea of our capabilities before we’ve built up a sizable enough Navy, then we’re also giving them a chance to counter our strategies.”

“And have you calculated how many worlds will fall in that time?” Σ 121 Sub Δ countered. “How many more of our citizens will die?”

The two humans suddenly looked uncomfortable, and Leandra grimaced. She was no more sanguine to their losses than they were, but she at least had the advantage of knowing Earth’s bloody history.

“It’s difficult to say for certain,” Antuma said at last. “At least one or two more planets will fall before we’re ready to take the fight to them. I’m sorry Ministers, but there’s simply no way around that.”

“We must be patient,” Leandra counseled. “I know it’s difficult, seeing the images from those worlds, but if we attack before we’re ready we risk losing everything.”

“Unacceptable!” Lassoarth howled. “Too many have already died!”

“You asked us to help you,” Hélène told them, “since we have more experience in these matters, and that’s what we’re trying to do. So please, I urge you, listen to those who have studied tactics and strategy their entire lives. Give us the time we need,” she pleaded with them.

“Our citizens grow more terrified with every passing day,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said. “In a month’s time…there may be nothing left for you to defend.”

“...very well,” Marshal Antuma said quietly, drawing a surprised look from his counterpart, “We’ll try.”

“But…” she began to say, as he raised his hand to interrupt her.

“If we ignore the morale of the citizenry, we do so at our peril, Minister," Antuma explained. “History has proven that, repeatedly. As much as it pains me to say this... even a tactical military defeat could prove to be a strategic victory.”

Leandra bent her head in sorrow. “God help us all,” she whispered.

Barbarians - Chapter 9

Follow orders as you're told,
Make their yellow blood run cold
Fight until you die or drop,
A force like ours is hard to stop
Close your mind to stress and pain,
Fight till you're no longer sane
Let not one damn cur pass by,
How Many of Them Can We Make Die!

Heather Alexander - “March Of Cambreadth”

Commodore Kerime Fuentes struggled to avoid checking the chronometer for the umpteenth time since they’d arrived on station. The forty-two ships of Task Force Odysseus had waited for almost a week now, hidden away in the depths of the Uzaunx system, and she was wondering if perhaps Antuma and Fujimoto hadn’t guessed wrong after all.

Humanity’s practical experience in space combat was rather limited, and a century out of date. There’d been a series of skirmishes over Titan, and a rather brutal slugging match in Mars orbit over a hundred and fifty years ago, but neither of those had been Naval battles in the true sense of the word. No capital ships, no planned tactics or strategies, just two small forces throwing what weapons they had at each other, and hoping for the best. No matter what happened, this one would be one for the books...assuming it happened at all.

At the moment, all the Triumvirate Navy had for ships were the converted freighters. They had no internal weapons, no armor, no shields of any sort, and it wouldn’t take much to pound them into scrap. There was no way they could sneak in close enough to the enemy vessels to strike a serious blow, which meant the enemy would have to come to them. If the freighters could stay powered down long enough for the enemy stumble over them, they stood a decent chance of doing some serious damage.

The joker in the deck was trying to predict where the enemy would strike next, and setting up their ambush before they arrived. The enemy had moved in a straight line since the first attack, but there were three different worlds that fell on that axis, any of which could be the next target. They’d run the variables through the computers a dozen times, trying to narrow it down, but in the end, circumstances had forced them to go with their gut. If they’d guessed wrong and Uzaunx wasn’t the target, they’d have to withdraw and try again.

Hélène Fujimoto had outdone herself planning this, Kerime had to admit. She’d gone up against her more than once in the Guild, only to get schooled every single time. It was a gigantic throw of the dice, but if things broke their way they might just have a shot.

Who knows, they might even survive.

The trick lay in hiding the ships until they could launch their attack, and Admiral Fujimoto had come up with a doozy. Once they’d found a nice asteroid field to hide in they’d emptied their water tanks, coating each freighter with a thick layer of ice. It wouldn’t fool an active scan pointed in their direction for very long, but on passive scans, they should look like a scattering of rocky snowballs. In theory, at least. Hélène always was a sneaky bitch, Commodore Fuentes thought to herself in grudging admiration. In fact…

“...Contact!” her helmsman shouted, pulling her out of her reveries. “Reading multiple ships, bearing 187 by 013 degrees!”

Kerime pulled up her own display and muffled a silent curse. They were coming in close to the bearing they’d predicted, but there were over a hundred point targets out there, all on a least-time course for Uzaunx. Those were some long damn odds, but then she’d always known they’d be outnumbered.

“Alert the other ships by com laser, and tell them to stand by,” she ordered. The timing for this operation had to be perfect to have even a prayer of pulling it off. The enemy ships outgunned her task force of converted freighters by a wide margin, but there was one factor they had in their favor.

They had lots of cargo room.

“Tell the loadmasters to get ready,” she told her crew as the ships drew closer. “We’ll open the cargo doors in...three minutes, from my mark.” After they’d turned their ships into icebergs her crew had gone EVA with cutting torches to ensure the doors would open, but there was always the chance that the ice had reformed. They could blow the doors if they had to, but that would just send the enemy a signal they couldn't miss.

“Cargo bay doors opening,” the crew informed her minutes later, “Payload is being deployed.”

“Inform the engine room I want those reactors hot the instant we fire,” she told them, never taking her eyes off the screen. The engines were powered down to avoid detection, but once they fired the enemy would know they were there. They’d need those reactors powered up and ready to make their escape. She watched for any sign they had noticed their efforts, but so far the enemy was still boring in, fat, dumb and happy. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected the enemy’s formation, tugging on her ear. Their pattern was odd, almost as if they were each maneuvering separately. Was it possible they’d never drilled in fleet tactics? If they hadn’t faced another enemy in space that would make sense, but their armaments seemed to belie that. She filed that fact away, secure in knowing that everything they observed was being recorded for the drones. If the worst happened, at least some record of their battle would survive.

Her comm officer touched his ear and looked over at her. “All ships report deployment complete, Commodore,” he said quietly, as she nodded in reply. She was operating on pure instinct now, gauging the perfect moment by eye and experience alone. Come on...just a little closer… her mind whispered, as the final piece fell into place.

“Fire!” she commanded...as the missiles they’d been dumping into space suddenly went active, their homing radars searching for targets as they roared away from the Task Force.

“Missiles inbound!” the Tactical officer said in shock, as alarms began to blare. “We’re reading twenty thousand incoming projectiles, estimated time of impact...30 seconds!”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz’ head snapped around as defensive systems came online. “Evasive maneuvers!” he shouted, as the fleet began to scatter. “Target the missiles…and find me those ships!”

“Reactors hot! Engines to full!” Fuentes bellowed, as the Task Force began pulling away from the enemy fleet. They’d shot their bolt, and now it was time to make their escape. The lumbering freighters were slow to respond, but for the moment at least the enemy was otherwise engaged. With any luck that would buy them enough time to get underway, but in the interim, she still had a few cards left to play.

“Dump the chaff!” she shouted, as pallets of metal shards were kicked out the open cargo doors, a small explosive charge scattering the debris once the ships were clear. As long as the clouds of chaff were between them and the enemy, any attempt to target the freighters would be degraded.

Oathkeeper’s Tactical officer howled in frustration as his displays suddenly turned into blooms of static hash. “They’re interfering with my scans!” he cried out, even as the fleet began firing on the missiles. Counter missiles and automatic rapid-fire cannon blazed away at the incoming warheads, and they started being knocked out of the sky by the hundreds….but thousands of their brethren threaded their way through the defensive fire, their homing radar pinging as they went screaming in for the kill.

So far everything was going to plan, which only made Commodore Fuentes even more nervous. The Demon Murphy had yet to put in an appearance, which could only mean when he showed up it would be spectacular...and not in a good way. The freighters were picking up speed, and as of yet none of the enemy was in pursuit. Just in case they were coming, however…

“Release the mines!” she ordered, as they ejected even more pallets, scattering thousands of explosive mines in their wake. With any luck the enemy would come blundering through the chaff cloud, only to slam into minefield now behind them. If that happened…

…Kaboom.

The incoming missiles were in their final boost phase now, and while the defensive fire was winnowing them down there were still thousands left. Oathkeeper’s bridge crew held its breath as they waited until the last second, and then…

“Fire capacitors!” Jiyazh snarled, as the fleet suddenly exploded with a massive burst of electromagnetic energy. The pulse wave radiated outward, crashing into the incoming missiles...and turning the overwhelming majority of them into harmless hunks of metal, easily shrugged off. Some of the missiles survived the blast and detonated against the Khonhim ships, as they belched air and plasma. A handful of ships were badly damaged, and Vengeance and Reprisal exploded in balls of fire...but the rest of the fleet was still very much in the fight.

“EMP!” the helmsman howled, as Kerime’s eyes widened in horror. That blast of energy had destroyed most of the missiles, and her heart sank as she realized that Murphy had shown up after all.

“Missiles had minimal effect,” her XO said quietly for the record, as she realized just how bad things were about to get.

“Ready the Hail Mary,” she ordered.

“After them!” Jiyazh ordered, as the fleet changed course, following the fleeing ships. All they had was the general direction, as the clouds of chaff still interfered with their sensors. He leaned forward, peering at the display, as sudden suspicion gnawed at him.

“Alter course,” he told the helmsman. “They have disrupted our sensors for a reason...and I suspect whatever awaits us on the other side we will not find to our liking. Avoid the jamming field, and converge on the other side.”

“At once, Dhyaksh!” his helmsman responded, as he steered Oathkeeper around the chaff cloud.

Commodore Fuentes clenched her jaw as the enemy ships began altering course. “They didn’t buy it,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. She had one trick left in her bag, and if that didn’t work...they were doomed.

Jiyazh’s eyes glittered with recognition as Oathkeeper cleared the chaff cloud. “Clever...but not clever enough,” he smirked, as the waiting minefield suddenly appeared on their screens...along with the escaping freighters.

“Target those ships, and fire!”

Fuentes howled “Fire the Hail Mary!” as the enemy ripped her Task Force apart. The remaining freighters spat out dozens of missiles into the face of the pursuing fleet, the flight time mere seconds as the enemy closed the gap...when a string of fusion bombs detonated right in their lap.

Radiation alarms wailed as their screens blanked automatically. There was no time to evade, so the Khonhim ships simply charged through the blasts, their hulls taking the brunt of the deadly fire...and kept on coming.

Kerime had only a few seconds to realize just how badly they’d underestimated the enemy, slapping the red button on her console to send the message drones away from her ship...moments before it disappeared in a ball of fire.

“So much for these humans,” Jiyazh smiled in triumph, as the last ships died.

Barbarians - Chapter 10

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

Gary Jules - “Mad World”

At first the Task Force was merely overdue. No one knew for sure if Uzaunx was even the enemy’s next target, or when an attack might come, and their mission profile had included complete radio silence. But when the images came streaming in from the planet with pleas for help, before going offline, there was no longer any doubt as to its fate.

They hoped a few survivors might have escaped, but as days passed with no word that hope soon died. When the reality of what had happened sank in...all hell broke loose.

“We must send an Envoy to the enemy,” Σ 121 Sub Δ announced, catching the humans by surprise. “If we throw ourselves at their mercy, perhaps they will listen.”

“Minister...that’s a bad idea,” Marshal Antuma cautioned him. “Even if your Envoy isn’t simply killed out of hand, what could you offer them they can’t take by force? You’ll appear even more weak in their eyes than you do already.”

That brought the Ministers skidding to a halt, as Leandra nodded in agreement.

“But...we must do something!” Lassoarth said in desperation. Uzaunx was the second Saurotaur world attacked, and seeing her people suffering yet again had all but broken her.

Admiral Fujimoto rose to her feet. “Ministers, we humans have a saying: ‘Fish, or cut bait.’” The looked at her in confusion, as herbivores and artificial life the concept of fishing held no meaning for them. “It means you have to choose...either fight this war, or surrender. The time for half measures is long past, assuming it ever existed at all.”

“But our attack failed,” Qomzoixaa whispered. “What hope is there in fighting now?”

Leandra turned to her fellow Ministers. “Yes, we lost the battle, and as long as we’re being honest with ourselves, we lost it because we attacked before we were ready.” Lassoarth and Qomzoixaa suddenly had difficulty meeting her gaze, and who knew where the Ronin Minister was looking?

“But one battle is not a war,” she continued, “and this war is far from over. The Admiral’s question still stands...fight, or surrender? Knowing that either choice means death for your…our...citizens.”

“...can we still win?” Lassoarth asked in a small voice.

“Yes Minister,” the Marshal replied, “I believe we can. It won’t be easy, and it may come to pass that any ‘Victory’ we’re able to pull out of this war may well be a Pyrrhic one.” He paused for a moment, to let that sink in. “Knowing that, do you have the will to keep fighting?”

“And if we surrender?” Σ 121 Sub Δ asked. “What will become of us then?”

The military commanders shared a look, as Fujimoto brought up the images from Uzaunx. Lassoarth looked away, as tears filled her eyes.

“That, Minister...over and over again,” the Admiral replied. “That’s the best you can hope for, if you surrender.”

The silence that followed seemed to stretch out, until Qomzoixaa rose to his feet. “The only choice we have, is no choice at all,” he said at last. Leandra gazed at each of them before facing Marshal Antuma.

“I believe we’re all in agreement,” Leandra said at last, speaking for the group. “We fight.”

News of the disaster at Uzaunx spread through the Triumvirate like wildfire. Many of its citizens gave up, surrendering to what they believed was the inevitable. Others joined demonstrations against the government, the first ever in their lengthy memory, demanding answers…and hope. Leandra found herself promoted to spokesperson, standing before the growing crowds and pleading for calm. She knew what they needed to hear at that moment, and while she was no Churchill she had ready access to all his speeches, and the speeches of others as well. Other men and women who had been in the same position in Earth’s long bloody history, and she freely cribbed from every one of them. She had never thought of herself as a great orator, but as she mounted the steps she spoke with passion, exhorting them to not give up, to continue the fight, to come together as a people. Individuals who had sneered at the upstart humans now were moved by her words, as the Triumvirate began to face the cold realities they had so long avoided. The demonstrations grew smaller, even as the crowds turning up for her weekly addresses seemed to increase in equal proportions.

It was a start...but was it enough? Leandra wondered that more and more, as the days and weeks dragged on.

The answer came...as it so often does...from the unlikeliest of sources.

Raichret had come to the capitol to continue her studies as a Healer, just as her parents and grandparents had before her, but she had drifted into the role. Triumvirate medical science had progressed to where a Healer was all but superfluous, reduced to monitoring the machines that actually diagnosed and treated their patients. She would read the pronouncements the computer spat out as if they were her own, but despite her own innate talents, she was little more than a technician. What should have been a calling was mere drudgery, and as she reported to the Hospital each day she wondered why she even bothered.

Then war broke out.

The shock had almost shattered her. Things like war weren’t supposed to exist in the Triumvirate, and only the humans still found combat to be something other than abhorrent. She’d watched her fellow Saurotaurs led away, drafted to fight, a role they were so unsuited for, though in the privacy of her own thoughts she thanked the Creator they had not chosen her. Let others fight if they must, for they had trained her to preserve life, not take it.

There were many anxious conversations amongst her family, as she begged them to come to the capital. It was far from where the fighting was taking place, and if there was any place they would protect, it would be here. But her family balked, assured by their local leaders that despite all that had happened, they would be safe. They finally calmed her fears, despite the long distance between them, and as she and her mother said their goodbyes she promised she would contact her again soon.

That chance would never come. Uzaunx fell two days later.

Raichret stopped going to class, stopped reporting for duty at the Hospital, stopped everything. Even eating had become far too much an effort, as she felt nothing but the agonizing loss of her family and her home. She lay in her sleeping chamber, staring at nothing, until her friends intervened. Raichret soon found herself as a patient in the very place she had once treated others, and bit by agonizing bit her fellow Healers brought her back to something resembling life.

But there was now a hollowness within her, one that would never heal.

Once she was discharged, to make room for new patients suffering from the same affliction, her Mentor encouraged her to seek others, that the familiar sensation of being amongst the herd was perhaps the best medicine of all for her. So Raichret would seek the crowd, be it social gatherings, entertainments, even occasions as mundane as shopping. But it was a mere placebo, nothing more...until one day when she happened upon a gathering waiting to hear the human Minister Singh speak. She had heard others mention her speeches, though she had not listened to them herself. There seemed to be no point.

Only as the Minister addressed the crowd, Raichret felt the stirrings of something she’d thought long dead. That perhaps all was not lost, that if they wanted to see their loved ones have the chance to survive, it was up to them. The humans would give all that they could...but they could not do it alone.

The word that danced on the tip of her tongue was all but impossible for her to say. Even as the tears streamed down her face, tears she had thought she could no longer cry, the word struggled to find purchase. Raichret railed against that word, the sheer cruelty of it, but as she stared at the crossroads before her, the word emerged triumphant at last. It was the barest of whispers, but for someone who had lost everything, it was victory.

The word…was Hope.

She stumbled away from the crowd, her mind reeling, but even as she wandered the streets she knew she could not go back to her former life. She needed more, something to give her life meaning.

Raichret needed to make a difference.

The Triumvirate military was still new, still feeling its way, despite humanity’s guidance. There was no equivalent of the Pentagon or Ministry of Defense, and its various components were wedged wherever they could find available space. Humans were an almost ubiquitous presence anywhere uniforms were seen...and it was a very surprised child of Earth who stared in disbelief at the young female Saurotaur who appeared at his desk.

“I’m sorry…what did you just say?” Sergeant Vuković asked in astonishment.

“I wish to join those fighting the enemy,” Raichret said once again. “Is this the place to do that?”

“Let me get this straight...you’re volunteering?” the sergeant asked again, as he shook his head in amazement.

“Yes,” she replied. “Am I at the wrong location?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Vuković shrugged. “To the best of my knowledge, no one’s ever done it before.” He paused for a moment, gazing at her. “Look, Miss…?”

“...Raichret. I am a Healer...I was a Healer...here in the capitol. Now I wish to fight.” She returned the human’s look with equanimity, despite never having been in proximity to one before.

“Raichret.” The human smiled at her, before leaning back in his chair. “Mind if I ask why you want to sign up?”

The question was difficult to answer. In the end, she opted for simplicity. “My family was on Uzaunx,” she said at last.

Sergeant Vuković nodded in sympathy. “You have my deepest condolences,” he said gently. “I didn’t realize revenge was part of your species’ psychological makeup.”

She blinked in surprise. “Vengeance?” Raichret tasted the strange word, before shaking her head. “No, it is not that.”

He looked at her curiously. “If you were human, that’s what it would be.”

“I am not human,” she pointed out. “No...it was something Minister Singh said, in a speech. That if we wished to survive, it was the duty of all of us to take part, that we could not let your race carry the entire load. That...touched something in me,” she said softly, as her hand went to her chest.

“I see,” Sergeant Vuković replied, as an odd expression crossed his face. “Wait just a moment.” He bent to his console and began typing, as she waited for him to complete whatever task it was he was engaged in. When he finished, the sergeant produced a tablet and stylus and held them out to her. “If you want to join the Army...then sign here.” He pointed at a space near the bottom.

Raichret didn’t bother reading the words, instead she scrawled her name where he’d indicated. She handed it back as he verified her signature, before handing over another form.

“Be at this location at 0800 tomorrow morning. Bring identification, a change of clothing, and whatever personal items you require for basic hygiene. They’ll take it from there.” He stood up from behind his desk, and extended his hand. “Welcome aboard, Recruit,” he said, still somewhat bemused.

She looked at his hand curiously, before recalling the human greeting. She took his hand in hers, feeling its soft warmth…not for a moment horrified she had touched a bloodthirsty predator. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Trust me...in a week you’ll be cursing my name,” he chuckled.

Recruit Raichret was the first Triumvirate citizen to volunteer for duty.

She was not the last.

Barbarians - Chapter 11

Ain't found a way to kill me yet
Eyes burn with stinging sweat
Seems every path leads me to nowhere
Wife and kids household pet
Army green was no safe bet
The bullets scream to me from somewhere

Alice in Chains - “Rooster”

Prior to Task Force Odysseus’s deployment, Commodore Fuentes was handed a set of sealed orders from Marshal Antuma himself. No electronic copies existed in any database, and once she’d read them after getting underway they were incinerated. The orders were simple enough; deliver a package to Uzaunx before going dark, and forget she’d ever seen it. The orders didn’t explain why…but it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Which is why she had reprogrammed one of the message drones to head for the planet surface, in case the worst happened.

Their shelter smelled terrible.

It reeked the day they’d arrived, and after two weeks packed in like sardines, the aroma hadn’t improved one bit. You’d think a society as advanced as the Triumvirate would make their waste dumps less fragrant, but it seemed some things were universal. Not that they were complaining, as the smell kept casual visitors from investigating their location. They had good line-of-sight views in four directions, and just enough elevation to tap into the odd electronic transmission. From an operational standpoint, it was perfect.

Though Musashi was tiring of stuffing cotton up his nose.

He glanced around their improvised hide at the rest of the team. Tango was wrapped around her rifle as if she was cradling a lover, as still as the mist. Her glacier-blue eyes scanned the horizon through her scope, her only movement the occasional murmur as she recorded observed data. She was attractive, in a rough-hewn way, her blonde braid dangling over her shoulder...and as deadly as a cobra out to three thousand meters.

Graybird’s fingers manipulated the controls of his console, searching out the random snippets of data floating in the aether. He had the deft touch of a safecracker, the talents of a hacker, and the soul of an artist, piecing together what appeared to be unrelated scraps into a coherent whole. He’d tapped into both the Saurotaur’s transmissions and the enemy’s...the Khonhim, they’d learned they called themselves, after deciphering their language...storing everything for when they returned to friendly space.

If they returned to friendly space.

Musashi took a moment to regard his own reflection in a piece of shattered glass. Despite his callsign, there wasn’t a trace of Asian DNA in his genetic makeup. He was the odd man out of the group; the generalist surrounded by specialists, the historian more comfortable in libraries than the field, the loner who’d been elevated to leader by default.

And then there was Whisper.

Despite humanity’s best efforts to locate and treat those suffering from the various mental afflictions that had plagued mankind, there would always be a few who slipped through the cracks. Most would end up confined, eventually, sentenced to long term therapy. The self-controlled sociopath that passed as normal was all but a myth, and before he was selected for the mission Musashi had assumed such individuals were the creation of bad fiction. The thought of someone like that being employed by the government was laughable.

Whisper had disabused him of that callow notion.

The man was an utter enigma, his dark eyes as placid as a saint’s, but when you looked closer (he’d only made that mistake once, and it still left him nauseous) you could see things squirm in those depths. He was capable of surface pleasantry, seeming to have a lively and wry sense of humor, but behind that crafted mask was something not quite human.

And the more time the team spent together, the more that mask was starting to slip.

Marshal Antuma himself had handpicked them for this mission. He didn’t know their real names, nor did he want to, any more than they knew his. They were there on Uzaunx to learn everything they could about the enemy that had torn through the Triumvirate like a Grizzly gutting a deer, and despite all they’d discovered it seemed there were still more questions than answers.

Musashi crawled over to Tango’s position, peering out one of the small holes they’d knocked out of the wall. A thick pall of smoke hung over the city, as the invaders still found things to burn. “Anything new?” he asked.

She didn’t move a muscle. “They’re still operating off the Viking playbook,” she informed him, “though they don’t seem to have added Rape to their repertoire.” Her tone was clinical as she delivered her update. “Hurrah for species incompatibility.”

“They’re still slaughtering the locals out of hand?” he asked. The first few days after the invasion had been an unending nightmare, but by now they’d become almost sanguine at the various tortures the Khonhim visited upon the defeated Saurotaurs.

“Most of them...but I’ve spotted some being herded away. No pun intended,” she said.

That was a new development. “Any idea why?” he asked.

“None,” she replied. “But if I had to hazard a guess...I’d say the ones they’ve taken prisoner had rank of some sort. They’re dressed better than the others,” she explained.

“Interrogations,” Whisper nodded, as he appeared at their side. There were times he thought the man could teleport, the way he could move without being seen or heard. And let’s not think about what he may have used that talent for in that past, shall we? Musashi thought to himself, though he agreed with his assessment.

“If they’re being questioned, you can guess what the subject is,” Graybird chimed in, looking up from his console. “They have to be asking about us. Not the team,” he hastened to add, “but humanity. That download we got from the Task Force message drone...”

They all nodded at that. Watching the Task Force die had been a sobering sight. “Any sign of them carting off their spoils?” he asked Tango, looking to change the subject.

“Other than a few baubles and trinkets? None that I’ve seen,” she told him, as he once again tried to make sense of what they were seeing.

Earth had seen its fair share of invasions in its history, and some of them had been almost as bloody as what they were seeing here. But even the most infamous examples...the Huns, the Mongols, the Conquistadors...they’d all been after something other than just wholesale murder. Land, gold, slaves, each of those same invasions had served some purpose, some need of the invaders, but for the life of him, he was no closer to understanding the Khonhim’s motives than when they’d first arrived. It had all the earmarks of Jihad, and while the invaders were just as thorough as the Einsatzgruppen, there was a sheer ferocity that seemed more at home with the Aztecs than a space-faring species. It was almost as if the enemy was a plague of locusts, consuming all before it...but that made no sense either.

“What is it they want?” Musashi asked out loud. “They’re not making any moves to colonize, they’re not prospecting for fissionables...so why are they here? What’s driving this invasion?”

“Religious fanaticism?” Graybird suggested.

“Maybe,” Musashi admitted, “but I prefer not to settle on that answer without some proof. It’s too easy a trap to fall into when searching for motives. Besides, if it was religious, I’d expect to see rituals involved. Altars, sacrifice, that sort of thing. This is more like...pulling the wings off flies.” He glanced over at Whisper as he said that, who returned his gaze with a bemused half-smile. He suppressed a shudder and looked back towards the city, as Tango lifted her head from her scope and contemplated him for a moment, before speaking.

“I don’t think it’s any of that,” she told him. “From everything I’ve seen, this feels personal to me.”

“Personal?” His mind spun at the thought. “But...that would presume some previous contact between the Khonhim and the Triumvirate, and we know they’ve been at peace for over ten millennia.”

Tango shrugged, as she went back to her rifle. “It’s just my take on what we’re seeing,” she replied.

What if she’s right? he wondered. That might explain the reason behind this invasion, but how can we confirm it?

There was only one way, and Musashi had known all along it might come to this, though he’d shied away from it. They were here to gather data, yes, but taking more direct action raised the risk factor more than he liked. Only they’d exhausted all their other options, and if they didn’t discover the answers to the questions Antuma had sent them here to learn, all of it was for nothing.

Musashi closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before turning to face Whisper.

“We need a prisoner,” he said at last. “Someone who has direct knowledge...and who won’t be missed.”

Whisper’s smile was positively gleeful. “I thought you’d never ask.”

It was a couple of hours before dawn when Whisper returned with his prisoner, bound and gagged. The Khonhim towered over the dark-eyed man, and yet his every gesture screamed his terror of him. There were few marks on the Khonhim warrior, but whatever it was Whisper had done to loosen his tongue had him as giddy as a schoolgirl on her first date.

He so very much did not want to know what he’d done to make that happen. Not for anything.

Whisper forced him to kneel in front of him, which was an odd sight up close since their knees bent the opposite way, before removing his gag. Tango had her rifle trained on him, as cool and detached as ever, but the prisoner didn’t even look in her direction. All his attention was for the man who’d captured him, and Musashi almost pitied their captive. Graybird had the recorders already running as he stood before the Khonhim.

“What is your name?” he asked. It was always better to start off with something simple and establish a rapport.

“...Chaaghtozh,” he answered, never taking his eyes off Whisper, who pulled a hidden dagger and began cleaning his fingernails. Chaaghtozh made a small sound in the back of his throat that sounded like a moan, before looking back at Musashi. “Keep that one away from me, and I will tell you what you wish to know.”

…definitely did not want to know what he’d done.

“Why are you here?” Musashi asked. “Why have you attacked the Triumvirate worlds?”

Chaaghtozh raised up his head. “To fulfill our forebears' pact,” he answered.

“Pact?” Musashi asked in surprise. “What does that mean?”

The Khonhim warrior told him. For hours they questioned him, and the more he talked the more dumbfounded they became. Chaaghtozh held nothing back, spinning a yarn that hung together all too well to be fabricated, and as the sun began to rise high in the midday sky Musashi could only stare at him in astonishment.

“I don’t believe this,” he said at last. “It’s insane!”

Whisper’s blade came out again. “You think he’s lying?” he asked.

Chaaghtozh shrank away from him, even as Musashi held up a placating hand. “Put that away,” he ordered, as the Khonhim sighed in relief. “No, it’s not him I don’t believe...it’s the Triumvirate.”

“Things just got more complicated,” Tango agreed.

Graybird looked over at him. “We’ve got to get this back to Earth,” he said with feeling.

“Agreed...though I’m at a loss how,” Musashi told him. “We try taking off in our shuttle, and they’ll shoot us out of the sky.”

Whisper giggled as he held his knife to Chaaghtozh’s throat.

“...what about his?”

Barbarians - Chapter 12

The eastern world, it is explodin',
Violence flarin', bullets loadin',
You're old enough to kill, but not for votin',
You don't believe in war, but what's that gun you're totin'?
And even the Jordan river has bodies floatin',
But you tell me over and over and over again my friend,
You don't believe we're on the Eve of Destruction.

Barry McGuire - “Eve of Destruction”

“Move it!” Sergeant Vadas shouted, “Up the hill!”

Nassat ran as fast as he could, bounding from one covered position to another, as the enemy rained down fire all around him. Explosions sent dirt and debris flying everywhere, and even as he charged they cut down one of his squad mates, his legs kicking as he thrashed in pain. “Healer!” he howled, hoping one of the medical staff was nearby, but he could do nothing to assist his wounded comrade. They had to take out the enemy guns, for they doomed all of Bravo company.

He risked peering out from the tree he was hiding behind, spotting the trench line the enemy was using for protection. Loading a grenade he carried into the underslung launcher, Nassat took a deep breath, before rolling out and firing. He was up and moving just as the grenade detonated, charging up the steep incline and into the trench, his eyes wild with the adrenal surge his species had evolved to run from predators, not towards them. He stumbled as the dirt gave way beneath his feet, firing even as the other surviving members of his platoon rushed in behind him, adding their fire to his own. The enemy went down hard, taking two more from his team with them before their guns went silent.

“Clear!” Sergeant Vadas called out, as Nassat rose to his feet. He took a position in the trench, inserting a fresh magazine, as he prepared for a counterattack. His chest heaved with exertion, his hands trembling as he sucked water from his canteen, even as he scanned the perimeter for enemy reinforcements. Every part of his body ached as he waited for orders, and he was certain he couldn’t have taken another step if he’d tried. Vadas was also breathing hard, though he was certain she could still get up and run if it were necessary, because of the humans’ freakish stamina.

Looking below he could see the Healers attending to the wounded, their armbands marked with the two intersecting red bars the humans used for medical personnel. Nassat hoped they’d be able to rest before being called upon to take the next objective, but cruel experience had taught him not to get his hopes up. He sighed, taking another drink of water...as a warbling chime emanating from every communication device caught him by surprise.

“Exercise concluded,” the disembodied voice intoned, “Blue Team is the victor.” Nassat glanced down at the blue armband he wore and managed a brief smile. Sergeant Lin had promised them time to stand down and relax if they defeated the Red Team, and as he rose to his feet Sergeant Vadas flashed him a toothy grin.

“You did good, Nassat,” she told him, clapping him on the shoulder, and for once he was too tired to flinch. She had arrived from the human planet a few weeks earlier, along with many others, and had joined their company for the final phase of training. They now held most of the leadership positions in the unit...which was only fitting, as they had much more experience.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” he said, as all the “Dead” and “Wounded” rose to their feet. This battle had been the final culmination of their training, and as he replayed it in his mind it amazed him just how far he had come.

“Well come on then,” she chuckled, as she started down the hill, “I hear they’ve got transportation waiting...and Lin hinted he had a surprise for us.” Nassat stared at her in horror, making her laugh out loud. “Not all surprises are bad,” she snorted, as he followed in her wake.

“If you say so, Sergeant,” he replied, although everything his training had taught him said otherwise.

Sergeant Vadas was as good as her word. Once they’d cleaned and secured their equipment, they loaded the trucks and were taken to a clearing far from the outskirts of their base. Night was falling, and as they neared their objective Nassat could see a huge bonfire, surrounded by tables piled high with food and drink. Humans and Saurotaurs alike mingled nearby, and as they came to a halt he could hear music blaring from some hidden source. It was a tune unknown to him, and when he queried his translator it stated the song was called “When Johnny Comes Marching Home”. There was a jubilant air to the music, and many of the humans were singing along as they disembarked, though it also seemed as if there was an undercurrent of sadness to it.

His people also created music, but the rhythms and scales were very different. A Saurotaur composer worked to create intricate symphonies built to showcase harmonies, the complexity of the work in direct correlation to how well it was received. It was an intellectual exercise, a salute to the mathematical equations involved, but the human song was something far different. It was simple in comparison, and yet there was something about it that drew his attention, eliciting an emotional response as opposed to a mental one. He would have to ask a human about the difference at some point.

Nassat and the others drifted towards the tables, amazed at the wide assortment of food and beverages available. Many were familiar, but there were several varieties alien to him. Human food. He gave a large container of red orbs a tentative sniff, their aroma subtle yet almost devilishly tempting. He chose a fruit at random and bit into its flesh, a broad smile appearing on his face as its sweetness filled his mouth. Perhaps he would sample some of the other varieties the humans had brought, he pondered, as he followed a group of fellow trainees to a table where mugs of dark liquid were being poured from a cask. A group of humans had congregated there, laughing and joking, as he looked at the male filling the mugs. “What is this?” he asked.

The human grinned at him. “Fruit Juice! Sort of,” he laughed, pressing one into his hands. “Well, it started out as grape juice, at least,” he chuckled, but there was something about his tone that made Nassat suspicious. Another wary sniff explained why, as he detected the aroma of fermentation. He would have to be very careful with that, as his species had a low tolerance for alcohol. Judging by some of the antics he was witnessing, he could not say the same for the humans.

He wandered once more, as another song began to play. A simple martial air, this one titled “Over the Hills and Far Away”, which left him somewhat puzzled. Were all human songs about war? The way they gravitated towards conflict, it would not surprise him.

He spotted several humans splitting off and heading into the woods, where he could see another fire in the distance. A sign pointed the way, though the simple word left him puzzled once more. Another query to his translator and he felt ill, forcing him to take a large draught of his juice to settle his stomach. At least the humans had the common decency to locate it elsewhere, though he pitied the curious Saurotaur who discovered what “Bar-B-Q” was the hard way.

The humans filled the air with celebration, and yet he found himself unable to take part. Some of that was because of his own nature. It was unusual for one of his kind to seek solitude, and there were some that thought it to be a pathological condition. It was one reason he had drifted towards a life of contemplation, though he wondered now if he could ever return to the meditations of his former path. His Master’s betrayal had hurt, but even more was the slow realization just how much he had changed over the last few months. The universe looked very different to him now, and Nassat wondered if he would ever find his place within it again.

Assuming the enemy allowed him the opportunity.

Letting out a heavy sigh he turned away from the fire and wandered towards the perimeter. They gathered together in groups, most of his brethren, as was customary, but he felt reluctant to join them. The humans gathered together as well, and sometimes they even intermingled. It was so strange seeing them laugh and smile when he had grown accustomed to being screamed at by them. Once upon a time, he had dismissed their species as being primitive and barbaric, like so many others, but he realized they were far more complex than he had ever given them credit for.

Perhaps I should find a quiet spot to sleep, he thought to himself. They were all behind on that precious commodity, and it seemed a wiser course than moping about. He was about to do just that when he spotted a lone figure gazing into the fire, a female, bearing the Healer armband. It took him a few moments to recognize her...Raichret, a recent addition to the company. He did not know her well, for she too seemed to prefer seclusion from the crowd. Nassat was about to turn away and leave her in peace when something stopped him. Something in her eyes, a stillness, a disquiet, that resonated with his own feelings of unease. Before he realized what he was doing, he moved towards the bonfire and stood beside her.

“Greetings,” he said.

Raichret gazed up at him. “...Nassat, yes?” she asked him. He nodded his assent as she inclined her head. “What do you make of all this?” she asked, waving an arm towards the boisterous crowd.

He shrugged in reply. “I am not sure. It is a pleasant change from training.” Nassat cocked his head as he regarded her. “And you?”

She answered his shrug with one of her own. “I am uncertain as well. I find the crowd to be...overwhelming.”

A new song began playing, this one telling the story of a young female named “Katyusha”...and once again there was a martial element to the tale, though for what reason he was uncertain.

But he understood Raichret’s unease. “So much has happened,” he replied, “that I think all of us are struggling to find where we now belong.”

She froze for a moment, and Nassat feared he had caused some offense. He was preparing an apology when she bobbed her head. “Yes...much has changed,” she whispered. It was as if each word carried the gravity of a thousand suns, and a part of him wished to inquire as to the reason, but something stopped him. A sense perhaps, that she was not yet ready to offer an explanation.

A change in topic was in order. “What did you think of the exercise?” he asked her.

She took a moment to consider her response. “I think we would lose, without the humans,” she told him. “We could never have come so far, without their help.”

That was the truth. “I had never known a human, before,” Nassat admitted, “and I cannot say I know them now...but I agree, there is much they can teach us. Is it not written that Truth can be found in the unlikeliest of places?”

Raichret looked at him. “You were an Acolyte, were you not? Before, I mean.”

“I was, yes,” he told her.

She turned away, gazing back into the flames. “Do you think you will return to that life? After?”

That was a question he had often been asking himself, as of late. “I do not know,” he whispered, as he too stared into the fire...though he suspected neither of them were finding the answers they sought there.

“Ah…there you are,” they heard behind them. Nassat and Raichret both startled at the unexpected intrusion, turning to see Drill Sergeant Lin standing there, a large mug of juice in his hand. “You did a hell of a job today, Nassat,” he grinned, as the two of them both snapped to attention.

“Thank you, Drill Sergeant!” Nassat barked out in reply, as Lin laughed, spilling some of his drink. “Knock it off, both of you,” he told them. “You’re not Recruits anymore. You graduated. So eat, drink, and be merry!” he roared, raising his mug in salute, “for tomorrow we may…”

His voice trailed off into silence. “…never mind,” he mumbled.

Nassat stared at him in shock. This was nothing like the human he had lived in fear of since that very first day. “Are you…all right, Drill Sergeant?” he asked.

A new song began playing in the background...a mournful lament titled “Danny Boy”.

“Just taking part in an ancient human tradition,” he told them, as he pointed to the mug Nassat held in his own hand. “I see you are as well.” His eyes drifted over to Raichret, as a knowing smile appeared on his face. “You kids should have fun,” he chuckled. “That’s part of the tradition, too.”

Nassat looked at him in confusion. “What tradition, Drill Sergeant?”

A cloud seemed to pass over Lin’s face. “Wine, food...companionship,” he explained, turning away.

“...a condemned man always gets a feast,” he whispered...before disappearing into the darkness.

Barbarians - Chapter 13

Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I've witnessed your suffering
As the battle raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

Dire Straits - “Brothers in Arms”

For hours the various media outlets had been preparing the Triumvirate citizenry for a major announcement from the government. Given the heightened state of tensions, many individuals felt a certain sense of trepidation, for there had been no warning as to the topic, though no one doubted that it must have something to do with the war. When the time came it glued almost everyone to their viewscreen, waiting with apprehension as Minister Leandra Singh appeared, with the other ministers and senior military personnel in the background.

“My fellow citizens,” she began, her image and demeanor exuding gravitas, “I come before you this evening to deliver an announcement...one that affects every member of our society. At 0700 hours, local time, Triumvirate forces engaged the enemy at Uzaunx.”

Utter silence filled the chamber where she spoke, as she was sure it did in almost every location where the broadcast was being heard.

“At this time, we have no other information,” she continued, “though I can assure you as any new data comes in we will keep you updated.” She paused for a moment, as her features softened.

“We ask that you pray for our sons and daughters in their hour of need...for they require our strength now, more than ever.”

The Task Force that approached the Khonhim fleet was something very different than the ad hoc collection of freighters that had died here, weeks before. The ships were utilitarian with a rough unfinished appearance...but unlike the freighters humans had designed them for battle from the keel up.

“All Pilots to their ships!” the intercom blared, as human and Ophiptera alike raced to their Comet fighters. The stripped-down Pegasus-Class carriers that transported them were little more than engines and rails to secure the tiny craft, with minimal life support. The aviators climbed aboard their tiny craft, sealing themselves in, as the carriers slowed at the edge of the engagement area. One by one the lights turned green, as each ship signaled their readiness.

Admiral Fujimoto stood on the carrier Bellerophon’s bridge; her hands clasped behind her back. For this operation she had to be here, and as she saw the enemy fleet beginning to react to their presence, a grim smile appeared on her face. They’d pored over the imagery of TF Odysseus’ crushing defeat, learning everything they could, and the results of every lesson had gone into planning for this one...though Murphy had made his presence known once again. The Ronin contingent had run into unexpected delays, and because of that she’d almost scrubbed the mission. But the hidden scout ships posted at the outskirts of the system had reported signs the enemy was preparing to depart...and that had forced her hand.

Let’s hope they get here in time, she thought to herself, as she touched an icon on her console. “Bellerophon actual to all fighters...remember, you must get in close to the enemy ships to stay under their guns. Your aim is to cripple their ships, not destroy them, so once you’ve done enough damage to slow them down, move on to the next one. Whatever you do, do not let yourselves get pinned down. The Comets have the advantages in speed and agility, so use that.”

Her almond eyes grew dark and cold. “You’ve all seen the images. You know what these same ships did to TF Odysseus. Those brave men and women are watching us now, so let’s make damn sure their deaths were not in vain.” She took a deep breath and said, “All units…Launch! Launch! Launch!”

The Comets detached in pairs, forming up by squadron before speeding towards the enemy. The carriers themselves raced for safety once their fighters were away, mounting no offensive weaponry they were sitting ducks for the enemy ships...which were already beginning to respond.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz studied the images as the attacking vessels closed in. These new ships were nothing like the ones the enemy had used before, and he had a hard time imagining such tiny craft would have anything more than a minimal effect to his fleet...but perhaps they knew something he did not.

“Alert the fleet,” he ordered. “Open fire the instant they are within range.”

“Raptor Leader to all squadrons,” Group Captain Mustafa Malone announced on the Fleet frequency, “Stick close to your wingman and keep focus on your objective. Do not let yourselves get pulled away.” He plastered a predatory grin on his face, as they readied themselves for their attack run.

“Tally Ho!” he howled, diving into the fray...just as the enemy ships exploded with deadly aimed fire.

The Comets bobbed and weaved, jinking around the sky as a hail of cannon and missile fire clawed up to meet them. Their agility was their greatest advantage, and that was an area in which the Ophiptera excelled. Just as the humans suspected, being descended from flying creatures had given them an immense advantage in spatial awareness and reflexes. Their success wasn’t total, however, the sheer amount of firepower being thrown at them began taking its toll, as the Comets began to die. In ones and twos, they disappeared from the display, and yet they did not return fire. The tiny ships were knife fighters, not snipers, and to do any damage at all they had to get in close.

Admiral Fujimoto watched the plot as the Comets plunged towards the enemy, holding her breath as they did their best to evade the hail of death being thrown at them. They had to clear a pathway in, if the follow-on forces were to have a prayer of making it through the blockade.

The smile on Group Captain Malone’s face was long gone, as the enemy fire winnowed down his ships. The Comets were dying by the handful now, as they closed the distance, but they held their course as they came screaming in. So close...just a little more...and then…

“Raptor Leader to all squadrons…Scatter!” he shouted, as the fighters peeled off in a dozen different directions, confusing the enemy. It took the big ships a few seconds to adjust aim, and by the time they did...it was already too late.

The Comets opened fire, their cannons hurling their projectiles against the hulls of the enemy ships. Unlike the missiles used by TF Odysseus, these weapons couldn’t be batted aside. There were no sensitive electronics to fry here, and as the fighters peeled away the first Antimatter rounds detonated, ripping great rents into the Khonhim hulls, their passageways and compartments now exposed to space.

Oathkeeper bucked as a round landed amidships. The damage was severe, but not crippling, as Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz prepared to show these meddlesome creatures who ruled in this place, once and for all.

“Fire Capacitors!” he shouted, as a hundred ships sent a massive EMP energy burst against the tiny fighter craft.

...only this time it was the Comets who shrugged off the attack, as all around him his fleet began paying the price.

The attacking fighters tore a hole into the enemy fleet, as a thin smile appeared on Admiral Fujimoto’s face. Losing TF Odysseus had been painful, but it had shown them how the enemy fought. In retrospect, they should have expected an EMP attack, but a century of peace had deprived them of a great deal of institutional knowledge. In a way, they were having to relearn how to fight all over again, despite the Guilds and the Reenactments.

There were some things only war could teach...and the lessons were proving costly.

But the fighters had done their job. Admiral Fujimoto switched to a new frequency and contacted the ships waiting on the periphery of the battle zone.

“Fleet Admiral to second wave...the way is clear. Begin planetary drop.”

Nassat clutched his rifle as the shuttle screamed towards the planet’s surface. Bravo company was all crammed in together, so much so that breathing itself was a struggle. In a way that was almost a comfort, having the herd pressed in close was a reassuring sensation for his kind...though the humans scattered among them seemed to feel otherwise. They weren’t a herd species, after all.

He did not know what was happening outside the confines of his shuttle. There were no windows, no monitors, no message traffic being forwarded to their helmets…nothing. Were they winning the battle? Losing? Who knew? There was just one thing he did know...one hit was all it would take to kill everyone on board.

Perhaps, it was better not being able to watch.

He glanced over at Raichret, waiting as if she were someone meeting a friend for lunch. They had talked late into the night after Sergeant Lin had left, and while they had gotten to know each other better, he still could not say he knew her. There were large parts she kept walled away, and the times he’d tried to inquire he had bounced off an impenetrable wall. He could only imagine the amount of pain it would take to make her close herself off so, and yet…

Nassat shook his head, looking away. This was not the time to be thinking of things other than what awaited them on the surface. A sharp jolt slammed him against his neighbors, as several cried out in alarm. Part of him wanted to do the same, but what good would it do? Either they would reach the surface...or they would not. There was nothing he could do to influence the outcome, so best he focus on the task at hand instead.

Sergeant Lin stood at the front of the shuttle; a look of grim determination plastered on his face. He acted as if the strangeness of that evening had never taken place, and Nassat was glad for it. Was it possible the humans felt the same fear he did? It was not a question he could ask them; also, he did not want to. For if the predators feared death...what hope was there for any of them?

Another sharp jolt, and he glanced towards Raichret once more...only to find her staring back at him. He tried to smile for her, to give her some sense of ease, but it was like gazing on a blank wall. Had she disappeared so completely inside herself, there was nothing left? Nassat prayed that was not so, but as he struggled to find some way to reassure her, Sergeant Lin’s booming voice interrupted his thoughts.

“One minute out!” he shouted over the din. “When the ramp drops, get the hell away from the shuttle! You let yourselves get bunched up, and you’re just asking for it.”

Nassat closed his eyes and whispered a fervent prayer. Creator...I beg you watch over us, he implored, as Lin spoke up again.

“Thirty seconds! Lock and load!”

His hands shook as he readied his weapon, as the reality of what was coming threatened to overwhelm him. But the months of training took over, and despite the trembling in his fingers they knew what to do. Another deep cleansing breath, and then…

WHAM!

The shuttle slammed hard onto the ground, as the ramp dropped a split-second later. “GO!” Lin screamed as Nassat charged out of the confined space along with the others…

...straight into Hell.

Barbarians - Chapter 14

Death will take
Those who fight alone
But united we can break
A fate once set in stone
Just hold the line until the end
Cause we will give them hell
I will never surrender
We'll free the Earth and sky
Crush my heart into embers
And I will reignite

Malukah - “Reignite”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz growled as the Triumvirate fighters swarmed over his fleet. They were grinding them down, but his own ships were paying a terrible price for every craft destroyed. Retribution and Reciprocity were drifting, their main systems offline, and a dozen more were in little better shape. Their guns weren’t designed for such small swift ships, and unless he acted soon, they would force him to withdraw, leaving the cripples behind.

Jiyazh punched a button on his console. “All ships form a protective bubble around our most damaged craft. Do not let the enemy’s fighters find a way in!”

It was not a formation they had practiced, but for now it was the best he could do. Once his fleet formed an impenetrable wall, then let them come! He’d crush them under his heel like insects.

Admiral Fujimoto watched the enemy fleet fall back into a defensive formation and wished for the life of her she had even a handful of real warships. A dozen battlewagons and she’d smash her way through their perimeter, and there’d be nothing they could to do to stop her.

But wishing would not make it so. She had what she had, and that would have to suffice. At least the enemy had ceded the initiative to her, and if she could keep them penned up and out of the fight, her forces on the ground might just have a chance. Tapping an icon on her display, she radioed the fighters.

“Bellerophon Actual to Raptor Lead...pull back your fighters. Harassment and interdiction only. Keep them boxed up, but do not engage unless they attempt a breakout.”

It was a standoff, at least for the moment...but if the enemy realized just how vulnerable her carriers were and risked a counterattack, her fighters could not refuel and rearm.

Disaster loomed on a razor’s edge...and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to about it.

Nassat almost froze in shock as the rank in front of him fell like blades of scythed grass. Their blood splattered his uniform as he stumbled over their bodies, pushed from the rear as the Saurotaur behind him bolted in near panic.

“Keep moving!” Sergeant Lin screamed, firing as he charged forward. “You stay here, and you’re dead!”

Incoming mortars exploded all around him as he ran for his life, diving for an impact crater just as a round detonated behind him. The blast threw him off his feet, slamming him into the loose soil and knocking the breath out of his lungs. He’d lost his grip on his weapon, and in a moment of panic he scrabbled about to find it, as another soldier landed in the hole beside him. It took him a moment to realize it was a human who had dove into his shell crater, and a brief glance to his helmet’s HUD display informed him it was Sergeant Vadas.

Thank the Creator, he whispered, as he reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “What do we do now, Sergeant?” he shouted, desperate for someone…anyone...to take charge and show him the way.

Sergeant Vadas rolled over on her back, her blank eyes staring up at the sky...with a large ragged hole ripped through the middle of her chest.

Nassat recoiled in horror, staring at her corpse. He’d believed the humans to be invulnerable, and if they could die just like his own people, then this entire war was nothing but folly!

It took him several moments to get his fear under control. The humans were as mortal as he was, he knew that, it was just that they seemed so much larger than life during training...unstoppable, unflappable, with a predator’s courage. In some hidden part of his brain he’d assumed they would lead them through without harm, and now...

They cannot save you, his mind whispered, you must save yourself.

He swallowed, ducking back into his crater as another explosion rocked the ground. He couldn’t sit and cower in his hole...if he did nothing he was as good as dead himself. Sergeant Vadas still clutched her rifle, and with a whispered apology he pried it from her dead fingers, lifting it to his shoulder. It felt wrong in his hands, as they designed it for a human’s frame, but its mechanics were the same as his own. It would do for now, until he could find a replacement...of which he was sure there would be many lying about, ones their previous owners no longer required.

The world seemed to split apart as new explosions rocked the air around him. The second wave of shuttles were coming in, and he realized in alarm they were being shot out of the sky with deadly precision. They were being blown apart one after another, raining flaming debris all around his position. Risking a look he spotted a crew-served weapon just a few hundred meters away, and as he watched they loaded another magazine into the launcher.

Without those reinforcements, Bravo Company would be slaughtered.

His hands seemed to move of their own volition, as he loaded a grenade into the tube and locked it shut with a hollow sounding thunk. He peered through the sight, gauging the distance, and fired, dropping back into his crater to reload. Nassat trembled with fear as he dared a second look...and saw to his horror that he’d missed. His round had fallen short by several meters and had not harmed the weapon or its crew at all.

It had, however, gotten their attention.

Nassat yelped and ducked for cover as a hail of weapons fire peppered his position, clutching his rifle. The enemy knew where he was, and they wanted him dead. Not just anyone...him! He couldn’t risk another attempt, he just couldn’t!

...but if he didn’t, they would destroy those shuttles. And then they’d kill him.

Die now...or die later. Is this what war is? his mind wailed.

“Admiral!”, the officer monitoring sensors shouted, “we have incoming! New ships entering the system!”

Hélène’s head snapped around. “Enemy reinforcements?” she asked in sick realization.

There was a pause...and then a grin appeared on the officer’s face. “Negative! It’s the Ronin contingent!”

Thank God, her mind whispered. Reports from the surface were not good. The small perimeter they’d secured was in danger of collapse, and they still hadn’t knocked out the enemy’s anti-air capabilities. “What’s their ETA?” she demanded.

“Twenty minutes, Admiral,” the comm officer confirmed.

“...tell them to expedite,” she ordered. Twenty minutes. A mere blink of the eye.

And perhaps...far too late to save them.

Another shuttle exploded in a fireball overhead, as Nassat closed his eyes. He had to do something...letting those humans and Saurotaurs die without trying to save them was tantamount to killing them himself.

There are worse things than dying, he realized. Nassat took a deep breath, and double checked his weapon. Creator, help me now, he prayed...as he leapt from his shell crater and charged the gun position, firing his grenade before switching to the rifle, spraying the surprised enemy with a hail of weapons fire. One of them returned fire, and Nassat felt something tug at his arm as he swapped magazines, firing again. The last enemy survivor went down as he galloped through the objective, whipping his weapon back and forth in search of targets...before he realized they were all either dead or dying.

Nassat breathed a sigh of relief as he sank to the ground, pulling off his helmet to wipe the dirt and smoke from his face, as his eyes went wide. He’d heard the phrase “Moment of Clarity” mentioned during training, but he’d never understood it, not until that moment.

He was alone.
With no support.
Behind enemy lines.

This is so very bad, his mind gibbered, as he logged on to the com network for the first time since they’d landed. “Bravo Six-Actual, this is Bravo Two-Three,” he all but cried out into the mic, “Have secured enemy anti-air weapon position, requesting instructions, over!” he got out in a rush. “Sending coordinates now!”

There was a moment’s pause., and then…

…”Bravo Two-Three, where is Bravo Two-Six?” Lin demanded.

Two-Six had been Sergeant Vadas’ callsign. “...dead,” Nassat whispered, “Bravo Two-Six is dead.”

“...copy, Two-Three,” Lin replied after a moment. “Stand by your position, we’re coming to you, over!”

“Copy, Six-Actual,” Nassat acknowledged, as he scanned the perimeter for movement. At first he saw nothing, but then a small contingent of Saurotaurs boiled up out of the ground, charging forward...with a human in the lead. He whispered a silent prayer as he waved them forward, freezing in shock as he saw movement coming from the opposite direction. An enemy unit must have realized what had happened and was coming to deal with them, and without thinking he opened fire, sending them diving for cover. Lin and the others arrived moments later, hugging the dirt, as the enemy opened up with everything they had.

“Sitrep!” Lin shouted, as he and the others returned fire.

“Sergeant Vadas is dead!” Nassat shouted back. “I saw the enemy shooting down our shuttles, and I took the position to stop them!”

Sergeant Lin stared at him for a moment. “By yourself?” he asked in amazement.

Nassat was embarrassed by the question. “...I had to, Sergeant,” he explained, “there was no one else.”

An odd expression appeared on the human’s face. “Enjoy your moment of glory,” he shouted, as he switched magazines. “Unless reinforcements get here soon, no one will ever know.”

An incoming flight of mortars cut off his reply, as Nassat focused on just staying alive. He tried to scratch out a few inches of dirt, in between assaults, as the enemy charged their position. They beat them off the first time, but they regrouped and tried again. This time they got closer, as several of his fellow Saurotaurs died defending the barren patch of dirt they were using for cover. He could hear the incoming shuttles, but he didn’t dare spare them a glance. His entire life had become just a handful of actions, repeated over and over again: Fire, switch magazines, scratch out a little more dirt, fire again, pull a wounded comrade to safety, fire, switch magazines...the rest of the world had disappeared for him. There was room for nothing else in his universe, other than the desperate struggle to stay alive.

And then, a new sound penetrated his consciousness. At first it barely registered, but as it grew louder, the sound of crashing objects and clanking metal was impossible to ignore...but those sounds were not the ones that drew his attention.

Nassat stared at Lin in confusion. “Is that…music?” he asked in bewilderment.

Sergeant Lin’s grin was the slasher smile of a madman. “No...that’s Panzerlied!” he whooped with glee, jumping up out of his hole...as a massive metal beast roared past their position, firing a gigantic weapon that obliterated the enemy’s position.

“About time you Ronin bastards showed up!” Lin howled, as the tanks clattered their way forward.

Barbarians - Chapter 15

I was struck by lightning, walkin' down the street
I was hit by something last night in my sleep
It's a dead man's party, who could ask for more?
Everybody's comin', leave your body at the door
Leave your body and soul at the door
Don't run away, it's only me
Don't be afraid of what you can't see

Oingo Boingo - “Dead Man's Party”

The Ronin armor turned the tide, as the enemy scrambled to fall back. Nassat and the others struggled to keep up as the massive tanks surged forward, their speed only limited by the terrain and the raw power of their engines. He had seen the artificial life forms in a variety of body shapes over the years, but nothing in his experience had prepared him for anything like this! Their mammoth turrets swept across the battlefield, destroying everything in their path, as Nassat and his fellow Saurotaurs felt a wave of relief wash over them. With the tanks at their side, the battle would be over in a matter of days...perhaps even hours! It was cause for celebration...but as they cheered and clapped each other’s flanks one of the armored vehicles exploded, sending a pillar of fire a hundred meters into the sky. Two more died seconds later, and then it was the panzers in full retreat.

“God damn it!” Sergeant Lin screamed in frustration, “I told those stupid Ronin bastards to wait for support!”

Nassat could only stare in shock. “Sergeant, what happened?” he asked, as he watched his hopes for a quick end to the war come crashing down.

“Ambush,” he snarled, stomping his feet. “The enemy led them right into a trap.” He turned to look at Nassat. “Never assume your opponent’s an idiot, Nassat,” he warned him, “it’s the surest way to end up dead.”

“...yes Sergeant,” he mumbled, as another tank went up in flames.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz waved his engineer forward as he studied the plot on his console. “What is the status of Retribution and Reciprocity?” he asked him.

“We can return Retribution to operational status in just a few hours,” the engineer informed him. “The damage it suffered will greatly reduce its speed, as well as its firepower, but it will be functional. Reciprocity is more problematic...while we can repair its engines, at least in a limited capacity, they have holed it in multiple locations. It cannot sustain life until we have sealed those off, and even once that is complete, we have also detected several radiation leaks. Dhyaksh...I believe it is best we scuttled her,” he finished.

Jiyazh grimaced at the news, though he was not surprised. The engineer had confirmed his own worst suspicions, and despite his overwhelming numerical advantage, the loss of the two ships hurt.

He snarled, pounding his console in frustration. He had to break free of the cage the enemy held him in! The Human forces...and he knew now this new force must be human, or at least led by them...would allow him to escape, he was certain of that, but that would leave the warriors on the planet without support. They would have no choice but to surrender, and that could not be allowed. They represented the bulk of his fighting force, and he would not abandon them to their fate.

His eyes studied the plot once more, searching for an answer...when a strategy suggested itself to him. His eyes narrowed as he manipulated the data, adjusting the parameters...as a thin smile appeared on his face.

The Dhyaksh turned back to his engineer. “I have something different in mind,” he told him in conspiratorial tones.

“Now here is what I wish you to do…”

Admiral Fujimoto stared at the enemy’s formation and wondered what her counterpart was thinking. He couldn’t stay there forever, that much had to be obvious to him, which left only two options; Escape, or Breakout. If he withdrew, she would allow him to do so, for that would leave the enemy on the ground at her mercy. But as canny as her opponent had proved she was certain that was the last thing on his mind.

Which meant he had to be planning a Breakout.

That being the case, he had two strategies that would give him a chance to preserve his forces. He could use the bulk of his fleet as cover to evacuate the planet, and then attempt an escape, but that was a risky proposition. As soon as she spotted any shuttles heading for or leaving the planet, she’d send in the fighters. They could operate in atmosphere, whereas his big ships could not, and the Comets would wreak havoc on anything as slow and defenseless as a shuttle.

Or...he could send an advance force against her carriers. There was also a risk there, she’d already shown him what her fighters could do against his ships, but of the two options, it was the smarter play. So how would he do it?

She was still mulling that over when her comm officer signaled for her attention. “Admiral, I have Flash Priority traffic. Eyes Only, and encrypted.”

Hélène arched an eyebrow. “Send it to my monitor,” she ordered, as she waited for the download and the decryption protocols to finish. Her eyes narrowed as the message appeared in the clear, drumming her fingers on the console as she read the brief communiqué, before sighing as she leaned back in her chair. This would be a complication, but then she’d prepared for the possibility.

“Get the ground commander on the horn,” she ordered, “and tell him there’s been a slight change in plans...”

Nassat ducked into the Medical tent, his eyes searching through the gloom. They had lined row after row of cots in the temporary structure, each one filled with a wounded Saurotaur or human. The Healers were moving with purpose, doing their best to save as many lives as they could, but even to his neophyte eyes, he could see it overwhelmed them. The moans and cries of the wounded were heart-wrenching...but worse still were the silent forms that made no sound at all. They stacked them to one side, out of the way, and despite the bodies he saw he knew there were many more still on the battlefield. The very sight of it should have reduced him to agonized tears...and the fact that it didn’t spoke volumes at just how much death he had already seen.

He froze as he spotted the person he’d been searching for, making his way through the maze of wounded until he touched her on the shoulder. Raichret looked up at him, her smock splattered with the blood of a dozen different soldiers. Her eyes softened as she recognized him, as she rose to her feet.

“Nassat...I am pleased you are still alive,” she told him, though her eyes narrowed as she stared at his arm. “You are wounded,” she said, reaching for her kit.

He blinked in confusion. “No, I am fine,” he tried to reassure her, but as she grasped his arm and lifted it up, he realized it was streaked with blood. “What? I didn’t...when did that happen?” he wondered aloud, as she started to clean and dress the injury.

“You are fortunate, it is not serious,” Raichret said with a ghost of a smile. “I am surprised Sergeant Lin allowed you to come here, they have forced us to make the lesser cases wait.”

Nassat shook his head. “That is not why I came,” he told her. “Sergeant Lin sent me to fetch you. He said we required a Healer, though he did not say why...only that he would brief us upon our return.”

Raichret shook her head. “I am needed here,” she protested, as she finished securing the dressing, “we are already understaffed.”

“You have been attached to our unit,” he shrugged. “I have already passed the orders to your superior.” He flexed his arm a few times and smiled. “Thank you,” he told her, “it feels much better already.”

She nodded, as she peeled off her smock and pulled on her uniform jacket. “I hope this will be worth it,” she said. “Many will not survive without my presence here.”

“Sergeant Lin would not take you from your duties without good cause,” he assured her, as they made their way out of the tent. It was only a short distance to where Lin was waiting, and they didn’t have to bound from crater to foxhole along the way. With the help of the Ronin armor, the lines had stabilized, despite the losses, and now both sides were digging in. A tense quiet seemed to hang over the small compound, threatened to explode once more at the drop of a pin.

In only a few minutes they arrived where Lin was waiting. “Good, you both made it,” he nodded. The rest of Bravo Company...the ones still alive...glanced over at them as they waited to hear what was going on.

“They have tasked us with a mission,” Lin informed them, coming straight to the point. “A group of friendlies are caught behind enemy lines, and Command has ordered us to bring them back out.”

Raichret looked up at that. “Do you know who they are?” she asked, in a sudden burst of emotion.

Lin shook his head. “No idea...just that it’s important. They’re holed up in an abandoned building here,” he informed them, marking the location on their HUD displays. “The mission is simple...we go in, secure the friendlies, and bring them back. Nice and easy.” He paused for a moment, looking over the group. “Because of our losses, 3rd Platoon gets folded into 1st, and I’ll be taking charge of that platoon myself. Since we lost Sergeant Vadas, Corporal Nassat will take over 2nd Platoon.”

Nassat stared at him in confusion. “But...I’m only a Private,” he corrected him.

“Not anymore,” he smirked. “I need someone who can think on their feet...and that’s you.”

Nassat’s mind spun at the sudden change in circumstance. He looked over at Raichret for support, who returned his gaze with an appraising eye while saying nothing. “...yes Sergeant,” he mumbled, still dazed by the unexpected promotion.

“All right then...saddle up. We do this quiet, people. In and out. Questions?” No one raised their hand. “You’re on point, Nassat,” Lin ordered. “Move out.”

Night was already falling as Bravo company made their way through friendly lines, past the tanks guarding the perimeter. Nassat wished one was coming with them, but then quiet was the one thing the massive machines were not. He’d asked Lin about that, but the Sergeant had shaken his head and made some vague reference to “Bomb Magnets”, whatever that meant. Raichret hung back with Lin and 1st Platoon while he eased through the barren terrain, his eyes sweeping back and forth as he searched for any sign of the enemy. The rest of the company followed behind him, their weapons out as they too watched for movement. But for once fortune smiled upon them, and soon they arrived short of their destination, without having stumbled across any of the alien attackers.

Sergeant Lin called a halt, as he signaled ahead. Nassat waited anxiously, for the mission was going far too smoothly for his liking. The entire planet was crawling with enemy warriors, so where were they? He hunkered down behind a small rocky outcropping as Lin verified the friendlies were still there...when suddenly a hail of gunfire came out of nowhere, cutting down half a dozen of his platoon in the first salvo.

“Take cover! Return fire!” Lin shouted, as Bravo company opened up, their weapons searching for the enemy. He spotted them on his HUD with the night vision optics, but they were in a well-covered position. There was no way they’d be able to dislodge them, not without reinforcements...or taking heavy casualties. They lobbed grenade after grenade with their launchers, missing only by centimeters sometimes, but it might as well have been by a kilometer.

Nassat checked his map, even as Raichret was up and moving, treating the wounded. She was exposing herself to enemy fire, and though he searched for a unit close enough for a fire mission, there was nothing within range. It was tempting to send another prayer skyward to the Creator, but part of him wondered if perhaps he had already received his allotment of miracles.

Something whistled past his ear, quickly followed by another. Nassat threw himself to the ground as the fire whipped past his position...but then he realized the fire was heading towards the enemy, not coming from it, and it was slacking off. One by one, the enemy guns went silent, and as he stared in amazement he spotted a small group heading towards their position. His rifle whipped around to cover the new threat, just as Sergeant Lin reached him and pushed his weapon down.

“Those are our friendlies,” he informed him, as he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He watched as what appeared to be four humans draw closer, dragging along with them what had to be an enemy prisoner. In less than a minute they arrived at their position...as a blonde-haired human female cradled a long gun in her arms.

“You’re late,” Tango informed them.

Barbarians - Chapter 16

It's time to forget about the past
To wash away what happened last
Hide behind an empty face
Don't ask too much just say
Cause this is just a game
It's a beautiful lie
It's a perfect denial
Such a beautiful lie to believe in

30 Seconds To Mars - “Beautiful Lie”

Minister Leandra Singh knew she had a temper. Lord knew her mother had admonished her enough about it, growing up. Over the years she’d struggled to keep it under control, but there were times...usually when it was the most inconvenient… when her anger would come bursting through.

And now she was working on a rage of epic proportions.

She couldn’t say she stormed through the outer offices, though it was a near run thing. Leandra shouldered her way through the doors and stalked her way into the Chambers, mounting the steps and dropping into her seat as she fixed her counterparts with a smoldering glare.

“Is something wrong?” Lassoarth asked, sensing her fury. “The latest reports from Uzaunx have been most encouraging,” she said in what she hoped were placating tones.

“Oh, something’s wrong, all right,” Leandra growled. She fixed each of them with a withering stare, causing both Lassoarth and Qomzoixaa to make nervous glances towards the exit. Σ 121 Sub Δ just sat on its pedestal...seriously, how did one go about intimidating a shiny metal ball? And how would you know if it worked? Perhaps next time she’d bring a hammer with her and see how it reacted to that.

She held up a thick file, letting the Ministers get a good look at it. They printed it on old fashioned paper, because this was one time she didn’t want to leave any electronic traces in her wake...for the simple matter she still hadn’t decided how to handle the situation. Depending on what happened in the next few minutes, leaving a paper trail could prove disastrous.

Leandra opened the file and looked at the other Ministers. “Prior to the First Battle of Uzaunx, we dropped a four-person team onto the surface. Their mission was to gather intelligence, assuming the enemy had chosen that planet as its next target. The size of the force, the tactics they used, anything that might help us fight this war.”

“A sound precaution,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said with guarded approval, though she sensed nervousness on his part. Good.

“Indeed,” she smiled. “After the defeat of TF Odysseus, we lost contact with the team. It wasn’t until our ground forces landed during the second battle that they reestablished contact. We extracted the team...along with a prisoner they’d captured.” She paused for a moment, as her gaze swept the room. The other Ministers were on edge, though whether that was because of her own mood or something else was difficult to say. “We interrogated the prisoner…a warrior named “Chaaghtozh”...at great length, and one of the very first questions we asked him was Why? Why did they attack the Triumvirate?” She lowered the file and stared at the others. “Care to guess what he had to say?”

Qomzoixaa shifted in his seat. “How would we know the reason for such insanity?”

Leandra shook her head in disgust. “So you intend to drag this out to the bitter end. Fine. I can play that game too.” She closed the file and glared at the other Ministers. “You three screwed up big time. You spent ten millennia burying the truth, and by now you must have almost forgotten all about it. And why not?” A wry expression appeared on her face. “The real story was accessible only by the highest-ranking officials of the Triumvirate. Its Ministers.” She paused for a moment, savoring the sweet taste of justice long denied. “Which was safe enough, I suppose...when there were only three of you.”

A dawning sense of horror appeared on the herbivores faces, as her eyes blazed with righteous anger. “You never in a million years thought we’d figure it out, did you? But as soon as we learned why they’d come...why they’d returned...I started digging into the Ministry’s archives. After all…I have full access now, don’t I? All thanks to you.” Leandra leaned back in her chair, with a smile the Cheshire Cat would have envied. “Once we knew what to look for, it didn’t take long at all to learn the story...of how the gentle and benevolent Triumvirate tried to murder an entire race of beings, whose sole crime was that they were omnivores.” The smile disappeared as she snarled at them, spitting the words out. “Just like us.”

Lassoarth and Qomzoixaa shrank back in their chairs as Leandra rose to her feet. “For almost a century you’ve looked down at us, sneering at the poor half-evolved violent apes of Earth. You’ve kept us at arm’s length, made one demand after another to tame us, dangling shiny bits of technology as a lure to do your bidding. And all the while, terrified we’d learn your dirty little secret.”

She advanced on them, as implacable as Juggernaut. “You’ve spent ten thousand years covering up your mess, burying it so deep that no one even suspected it. What could bring it all back up again, and rock your perfect little society?” The sarcasm dripped like poisoned honey with every word from her mouth. “Only you didn’t kill them all, now did you? And when they came boiling out of space, bent on vengeance, it must have been your greatest fear come to life. Your own personal bête noire, determined to do to you what you had done to them.”

Leandra was working herself up to a real lather, and she had no intentions of trying to rein it back in. Oh no, not this time. “I can only imagine the discussions you three must have had, as you tried to figure out what to do, how to save your people.” Her hands clenched in fists of rage. “And then one of you had the brilliant idea of having Humanity fight your war for you. It must have seemed like the perfect solution...having one predator destroy another. Utter symmetry.” Her nostrils flared as she sneered at each of them. “But then we humans know all about “Final Solutions”. I won’t pretend we’re innocent of that crime...but at least we had the decency to only practice Genocide on ourselves.”

She wasn’t sure that was something to be proud of, truth be told, but then she’d been waiting decades to throw their smug superiority back in their faces.

“...we were frightened,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said in a small voice. “We didn’t know what else to do.”

“YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD US!” Leandra bellowed. “Maybe we could have intervened, somehow. The Khonhim didn’t have a grudge against us, remember? We might have been able to broker an agreement, as neutral parties.” Her entire body trembled with fury at the sheer stupidity of these so-called “Enlightened Races”. “Only now it’s too late. We took your side, trained your people to fight, and led them into battle. Our hands are now as bloody as yours...all because of a lie.”

The silence that followed her tirade was deafening. Leandra could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, singing like boiling mercury, but now that she’d vented her spleen on the very individuals she had felt so much anger towards for so many years, she could feel herself deflate. Hell…it had almost been therapeutic.

Leandra forced herself to sit back down, taking slow calming breaths. “So now we know,” she said at last, “and we have decisions to make.”

It took several long moments before Qomzoixaa worked up the courage to respond. “How many of your race knows the truth?” he asked.

“At the moment...myself, Marshal Antuma, Admiral Fujimoto, Governor-General Granville...and the four-person team who made the discovery. We’ve kept this under wraps until we decide how to proceed.”

“Why haven’t you exposed us?” Lassoarth asked. “It is obvious you wish to.”

“Believe me, I’d like nothing more,” Leandra said, “but it’s not quite that simple. Just how do you think they’ll respond, your people and mine, once they learn the truth? “

The Saurotaur Minister closed her eyes. “...I do not know,” she whispered.

“Neither do I,” Leandra replied. “Your people I suspect will keep fighting, out of sheer necessity, if nothing else. But mine?” She shrugged. “Many will demand our withdrawal. They’ll say you brought this on yourselves, and why should human blood be spilled for your crimes? Oh, some will still fight...it’s the first war we’ve had in a century, and there will always be some of my people drawn to that, but will it be enough? At the moment I couldn’t hazard a guess.” She took a deep breath. “But I can tell you this much...if we pull out, your people won’t stand a chance. We might have shown them the way, but they don’t have the experience...or the temperament...to carry it through. Not yet...and not soon enough to make a difference. The Khonhim will grind you into dust.”

“...please,” Σ 121 Sub Δ begged, “you must help us preserve the secret. Whatever you think of us now, know that we were not the ones who tried to destroy the Khonhim. We inherited the secret from our distant ancestors and are not responsible for their crimes.”

Leandra regarded the metal sphere. “And if it had been us, all those years ago?” she asked it. “Would you have hunted Humanity into extinction, as you did the Khonhim?” The Ronin Minister did not respond, as she nodded. “Your silence speaks volumes, Minister. I suppose I should be grateful you’ve given up the pretense of lying to my face.” A bitter smile appeared on her lips. “You should be glad you didn’t attempt to wipe us out as you did them. You think the Khonhim fight dirty? Wait ‘til you see what a human will do when our back is to the wall.”

“Minister Singh…please,” Qomzoixaa beseeched her, “do with us what you will, but we must ensure no one else ever learns the truth, for the very reasons you have just laid out.”

“It won’t work,” Leandra said. “Eventually we’ll take other prisoners, and the word will get out. It’s inevitable. We can delay it a little, but you had better prepare yourselves for the storm that’s coming.” She took a deep breath. “And this storm, unlike the war, just might bring your perfect society crashing down. When they find out they’ve been lied to all these years, that their ancestors were just as warlike as us humans, well...I can’t predict how it will all end.”

There was a long silence as they considered that future, until the Ronin Minister spoke. “We must open the Archives,” it said at last, “and show them what happened. Minister Singh, you must understand that in those days, when the Triumvirate was first founded, we believed that only herbivores could achieve sapience. Even the race of my Creators, before the Plague consumed them, were such. When we first encountered the Khonhim and discovered to our horror they feasted on animal flesh...” Somehow, without moving a millimeter, Σ 121 Sub Δ gave the impression of suffering a bone-deep shudder. “...all we could see was a Predator. We could not run...but science gave us the means to defend ourselves.” There was another pause, and then the machine seemed to sigh. “No...that is incorrect, for they did not strike the first blow. Perhaps if they had, we would have not tried so hard to bury the truth. Minister, we reacted out of fear, then. I do not offer that as an excuse...merely an explanation. We did not consider the possibility that a Predator could be anything other than a threat.”

“And when you met us?” she asked. “Was there a debate about whether or not to try it again?”

“There was,” Σ 121 Sub Δ admitted. “But ten millennia had passed, and in that time we had been so successful in keeping our secret...we no longer knew how.” The machine sounded almost wistful. “Besides, your own warlike past was not quite in the past. Had we tried…”

Leandra snorted. “Had you tried...we would have wiped the floor with you.”

“Yes...we too came to that conclusion,” Σ 121 Sub Δ agreed. “So instead we used our technology as a bribe, just as you said, in the hopes we could wean you away from the need for violence. And in our defense, it worked.”

She sighed, nodding her head. “It did, mostly...and I’m not saying we don’t owe you some gratitude for helping us mature...but you still should have told us the truth.”

“How could we?” the machine asked. “When not even our own kind knew what had transpired, so many long years ago? But now it seems we must tell our people the true story of their beginnings...only I fear that when we do, we will lose everything.”

The human Minister was silent for several long moments, before an odd look appeared on her face. “We might be able to help you with that,” she said at last.

“How?” Σ 121 Sub Δ asked. “Once the truth is out, it is out.”

Leandra chuckled. “You think our warriors are scary? Wait until I introduce you to Spin Doctors.”

Barbarians - Chapter 17

My hands are tied
The billions shift from side to side
And the wars go on with brainwashed pride
For the love of God and our human rights
And all these things are swept aside
By bloody hands time can't deny
And are washed away by your genocide
And history hides the lies of our civil wars

Guns N' Roses - “Civil War”

Nassat shifted his weight from one foot to another, trying to ease the ache in each of his legs. The entire company...what remained of it...were in their holes, scanning the perimeter, as the sun made its first appearance of the day. Every morning before dawn they were up and ready for an attack, as Sergeant Lin had drilled into their heads it was the best time for the enemy to strike. He scanned the perimeter with his night vision sensors, looking for movement...and saw none.

Thank the Creator, his mind whispered. One of the Ronin tanks loomed nearby, and he found its presence to be an immense comfort. They had taken serious losses that first day, but they too had learned, and now no one went out past the wire unless it was in force. As the sun continued its slow climb, he deactivated the night vision and switched to the image enhancers, looking at the known enemy positions in the distance. There was no movement, and once again he murmured a short prayer of thanks as he swept his gaze from left to right, and then back again.

Nothing.

Assuming no change, they would eat soon, and then begin yet another day of routine. Weapons maintenance, patrols, a quick class or two if time allowed, and with any luck he could look in on Raichret. He had grown fond of her since their last day of training, though there was still something she kept guarded behind her eyes. Perhaps one day she would trust him enough to tell him what had marked her so, but until then it satisfied him to be her friend. In fact…

Nassat froze, and dialed up the magnification as he looked at the sites he knew the enemy was holding. One after another, they all told the same tale. There was no movement. None.

There was no movement anywhere past the wire.

His eyes went wide as he spoke into the radio. “Bravo Two-Six to Bravo Six-Actual...I require your presence ASAP.”

There was a brief pause, and then “...copy, Bravo Two-Six. On my way.” Sergeant Lin was only a short distance away, and in less than a minute he was at his side. “What’s the situation, Nassat?” he asked him, as the minted Corporal pointed towards the horizon.

“Sergeant...the enemy positions were all manned at sundown,” he said in a rush, “but look at them now.” Lin leaned forward, squinting into the sun as he polarized his helmet, checking each of the positions for himself before biting off a curse.

“They’ve pulled out,” he grimaced. “I so very much dislike this.”

“Are they giving up?” Nassat asked, as Lin snorted.

“You wish,” he answered, before switching frequencies. “Bravo Six-Actual to Sabre Six-Six...get the Navy on the horn.” Nassat looked at him in confusion, as Lin’s expression turned grim.

“...‘cause it looks like the Khonhim are prepping for a Bug Out.”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz turned to his officers. “Is everything in readiness?”

“Yes, Dhyaksh,” his senior engineer nodded. “We have prepared the ships as you instructed and await your command.”

“Well done,” he said, clasping him on the shoulder. They had worked long and hard for this moment, and if they were to be successful they had to move soon. “Timing will be key in this, and events must take place in quick succession. We will only have one chance to make this work. Should it fail…”

He left the words hanging as his officers nodded. They all understood what was at stake, and what they would require should disaster strike.

“To your stations then,” he ordered, “and may our Forebears smile on our efforts this day.”

“Admiral Fujimoto!” her tactical officer cried out. “They’re on the move!”

She watched the Khonhim formation break up, as a dozen ships began moving in her direction. So, they’ve decided, she nodded to herself. They were sending a force after her carriers, just as she’d suspected, while leaving the rest to cover the evacuation. Ever since the Warning Order had come from the planet, she’d been waiting for a move like this...though as she looked closer, she there was something about it that bothered her. Hélène couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something odd about their tactics. For one, if it had been her, she would have sent a larger force against her, and they were moving much slower than she’d projected. If this was the Breakout she’d been waiting for, then the Khonhim were up to something, or else they were hopelessly inept, and she knew that was not the case.

But given the tactical situation, the force they were sending against her was much too small. With the number of fighters she had available they would cut them to ribbons, and her opponent had to have realized that before sending them off to their doom.

What was he up to?

“Notify Raptor Lead he is Go for launch,” Fujimoto ordered. Whatever it was he was planning, she’d find out soon enough. He would begin the evacuation the moment her fighters were engaged, so the quicker the Task Force being sent against her was defeated, the better.

“Raptor Flight is launching,” her comm officer confirmed, as she watched the agile fighters race for the Khonhim ships.

Nassat checked his weapon, swallowing his fear as he waited for the order. The Ronin tank’s engines were rumbling as Sergeant Lin radioed him on a direct link.

“Keep your eyes open, Nassat,” Lin told him. “You can guarantee the Khonhim left a few nasty surprises behind to slow our advance while they evacuate. They’ve probably spent the last few days setting booby-traps and mines, so make sure your people know they aren’t to touch anything. Just mark it and move on.”

“Understood,” he replied. “Sergeant, if the Khonhim wish to leave the planet, why not let them?”

“‘Cause you never do what the enemy wants,” Lin told him. “The more shuttles we can keep from escaping, the fewer Khonhim we face down the road.”

Corporal Nassat nodded at the brutal logic of that statement. The humans called it a “War of Attrition”, and they were the longest and bloodiest forms of combat, where both sides ground each other down until there was nothing left.

Which did very little for his peace of mind.

A single flare arced high in the sky, detonating in a burst of bright green. “All Units, Advance!” Lin shouted, as they clambered out of their holes. “At the Walk!”

The Ronin tank surged forward, keeping pace with them as they went after the retreating enemy.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz watched the enemy’s fighters speed towards his ships, readying themselves for battle. So far everything was going according to plan, but long experience had taught him to be ready in case the Human commander realized what he was attempting. He had to keep them off balance while he evacuated the planet, and he would require every warrior he could save in the weeks and months ahead.

A major reassessment was in order, regarding their strategy. They had not factored these Humans into their plans prior to the invasion, and why would they? They had never heard of their race...but now he knew them to be worthy adversaries. He would have enjoyed very much testing their mettle in the crucible that had shaped his people, but in the here and now they were an impediment to the grand design. They had to be defeated if they were to honor the pact of their Forebears.

Jiyazh watched the range spiral downward as the fighters neared their objective. Defensive fire began to reach out for the enemy, but it was sporadic. That was expected, considering the limitations they were working with, but it would suffice.

Closer…closer...

The enemy began their attack run, diving in and opening fire on his lead ships...just as he sent the final signal.

Admiral Fujimoto drummed her fingers on the console, as the uncomfortable sensation she’d been feeling grew harder to ignore. Something was very off here, and as the initial reports from the lead fighters started coming back, she was certain of it. The ships in the lead Task Force all showed signs of serious battle damage, and when they closed the range and opened fire it was a fraction of what they were capable of.

A sacrifice play, she realized. He was sending his most damaged ships against her, the ones that would slow him down when they evacuated the system, condemning their crews to certain death. It was a desperation move...and that was what was bothering her, because the situation was not desperate. Not yet, at least, though she had kept him penned in long enough he may have felt otherwise. The Khonhim had shown no signs of kamikaze behavior before, so why now? It made little sense.

And then, it did.

Her eyes widened in horror as she grabbed for the mic to recall the fighters…just as the ships exploded in searing balls of actinic fire.

Taking half her fighters with them into death.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz’s eyes glittered with vindication as the bulk of the enemy’s fighters were destroyed. He had been uncertain whether the ruse would work, given the limited time they’d had to set the ships for remote operation. The vessels would be missed...but they had served their purpose.

“Begin the evacuation,” he ordered, “and advance on the human fleet!”

Admiral Fujimoto felt sick as she watched her battle plan come apart. She had underestimated her opponent again, and he had taken full advantage of it. The ships he’d sent against her weren’t kamikazes at all, she now realized...merely bait for the trap.

And now the rest of his fleet was underway and heading straight for her carriers.

“Recall the fighters,” she said quietly, “and prepare to break orbit.” Given the losses she’d just suffered, the math was now skewed against her. Attempting to hold the system now was tantamount to suicide, and the Navy had lost too many ships and personnel already to allow that.

“Inform the ground commander we are being forced to withdraw,” she told the comm officer, “and then get me Marshal Antuma.”

Hélène straightened her tunic, as she prepared herself for the conversation to come.

“Fall Back!” Sergeant Lin shouted, as the ragged line ground to a halt. “Back to our positions!”

Nassat got him on the private link. “Why are we falling back, Sergeant?” he asked in utter confusion.

“Because the fucking Navy screwed the pooch and left our asses out to dry!” he snarled…

...as up and down the line of advance, panic began to set in.

Barbarians - Chapter 18

Put to rest what you thought of me
While I clean this slate
With the hands of uncertainty
So let mercy come and wash away
What I've done
I'll face myself to cross out what I've become
Erase myself
And let go of what I've done

Linkin Park - “What I've Done”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz watched the human fleet withdraw from the system with a sense of quiet satisfaction. The operation had gone even better than he’d hoped, but now he and his officers needed to reconsider their strategy once they finished the evacuation and broke orbit themselves. They’d been hurt…but not defeated. The Pact of their Forebears still loomed large in his mind, only now they would need to devise a new way of fulfilling it. In the meantime…

“There is still a large enemy contingent on the planet’s surface, is there not?” he asked his tactical officer.

“Yes, Dhyaksh,” he smiled. “But until the human fleet returns, they are at your mercy.”

His commander shared that same knowing grin. “When the shuttles have finished returning our warriors, we will make a single pass over the enemy,” Jiyazh informed him. “We dare not stay longer, and risk the humans returning with reinforcements.”

“I understand, Dhyaksh,” his tactical officer replied. “I will plot the attack run at once.” He paused for a moment, and then asked, “And what then?”

“And then, we decide how to proceed,” Jiyazh answered, his eyes already studying the star chart. “The humans predicted our movements somehow, so next time...we must do the unpredictable.”

Keeping a retreating unit together is a difficult proposition even under the best of circumstances. When that unit is not yet battle-hardened, cut off from their support, whose morale has suffered, it becomes even more so. All it takes is a single misstep, one more disaster, to turn a retreat into a full-fledged rout.

Nassat knew it worried Sergeant Lin. The way he kept scanning behind them, he knew he was wondering if the Khonhim had some trap in mind for them. Here and there he knew that other units had broken under the strain and had scattered, useless as fighting units they had reformed and reestablish discipline. He could see in the eyes of his platoon how close they were to full panic, and he did his absolute best to keep them together, and in good spirits.

And then it all came apart when death began raining from the sky.

A string of explosions walked down the line, shredding their formations like so much tissue. There had been no warning...one moment they were hurrying back to their position, the next kinetic rounds were slamming into the landscape and turning huge chunks of the terrain into dust.

And anything standing in the way.

“Take cover!” Lin screamed, but there was no place to hide. The attack had caught them out in the open, and for every Saurotaur that went to ground and tried to follow orders, there were a dozen more that bolted in panic and scattered in all directions. Those unfortunate enough to get caught in the blasts didn’t just die, they were atomized, and even as Nassat tried to prevent his platoon from running he knew it was pointless. Nothing would stop them now, all he could do was save himself until it was over.

He was diving for ground when the concussive wave of a blast lifted him off his feet and slammed him into one of the Ronin tanks, as the darkness claimed him.

Leandra hadn’t known Marshal Antuma long, nor could she say she knew him well. But the man that walked into her office bore little resemblance to the confident leader she had been working with, these last few months. His back was as ramrod straight as ever, but he bore the look of someone who knew he was about to face the executioner.

“Minister Singh,” he said, “I regret to inform you we have received word from Uzaunx. It’s...bad, Ma’am.”

She nodded. “Just give me the highlights, Marshal,” Leandra said, steeling herself.

Kwasi took a deep breath. “Admiral Fujimoto lost almost half her fighters to the Khonhim fleet, forcing her withdrawal from the system. Just before the enemy broke orbit and departed the system themselves, they launched a devastating attack against our ground forces, and we don’t yet know the extent of our losses there. But based on preliminary reports...they could well exceed our Naval casualties.”

Leandra forced herself to give the outward appearance of calm, but inside she was reeling from the news. Dear God, how could they come back from this? It was a disaster, even worse than the first battle had been.

“Minister,” Antuma continued, “as the senior commander, the fault is mine. I offer my resignation...and submit myself to whatever penalties you see fit.” He stood stock-still, his eyes staring straight ahead, as he awaited his fate.

She gazed up at him, realizing that he meant every word...before shaking her head. “Marshal, your resignation is not accepted,” she said. “Please, sit down.” He blinked at her words as if events had gone off script, before seating himself across from her. “Minister…” he began again, before she cut him off.

“It’s not your fault, Marshal,” she said, “nor is it Admiral Fujimoto’s.” She paused for a moment, regarding him. “Did she offer to fall on her sword as well?”

“Hélène tried tendering her resignation to me,” he admitted, “but I refused it. I told her the same thing I just told you...that any blame rested on my shoulders, and no one else’s.”

Leandra sighed. “What’s that old expression? ‘Victory has a thousand fathers, but defeat is an orphan?’ Marshal, let me ask you something. Before the Governor-General announced the true purpose behind the Guilds and the Reenactments, did you have any inkling that someday...it might be for real?”

Antuma stared at her for a moment, before giving her a half-shrug. “I had my suspicions,” he admitted. “There was just a little too much government support for something that was touted as a harmless distraction.”

“But no proof,” she pressed him, “no concrete evidence?”

“No...no proof,” he said after a moment’s thought. “Minister, I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this.”

“Bear with me,” she told him. “Marshal, until a few months ago, you and Admiral Fujimoto were playing a game. A distraction, as you said. A popular distraction, I grant you, one that raised your profile to superstar status...but nothing more than entertainment. No one died in a Guild battle, save a few electrons in the simulation database...because It. Was. Not. Real.”

The Marshal closed his eyes. “It is now,” he whispered.

“Yes, it is,” Leandra agreed. “And that is my point. You, Admiral Fujimoto, all of us, we’re being forced to fight way above our weight class. You were the best of the best...but this is no simulation.”

“Which is why you must accept my resignation, Minister,” Antuma countered. “I am the wrong person for this job. The results speak for themselves.”

“And just who do you propose we replace you with?” she demanded. “Name one person who has more experience fighting a real war.”

Antuma’s mouth moved, as he struggled to come up with an answer before Leandra let him off the hook. “Exactly,” she said, “no one. There isn’t a single living human being who’s fought a real war anywhere. Which means, Marshal...that you’re all we’ve got.”

The Marshal squirmed in his seat. “Minister, when word reaches Earth about this…” he began, before she held up a hand.

“The reaction will be unpleasant,” she nodded. “There will be plenty of people calling for your head on a silver platter. Folks convinced they could have done better. Let me tell you, Marshal, that is absolute bullshit.”

His eyes went wide at her sudden vehemence, as she leaned in. “We haven’t fought a real war for a century. Oh sure, we tried keeping our skills up with the Guilds...but theory and practice are two very different things. I don’t care how good a simulation is, it will never account for every variable, or allow every option. Fallible humans created and programmed those simulations, and I believe that if there is any failure here...it is the Failure of Imagination. Not by you or the Admiral, but by those who created the Guilds.”

Antuma looked unconvinced but said nothing. “The time for recriminations is behind us, Marshal,” she told him. “We need to stay focused on what’s ahead...and how we will win this war.” She leaned back in her chair, regarding him. “So tell me, given the rather painful lessons the enemy has thrust upon us...where do we go from here?”

The Marshal was silent for several minutes, as he considered her words. “The Khonhim let themselves get bogged down at Uzaunx,” said at last. “That’s the only reason we could inflict any damage on them. They were invading along a straight line, trying to burn through the Triumvirate...only I now believe they will toss out that strategy. They can’t afford to telegraph their targets to us and get caught unawares again, so…”

He sighed. “I believe they will break the pattern and start hitting random locations. I also believe they will spend less time in each system, adopting a “Hit and Run” strategy, instead of transporting the bulk of their warriors to the surface to savor their kills.”

“Which means…?” Minister Singh prompted.

“That we’ll have no way of knowing when and where they’ll strike next, and by the time we learn of an attack and respond, they’ll be gone,” he said quietly. “We would need to station a picket in every Triumvirate system to catch them, and we don’t have that kind of manpower or resources.” He spread his hands in a gesture of hopelessness. “I’m sorry Ma’am, but that’s my best guess...and if I’m right the only way we’ll catch them will be by pure dumb luck.”

Leandra gave him a withering look. “I’m afraid that’s unacceptable,” she informed him. “I can hold off the masses who will demand your resignation. I can try and inspire the Triumvirate…and Earth...to dig even deeper for resources and personnel. But I won’t be able to do any of that unless you give me a victory. It need not be anything big,” she said in placating tones, “but if I go out there and tell the people we have nothing...then we might as well surrender right now.”

“Ma’am, I’ve been digging through the playbook from Day One, and we’ve tried every single trick we can think of…” he started, only to be cut off by Minister Singh yet again.

“Then I’d say it’s time to throw out the playbook,” she informed him. “We won’t win this war by conventional means. That much is obvious. So, it is time to get creative.”

“...creative,” he repeated, as if the word left a sour taste in his mouth. “I understand what you’re suggesting, and yes...there are a few flat-out mad ideas floating around. But if we try them, even assuming things break our way, our casualties will be…ugly.”

“More than they already are?” she asked point blank. “Marshal, we need a victory. Just one. One shining example of how the Triumvirate and Earth can stand toe to toe with the Khonhim and emerge victorious. Without that, it’s all over.” Her gaze pierced deep. “And to get that victory...we need to accept the blood price that goes with it.” Leandra worked her jaw, unhappy by that admission...but not backing down from it a single centimeter. “Do I make myself clear?”

The cold-blooded reality of what she was asking hung in the air between them, and as much as they both hated what it stood for, they both also recognized the need.

“...yes Ma’am,” Marshal Antuma said at last, “I believe you do.”

Barbarians - Chapter 19

I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here

Johnny Cash - “Hurt”

“This is TNN, the Tetrarchy News Network.”

“Reports are still coming in regarding the Second Battle of Uzaunx, where Tetrarchy forces have liberated the planet. The Khonhim fleet was routed and expelled from Uzaunx space, where even now our brave soldiers are beginning the long and difficult task of rebuilding this ancient world’s structures. The road ahead is demanding, but they are more than up for the task.”

“The Khonhim forces are still very much a threat to the safety and security of our worlds, and Minister Singh is urging all citizens to contribute. More soldiers and pilots are needed to fight, we need more citizens to man the fabricators, so it is up to you to make a difference.”

“Saurotaur. Ophipteran. Ronin. Human. Four races, united to keep us free.”

“Every day brings us one day closer to Victory. Are you doing your part?”

PAIN

Nassat’s eyes fluttered open, as he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Every part of his body was in agony, and when he tried to sit up a wave of nausea slammed into him, dropping him back to the ground like a stone until it subsided.

He took a deep breath and tried again, moving slower this time, as he worked his way up to a kneeling position. The blast had ripped his helmet and weapon away, his vision still blurred as he began scanning the terrain around him.

He recognized none of it.

A shattered Ronin tank lay half-buried in the sand nearby, dead and silent. As he rose to his feet Nassat stumbled about in a circle, looking for survivors...but in that still moment nothing moved. Saurotaur and human bodies lay strewn across the landscape, scattered around the craters dotting their line of retreat. It was a holocaust, and for a moment Nassat feared he would go mad at the sight of the devastation that surrounded him.

Somehow his canteen had stayed with him, and pawing at his with trembling hands Nassat upended it and drank, washing the grit and blood from his mouth. Gradually the nausea and blurred vision began to subside, the pain drawing down to a dull throb as he began searching the nearest bodies for signs of life. But everyone he examined was far beyond any help he could provide, so he sank to his knees once more…and began reciting the Prayer for the Dead. It was normally done individually, but there were so many dead. One prayer would have to suffice for them all. He hoped the Creator would understand, and forgive him.

“...Nassat...” he heard, a whisper above the wind, so faint that at first he thought he was imagining it. But as he opened his eyes and looked around one corpse was struggling to move, and as he went to their side he realized with a start it was Sergeant Lin himself.

“Sergeant,” he said in amazement, “are you all right?”

But as the words were passing his lips, he realized the stupidity of the question. Lin’s lower extremities were shattered, with flecks of blood being coughed out with every breath.

“...no...” Lin got out, “...not all right at all.” He started coughing again, and Nassat held up his head as he pressed the canteen to his lips. The sergeant drank deeply, sighing in relief as he nodded his thanks. “Sitrep,” he demanded, as Nassat grimaced.

“I do not know, Sergeant,” Nassat replied. “I have found no other survivors. Perhaps they ran off.”

“Probably,” Lin nodded. He winced in pain as he tried to move, looking down at his legs. “Not going anywhere on those, am I?” he asked, in a poor attempt at humor.

“No, Sergeant,” Nassat agreed. “You require medical attention.”

“Yeah...figured as much,” Lin groaned. “All right...first things first. See if you can find a helmet with a working radio. Maybe someone can come get us.”

“Yes Sergeant,” Nassat answered, grateful to have something to do. He took a moment to brace a pack behind him, allowing the human to sit up, before going off to search the bodies. Most had lost their helmets as he had, but the few that still had them strapped on were now inoperable. It seemed there would be no rescue.

He returned to Lin to report his findings. “Blast must have knocked out the electronics,” the sergeant said. Another coughing fit wracked his body, as Nassat grew alarmed at his condition. “Only one thing we can do, Nassat.”

“What is that, Sergeant?” he asked.

Lin closed his eyes. “You need to go get help.”

Nassat just stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head. “You will not survive without immediate attention, Sergeant. I will not leave you here to die...not without trying first to get you to safety.”

Lin barked out a sardonic laugh that became a coughing fit. “And just how do you propose to do that?”

An excellent question, Nassat thought to himself. Just how would he get Sergeant Lin someplace safe?

The answer was obvious. “I will carry you, Sergeant,” he said.

Lin gave him a dubious look. “Corporal...it’s a long way to friendly lines.”

Nassat shrugged. “What other choice do we have?” he asked.

The sergeant closed his eyes. “I’m going to lie here and rest. Do what you gotta do.”

Easier said than done. Had it been a fellow Saurotaur it would have been impossible, but Nassat was certain he could transport a human’s weight. But before he did anything else, he needed to immobilize the human’s legs. It didn’t take long to scavenge enough belts to bind his legs together, and despite the incredible pain he had to be feeling Sergeant Lin bore the discomfort well, far more than he would have, had their situations been reversed.

Now, how to transport him? The few options that came to mind would exacerbate his injuries, or risk him falling off. If there were another Saurotaur to assist they could rig a litter to carry him, but by himself that was not an option. He cast about, looking for inspiration...when he spied the Ronin tank. The blast had torn away several pieces, and when he located two straight pieces of piping a radical idea occurred to him. It took more scrounging to find enough cloth and cord to construct the strange device, yet after a few tests the idea seemed sound. It would be a bumpy ride for the sergeant...but it was far better than the alternative.

Nassat dragged the contraption over to where Lin lay resting. “Sergeant?” he asked, touching his shoulder. “It is time,” he told him, as the human opened his eyes, stared in surprise at the device Nassat had constructed.

“A travois?” he said in surprise. “I wasn’t aware your people used anything so primitive.”

Nassat blinked. “It has a name?”

Lin chuckled. “It does. Humans used something very like it, a long time ago...and for the same reason.” It took some careful maneuvering between the two of them to get Lin situated, but once he was ready Nassat wrapped the harness across his hips and shoulders and began to pull.

It was far more difficult than it looked, and the jury-rigged device required constant attention. It seemed to fall apart with almost depressing regularity, and each time Sergeant Lin fought to keep from screaming in pain when a pole hit a bump. It didn’t take long before he was straining from the effort, the straps digging into his flesh, in danger from overheating. There were more stops to rehydrate, though they had recovered enough water to make the journey possible.

But in the end, it was placing one hoof in front of the other...over and over again.

“...what were you doing?” Lin asked him, without warning.

“What was I doing when?” Nassat responded, unsure what the human was referring to, as he strained at the ropes.

“When I came to,” Lin replied. “You were kneeling and mumbling something.”

“Oh,” the young corporal replied, now self-conscious, “...I was reciting the Prayer for the Dead.” He bowed his head, and mumbled, “I should have been focusing on my duties, Sergeant. I am sorry.”

Lin was silent for a long time. “You were a priest, right? Before,” he said at last.

The term was incorrect, but it's meaning clear enough. “Yes, Sergeant, I was.”

There was another period of silence, as Nassat struggled with his burden, before Lin responded.

“...everyone should have words said over them,” he said at last. “I’d hope you’d do the same for me. When the time comes.”

Nassat froze in his tracks. He craned his neck around to look at Lin...who to his surprise was returning his gaze.

“It would be my honor,” Nassat whispered.

He turned away, taking up his burden once more, unsure what to make of what had just transpired between the two of them. He had once lived in terror of this human, only to discover he was far more than he had seemed. Nassat had grown to respect the man who had tried to teach him and the others the ways of War, but there had still been the knowledge that he was the Other, someone not of his tribe. One whose ways and beliefs would be forever foreign, and inscrutable.

So, what did that make him now?

Nassat had long since lost track of time. There was only the trek, the unceasing agony of his body as it cried out in protest. The only thought left in his fevered brain was to keep moving forward, to not stop. Left hoof. Right hoof. Left hoof. A lifetime of marching, that was all he could recall, during those rare moments when he even tried. He would stumble, fall to his knees, struggle to rise once more, and lurch forward yet again. Crusted blood coated the straps that had sawed their way into his flesh, and yet he refused to stop.

Just a few more steps. Just one more. And then another.

He was so far gone that he didn’t see the rescue party approaching. Didn’t hear Raichret’s sobs of relief.

Didn’t feel her arms easing him down, as he lost consciousness. Or the ambulance carrying them back to the Medical tent.

Just that finally...he could rest.

Barbarians - Chapter 20

And the battle's just begun
There's many lost, but tell me who has won?
The trench is dug within our hearts
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters torn apart

U2 - “Sunday Bloody Sunday”

“So, you don’t have any idea where the Khonhim fleet is heading?” Marshal Antuma asked the woman on the monitor.

“None,” Admiral Fujimoto replied. “I left a handful of scout boats in system when they chased me out, but they forced them to withdraw. All I have is a general direction they used for their departure, but I can almost guarantee you they changed course when they were sure they weren’t being pursued.”

“Scratch “almost”,” Antuma said. “These Khonhim are smart, and something as obvious as not letting your opponent know where you’re planning to strike next, they’d do automatically.”

“I agree,” she nodded. “That gives them a lot of targets, Marshal. How do we to cover them all?”

“We can’t,” he sighed. “I want you to pick a system, someplace central, to act as your base, to give you the shortest travel time once we get word of an attack. But even then, it’s likely they’ll be long gone by the time we get word and deploy.”

“You can count on it,” Fujimoto grimaced. “So far they’ve outsmarted us at every turn.” She snorted in disgust. “I saw TNN’s latest propaganda piece. You have no idea how pleased I was to hear about our great victory at Uzaunx.” The sarcasm was dripping from her lips as she spit the words out.

“What did you expect them to say?” Antuma asked in exasperation. “Morale is at a critical juncture now. This war scares the hell out of the Triumvirate races, Hélène, and I can’t blame them one bit. If they still believe there’s a chance, then we have an opportunity...but the moment they decide there’s no hope…”

“...I know,” she said. “I may not like it, but I understand the need. Any idea if it’s working?”

The Marshal shrugged. “So far, at least. They aren’t used to their government lying to them...unlike us cynical humans,” he said with a smirk.

Fujimoto chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. “So, any thoughts on how to slow them down?”

“A couple,” Antuma said. “Consider this your official read in for Operations ‘Kitchen Sink’, and ‘Sucker Punch’.”

Hélène raised an eyebrow. “Interesting names.”

Antuma shrugged. “‘Kitchen Sink’ is our desperation move. Since there’s no way to cover every system, it allows the local commanders to do whatever they think best to defend their worlds. In fact, it’s less a plan than a Carte blanche authorization. They’re allowed to grab whatever they need, use it how they see fit...and hopefully give our Khonhim friends a few surprises.”

Admiral Fujimoto nodded. “And ‘Sucker Punch’?”

“That,” the Marshal sighed, “is where things get tricky.” He sketched out the plan for her, leaving her shaking her head.

“You’re not doing anything by halves, are you?” she said in wonder. “If it goes south…”

“...if it goes south...we’re in no worse shape than we are already,” he finished. “Though its failure will likely seal the Triumvirate’s fate...and God only knows where it leaves Earth.”

“They’ll come for us,” Hélène said quietly. “They must. Earth is the biggest threat they face.” She took a deep breath. “How long until we pull the trigger?”

“At least two months. Maybe longer.” Antuma shook his head. “‘Sucker Punch’ is for all the marbles...and I won’t kick it off until everything is in place.” He was silent for a moment, before giving her studied look. “Your role is the key to making it work, and I need not tell you it involves a great deal of risk.”

“No, you don’t,” Fujimoto said quietly. She looked down at her hands, finding it difficult to meet his gaze. “They’ve beaten me twice now...and because of that a lot of our people are dead.”

Antuma started to reply, but she waved him off. “We owe them, Kwasi,” she said, “...and I intend to collect.”

Nassat pulled on his uniform tunic, mindful of the several still tender spots from his trek. The last portion of his journey was still a blur, and it wasn’t until two days later that he had his first clear memories, waking up on a cot in the Medical tent.

Even now, he was amazed they’d made it. Sergeant Lin was barely alive when they’d found them, and even after they were brought back it had been touch and go. But after repairing the damage to his lungs and legs, the Healers were optimistic as to his chances. He had yet to regain consciousness, but they assured him that was normal, given his injuries.

He took a few minutes to perform some simple stretching exercises, some learned from his days as an Acolyte, others inflicted on him during training, but by the time he finished he was feeling more limber, and the pain had subsided. There were still a few formalities to be dealt with...the humans only thought they were the masters of what they called “Red Tape”...but he was eager to leave this place, and resume his duties. Despite the injuries he had suffered, the enforced idleness grated on him.

After conferring with the Healer assigned to his case and receiving his blessing, Nassat signed out of the Medical tent and was issued a replacement weapon and gear. None of it was new, and he tried not to think about the fates of their previous owners.

“Nassat!”

He turned at the sound of his name, smiling when he saw Raichret approaching. “It is good to see you up and about,” she told him, her professional eyes studying him before nodding in approval. “How are you feeling?”

“I am doing much better,” he smiled. “The Healers have pronounced me fit for duty.”

“I am pleased,” she replied. She gazed up at him, her eyes meeting his, and once more he could see the pain she tried to hide behind them. Raichret glanced both left and right, and then pulled his arm. “I must speak with you,” she said in a hushed whisper, as she tugged him away from the others, leading him outside and out of audible range. Nassat followed, baffled by her strange behavior, but more than willing to hear what she had to say.

“Nassat...there is something I have not told you,” Raichret said, wringing her hands. “Will you promise to hear what I need to say?”

“Of course,” he agreed. Something was troubling her, and if he could help in some small way he was happy to render aid.

Raichret took several moments to steady herself, before whispering, “...Uzaunx is my homeworld, Nassat.” He blinked in surprise at the news, though so much of what he had noticed about her now made sense.

“I have heard nothing of my family since the Khonhim attacked,” she said in a rush, the words tumbling out like a waterfall. “Nassat...my home is near here. I know I have no right to ask this of you now, since you have been so ill, but I fear we will not have another chance.”

His breath caught in his chest, as he realized what she was asking. “Have you spoken to your superiors?” he asked her. “Perhaps they will authorize a search party.”

“I have...and they denied my request,” she snarled in sudden anger. “Please, Nassat,” she begged him, clutching his arm, “will you help me? I must know if they are alive, or…” Raichret froze, unable to say the words, as her eyes filled with tears.

He looked into her eyes and heard every argument against her request play out in his head. Nassat knew he risked a great deal...perhaps even imprisonment. There were so many families, just like hers, that had suffered, so why should Raichret receive special treatment? He knew what Duty required him to say.

Knew...and did not care.

“...I will help you,” he told her, as she hugged him in gratitude.

Their first step was to gain a vehicle, which proved far simpler than he’d first feared. Word of his trek had spread, and Nassat played shamelessly on his newfound notoriety. A few vague words about other soldiers in need of rescue, and with a Healer at his side, they soon found themselves in possession of an ambulance, with enough supplies to complete the trip. With her help he programmed her home’s location on the navigational computer, departing before anyone asked questions.

Nassat scanned the terrain around them as they made their way west, out of ingrained habit, though the Khonhim had long since departed. He had heard news of stragglers, but they were few and far from the area. Yet he heard Sergeant Lin’s words echo in his head as if he sat beside him, so he kept his weapon close at hand and maintained watch just in case.

Raichret said little as they wound their way through the devastated landscape, forced to take one detour after another. She had withdrawn within herself once more, and Nassat knew better than try to jolly her spirits. He could only imagine the fears that gripped her...afraid they would not find her family, afraid that they would. In her heart she must know the odds of finding them still alive, though here and there they spotted others of their kind peering out as they passed...traumatized survivors of the Khonhim attack. He knew relief forces were already in route to provide aid, but the task before them was a colossal one. He could only pray help would arrive in time for these poor souls.

As they neared their destination Raichret grew even more somber, seeing the destruction of places she had known so very well in her youth. Many structures were little more than burned-out shells, and Nassat had grown so accustomed to the bodies he now barely noticed their presence. How far removed you are from the naïve Acolyte, he thought, mourning the loss of that eager young apprentice. Part of him yearned to turn back the clock, to put things back the way they once were...but that was impossible. Glancing over at Raichret, he was certain those were her thoughts as well.

The locator beacon burned on the screen as he pulled the ambulance in front of an upscale home, taking Raichret’s hand in his as they approached the front door. His other held his weapon close, and there appeared to be little damage to the domicile. Lack of power had frozen the door in place, but Nassat located the override and forced it open, calling out to Raichret in alarm as she burst past him, bolting inside the house.

“Mother! Father!” she shouted, racing from room to room, as he followed on her heels. The interior of the home told a far different tale, the smashed and overturned furniture speaking loudly of violence. Raichret barely seemed to notice, her only thoughts being for her family, but as Nassat struggled to keep up he saw that at least there were no signs of bodies.

“...they are not here,” Raichret wailed, hugging herself, as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps they left some clue where they were headed,” Nassat suggested. “Search the places where they might have left something behind, while I look around the exterior.”

Her eyes went wide as he dangled the small bit of hope before her, nodding as she darted off once more, giving the debris a far more intensive search. He was uncertain if she would find anything, though somehow, he doubted it. No one had been in this home for some time, and that did not bode well. The rear door was also without power, but he forced it open and began searching the immediate area.

It was the smell that led him to the bodies.

They were decomposed, tangled together, with no way to tell the number or gender. They had died hard, that much was certain, as badly as any he had seen on this shattered world. He tried to search as gently as he could, not wishing to disturb them, when a glint of metal caught his eye. A piece of jewelry, finely wrought, depicting a sphere within a tetrahedron. He cleaned it as best he could, before rising to his feet and making his way back to the house, where Raichret was still digging through the piles of rubbish.

“Raichret,” he whispered, as he drew near. Her head snapped up, her eyes filled with desperate hope...and for a moment he considered not showing her what he had found.

But only for a moment...and with a bowed head he opened his palm, revealing the ornament within.

Her shrieks of anguish tore at his soul, as she collapsed into his arms

Barbarians - Chapter 21

Hear the sound of the falling rain
Coming down like an Armageddon flame
The shame, the ones who died without a name
Hear the dogs howling out of key
To a hymn called "Faith and Misery"
And bleed, the company lost the war today

Green Day - “Holiday”

“This is TNN, the Tetrarchy News Network.”

“Today we debut our new documentary series, The Stars at War, an in-depth look at the ongoing struggle against the Khonhim Stratocracy. With archived footage of the actual battles as they took place, interviews with military and government leaders, and ordinary citizens, we hope to offer a fair and balanced examination of the largest conflict the Tetrarchy has ever faced.”

“The producers of this series wish to thank Minister Singh for allowing us unprecedented access to some of the oldest records held within the Archives. These recent revelations have shed new light on the seeds of this conflict, helping to place the brutality we have witnessed since the first attack in perspective.”

Chapter 1 - The Lion and the Lamb

“In the ancient mists of time, two thousand years before Humans had even discovered agriculture, the predatory Khonhim crossed paths with the Triumvirate, and filled their gentle souls with terror. A predatory species, bent on conquest even then, the Khonhim forced the peace-loving races to band together for survival…”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz stared at the world on his screen with confusion. “This is an accurate representation?” he asked his tactical officer.

“It is, Dhyaksh,” the officer replied.

“Then where, may I ask, is the planet’s shield?” he demanded. “They equip all their worlds with a defensive barrier...so where is it?”

The officer snapped to attention. “We do not know, Dhyaksh,” he said. “All of our scans have failed to turn up any sign of it.” He paused for a moment, and then shrugged. “Perhaps they decided that since we can defeat them, they were a drain of resources?”

“Perhaps,” Jiyazh, replied, unconvinced. There was no explanation he could think of for the planet to lower its shields...unless it was a sign of surrender. “Have there been any attempts at communication?”

“None, Dhyaksh,” the officer informed him.

Then not a surrender, he mused...but that still begged the question why.

Major Nadezhda Parisi watched the Khonhim fleet glide into attack formations and cursed her luck. Of all the planets for them to invade, why in Mithra’s name did it have to be this one? The Ronin world ϒ12 was a backwater, and the size of its military contingent reflected that.

Namely...one. Her.

She was a liaison, tasked with coordinating the planet’s resources towards the war effort…a glorified shipping clerk, and she had no business trying to stave off an invasion!

But when “Operation Kitchen Sink” landed on her desk, she could read between the lines. The Navy had had its ass handed to it, and now it was every planet for themselves...at least until they could rebuild their forces. So, like it or not, it was up to her to come up with some defense, in case the balloon went up. Only how does one do that, when they had nothing to fight with?

She’d spent days wracking her brain, consulting with the various government officials, technicians, scientists...anyone who might have some crazy idea they could use. Unfortunately, machines didn’t do crazy, not like humans at least. The few ideas they’d trotted out had been predictable...and useless.

Nadezhda had read somewhere that when you don’t know what to do, look at a map...as staring at a representation of your situation might just suggest something to you. So she’d pulled up a projection of the system, going through every world, every moon, and every satellite. What did they have, and what could they use?

It was when she stumbled across the massive shield generators that a manic grin appeared on her face.

They already knew the shield was useless against the Khonhim. Their ships would fire a brace of missiles, and minutes later the shield was down. They still weren’t sure how they’d pulled off that little trick, but since it served them no purpose in defending the planet, maybe there was a way to use them to their advantage. She’d hauled in every single Ronin that knew anything about the generators, and after several late-night sessions, the bare bones of a plan presented itself. It wasn’t much...in fact, it was practically nothing...but it was all they had.

They’d sent out a distress signal the moment the enemy fleet appeared on sensors and begun evacuations of the population centers, but without Naval support it was little more than pissing in the wind. Which meant that the only chance they had were the re-targeted generators.

Or as she liked to call them…her “Bubble Guns”.

She watched the Khonhim approach orbit, far more cautiously than their past efforts would suggest. Well, they weren’t stupid, and once they noticed the shield was down, they had to assume something they would not like was in the air. It was nerve-wracking, watching their great ships creep into position, considering how close she needed them to be to pull off her little surprise. But with nothing out of the ordinary on their sensors, they had no good reason to not move forward...and when the bulk of their fleet was in position she slapped the firing button, and crossed her fingers.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz stared in shock as a handful of shields, much smaller versions of the one normally surrounding the planet, appeared in space...each of them encasing one of his ships.

“What is this?” he demanded, as his Bridge crew struggled to make sense of the data that was just starting to come in.

“We are not sure,” his science officer announced, “but it appears the enemy has found a new purpose for their shields.”

“Suggestions?” Jiyazh asked them, with a calm he did not feel. Warriors were by nature conservative, and anything they had not seen before, no matter how minor or harmless they appeared, made them suspicious.

“Our missiles should still be effective,” his tactical officer pointed out. “In fact, we should require fewer of them, due to the smaller size.”

“And our ships caught within?” he asked. “What will be their fate, if we fire upon them?”

That gave his officers pause. “I am...unsure,” his science officer admitted.

“Then find whatever is creating these shields!” Jiyazh ordered, setting off a flurry of activity.

“At once, Dhyaksh!” his tactical officer acknowledged, as he began scanning the surrounding region of space.

Major Parisi grinned to herself as the enemy fleet came to a halt. That had got their attention! They’d start looking for the generators, but it would take time. They were heavily shielded, and while they wouldn’t stay hidden from a detailed search forever, all she needed was a few minutes to get her licks in.

Time for Phase 2, she thought to herself, as she tapped the second control.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz jumped to his feet in alarm, as the shields surrounding his ships began to shrink. “What is happening?” he demanded.

His science officer stared at the monitor in shock, before turning to face him. “It appears the enemy is attempting to crush our ships with the shields, Dhyaksh,” he replied. “Based on the speed of the shrinking field and its field strength, it is almost certain they will succeed,” he informed him.

Jiyazh gripped the knife at his waist. “Then we have little choice,” he growled. “Fire the Breakers!”

Major Parisi’s eyes gleamed as the missiles sped away from their ships, targeting her bubbles. Without more data how the enemy used them to break the shields, she did not know what their effect would be, but she was certain it wouldn’t be good news for their friends. Crushed like a beer can, or Friendly Fire. Not much of a choice.

In fact, it amazed her how well her mad plan was working, but she harbored no illusions she could stop the attack all by her little lonesome. Hurt them, maybe...but not stop them.

Take what you can get, she thought to herself, as the missiles impacted the bubbles.

The Breakers slammed into the shields surrounding each of the vessels, and one by one they vanished from their sensors…along with three of the trapped ships. Two more belched air and plasma, staggering out of position as their crews struggled to save them.

“Dhyaksh, we have located the generators powering the shields!” his tactical officer howled in triumph.

“Target those generators and FIRE!” Jiyazh shouted.

Major Parisi winced as the generators went offline, one after another. She’d shot her bolt, which meant the only thing left to do was try to survive what was coming next. Nadezhda grabbed her weapon and survival gear, dashing out of the command center and into the vehicle reserved for her personal use. In less than a minute she was racing out of the city, along with all the other refugees trying to get clear.

She’d included a download of her plans along with the distress signal, and maybe someone else could use her idea elsewhere...though she doubted it. Whatever else you could say about the Khonhim, they weren’t idiots. Odds were they wouldn’t get fooled by the same trick twice.

Not bad for a Shipping Clerk, she smirked.

“Dhyaksh, the shield generators are destroyed,” his tactical officer reported. “No other weapon systems appear to be in range.”

Jiyazh took his place once more, gazing out at his fleet. These humans were clever, he had to give them their due...but clever was not enough.

“Once our ships are in position, begin the bombardment,” he ordered. “Let us see how clever they feel now.”

“At once, Dhyaksh,” his tactical officer acknowledged.

Less than forty percent of ϒ12’s population survived the follow-on attack.

Major Nadezhda Parisi was not among them.

Barbarians - Chapter 22

I put my armor on, show you how strong how I am
I put my armor on, I'll show you that I am
I'm unstoppable
I'm a Porsche with no brakes
I'm invincible
Yeah, I win every single game
I'm so powerful
I don't need batteries to play
I'm so confident, I'm unstoppable today

Sia - “Unstoppable”

They glided in the dark, four holes in space, as the Khonhim fleet grew ever larger in their displays. The cramped courier boat they had commandeered for this mission now drifted far behind them, lost in the glare of ϒ12’s sun, powered down and cold. This whole mission had been a gamble from the start, but Dame Fortuna had smiled upon them.

Their suits were stealthed, they shielded even the small bursts from their thrusters as they steered for their target. Their chosen target exploded in size, from child’s toy to massive behemoth, their suit thrusters now slowing them down as they drew closer. One last course correction, their knees flexed as they landed one after another, locking onto the ship’s hull with powerful electromagnets in their gloves and boots.

“Contact,” Musashi whispered over the link.

“The reward for work well done is more work.” Musashi didn’t know who had coined that phrase, but truer words were never spoken. After their extraction from Uzaunx and subsequent debrief, the powers that be lavished them with praise for a job well done. The intel they’d gathered, along with the prisoner they’d secured, had been a treasure trove of data...despite learning the somewhat awkward fact mankind had joined the war because of a lie.

Luckily for him, those sorts of decisions were way above his pay grade. He’d done his job, mission accomplished, now comes Miller Time.

Yeah…right.

The information they’d gleaned had only whetted the appetites of the Intelligence community, for every question they’d answered it now raised a hundred more. After several days of questioning their prisoner had told them where they could find the data they sought...in the data cores of the Khonhim ships.

(In fact, Chaaghtozh had claimed the information they were looking for didn’t exist anywhere...but changed his tune after Whisper dropped by for a chat.)

A dozen schemes were considered to retrieve the data, all of which were rejected. There was only one way even remotely possible to pull it off, a mission so risky no oddsmaker would have taken a bet on it. They’d begun training for the mission, but the joker in the deck was not just locating the Khonhim fleet, but getting the team on site before they departed. All they could do was wait...and hope luck was on their side.

ϒ12 was just close enough for them to risk the attempt. They’d bundled aboard the courier boat, redlined the engines, and arrived to find the Khonhim still in the system. The Khonhim had remained in orbit to repair their damaged ships, and that had been the window of opportunity they’d needed.

Now they just needed to deliver the goods...and not get killed.

They’d located a maintenance hatch on the ventral side of the hull, and Graybird could hack the computer lockout. Once inside, however...it got more challenging.

“Which way?” Musashi asked, as Graybird shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll guess…up?”

“Up,” Musashi repeated, deadpan. “Can’t you hack into a schematic or something?”

“If there was one to hack into, sure...but the Khonhim don’t seem to find those necessary. However, since most warships place critical systems like data cores and engine rooms as far from the hull as possible...I’m sticking with ‘Up’.”

“Lovely,” Musashi sighed. “All right, you heard the man. Tango, you’re on point.” The blonde nodded, her weapons already up and primed. It had disappointed her to leave behind her beloved sniper rifle, but for this Op it would just get in the way. Given the close quarters they were operating in she’d opted for a matched pair of autopistols instead, using them to cover two different directions. It was a well-known fact that no one could accurately fire two guns at once...but whoever made that claim had never met Tango.

“Graybird, you’re behind Tango,” he continued. “We’ll need you to hack any locked doors we come across. I’ll follow the two of you...which means you’ve got our six, Whisper.”

Whisper just grinned. “Oh goody,” he smirked.

Musashi sighed once again. “The plan calls for stealth, people...so let’s try keeping the body count to a minimum.” He gave Whisper a pointed look, who responded with a pout. “You’re no fun,” he said, before pulling a pair of blades from his belt and spinning them on his fingers. That seemed to mollify him somewhat, so with rolled eyes Musashi gave Tango the nod to move out.

They made their way down the corridor, pausing at the junctions to avoid detection. Signs of battle damage were everywhere, in fact they’d chosen one of the incapacitated ships in the hopes they’d be less likely to run into any Khonhim guards. So far it seemed to be benefiting them, but Musashi wanted to get in and out quickly and quietly, and they couldn’t afford to wander around the massive vessel forever. One of the side passages led to a ladder within a narrow tube, and after a quick glance to make sure it was clear they began scurrying up the rungs.

Tango froze as she reached the next level, her free hand clenching into a fist. The others halted behind her, bracing themselves against the ladder and readying their weapons as her hand moved again...this time signaling Enemy in sight.

The seconds dragged out as they waited, watching for any hint they had discovered them, until Tango relaxed. A quick wave and they were moving once more, continuing their climb, moving ever deeper into the bowels of the enemy ship. The ladder dead-ended at the next level, and after another quick peek they climbed out into another corridor, running left and right. Tango glanced back at Musashi, a question in her eyes, and flipping a mental coin he pointed to the right. She acknowledged the order with a brief nod and led off once more, with the rest of the team close on her heels.

The section was under repair, with open panels and damaged equipment all around them. Graybird signaled for attention, pointing to a thick red cable that led from an exposed junction box and trailed down the corridor, a jury-rigged bypass. “Data filament,” he whispered.

Musashi nodded. “Follow it,” he ordered Tango, who crept along the narrow hallway, keeping the wire in view, until it disappeared into an open doorway. Pressing herself up against the wall next to the hatch she held her pistols at the ready, before disappearing inside.

Moments later she reappeared. “Clear,” she reported, as the rest of the team ducked into the compartment. Tango and Whisper covered the door as Graybird surveyed the odd-looking equipment filling the space. “Jackpot,” he grinned, pulling out his gear and connecting to a console. “Making the link now,” he reported, as he got to work.

So far everything had gone perfectly, but the longer they stayed the more they risked detection. Musashi wanted to ask Graybird for an ETA but jogging his elbow would only slow him down. It would take as long as it took.

Musashi turned to join the others at the door, just as Whisper signaled two Khonhim were approaching. A quick glance around the compartment confirmed there was no place the four of them could hide, and with a grimace he signaled back...drawing a finger across his throat.

Whisper’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, while Tango holstered her pistols and drew a combat knife. Musashi took a position to cover Graybird, his shotgun pulled in tight against his shoulder for backup. Time seemed to stand still, until the pair of Khonhim entered the compartment, their eyes going wide as they spotted Musashi and Graybird.

Their eyes went even wider, as Whisper and Tango slit their throats. One made a brief gurgling noise, as Tango lowered his body to the deck, while Whisper’s died without a sound. They dragged the bodies into the compartment, stacking them in a corner, while Musashi rose to his feet.

“Shit,” he groaned, “let’s hope no one’s looking for them.” He turned back to Graybird. “You’re on the clock,” he informed him.

“I know,” the hacker replied. “I’m almost through the firewall.”

There was nothing he could do to speed up the process. He turned back to the others. “I think we’d better plan for company,” he said. “I suppose it’s possible they were going off shift...but I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Whisper cleaned his blade on the dead alien’s uniform. “Does this mean I get to break out the party favors?” he asked.

“...yes,” Musashi grumbled. He’d been so hoping it wouldn’t come to this, even though he’d known it wasn’t likely. “Tango and I will cover the door, while you set up,” he told him, taking over his position as Whisper grinned back at him, sliding off his ruck and digging through the contents. “Won’t this be fun?” he chuckled.

Musashi and Tango shared a look, sighing in unison. Freaking lunatic...the only thing he likes more than his goddamn knives are things that go “Boom”, he thought...and the way Tango was shaking her head he was certain she was thinking the same thing.

Whisper busied himself preparing their surprise for any unwanted guests, when Graybird spoke up. “I’m in,” he announced, “starting the download now.”

“How long?” Musashi asked. Time was of the essence, and the itchy feeling in the middle of his back was getting worse by the minute.

“No idea,” Graybird replied, “it’s an odd setup. Half an hour maybe?”

“Wonderful,” Musashi lamented. In half an hour they could all be dead.

“...movement,” Tango whispered, pulling back behind the hatch. Musashi nodded, and risked a peek into the corridor. A single Khonhim was heading towards them, lugging what appeared to be a toolkit, while looking over a tablet. Maybe he’ll pass without looking in, he prayed...but as the seconds dragged on there was no sign of the technician. He and Tango looked at each other in confusion, but as he turned back to cover his sector he glanced down at the deck...at the small puddle of bright orange blood they’d overlooked in their haste.

Musashi swore at his own carelessness, before daring to take a second look in the corridor. This time it was empty, and with a desperate sense of optimism he whispered to Tango, “...maybe he didn’t notice?”

She gave him a pitying look, as the Klaxons began to blare.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, before he started barking orders. “Cut that cable and seal the hatch,” he ordered Tango, who as always was two steps ahead of him. “Graybird? I suggest you expedite,” he said, before turning to Whisper. “I’d say you have about two minutes before the cavalry arrives,” he informed him, as the hatch door slid shut. “You prepped?”

“Absolutely,” Whisper smirked, as he picked up a charge and slapped it on the hatch. “Just say the word, and I’ll blow that door wide open.”

“Pretty sure they’ll do that for us,” Musashi said, as the sound of pounding feet came charging up the corridor. Tango pulled back and drew her pistols, pointing them at the door as she took a knee, while he covered the other side with his shotgun.

Whisper fiddled with the detonator, sending chills up Musashi’s spine. “You realize the plan is to make it out alive, right?” he asked him.

“Of course,” he laughed, “...but how about we have some fun first?”

He was still laughing, as he pressed the button.

Barbarians - Chapter 23

Feel the bile rising from your guilty past
With your nerves in tatters
As the cockleshell shatters
And the hammers batter
Down your door
You better run

Pink Floyd - “Run Like Hell”

The explosion rocked the corridor on the other side of the sealed hatch, as Musashi turned on Whisper in sudden fury. “You lunatic!” he shouted, “You could have killed us!”

“Not a chance,” Whisper smirked, “I placed those charges facing away from the door. Besides, I just did you a favor.”

“A favor?” Musashi howled, as Whisper’s grin grew even wider.

“Absolutely. Notice how you don’t hear the pitter-pat of Khonhim feet out in the corridor anymore?”

Musashi stared at him for a moment, before turning back towards the door. Now that the blast had subsided it sounded rather quiet out there.

Whisper was having the time of his life. “See, if I hadn’t blown those charges, right about now the Khonhim would blast their way in. Graybird said he needed another half hour to finish the download, remember?”

Musashi had a sudden sinking feeling he knew where this conversation was headed. “Your point?” he said.

“My point is, that I’m certain the Khonhim will be just a wee bit more cautious in approaching that hatchway now,” Whisper chuckled. “They’ll take time to gather reinforcements, and come up with an assault plan. By the time they do, we should be just about ready to depart.” He looked pleased with himself, the blade coming out once as he twirled it around his fingers.

Musashi counted a full ten Mississippi’s in his head before he trusted his own voice to respond. “Whisper...I realize this may come as a shock to you, but we are a team. Teams communicate with each other...you know, little things, like, ‘Hey guys, I’m going to set off a bomb!’ Stuff like that, so we aren’t surprised….and you realize you’re supposed to clear that with your team leader, right?”

Even if you were right, he thought to himself...though there was no way he was telling him that.

Whisper just stared at him, as Musashi sighed. “...that would be me.”

Their pet psycho seemed unimpressed. “Fine, fine,” he replied, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

Realizing that was about the best he could hope for, Musashi sighed again before turning to Graybird. “How much longer?”

“At least another fifteen minutes,” Graybird shot back. “It’s not like this is an exact science.”

Tango watched the exchange with amused detachment before Musashi looked back at her. “Watch the door...and if Whisper pulls another stunt like that without telling us, you have my permission to shoot him.”

There was a certain feral cast to Tango’s languid smile as she regarded Whisper, while he returned her gaze with an even wider grin. Nothing ever seemed to faze the guy...which could be a bigger headache than it was a help.

Like this one, for example.

“All right,” he continued, pinching his nose, “when we’re ready to depart, Whisper blows the door after he’d been damn well told to do it,” he said, “and we’re out of here while the debris is still falling. Given that the entire fleet must know we’re here by now, we’ll use the alternate exfil route. Questions?”

There were none. They might all have their quirks...although that term was more than a little generous when describing Whisper...but they were also consummate professionals. They all knew the drill.

The minutes ticked by, and Musashi could feel himself growing agitated as the time dragged out. They could also hear movement out in the corridor again, but this time he kept Whisper from blowing anything else up...though part of him suspected he was only being humored. The Khonhim had to be sealing off the exits, and the longer they waited the worse the odds…

“...got it!” Graybird shouted at last, as he began bundling up his gear.

“Thank God,” Musashi muttered, before looking at the rest of the team. “All right, get ready...on the count of ‘Three’, we blow the door,” he informed them. “Before the dust clears we’re up and moving...and keep your grenades handy. Something tells me we’ll be needing them,” he grimaced, as the four of them took up defensive positions away from the hatch. “Ok...one...two…three!”

On “Three” the hatch disintegrated in a massive explosion, though with the shaped charge they’d used the blast was all directed outward. Shrapnel from the door was still tearing through the corridor as they were up and moving, Tango in the lead with her pistols seeking targets. Khonhim bodies littered the hallway amidst the debris, torn apart by two separate charges as they blitzed their way back the way they’d come…

...and ran straight into a roadblock, a constructed barrier covering a Khonhim squad. “Grenades!” Musashi shouted, though the command was unnecessary. Their frags were already in the air as they dove for cover, peppering the improvised palisade with gunfire to keep their heads down. The explosions detonated almost as one, and at the sound of the blast they were up and moving once more. The one thing they could not do was get pinned down, giving the enemy time to maneuver around them and seal off any hope of escape. The Khonhim knew the ship’s layout far better than they did, so they had to keep moving...even if their headlong rush took them in the wrong direction.

Past the barricade they were back at the ladder, dropping more grenades down the tube to clear the way. This was a major danger zone...until they landed on the next level they’d have no idea where the Khonhim were waiting. The grenades would clear out anyone close, but if they were smart...and so far the Khonhim were making the smart moves...they’d pull back behind cover and open fire before they’d gotten themselves regrouped. If they were very smart, they’d set up in two or more separate corridors and catch them in a crossfire, but if they could stay one step ahead of the reaction forces then they might just have a chance.

Tango dropped down the tube as the grenades detonated, firemanning the ladder with her pistols at the ready, with Musashi right on her heels. She hit the floor with a tuck and roll and came up shooting as he landed behind her, his shotgun pumping out one round after another as they smashed their way through the ambush. Speed was everything, never give them a chance to react or recover, shoot their way past and just keep moving. More bodies piled up as the Khonhim’s shots went wild, and as Graybird and Whisper landed behind them they were already down the corridor, the airlock just a few dozen meters away. Once they were out, they were golden, the chances of the enemy picking them up once they were in space were slim...not impossible, but the odds would be in their favor. Just around the corner and the team came skidding to a halt, as they ran up against a massive piece of equipment blocking their escape. Somehow they’d guessed their route and blocked the exit, which could only mean…

“...back!” Musashi shouted...just as they sprang the trap.

Dozens of Khonhim came boiling out of the corridors, cutting off their only chance at freedom. The team hit the deck and returned fire, and while they were holding their own for the moment their position was untenable. The Khonhim seemed content to contain them, blocking off any exit as they brought in more reinforcements. They recognized just how dangerous the team was, and if they decided to play the long game and soak up casualties, they’d have no other choice than to surrender. Their plan was as brilliant as it was simple...only they’d made one critical mistake.

They hadn’t factored in a madman.

As the trap closed in on them Whisper leapt into the fray, his beloved knives flashing as he whirled like a dervish, slashing and stabbing any Khonhim foolish enough to get within arm’s reach. The enemy wall recoiled at his deranged attack, and that was all the opening they needed. Tango was a heartbeat behind him, her arms raised as she fired round after round, a deadly Valkyrie come to claim her due. Musashi and Graybird added their fire, as the enemy will to fight crumbled against the desperate onslaught. With Whisper in the lead they cut their way through the Khonhim, coming out the other side of the ambush as they emerged in the clear on the far side.

But the moment was fleeting, already the Khonhim were struggling to regroup. The team retreated from the killing zone, backpedaling as fast their feet would carry them as they fired again and again. If the enemy had expected this they’d be dead in the water, as they had pointed all their firepower to the rear and focused on breaking contact. Tango’s icy cold stare stood in sharp contrast to Whisper’s wild-eyed mania, and yet the two together were far more than the sum of their parts. Resistance seemed to melt away behind them, as the four of them turned on their heels in unison and bolted for safety. They had to find a way off the Khonhim ship...for the alternative was unacceptable in any of their minds.

They could hear the Khonhim’s howls of anger and dismay as the enemy horde gave chase. There had to be other airlocks, other ways off the ship, but in their mad Run-and-Gun the team had become disoriented, forcing them to pick a direction at random and hope for the best. Their pursuit was drawing near, but another tossed grenade gave the hounds pause. Ammo was growing low, and if they didn’t find a way out soon…

“...here!” Graybird shouted, pointing down a side corridor. The rest of the team followed without thinking, bundling their way into a cramped antechamber that...thank the Gods...held an airlock.

But the Gods are tricksters, capricious and temperamental, and their joy at finding escape turned to dismay as they realized the airlock, their path to freedom, had been damaged in attack...and would not open.

The sound of their pursuit was growing louder, as their options dwindled to zero. “Shit,” Musashi said in dismay, “that’s the ballgame.”

“Oh...I wouldn’t say that,” Whisper grinned, digging into his bag of tricks...and pulled out their last explosive charge.

The idea was insane. They were too close, and if they tried blowing the airlock from that position it would kill them all, just as surely as the Khonhim would...which left only one option open.

“Set the charge,” Musashi ordered, “while the rest of us make some room.” A brief nod to the others and they turned back once more, placing some distance between them and the airlock...just as the Khonhim found them at last. The enemy roared their fury as they charged forward, eager to avenge their fallen comrades and crush these few pitiful humans, once and for all.

The Khonhim couldn’t be blamed for their recklessness. They had never heard of Bastogne, or Camarón, or Rorke’s Drift. The names Leonidas and Henry V and Davy Crockett meant nothing to them.

They couldn’t comprehend the power humans can somehow tap into, when making a Final Stand.

The team was still holding their ground when the charge blew….sucking both them and their attackers into space

Barbarians - Chapter 24

Empty spaces, what are we living for?
Abandoned places, I guess we know the score
On and on, does anybody know what we are looking for?
Another hero, another mindless crime
Behind the curtain, in the pantomime
Hold the line, does anybody want to take it anymore?
The show must go on

Queen - “The Show Must Go On”

Admiral Fujimoto watched the displays as the fleet entered ϒ12’s system, though she already had a suspicion what they were likely to find. Her technicians were hard at work scanning for any signs of the Khonhim fleet, as they girded their loins to battle once again.

Just not today.

“Admiral, there’s no sign of the Khonhim fleet, apart from some wreckage in orbit over ϒ12,” her tactical officer reported. “The planetary shield is still down, just as Major Parisi reported in her distress call.”

“Any signals from the Major?” Hélène asked.

The officer checked his board and shook his head. “No Ma’am...nothing.” He froze as a message appeared on his screen. “Admiral, I am getting a signal from the surface, but it doesn’t carry the Major’s ID. Text only...and it must be in code.” He shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was reading.

“What’s the message say?” Fujimoto asked.

“It says...er…‘We got your cheeseburger. You want fries with that?’” He looked up her in confusion. “...Ma’am? Is it possible it got garbled somehow during transmission?”

Admiral Fujimoto sighed, shaking her head. She didn’t know where Antuma had dug up his merry band of lunatics, but they got results. “Send a reply. Tell them...we’ll take that burger to go.”

“Minister Singh, I believe we should reconsider our position regarding opening negotiations with the Khonhim,” Lassoarth said. “After the attacks on Uzaunx and ϒ12, our people have grown even more agitated, despite your efforts to calm their fears. We have received communiqués from every world in the Triumvirate, begging us to end this war any way we can.”

Leandra shook her head. “Not yet, Minister. It’s too soon. Any attempts at negotiations now will only be seen as a sign of weakness by the Khonhim. Until we can secure a victory...a real victory, not just something we’re spinning for our citizens...the Khonhim will see it as a sign that we’re faltering. They’ll redouble their efforts, and then we’ll be in real trouble.”

“We are in real trouble now, Minister,” Qomzoixaa argued. “Millions of our citizens are dead, and the rest are terrified they will be next! If you cannot defeat the enemy, then we must secure an end to this war, by any means necessary.”

“We will defeat the Khonhim,” Singh shot back, “but I warned you from the start it wouldn’t be resolved overnight. You need to accept the possibility this war could drag on for years before it’s over.”

“Years?” Σ 121 Sub Δ said in horror. “How can you expect us to let our citizens die by the billions, and do nothing? You expect too much from us, especially since it is not your worlds being attacked. You do not understand what it is we are suffering!”

Leandra leaned back in her chair, eyeing the Ronin Minister. “I’ll give you a moment to think about that statement, Σ 121 Sub Δ...before I explain what an ass you’re making of yourself.” The machine said nothing in reply, though whether it was in sullen refusal or guilt she was unsure. She shook her head in disgust, as she eyed the three of them.

“So, we humans know nothing about fear,” she said. “Let me tell you something, we’ve been afraid even before we were human. You call us ‘Predators’? You should see a real predator sometime, the kind we have on Earth. Like the Kodiak Grizzly Bear, for example, 600kg of claws, teeth, and pure meanness. Or the Black Mamba, whose venom is so poisonous it can kill a human in less than an hour. Or maybe the Jaguar, who will stalk you for kilometers...and you’ll never know it’s there until it pounces.”

She smiled as Lassoarth and Qomzoixaa looked ill from her descriptions. “But the most dangerous creature known to Man is Man himself. We’ve been killing each other off in job lots ever since the first ape picked up a rock. They terrified us when the Mongol hordes came sweeping down from the steppes, slaughtering everything in their path. We ran in panic from the Blitzkrieg, and watched the skies in mind-numbing despair as we waited for the missiles to turn our cities into ash.” Her eyes went from one Minister to another, as they wilted from her gaze. “Trust me, we know all about fear and the lesson we learned I now pass on to you. You can either conquer your fear...or it will conquer you.”

“That is easy for you to say,” Σ 121 Sub Δ countered, “for by your own admission you are a violent race, from a violent world...but we are not. For millennia we have lived in peace and harmony, and you expect us to change who we are in an instant? Your wishes are unrealistic, and perhaps it is time for us to reconsider the agreement we made with you when this war began.”

Leandra couldn’t help herself. She started laughing when the Ronin threw down his gauntlet. “Oh, now there’s a plan,” she snickered. “And what exactly do you think you’d accomplish, without our help?”

“You promised us victory, Minister...and yet we have only suffered defeat,” Qomzoixaa countered. “Why should we continue allowing Earth to dictate policy if you do not win.”

“Because we’re the only hope you’ve got, Minister,” she snarled. “You think you can defeat the Khonhim all by yourselves? Then go right ahead. Do it. If we humans are such a hindrance, then say so now, and we will get out of your way.”

“We all acknowledge your species ability to fight,” Lassoarth said, “but we question your fitness to lead. As you have stated in the past, our populations number in the trillions...far more than your race. You would do well to remember that...and remember that the bulk of the soldiers now engaged in battle belong to us.”

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees as Leandra rose to her feet. “Do you think we were foolish enough not to have planned for this?” she hissed at them. “You think we didn’t install fail-safes in every weapon and ship we designed if you tried to turn them against us? And as for your soldiers, just who do you think they will follow...the cowards hiding in fear, or the ones who taught them to fight?” Her eyes blazed with fury as she stared them down. “And what do you think the Khonhim will do, if you plunge our species into civil war? I’ll tell you exactly what they’ll do...gobble you up one by one, while you’re fighting us.”

She shook her head, disgusted by their arrogant stupidity. “We could have crushed you anytime we wanted...but we didn’t. Because it wasn’t in anyone’s best interest, yours or ours. But I’m warning you, do not push us...or you’ll see first-hand just how dangerous humans are.” A dark smile crossed her face as she reached inside her robe and withdrew a sleek pistol, small enough to fit in her hand, and yet just as deadly as a weapon twice its size. “I’ve been carrying this for a long time now...and you never once thought to check, did you? Makes you wonder what other surprises we have in store, doesn’t it?”

The Ministers stared at the pistol in horrified fascination, and at the viper in their midst. “We stay the course,” Leandra said quietly, as she slipped the weapon back inside her clothing, “because any other choice will end badly for all involved.”

Raichret scanned the training field until she spotted Nassat leading his platoon in a series of drills. She approached, not wishing to disturb him, but as the others in his group noticed her drawing near he turned and smiled, calling a halt to the training.

“Nassat, Sergeant Lin is asking for you,” she said quietly, “and there are others with him. Senior officers,” she said in concerned tones.

Nassat nodded, and turned back to the group, pointing at the next senior squad leader. “Continue the drills, until I return,” he told him, before going to Raichret’s side. “Then we should not keep them waiting,” he said, as they began making their way back to the Medical tent.

The young Healer hugged herself as they walked. “Nassat...why do they wish to speak to you?” she wondered aloud. “Do you think it means we will leave Uzaunx?”

“I do not know,” Nassat admitted, as they entered the tent, “but do not be afraid. Whatever happens, I will protect you.” Ever since the discovery of her family’s fate, the Acolyte-turned-Corporal had become her rock, the one thing that helped maintain her grip on reason, and the two of them had grown closer because of it. The thought of losing him now terrified her.

As they approached Lin’s bed, Nassat’s eyes widened at the group speaking to the sergeant. Senior officers indeed...including a human clutching a polished wooden baton. He came to a halt and snapped to attention, “Corporal Nassat reporting as ordered, Sir!”

“At ease, Corporal,” Marshal Antuma said with a gentle smile, before turning to Lin. “This is the one?” he asked.

“Yes Sir,” Lin replied, sitting up in his bed, as he gave Nassat an unreadable look.

Nassat stared straight ahead, unsure of what to make of this, but convinced it could be nothing good.

“Corporal Nassat...Sergeant Lin has told me a great deal about you,” Antuma said. “In fact...he has recommended you to take over Bravo Company while he recuperates.”

Nassat blinked in surprise. “Sir...I am unqualified for such a position,” he stammered.

“Nassat, you’ve got the three things a good leader needs,” Lin said with a twinkle in his eye, “…brains, heart, and guts.”

His confusion was growing by leaps and bounds. “Sergeant...how does possessing internal organs make me qualified?”

The humans broke out into laughter. “I guess some things just don’t translate well,” Marshal Antuma chuckled. “What the sergeant is saying is that you possess intelligence, courage, and fortitude...all excellent qualities for a leader.” Nassat’s eyes widened at the unexpected praise, even though he felt unworthy of it.

“He has also recommended you for this,” Antuma continued, pulling out a small flat box. “Sergeant Nassat, for single-handedly taking out an enemy weapons platform, for your steadfastness under incredible odds, and for rescuing your commander at great personal cost to yourself, you are awarded the Cœur de Lion,” he said in somber tones, as he removed a golden medallion attached to a ribbon, and slipped it over his head.

Raichret beamed at him, as he found himself at a loss for words. “...thank you, Sir,” he said, “but I do not deserve such an honor.”

Lin just chuckled. “I warned you, Sir,” he grinned.

“So you did,” Antuma smiled, before turning his attention back to Nassat. “Sergeant, despite the citation, we don’t hand out promotions and medals for what you’ve done...we award them for what we think you’re capable of in the future.” The smile disappeared, as he said, “We need you to rebuild Bravo company...and get them ready for the next battle.”

...I should have known, Nassat realized, as he closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I will do my best,” he whispered...already dreading what was to come.

Barbarians - Chapter 25

Fly me up on a silver wing
Past the black where the sirens sing
Warm me up in a nova's glow
And drop me down to the dream below
'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything there for you to see
For you to see

Linkin Park - “Castle of Glass”

Admiral Fujimoto contemplated the star display as she sipped her tea, and for the umpteenth time tried to get inside the head of her opponent. Ever since the war began the Khonhim had been one step ahead of them, and if they were to have any chance at a decisive victory, that had to change. The problem was that as the attackers, they held the initiative. There were multiple targets for them to choose from, and unless the fleet could arrive soon enough to make a difference that bloody equation would not improve in their favor.

Which begged the question...where would Jiyazh strike next?

The attack on ϒ12 seemed to vindicate Marshal Antuma’s belief they would strike at random, but the more she studied the map the more it seemed they were almost trying too hard to throw the Navy off their scent. So...someplace far from ϒ12, on the opposite side of the sphere of Triumvirate worlds. Someplace far enough from the central system she had been basing the fleet to launch their assault and then disappear before she could arrive on site. Hélène highlighted the possible targets on her display and crunched the numbers, but there were still too many possibilities to cover with any reasonable chance of success. Unless…

Admiral Fujimoto leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. It was a gamble, a huge one in fact, but if she was right her odds of finding the Khonhim fleet improved considerably. If she was wrong, however, she’d be committing one of the strategic cardinal sins...and court the destruction of her entire fleet. But the more she stared at that map, the more convinced she became it was the only course of action left that had any chance of success.

Pressing an icon on her display, her First Officer appeared on the screen. “I’m sending you coordinates,” she informed him, “I want the fleet ready for transit within the hour.”

Her XO looked at the information she’d relayed. “Are you sure about this, Ma’am?”

“I’m sure,” she nodded. “Let me know when we’re ready to get underway. Fujimoto out.”

She didn’t blame her First Officer for his skepticism, but unless they took the risk…billions more would die.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz stared out into the black and contemplated their next offensive. It had forced them to call a halt to their campaign to effect repairs, some of which due to the damage caused by the rogue human spies. Some of his officers believed their mission to be a failure, that given the explosion that had blown them into space they could not have survived, but he was less convinced. Repeatedly they had shown themselves to be a clever and resourceful species, if not their equals in combat. It was a pity they had allied themselves with the Triumvirate, for if they had sided with the Khonhim their enemy would have fallen in a matter of weeks.

The humans had pecked away at his fleet, though the bulk of his ships were intact and combat ready. Still, he was taking losses, and as far from home as they were, he needed to husband his resources. That was the primary reason they had anchored...but it also gave him an opportunity to consider their options.

When they had first departed on their Great Crusade, the way forward had been clear. Destroy the ancient enemy that had once tried to destroy them, and give their forebears justice, and peace. But while they had gone from one victory to the next, there was a growing sense of unease within him he could not dismiss. He had defeated the humans at every turn, but they were learning, and each time they met in battle they added a new wrinkle, a new tactic. Was it possible that one day they would unlock the stratagem that would secure victory for the Triumvirate? And if so...what would their options be then?

Part of him wished to dismiss that possibility out of hand, but honesty compelled him to accept the fact that reality was not his to dictate. If they were defeated here, could they retreat home? Would the Triumvirate allow them to, unmolested? Somehow, he thought not. The humans wouldn’t, and it had become clear they were the greatest obstacle to victory the Khonhim horde faced.

They had learned much about these humans from the prisoners taken on a handful of worlds. They had even secured three human corpses for study, though they had not yet captured one alive. But the more he studied the problem, the more he realized three very simple truths:

1. To defeat the Triumvirate, he would need to smash his way through the humans.

2. The humans were much smaller in number than the rest of the Triumvirate, though highly visible amongst their military.

3. The humans held only a small scattering of worlds...including their homeworld known as Earth.

Oh, it was tempting. Take the humans out of the equation, by attacking their homeworld. The Triumvirate would still be there waiting.

But they had not spent all these millennia planning the defeat of the humans, and he loathed the idea of diverting the fleet from their crusade. It would take a significant amount of resources to level their planet...resources already allocated for the Triumvirate. It would also widen the war to a degree he was uncomfortable with, and that was what stayed his hand.

Though if the situation changed, it might still become necessary.

The Ophipteran world Zaaronq grew larger on their monitors, and as they drew nearer Jiyazh searched for any signs of the humans...and found none.

“Locate the shield generators before we launch the Breakers,” he ordered, “and destroy them the instant the shield collapses. I do not wish a repeat of our previous attack.”

“Understood, Dhyaksh,” his tactical officer acknowledged, already searching for orbiting satellites.

So, another world falls to the faithful, Jiyazh thought with a satisfied smile. Soon they will all be reduced to cinders, and our work will be complete.

Her communications officer looked up from her screen in alarm. “Admiral, Priority Distress Signal!”

“...Where?” Fujimoto demanded.

“Zaaronq, Ma’am!” the officer replied...as a wolfish grin appeared on her face.

“Got you, by God!” she cried out, clenching her fists in triumph. “Fujimoto to all squadrons...best speed to Zaaronq!”

Zaaronq’s shields fell like the others before it, and soon after the generators were located, and destroyed. The bombardment was going well, and Jiyazh watched the devastation on his monitors with an abiding sense of satisfaction. It was almost too simple, and despite the problems they had caused for the crusade, he owed the humans a debt. Without them, their victories would have felt hollow, for the Triumvirate was not the dreaded enemy of old. They had grown soft over the millennia, and without the humans’ aid, it was clear they would have fallen without landing a single blow. There was little honor found in defeating an opponent unable to fight back, but there was a blood debt yet to be paid.

The humans, however, were an honorable enemy, worthy of their blades. They did not fight as well as the Khonhim, but they were clever and resilient. They at least offered a challenge, whereas the Triumvirate did not. In fact…

“...Sensor alert!” his tactical officer called out. “Multiple ships entering the system, on a least-time course for the planet.” He paused for a moment as he double-checked his readings and nodded in confirmation. “It is the Triumvirate fleet, Dhyaksh.”

Jiyazh fingered his blade. This was unexpected. How had the humans tracked them to this planet? They had not followed them, for any ship trailing them would have been quickly discovered. Had they left a trail of some kind? He could not imagine what kind of spoor the enemy could track in the coldness of space, but perhaps they had discovered something new. If so, that would force them to change their plans, though somehow he did not think that was the case here. Had they predicted this attack by some means? Possible...yet again the question would be how?

Questions for another time, Jiyazh thought. “Prepare for action,” he ordered, a cold smile appearing on his face. “We have faced them before and emerged victorious each time...and we will do so again.” His crew grinned at each other, eager to prove themselves once more as their great ships wheeled to face the enemy. The human ships began disgorging the small fighter craft, as expected, forming themselves into the familiar attack patterns they had seen before. “Advance the fleet, and engage the enemy,” Jiyazh ordered, as his ships moved forward, eager for battle.

But even as they advanced the enemy began to pull back, keeping the distance between them open as they stayed just out of weapons range. Jiyazh’s brow furrowed in confusion...why would the humans scramble to bring their fleet against him, only to avoid action once they arrived? It made no sense...and when something made no sense in battle, he was suspicious. Still, they were a known quantity, and if he pressed hard enough, he was certain he could crush them, or at least send them packing. “Increase to flank speed,” he ordered, “and fire the instant the enemy is within range.”

That proved easier said than done. Every move he made to close the gap; the humans would slither out of his grasp. They were toying with him, and that was a very dangerous game to play.

It also made him wary. Why? What was their plan? They most certainly had one, but how did this ridiculous dance serve that? Did they think they could somehow draw him away from the planet, by offering themselves up as a target instead? If so, it was a fool’s game, for they could not evade him forever. Oh, they were being clever about it, using the other bodies in the system to their advantage, but each turn they made brought him closer, and soon…

“...new contact!” his tactical officer cried out. “Multiple vessels entering the system, on a converging course!”

“What?” he said in shock, whirling around to view the monitors, as new icons appeared, one after the other.

Admiral Fujimoto’s eyes gleamed in cold satisfaction, as the rest of the fleet emerged in the system.

“Surprise, motherfucker,” she snarled.

Barbarians - Chapter 26

Now I ain't sayin' it's right or it's wrong
But maybe it's the only way.
Talk about your revolution
It's Independence Day.

Let freedom ring, let the white dove sing
Let the whole world know that today
Is a day of reckoning.
Let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong
Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay
It's Independence Day.

Martina McBride - “Independence Day”

“So you’re certain this isn’t something I need to worry about?” Marshal Antuma asked the Minister.

Leandra chuckled. “I think you can say we have an understanding,” she smirked. “Whatever the other Ministers might have been planning, I can assure you they aren’t planning it now.”

Antuma laughed along with her, as a Saurotaur aide entered the room and handed him a tablet.

He stopped laughing. “God damn it.”

“What?” she asked. Obviously, nothing good.

He slid the tablet over to her. “It seems Hélène has kicked off ‘Sucker Punch’ a little earlier than planned,” he said, before punching an icon on his console. “This is Antuma,” he said in professional tones, “Issue movement orders for our ground forces on Uzaunx. Tell them…”

He paused for a moment, as he shared a look with Minister Singh. “Tell them...they are to expedite transport for Zaaronq.”

The early engagements against the Khonhim had shown that the Comet fighters, while agile and deadly at close range, could not stand toe to toe against the massive enemy ships. The humans had plans for several classes of ships on the drawing boards, all ready to put into production...but even the smallest class would take over a year to complete.

It had become obvious the Triumvirate did not have a year.

So the engineers went back to work, looking at what they could build right now...and came up with what had to be the ugliest, ungainliest, most brute force application of a warship ever designed. They took a Ronin tank, stripped off the treads and slapped on a pair of massively overpowered engines, swapped out the single barrel rail gun for a pair of tri-barrel antimatter turrets, grafted on enough armor to make a battleship swoon, and pronounced it good.

Some wag had dubbed it the HK, after an obscure twentieth-century cinematic entertainment series, and the name stuck. The shipyards had been hard at work cranking them out...and now that they had activated the first two squadrons, Admiral Fujimoto had taken a chance. They were not agile, but then they had never been intended to be.

If the Comet was a dagger...then the HK was a battleax.

Hélène Fujimoto had realized while looking at the star map that there was no single place she could plant her flag and hope to catch the Khonhim fleet, so she took a gamble and did the one thing all military leaders have pounded into their heads to never do...split their forces. Dividing your units into smaller groups hands your enemy an engraved invitation to “Defeat in Detail”...an innocuous-sounding euphemism that sends any experienced officer straight to their whiskey bottle. It allows the enemy to bring their entire force to bear on each smaller unit, gobbling them up one at a time like so much candy.

Admiral Fujimoto had understood that risk all too well...and did it anyway.

There had been no other way to cover enough of the sector, so she had given each task force strict instructions. Whichever was the closest was to arrive on-site and then avoid action at all costs, until the other group emerged in the system. It was risky as hell, for if they could not avoid action…

But now both task forces were in sight of Zaaronq...and the Comet squadrons had abandoned their dance with the Khonhim, making a beeline to link up with their HK brothers.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz recognized their intended plan in an instant, and the one thing he could not do was let the two enemy forces unite. Unfortunately, he was out of position, and even if he risked burning out his engines to prevent it he could only manage extreme weapons range before the two units merged. He’d get some hits...but not enough.

It seems the humans have chosen their killing ground, he thought. So be it. He still had the advantage in ship weight, but this new fleet comprised vessel types unknown to him. Who knew what they might be capable of...though it seemed he was about to find out. What happened next would not be the one-sided slaughter he had enjoyed so far, but a brutal slugging match with no guarantees as to the victor. So what advantage did he still possess?

His eyes turned to the monitor and the planet below. If this was to be the final battle, then let it be one for the ages. “Pass the word to all ships,” he ordered. “All assault craft are to head for the planet and take the population centers still intact.” A thin smile appeared on his face, as they acknowledged the order. The enemy could link forces, or they could prevent his assault on the planet.

They could not do both.

Admiral Fujimoto had breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the HK squadrons entered the system. She’d known how long it would take for the other task force to arrive, and on what vector, and as she maneuvered the fleet to avoid the Khonhim she’d positioned herself between them. Armchair amateurs might wax poetic about attacking with converging forces to smash the enemy, but pulling it off required split-second timing, with units who had trained together for years. Since that had been a luxury they could not afford, she’d opted instead to join forces first, and then take entire armada into battle against the Khonhim fleet. It was the safe move, the smart move...and the one that left her out of position when the enemy ships started disgorging assault craft.

Hélène pounded her armrest in frustration. She yearned to turn back and blow those craft out of the sky, but she knew that was what Jiyazh wanted her to do. Oh yes...make a mad dash in with half her forces, only to get chewed to bits while the rest of the fleet looked on. She was between Scylla and Charybdis, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Except to ensure the Khonhim paid dearly when she brought the entire fleet down on them like the Wrath of God.

“Admiral, incoming message from Command,” her communications officer announced. “Routing it to your terminal now.”

She managed not to wince as she reviewed the communiqué. Kwasi was pissed, and she couldn’t blame him one bit. Hélène had known full well she was overstepping her authority when she authorized “Sucker Punch” ahead of schedule...but she couldn’t stand by and watch another half dozen worlds razed while they waited to build up their forces. The plan had been to throw five HK squadrons at the Khonhim, not the paltry two she possessed, but she’d crunched the numbers and run the sims, and Hélène was certain she could pull it off with what she had.

Well…reasonably certain. That was the difference between the two of them; Antuma was the one who calculated the odds, always making the smart play...and never bluffing when he didn’t have the cards. She, on the other hand, was the one who operated on instinct, going with her gut as she psyched out her opponent. Hélène had known how Kwasi would react had she asked permission...so she didn’t. Instead, she’d handed him a fait accompli, and nodded in satisfaction at the notice he was sending her the ground forces from Uzaunx. God knows they would need them.

Assuming she could hold the fleet together until they arrived.

Nassat gestured to the last few stragglers of Bravo company, straining to bring their gear aboard the waiting transport. “We must hurry,” he informed them, as they worked to secure their equipment. The orders to leave Uzaunx had arrived unexpectedly, and now the entire Army was scrambling to comply. He and Raichret had already said their goodbyes, as she and the other Healers had evacuated with the first wave along with the wounded.

He was uncertain what he and she were to each other. He knew she cared for him, as he did for her, but was it because of what they had gone through together? Was their relationship based on nothing more than shared hardship, reinforced with the need to cling to someone during their darkest hours? And if it were...could they endure?

It was a question for which he had no answers. It seemed there were many such questions, now that he commanded Bravo company, albeit temporarily. They had just received a new batch of recruits fresh from Basic, and he shuddered at how wide-eyed and callow they were. He couldn’t believe he had once been just like them, not so long ago, and he reminded himself of that fact as he put them through their paces, preparing them as best he could for what was to come.

And tried not to think how many of those eager young faces would not live to see the war’s end.

There had been one other person he had needed to speak to, besides Raichret, before their departure, and he had managed it only minutes before the first wave lifted. Sergeant Lin’s condition had improved since their arduous trek, but he was still a long way from full recovery. There were so many things he needed to ask him, so many concerns churning inside him as he once again questioned the Army’s wisdom in making him Bravo’s commander. Did they see something within him he could not?

Or were they simply that desperate?

The brief conversation had not gone as he expected. He had gone to him as he once had as a young Acolyte to the Venerable Eashray when that ancient monk had still held his respect...but Lin would have none of it. “Call me Jehiel,” he’d chuckled. “We’re the same rank now...and I’d say you’ve earned the right.”

His tongue had balked at such familiarity. “I must know what I am supposed to do,” he’d asked, feeling the weight upon his shoulders. “I am not ready for what is coming.”

Lin had simply smiled. “You’re ready, Nassat, but if it’s wisdom you’re looking for, there’s just one thing you need to know.”

Nassat held his breath, waiting in awe as the human who had taught him so much prepared to impart the sagacity of the ages to him...but Lin surprised him yet again.

“...do what you gotta do,” he whispered. “Everything else is bullshit.”

He was still pondering the meaning of those words as the ramp doors closed, and the shuttle lifted for orbit.

Barbarians - Chapter 27

We held the coastline
They held the highland
And they were sharp
As sharp as knives
They heard the hum of the motors
They counted the rotors
And waited for us to arrive

Billy Joel - “Goodnight Saigon”

Admiral Fujimoto’s eyes glittered in satisfaction as the two task forces merged, with the HK’s in the center and the Comets covering the flanks. The two fleets eyed each other, circling in opposition around the planet as they sized each other up. Part of her wished to make a hard run in, using the HK’s to smash her way through and settle this, once and for all, but she stayed her hand. Every engagement against the Khonhim fleet had ended badly for the Triumvirate, and she didn’t dare squander the chance she now had.

So...if she wasn’t content to just sit there in the system, and a full out assault wasn’t in the cards just yet, what did that leave? A probing attack, perhaps? Tempting, but given the disposition of the enemy any advance forces sent in would be hammered to pieces.

That left a passing engagement...assuming the Khonhim didn’t strike first. If she ordered her fleet to sweep past the enemy, engaging each other like two ancient galleons firing broadsides it still gave her the ability to break off. She could evaluate the new ships in action, and more importantly...give the Khonhim a taste of what was to come.

“Dhyaksh, the enemy fleet has changed course!” his tactical officer announced.

Jiyazh stared at the plot, nodding as the Triumvirate fleet began their run. It seemed they wished to test their mettle, before committing to a full engagement. That suited him as well, for these new ships were an unknown quality, and until he had a better sense of what they could do he too was leery of pressing an attack home.

“Bring the fleet about,” he ordered. “We will indulge the enemy. If they wish to touch blades, it would be dishonorable to refuse the challenge,” he said with a thin smile.

Hélène had wondered how the Khonhim would respond to her challenge, and it seemed they were just as curious about her as she was about them. They could have broken off or moved to intercept, but instead, they were mirroring her movements as they closed the distance. They were like two ancient knights on horseback, their lances leveled as they charged one another in a jousting tournament. It was almost as formal as a duel...but a thousand times bloodier.

The HK’s swung their turrets starboard, tracking the Khonhim fleet as they closed the distance, while the Comets stood ready to intercept the inbound missiles. It was this type of engagement that was all but impossible to forecast, for each ship class had its pluses and minuses. The Khonhim ships were massive, far more able to soak up damage while spewing out wave after wave of missiles in return...but were also filled with thousands of living beings. A punctured hull meant death to anyone nearby if they were not suited up, but even that was no guarantee. It was as if their enormous size brought with it a vulnerability of its own.

The HK’s held exactly one crewman, and since the Ronin did not require atmosphere to breathe a hull breach did not mean an automatic fatality. But they were also much smaller craft, and if the enemy managed a good solid hit that penetrated their armor, it would likely destroy the ship.

Even as they neared weapons range, both fleets still had the ability to break off the engagement if they so choose...but neither side showed any intention of doing so. Unless something unexpected took place, it committed them to follow through. Minute by agonizing minute, they closed the distance, entering extreme weapons range, but Admiral Fujimoto held back. She wanted to make each shot count, and the closer they got the better the odds.

They passed through long-range with neither fleet firing, each side boring in as they both held their fire, conserving their ammunition. Entering medium-range Hélène was tempted to give the order, but still, she held back, waiting to see if the Khonhim would be the first to blink. It was a game of chicken now, as they raced towards one another...but as their vectors began to converge, she could wait no longer.

“Fire!” she ordered...as both fleets unleashed hell.

Jiyazh had to admire the human’s intrepidness. It was tempting for any commander to open fire the instant they had the range but doing so would deplete one’s magazine chasing low probability hits. As they screamed towards one another, it became a source of fascination for him, wondering just how close the humans planned on getting before bringing their weapons into action. Would they wait until they reached point-blank range? He found it unlikely, for he had no intentions of waiting that long, robbing himself of opportunities to inflict real harm on the enemy fleet. There was a perfect moment to fire...he did not know what it was, just yet...but he would know when the time was right, of that he was certain.

And then, it came.

His first missiles were just clearing the fleet when the enemy returned fire...or perhaps they fired first, it was hard to say. Hundreds of guided projectiles arced away, seeking the enemy ships, bobbing and jinking to avoid destruction as they bored in. Jiyazh watched with satisfaction as the Triumvirate craft began to die...but for every missile that struck home half a dozen others found nothing but space. It was a game of numbers, how many of them could one kill, before they did the same to you?

But then it was their turn, and with quiet despair Jiyazh watched the enemy’s deadly antimatter rounds blast through his ships, tearing into their hulls and exposing whole sections to space. His own flagship Oathkeeper shuddered as half a dozen rounds ripped into her flesh, seeking the soft meat within. Whole sections of his display turned bright orange, signifying damaged systems and blasted compartments. Alarms blared on all decks as his engineers raced to repair the damage, while others carried their wounded cohorts away from the shattered sections to safety. Requite and Vindication disappeared in balls of flame, and a dozen more staggered out of formation with heavy damage.

...including Oathkeeper.

Admiral Fujimoto gripped her armrests as the Comets and HK’s began to disappear. The weapons were flying too fast and furious for anything other than a computer to keep track, but keep it track it did, updating her as the two fleets tore at each other. The HK’s were performing even better than she’d hoped...as small as they were compared to the Khonhim ships they were hard to lock onto, and being heavily armored they were difficult to kill.

Despite all that, they weren’t invulnerable. The HK’s might die hard...but they still died.

But even as her own ships perished, the enemy was getting hammered hard. It was far too early in the engagement to declare a victory, but as they continued to sweep past the Khonhim fleet Hélène began to feel a sense of cautious optimism. They were holding their own, which considering their previous battles was cause for celebration...and as the two fleets broke apart and peeled off in opposite directions, she could finally let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

Death and destruction lie in their wake, but the bulk of her fleet was still intact, still able to fight, and as she ordered the flotilla to regroup and assess their losses, she was already planning their next engagement. This first battle had been a test, as both she and her counterpart gauged each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

Their next encounter, however...would be a bloodbath.

Klaxons screamed on Oathkeeper’s bridge as the ship shuddered yet again. One of the enemy’s rounds had burrowed its way into Engineering, tearing into the power plant that was the ship’s heart. Jiyazh gripped his console as she began to buck and shake, as his harried and frantic engineer gave his report.

“It is no use, Dhyaksh,” he informed him, “we have suffered too much damage to save the ship. We must abandon, before we lose the crew.”

It was the last thing in the universe that Jiyazh wished to hear. Oathkeeper was not just any ship, nor even from where he led the crusade, but something far more important. Her very name carried their promise to their forebears and losing her felt as if they were betraying the cause itself.

But flesh and metal had their limits, and no matter how mighty Oathkeeper once had been, she was no more. “Very well,” he said, “I will shift my command to Wrath, while we...”

A massive explosion knocked them off their feet, as Oathkeeper broke her back. Her hull buckled and screamed in agony as her death throes threatened to take the rest of her crew with her to the grave, as Jiyazh clawed his way back to his console.

“...Abandon ship!” he gasped, as the sound of tearing metal filled their ears, “All hands, make for the lifepods!”

Reports were still coming in from the fleet, and Admiral Fujimoto grimaced as she read the Butcher’s Bill. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, but it had been bad enough, though by the looks of the enemy they had taken the bigger blow. Even as she watched yet another Khonhim vessel bled out, shedding escape pods as it began to disintegrate.

And then something odd happened.

The rest of the enemy ships began to move, altering their formation, forming what appeared to be a protective shell around the dying craft. Hélène’s eyes narrowed as she watched them take their positions...but what was the point? That ship was dead, it was as obvious to her as it had to be to them, so why on Earth would they…?

A sharp gasp of air betrayed her realization. There was only one reason she could think of, and if she was right...

Hélène thought furiously. If they somehow had taken out the Khonhim flagship, then they had a golden opportunity before them. Command would be confused, disjointed...but it would not last long. If she did this then she dare not hesitate even for an instant, but was the risk worth taking?

Her jaw hardened as she decided. Admiral Fujimoto stabbed the com button on her console and snarled into the mic, “All ships, come about! Back at them, boys...straight into their teeth!”

Barbarians - Chapter 28

You'll take my life but I'll take yours too
You'll fire your musket but I'll run you through
So when you're waiting for the next attack
You'd better stand there's no turning back

The bugle sounds as the charge begins
But on this battlefield no one wins
The smell of acrid smoke and horses' breath
As you plunge into a certain death

Iron Maiden - “The Trooper”

Admiral Fujimoto watched the Khonhim like a hawk as she brought the fleet back around for a second pass. The enemy flagship was still shedding escape pods and spewing plasma as her ships raced to catch back up, and for the moment they didn’t seem to react to her course change, but there was no way that would last. Despite the damage, it would only be a matter of minutes before they reorganized their formation, but then what? Would they yield the system, or stand and fight? She’d hurt them, but Hélène was convinced they wouldn’t give up so easily. In fact, having the Khonhim flee before her was the last thing she wanted, because if they escaped there was no telling where they’d go.

Even though the enemy fleet was still struggling to deal with the loss of their flagship, their speed hadn’t dropped off all that much, which forced them to play catch up. There was an old naval saying, “A stern chase is a long chase”, and despite all the advantages she held this time around it would take time for them to get within weapons range once more.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz stumbled through the corridor of his dying flagship with the rest of his crew as they made for the lifepods. Like any commander, he’d hoped they’d never be necessary, but like any good commander, he had also prepared for the worst. Another shuddering blast rocked Oathkeeper as he arrived at the emergency station, slapping the large orange button to open the hatch and revealing the five-man pod on the ship’s hull. He and his tactical officer and three of the bridge crew piled in and sealed the hatch, strapping in as the lifepod began its brief countdown sequence. With any luck, they’d be picked up by one of the other ships, but even as the pod blasted away from the ship Jiyazh hungered to know what was happening with the enemy fleet. He had to get to another ship and take control of the battle once more, for this time the humans had planned their attack with care.

And unless he could see with his own eyes what they were doing, there was an all too real chance they might carry the day.

His tactical officer was already plugged into the pod’s communicator trying to hail one of the other ships in the fleet, but with all the other lifepods clamoring for attention, their message was lost in the noise. The engines fired, catching him off guard, and as he stared out the porthole in alarm Jiyazh realized the pod’s emergency systems had decided that instead of waiting in space for retrieval, it was far safer to deliver its occupants onto the planet’s surface below. It made perfect sense from an emergency standpoint...on Zaaronq there was atmosphere, food, and water, all the resources necessary for long-term survival.

From a tactical standpoint, however...it was a disaster.

“Override the engines!” he shouted to his tactical officer, as he grabbed the rudimentary controls and struggled to fly the pod back towards the fleet. His officer was trying to nullify the pod’s predetermined flight path, but the simple machine was having none of it. It was designed with one purpose in mind, to keep its passengers alive...and its builders had understood there was a very real possibility that its occupants might try to do something stupid.

Something stupid like trying to blast away from the safety of a planet surface and towards a battle zone in space.

“I can’t!” his officer screeched in reply...as the pod’s engines drove them towards Zaaronq.

The Triumvirate fleet streaked towards the enemy as Admiral Fujimoto watched in chagrin, as the Khonhim finally reacted to her attack run. There had been no real chance she would have been able to fly all the way in without being noticed, despite the loss of the flagship, but she’d hoped. Unfortunately, the gods of war didn’t seem to be listening.

Their response was ragged and poorly coordinated, just as she’d counted on...but would it be enough? There was still time to abort her attack if she had to, only it was unlikely she’d get another opportunity like this. If she’d learned anything about combat...the real thing, not the simulations she’d spent her life mastering...it was that victory did not go to the best.

No, victory went to the one who screwed up the least.

There would be no finesse this time, no clever last-minute maneuver, no surprise reinforcements coming to save their bacon. What she had was all she had, and the math was as brutal as it was simple. The Khonhim were turning to meet her, making the same decision she had, and as the two fleets raced headlong into each other’s embrace, she knew this time it would be a god-damned massacre.

Hélène did her best to give the impression of serenity to her crew, but they could read the displays just as she could. Their expressions hovered somewhere between grim determination and morbid fascination, each of them wondering if they would still be alive when the two fleets met.

For many of them...the answer would be No.

Nassat looked at the faces of those under his command and did his best to appear confident. Sergeant Lin always had, and as a frightened recruit, he had drawn strength from that. Had he felt as I do? he wondered. If so, the human was far better at concealing it, in his opinion, though as he gazed into the eyes of his soldiers what he saw reflected in them humbled him beyond words.

They trusted him. Trusted him to get them through the coming battle, trusted him to not waver or falter when they faced the enemy...trusted him to stand at their side, no matter what. Dear Creator...let me be worthy of that trust, he prayed, as he rose to his feet.

“When we reach Zaaronq, remember your training,” he informed them. “Put as much distance as you can from the shuttles when we land and remember to disperse. Clumping together may feel safe to you, the familiarity of the herd, but it is not. The enemy will see that as a target of opportunity, so remember the human creed of combat.”

One of the new recruits raised his hand. “Sergeant, what creed is that?”

Somehow, a wry smile appeared on his face. “Try to look unimportant. They may be low on ammo.”

A nervous titter of laughter filled the shuttle’s hold as their ship headed for battle.

Hélène watched the two fleets racing to annihilate each other, with the inevitability of an onrushing avalanche. It was up to them now, the individual pilots, and as they closed to weapon's range she keyed her mic.

“This is Admiral Fujimoto to all ships. The Khonhim flagship is out of action, thanks to you, so this is our chance!” A fierce grin was plastered on her face as the clock counted down. “Today we make the enemy pay for all they’ve done, and every single victim lost to the invaders rides with us. Their blood cries out for vengeance, and it will not be denied. We will not be denied.” Her visage grew dark and unflinching as she gazed at them all, as ancient words came to her in her hour of need.

“I hope you all had a hearty meal...for tonight we dine in Hell. All ships, FIRE!”

The Triumvirate fleet exploded with weapons fire, as antimatter rounds snarled towards the enemy. Moments later an answering storm cloud of missiles arced away from the Khonhim fleet, blotting out Zaaronq’s sun...as both formations dissolved in chaos.

Long ago, combat pilots had dubbed the anarchy of mass aerial combat as the Furball...a swirling, writhing orb of death and destruction. The Triumvirate pilots knew what was at stake, and for races who had spent millennia espousing pacifism, they had somehow discovered their primal selves in the heat of battle. Missiles and antimatter chased craft with reckless abandon, the explosions marking the deaths of friend and enemy alike. There was no time for strategy...just find a target, aim and fire, check your six, race for safety, reengage a target of opportunity, dodge an incoming missile, fire at your enemy, find another target...and try to stay alive.

While all the while, your enemy was doing the same thing to you.

Not even the computers could keep up with the insanity as the two fleets ripped each other apart, clawing and tearing and rending each other to bits. Ships slammed into each other and detonated with common frequency...and it was just as likely to be allied craft dying in accidental fratricide as it was enemy vessels dragging each other into extinction. Crippled ships pinwheeled out of sight, only to explode as some hapless pilot discovered the debris by accident They killed and fought and died by the hundreds....with no end in sight.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz tore open the lifepod’s hatch and stumbled out on the surface, his eyes searching the sky above him. The soundless flashes of light showed him what he’d feared...his battle plan was falling apart, and unless he could take back control the fleet teetered on the brink of extinction.

“I must get back up there!” he howled in frustration, as he turned to his tactical officer. “There has to be one of our shuttles somewhere near here! Something we can commandeer?”

The sensors aboard the lifepod were functioning perfectly, even if he had disagreed with its programming. “There appear to be a few assault craft, bearing 218,” his officer informed him after a moment. “I will attempt to radio them now, and request extraction.”

“Quickly,” Jiyazh urged, “...before there is nothing left.”

The voice on the loudspeaker was Ophipteran, as most pilots were. Nassat and his company lifted their heads, as the announcement filled the compartment.

“All hands, ETA to the Zaaronq system is ten minutes. Shuttle pilots stand by. LZ is hot...repeat, LZ is hot.

Nassat drew a deep breath. “May the Creator be with you all,” he told his company, as the shuttle’s engines began to whine.

Barbarians - Chapter 29

This shattered dream you cannot justify
We're gonna scream until we're satisfied
What are we running for?
We've got the right to be angry
What are we running for?
When there's nowhere we can run to anymore

Pat Benatar - “Invincible”

There are several ways a battle can end. A combatant may realize they are losing and flee for safety. One side may annihilate another, or force its surrender. They could order a cease-fire, though that usually occurs after a battle. Or, like two exhausted boxers at the end of twelve brutal rounds, the adversaries might stagger back to their corners to lick their wounds while awaiting the judge’s decision.

The Battle of Zaaronq didn’t so much end as fall apart, the ragged remnants of both fleets coalescing on opposite sides of the expanding debris field, as all involved struggled to catch their breath...and marvel at the fact they were still alive.

On the Bellerophon, Admiral Fujimoto was toiling to regroup her shattered forces, wondering if the Triumvirate fleet had a third assault still in them. Even her own ship had suffered during the skirmish, though she’d tried to keep the carriers out of harm’s way, enemy missiles had still found their way in. Smoke hung heavy on the bridge as she turned to face her officers.

“Tactical...status report,” she ordered.

“The fleet got hit hard, Admiral,” her officer replied. “We lost the carriers Perseus and Heracles, along with 75% of the Comets. The HK’s fared better...60% destroyed outright.” His bone-weary expression matched her own. “Ma’am, we must stand down. Preliminary reports show over half of the enemy fleet annihilated, with the rest suffering varying degrees of damage. It’s unlikely they’ll be able to engage us again without significant repairs.”

“We can’t stand down,” Hélène answered, her mind and body wracked with fatigue. “The ground forces are inbound as we speak, and we have to keep them covered until they’re planetside.”

Her officer closed his eyes and nodded in resignation. “Understood, Ma’am. I’m just not sure how much fight our pilots have left.”

“Enough for one more round, I hope,” she whispered. “After that...I doubt it will matter.”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz had fought his way to the top, securing his position by being the strongest, the smartest, the most dangerous in battle. His position as supreme commander of the fleet was absolute, and while there was a method by which that rank could be challenged, all such contests were in abeyance until they completed the Great Crusade. Facing one trial after another was a distraction they could not afford, not while the promise to their forebears was being honored at last.

So there was no procedure to choose a successor, even a temporary one, without starting the whole process all over again.

The Khonhim fleet was in pandemonium with the loss of Oathkeeper. Many pods had been recovered and brought on board, but none contained the Dhyaksh. The battle had damaged most of the great ships, and communications were spotty...which meant at the crucial moment, no one was in command of the fleet.

The transports ferrying the ground troops arrived in the Zaaronq system to find the remnants of two shattered fleets, eyeing each other warily but making no move to advance on their opponent. The Triumvirate forces moved to cover the massive vessels as they began disgorging their shuttles, each of them racing down to the relative safety of the planet’s surface to unload their passengers. It was the most vulnerable stage of the operation by far...but because their commander was incommunicado at that crucial moment no Khonhim ships moved in to intercept.

It was a lapse that would cost them dearly.

Nassat clung to a handy stanchion as the shuttle screamed through the atmosphere, diving like a bat out of hell to avoid ground fire. It was only his second planetary assault, but in the fledgling Triumvirate Army that made him the grizzled veteran...instead of the rank neophyte, he would have been in any traditional military. He was all too aware of his shortcomings, but before the war began, there wasn’t a single veteran anywhere, not even on Earth itself. They had adapted more quickly than the other races, for war was still very much in their nature, but even the humans were having a hard time relearning old habits. Nassat would have loved nothing more than to hand his company over to someone with more training and experience, but the sad fact was there was no one else.

Do what you gotta do, he heard Lin whisper in his head, and as he watched the surface racing to meet them he grasped the wisdom of those words. The humans were masters of adaptability, and that same strength colored their martial traditions. There were tried and true tactics and strategies to draw on, the distilled knowledge of an entire species history of war, but every law of combat seemed to spawn a hundred exceptions. Every battle, every skirmish, every campaign was different, and no matter how he wished for a simple rulebook to follow it was just him, struggling to do the best he could. He could plan and project all he wanted, but the moment they met the enemy in combat those same plans would go straight out the window.

Which meant if he could not adapt...his soldiers would pay the price.

The shuttle slammed into the dirt with a heavy thump, as Nassat shouted to his troops. “On your feet! Lock and load! And may the Creator protect us all!” The ramp dropped to the ground as the Saurotaurs of Bravo Company surged forward, charging into the face of the enemy...who began picking them off with deadly precision.

“Dhyaksh...no one is responding!” his tactical officer wailed in frustration. Jiyazh swore an ancient curse as he grabbed his weapon and waved the others forward. “Then we must go to them!” he shouted, even as he watched the stream of enemy shuttles dashing down to the surface. All that he and the others had worked so hard for now teetered on the brink of the abyss, and if he did not regain control of the situation soon then any hope for the Great Crusade would be lost forever.

Several of the lifepods had landed near one another, and he had roughly a platoon’s worth of fighters at his side. It would be enough to get him to one of their assault craft, or so he hoped. Returning to the fleet would be a journey fraught with danger, but there was no other choice. They would win here, or they would die here.

They started running towards the last known position of the assault craft, which lay in roughly the same direction as the enemy position. He could not allow them a foothold here, for once they dug in and reinforced expelling them from the planet became a thousand times more difficult. He still did not know how much of his fleet had survived, but based on what they had witnessed from the planet it did not look good at all. Jiyazh could only hope the enemy had suffered just as badly…but he did not know. That lack of certainty disturbed him, and while he hoped someone had stepped into his shoes to command the fleet, in the depths of his soul he feared he knew the truth. The Khonhim were a race of tradition above all else...and usurping his authority even with the best of intentions was a step that none would take.

Not even to save the fleet.

“Faster!” he shouted...as he watched everything they had worked so hard for fall apart.

Admiral Fujimoto stared at her display in disbelief. The Khonhim fleet was just sitting there, doing nothing! They weren’t even trying to prevent the Triumvirate forces from landing on the surface, and that made no sense at all.

Unless... the flagship’s destruction had taken their commander with it. But even if that were the case, then someone should have stepped up and assumed command. If she were to fall, her Executive officer would take over with nary a hiccup, and carry on. Any military force that didn’t have a clearly delineated chain of command risked total disruption at the worst moment, and as good as the Khonhim were they had to realize that. Even if several of the senior officers had died during the battle, they’d had more than enough time to sort out who was left, and go on from there.

A rogue memory tugged at her, as she struggled to make sense of the enemy’s inaction. Hadn’t there been an ancient empire that had collapsed at the death of its leader, because according to custom all the warlords across the land were recalled to choose his successor? Had it been the Huns? The Mongols? She shook her head, trying to remember the details, but came up empty-handed. It made little sense that a space-faring race would have such a primitive form of government, but then there were still many things about the Khonhim they didn’t understand.

It didn’t matter. If that was what was happening here, or at least some rough analog, then the Khonhim fleet was ripe for the plucking. She could finish this and end the damn war once and for all.

Except her fleet had been badly mauled, and even an enemy with no cohesive leadership would still defend itself if attacked. If she made the attempt and failed, that was it. There would be no Navy, and even the ragged remnants of the Khonhim fleet would be enough to ravage the rest of the Triumvirate while they struggled to rebuild.

Again.

"God damn it!” she snarled, slamming her fist onto her console, loud enough to startle the others on the bridge. The enemy was right there for the taking...and she couldn’t risk the few ships she still had left.

Unless they tried to escape. Then she’d go after them with everything she had...and to hell with the consequences.

Nassat slammed into the dirt as a burst from the enemy killed the Saurotaur beside him. A few centimeters to the left, and he would be the one staring lifelessly at the sky. He shoved that image aside as he returned fire...the heat of battle was not the time to be contemplating such existential thoughts. Shuttles were still coming in, bringing reinforcements, but the Khonhim were well dug in and fighting back with everything they had. They didn’t dare risk a frontal assault, as doing so would decimate his company.

No...they had to attempt their flank instead. It appeared as if there was a small gap in the enemy line, perhaps just wide enough to break through, though part of him balked at the opportunity. One of Sergeant Lin’s pithy aphorisms said that when the enemy gives you an opening, it is almost always an ambush…except for the fact he had no choice. He could risk the gap...or Bravo company could die right here.

“First platoon, forward!” he shouted, moving with the lead element, “Second and Third, covering fire!” He rose to his feet and charged ahead, firing as he went, as he sent a prayer up to the skies...only not to the Creator.

Forgive me, Raichret...but I cannot ask them to risk their lives, without sharing their fate.

He hoped she would understand...and feared she would not.

Barbarians - Chapter 30

You can hide 'neath your covers and study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain
For a savior to rise from these streets
Well now, I ain't no hero, that's understood
All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Tell me what else can we do now?

Bruce Springsteen - “Thunder Road”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz and the rest of the stragglers from Oathkeeper ran towards the nearest pocket of Khonhim fighters as if the Flaming Star of legend was bearing down upon them once more. The lines of battle were holding firm for now, but still more enemy reinforcements were being landed, and there was a limit to what he could ask his warriors to face. Unless the equation shifted, it would soon force their troops to pull back, and the probability of reaching the assault shuttles in time would be zero. Without that shuttle, he could not return to orbit and rally the fleet, and without the fleet...or what was left of it…then he, his warriors, and the Great Cause were all doomed.

The fighting was growing even more intense as they drew nearer, as an errant shot dropped one of the warriors with him. Jiyazh dove into the trenches as he worked his way forward, grabbing one of the ground officers who stared at him in shock. “Dhyaksh, what are you doing here?” he stammered in surprise.

“There is no time to explain,” Jiyazh said in a rush. “I must get to the shuttles, the fate of the crusade depends on it!”

The officer shook his head. “The enemy has cut off access to the shuttles, Dhyaksh. They are staged in a pocket near to here, but even if we could fight our way clear, they would shoot you out of the sky long before you rejoined the fleet.”

“We must try,” Jiyazh urged, “otherwise we might as well surrender now, and bare our throats to the enemy’s blade.”

“I understand, Dhyaksh,” the officer nodded. He scanned the trench line and then pointed towards the East. “There,” he said, “that is our best hope.”

“Then gather your warriors,” Jiyazh commanded, as he checked his own weapon. “Either we break through...or we die in the attempt.”

First Platoon hurled themselves into the narrow breach in the enemy line, with Nassat in the lead. Some would say it was foolhardy for the commander to rush into battle like some mere private, and yet not so long ago that’s what he had been. But it was more than just practiced habit that placed him in harm’s way, for he had learned his fellow soldiers would fight ten times harder when they knew their leader shared the danger with them.

Withering fire marched up and down their ranks, driving them into the ground as they sought cover. Nassat had his own weapon up and firing as they inched their way forward, forcing the enemy to at least keep their heads down as they attempted to break through. It was times like these he wished he were human...not only were they far more sanguine about combat, their thin bodies were much better suited for burrowing into the dirt.

Second and Third platoons were keeping a steady fusillade on the enemy positions, allowing them to creep ever closer to the trenches. Their approach was not without cost, as his soldiers died by ones and twos, but soon enough they were within grenade range. The Saurotaurs still alive armed their bombs and flung them against the enemy line, and were rewarded with a rippling succession of explosions that paused the incoming fire.

“Move! Nassat shouted, as the survivors of First Platoon leapt to their feet and charged forward, diving into the enemy trenches...as they found suddenly themselves fighting for their lives.

What had first appeared to be a calm within the storm soon became a whirlwind of enemy fire as the Triumvirate forced their way through the same cramped defile. The Khonhim warriors slammed into their adversaries like an ocean wave, pouring fire into the mass of soldiers when a dozen or more objects were thrown into their faces.

“Grenade!” Jiyazh screamed, diving for cover, as a line of explosions ripped his warriors to pieces. The concussive blasts disoriented the defenders, and as he staggered to his feet, a swarm of green-skinned quadrupeds thundered into the trenches. There was no time to rally his warriors, who they themselves were already fighting off their attackers. Jiyazh scrambled to retrieve his weapon and fired point-blank into the mass of bodies, dropping a handful of them at his feet before a hammer blow smashed into his chest and threw him back to the ground.

I’m hit, he realized in dull shock, as bright orange blood streamed down his side. There was no time to assess the damage, as yet another of the enemy galloped toward him, eager to finish him. His weapon knocked aside Jiyazh clawed at the sidearm holstered at his waist, yanking it free and firing twice more as the Saurotaur fell to the ground, its limbs kicking. His weapon felt as heavy as a boulder as he labored to breathe, pushing himself into a sitting position as he watched his wounded opponent fight to sit up as well.

The fighting around them seemed to be carried away by some strange current, leaving only he and his wounded enemy surrounded by bodies. Placing a hand on his wound he recognized the severity of his injury in a heartbeat...and resigned himself to his fate.

“...I am Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz,” he wheezed to his enemy, “...and I refuse to beg for my life. Do what you must...and finish it.”

The Saurotaur gazed into his eyes...as he raised a sidearm of his own, aiming at his head with trembling hands.

Nassat and the rest of First Platoon plunged headfirst into a throng of enemy warriors as a hail of weapons fire erupted on both sides. It flung blood and bodies in all directions as the murderous fire decimated their ranks. He paused only for an instant to bring up the other platoons...when he spotted a wounded Khonhim warrior drawing a bead on him. Time seemed to stand still as he fought to bring his own weapon to bear, but he was too slow...too slow by far.

Too slow to dive for cover as twin bursts of pain slammed into him like a shuttle crash, knocking him off his feet.

His body spasmed in agony as he struggled to pull himself up, gasping for air as he tried to crawl away, only to have his leg crumple beneath him. Blood poured from a wound in his forelimb hip joint, the complex mass of bone and tissue shattered and unable to support his weight.

Somehow, despite the pain, he sat up, taking the pressure from his mangled limb. The Khonhim who had gunned him down watched as he pulled his own sidearm free, raising it up with shaking hands. They stared at one another, the two wounded soldiers as if they were all alone on the battlefield...until he jutted his chin in defiance.

“I am Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz,” the Khonhim said, “...and I refuse to beg for my life. Do what you must...and finish it.”

Nassat blinked in surprise. The leader of the enemy fleet here? His mind swirled at the sheer improbability of finding himself in this situation, even as he stared down the barrel of his sidearm. The sight lined up between the Khonhim’s eyes as he prepared to honor his enemy’s last request...when his weapon dropped back down to the ground.

“I have no wish to kill you,” Nassat breathed. “Too many have died already...on both sides.”

The Khonhim…Jiyazh...watched as he murmured into his mic. “This is Sergeant Nassat, Bravo Company. We require Healers at this location…”

He paused for a moment before deciding. “...and I have a wounded prisoner as well,” Nassat said at last.

They brought another batch of wounded into the Medical tent, as Raichret stripped off her blood-stained smock and pulled on a fresh one. She’d lost track of how many mutilated bodies she’d labored over since the battle began, and there was no end in sight. Had it been dozens she had tried to save? More? She could barely recall the last patient she’d operated on, even as they carried him away...though each one she lost was burned into her memory. How much longer could this go on? How much longer could she go on, before the sheer numbing horror of it all destroyed what remained of her sanity forever?

She shook it off, as they lowered her next patient onto the table, her professional mask slipping over her face as she began her initial assessment. Male Saurotaur, two entrance wounds, comminuted fracture of the sinister forelimb acetabulofemoral joint, with possible pneumothorax involvement…

“...Raichret…”

The sound of her name yanked Raichret out of her litany as if someone had slapped her. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized who was lying on her table, crouching down beside him as she fought back sudden tears. “...Nassat...”, she whispered, as the words strangled in her throat.

She could see the pain in his eyes as he reached out to her. “Raichret...do not concern yourself with me,” he wheezed, confirming her worst fears, “...you must save him.” His gaze traveled to a neighboring table where another patient was being brought in and prepped.

A Khonhim patient.

“He can wait,” she snapped. “I will give you a sedative and prep you for surgery…” she began, only to be interrupted once more.

“...you must save him,” Nassat repeated, this time with greater urgency. “He is the Dhyaksh...the commander of the Khonhim fleet, and…”

But Raichret had stopped listening, as she stared at the enemy commander.

The one responsible for the deaths of her family.

…and he was within her grasp.

She had all but forgotten her own sidearm during the endless hours of surgery, but at that very moment, she felt its reassuring weight. Her hand seemed to have a will of its own as she drew her weapon and charged it, her eyes smoldering in cold fury as she began to squeeze the trigger…

Only to have Nassat reach out and grab her arm, pulling it from the target. “Raichret...do you not understand?” he pleaded with her, “He can end the war.”

Part of her refused to listen, wanting only to scream ”I DON’T CARE!” Her murdered family cried out to her, and she heard their siren call, even as Nassat fought to drag her back from the abyss.

“...you are a Healer,” he whispered. “Do not do this...please, Raichret, I beg you…”

Somehow...and even after many years she was never quite sure by what means it happened...her sidearm slid back into its holster. “...Fine,” she said through gritted teeth, “...but someone else can operate on him. I am saving you.”

A fragile smile appeared on his face. “...my fierce Healer…” he whispered, as the sedative took him under.

“WHAT?”

Admiral Fujimoto stared at her communications officer in shock. “Who did you say was down there?”

He was just as flabbergasted as she was. “Ma’am, they swear they’ve captured the fleet commander. He’s being operated on as we speak.”

She fell back into her chair, overwhelmed by the unexpected news. “...get Marshal Antuma on the horn,” she managed to get out. “He has to hear about this.”

Barbarians - Chapter 31

Now the valley cried with anger,
“Mount your horses, draw your swords!”
And they killed the mountain people,
So they won their just rewards
Now they stood before the treasure
On the mountain, dark and red
Turned the stone and looked beneath it
“Peace on Earth”, was all it said.

So go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend,
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the Judgment Day,
On the bloody morning after
One tin soldier rides away.

Coven - “One Tin Soldier”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz opened his eyes, gazing at his surroundings. He was lying on a narrow cot in a small room, while a human female in a white uniform sat across from him, regarding him.

“I see you’re awake, Dhyaksh,” she informed him, as he struggled to sit up. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I expected,” he admitted. “Who are you?”

“Admiral Hélène Fujimoto,” she replied, inclining her head. “Your counterpart. One of them, at least.”

He nodded. “You commanded the fleet.” A statement, not a question. “You learned quickly.”

“Re-learned, actually,” she said with a ghost of a smile. “We were a little out of practice.”

Jiyazh spent a few moments, taking that in. “You took a great risk, splitting your forces.”

“You didn’t leave me much choice,” she replied.

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed. He folded his arms across his chest. “So what happens now?”

Hélène rose to her feet, as any trace of humor disappeared from her face. “I convince you to stand down your forces, Dhyaksh. Without you, they are in disarray, so it would be in the best interests of everyone involved for you to give the order.”

He considered that for a moment. “And if I refuse?”

She stared down at him without a hint of mercy. “Then I destroy them.”

Jiyazh’s lip curled into a sneer. “Easier said than done.”

“I’m willing to risk it,” Hélène answered. “You’re far from home, Dhyaksh, and your fleet...what’s left of it...is the bulk of your forces. Your ships can run, rebuild, and rally for another attack, but when they return, we’ll be waiting for them.” This time it was her turn to smirk. “Our team pulled a great deal of information from your computers before they escaped.”

“So I suspected,” he replied, as he considered her demand. That she was serious he knew, though whether she could manage it was another question. She was correct about the question of leadership, but he was loath to surrender to her despite the truth of her words. His people had waited ten millennia for this day, and to see it fail now was a far greater pain than the wound in his side. “What of my warriors?” he asked. “What will become of them?”

“Above my paygrade, I’m afraid...though if you order them to stand down, I’m certain we can work something out.”

“Not much of a promise,” Jiyazh said.

“It’s no promise at all, in fact,” Hélène replied. “I won’t lie to you...there’s plenty of people who would like nothing better than have me pull the trigger and kill every one of you.” Her voice turned cold as ice. “You murdered billions of Triumvirate citizens and thousands of humans. I doubt you’ll find many advocates here.”

He leaned back against his pillow. “You wish my surrender? I will discuss it...but not with you.”

Hélène cocked her head. “Who, then?”

Jiyazh’s smile was as enigmatic as the Sphinx, as he told her.

Nassat winced as they wheeled him into the prisoner’s hospital ward. Despite all the work Raichret had put into rebuilding his hip joint, it still throbbed with a deep ache the painkillers couldn’t quite eradicate. She held his hand as they entered the small room, hovering over him as he gazed at the human admiral and the Khonhim Dhyaksh.

“You wished to see me, Ma’am?” Nassat asked.

“Not me,” she chuckled. “Him.”

His bewilderment grew by leaps and bounds as he turned to the enemy commander.

“Sergeant Nassat,” Jiyazh nodded. “We meet again.”

“Indeed so, Dhyaksh,” he replied. “You asked to speak to me?” For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why.

“I did,” Jiyazh replied, his gaze traveling up to Raichret’s face, who was staring daggers back at him. “There is something I wish to ask you if you are willing.”

“Of course,” Nassat answered, “though if it is of a military or technical nature, they may not allow me to respond.”

Jiyazh shook his head. “Nothing like that. I only want to know one thing, Sergeant. Why? Why did you not kill me, when you had the chance?”

Nassat blinked in surprise. “Because I did not wish to,” he answered. He winced again, though this time it was because of the grip Raichret had on his hand. He looked up at her, making a small noise in his throat to draw her attention away from the prisoner. She flushed as she bowed her head, loosening her handhold on him...an exchange that did not pass unnoticed by Jiyazh.

“I ask for a reason, Sergeant,” Jiyazh said. “We came here to right an ancient wrong, and I know that had our situations been reversed, I would not have hesitated to finish you.” Raichret’s death glare returned with a vengeance, and he nodded in understanding. “I doubt your companion would have spared me...so why did you?”

Nassat wondered if anyone else knew about the incident in surgery. If not, he had no intention of bringing it up now...not in front of witnesses. “No...she would not have spared you,” he admitted, though there was no hint of condemnation in his voice. “She lost her family to your warriors. Can you blame her for her anger?”

“No...in fact, I understand her hatred of my kind. Perhaps better than you realize.” Jiyazh acknowledged Raichret with a brief bow, and while it did not mollify her animosity towards him she did at least dial it back somewhat. “But you have yet to answer my question, Sergeant.”

“I...am uncertain how to put it into words, Dhyaksh, but I will try,” Nassat said. “I was not raised to be a soldier; in fact, I had chosen a life of contemplation, as an Acolyte.” Jiyazh regarded his response with some surprise while he continued. “Our people have only known peace for as long as we can remember, and when you brought death and destruction to us, many surrendered to despair. It was the humans who showed us how to fight,” he informed him, indicating Hélène, “and while their efforts saved our people from certain annihilation, we are not them. I fought because I had to, because they gave me no choice, and because it was necessary...but when this war is over no one will be more thankful than I.” Nassat shrugged. “I do not hate you, Dhyaksh. Others do, and perhaps I should as well, but I do not. I hate what you have done, but that is not the same thing...and if I can stay my hand without putting others at risk, then I will always choose life over death.”

Jiyazh was silent for some time, as he digested Nassat’s words. Finally, he turned back to Admiral Fujimoto, who had remained silent during their exchange. “What do you ask of me?” he said at last.

“A Cease Fire, to start,” she said at once. “An immediate cessation of hostilities, as both sides fall back to their initial lines. When that’s been confirmed, your forces withdraw from the surface...under observation, of course.”

“And once we surrender the planet?” Jiyazh pressed her. “My ships are still in orbit overhead, and they are still armed.”

Hélène grimaced. “That’s where it gets complicated, I’m afraid. I imagine that my superiors have some definite ideas on what they’ll want to see happen...but I cannot allow you to keep your ship’s weapons. That, Dhyaksh, is non-negotiable.”

Jiyazh’s nostrils flared in sudden defiance. “And what do you offer us in return, Admiral? You ask my warriors to bare their throats to your blade, but what assurances do you give us you will allow us to depart in peace?”

The temperature of the room dropped to somewhere just shy of Absolute Zero. “I never said a thing about allowing you to leave, Dhyaksh,” she said without a hint of compassion in her voice. “As long as your fleet is intact, it is a threat. I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere without my approval...and if we decide on a location, I will escort you under the guns of my fleet.”

His sneer returned. “So you can march us off somewhere, out of sight of your citizens, to be executed like so much livestock? My warriors and I would rather die with our blades in our hands than suffer that ignominy. You may kill us...but I will not allow you to dishonor us with an animal’s death.”

“It is all you deserve,” Raichret spat out, her every word dripping with venom...while Nassat watched in horror as the fragile peace they’d started began to fall apart at the seams.

“Dhyaksh,” he said, “no one wishes to see you slaughtered...not now, at least. You said you understood why those like Raichret hated you, so you must understand why we are cautious to grant you parole. There must be some middle ground we can find, that both sides can accept?” he asked.

“Sergeant,” Hélène said, ”you are here as a courtesy. I suggest you remember that.”

“No...let him speak,” Jiyazh interjected. “You say you wish to end hostilities...and you are able to enforce your will for the moment...but there is a limit how far I will be pushed. Either we find this ‘Middle Ground’ he spoke of...or we fight this battle until the bitter end.”

The human and the Khonhim glared at one another, as Nassat cleared his throat. “Admiral...he agreed to the ceasefire. Perhaps we could start there? It will take time for those like Minister Singh to arrive here from the capitol, but if we can stop the dying, would that not be a valuable beginning?”

Hélène’s expression was like chewing on broken glass. “If your ships agree to stand down and move out of range of the planet...with my fleet as an escort.”

“Only as far as the L5 Lagrange point,” he countered. “I will not leave my warriors without means to return home.”

She still had a sour look but gave a curt nod. “Agreed...pending verification.”

“Agreed,” Jiyazh acknowledged. “I also have one additional request.” The Admiral looked as if she would balk before Jiyazh pointed to Nassat. “I wish the sergeant to be present during negotiations, as a neutral party.”

Fujimoto snorted. “Neutral? He’s one of ours.”

“Perhaps...but there is wisdom in his words.” He turned to look at Nassat, who stared back in astonishment. “I believe he wishes to find peace...and he has the courage to stand his ground.”

Hélène turned to give Nassat an appraising look. “Agreed,” she said, as a wry smile appeared on her face.

Nassat’s head whipped back and forth as the others discussed his fate, before looking at Raichret. “Why does this keep happening to me?” he asked plaintively.

“Maybe next time you’ll shoot him,” she snorted, as the other two broke out into laughter.

Barbarians - Epilogue

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Bob Dylan - “The Times They Are A-Changin'”

“Nassat, will you please stop fidgeting?” Raichret said exasperated, as she readjusted the starburst medal hanging around his neck. “You look splendid in your new uniform if you’d just leave it alone.”

Nassat sighed in resignation as Minister Singh and Marshal Antuma shared a chuckle at his plight. “I don’t understand what the issue is, Captain,” Leandra said with a grin. “You were perfect at the ceremony. You should be proud.” She smiled at Raichret. “And having your betrothed present the award was the pièce de résistance. TNN’s numbers will be huge this cycle.”

“Minister, while I appreciate the Tetrarchy’s recognition, I would have much preferred to stay an inconspicuous sergeant,” Nassat said. “I do not deserve this promotion, nor do I deserve this medal.”

“Captain Nassat, what you think you do or don’t deserve is immaterial, I’m afraid,” Antuma chimed in. “First off, I don’t think you’re seeing your accomplishments objectively, and second…we need you to be a hero.”

The newly promoted and decorated Saurotaur winced at the word “Hero”. “I only did my duty, Sir,” Nassat said, “and I was very lucky.”

Leandra shook her head and leaned forward. “Nassat...for better or worse, you’ve been thrust onto a much bigger stage. I’d apologize for that if it weren’t for the fact it was my insistence…and Marshal Antuma’s...that put you there. Even though the ceasefire is holding, for now, we are in a much more dangerous position than we ever were...and that’s where you come in.”

“I do not understand,” Nassat replied. “I am merely a soldier. There are thousands of others just as deserving of these honors...perhaps even more so. Could we not give it to one of them?”

Antuma burst out laughing. “Certainly...if you can find me another soldier who single-handedly captured the Khonhim commander, thereby helping to end the war. Consider yourself fortunate we didn’t make you a General.”

Nassat blanched in horror. “You wouldn’t, Sir...would you?”

“In a heartbeat, Captain,” Antuma said, as all traces of humor left his face. “The Minister is correct...the current situation is more perilous now than it ever was, even though the fighting has stopped. And you, my friend, are our secret weapon.”

“Me?” Nassat squeaked.

“Yes, you,” Leandra informed him. “We humans are all too familiar with this kind of situation, thanks to our rather colorful past.” She leaned back in her chair and regarded him. “Tell me, Captain, now that the Khonhim have ceased their attacks and are negotiating with us to end the war, what do you think happens next?”

“I...had assumed they would return to their homeworld,” Nassat stammered. “We would focus on rebuilding what we lost, and begin disbanding our military since it is no longer needed.” He paused for a moment, as he considered that. “Perhaps we would keep a token force, just in case.”

“Oh boy,” Minister Singh sighed, rolling her eyes, “have you got a lot to learn about how things work in the real world.” She waved her hand as Nassat began to object. “I don’t mean that the way it sounds, but I stand by it. Let’s say you’re correct, that the Khonhim return to their home planet...assuming we allow them that. What’s their next move?”

Nassat blinked. “I...do not know,” he admitted. “I would hope they would see the error of their ways and chart a new course for their society.”

Leandra snorted. “Hope all you want...but I can tell you right now that will not happen. Nassat....ten thousand years ago they were all but exterminated, and they’ve been nursing a grudge ever since. This was just a setback. If we allow them to return home, they’ll begin rebuilding and rearming all over again...and the next time we see them, they’ll be a hundred times nastier than they are now.”

He suddenly felt physically ill. “Are you saying our only course is to...finish what my ancestors started?” Nassat looked to Raichret for support, but she showed no consternation at this possibility.

“Not necessarily...but I won’t lie to you Captain, it could well happen,” Antuma said. “At the very least we must keep a close eye on them, which means building up our forces to even greater levels, with even more powerful ships and deadlier weapons...and keep it there, for generations to come.”

“And that, my dear,” Leandra said as she turned to Raichret, “is where you come in.”

“Me?” she squawked, echoing Nassat’s own earlier reaction.

Singh nodded. “You were the very first Triumvirate citizen to volunteer for military duty,” she said. “We looked into your background, and we’ll be relying on you to encourage others to enlist, to help foster a new tradition, one of service to the Tetrarchy.”

She and Nassat stared at each other in shock, as they felt the walls close in. “And if we refuse?” Nassat asked.

“That would be unfortunate,” Leandra said, “but I think we can help you both to see reason. Honestly, what did you think your future held? After all the publicity...and believe me, we’re just getting started with that...did you think you could retreat into the woodwork? Retire to a farm, raise a family in quiet anonymity?” A wry smirk appeared on her face. “Or perhaps return to your old Order and take up the robes again? I know the Venerable Eashray came to see you, hoping you’d do just that.”

Nassat looked like he had tasted something sour. “No...not that,” he said in disgust. “I told him...that was no longer an option.”

Leandra chuckled. “In fact, I believe you used some rather colorful language to send him packing,” she grinned. “I can only assume you learned those phrases from us humans...no Saurotaur ever told someone to ‘Stick your offer where the sun doesn’t shine’.” Nassat flushed with embarrassment, as she shrugged. “As much as you might wish to find some secluded corner of the galaxy to live out your lives, it’s not in the cards, I’m sorry to say.”

“You cannot order us to play these roles,” Nassat said with a hint of anger, holding Raichret’s hand.

“In fact, we can,” Antuma replied. “You’re both still in uniform...and if you check the fine print of your enlistment papers, you’ll see they read ‘For the Duration’. To be blunt...the war is over when we say it’s over.”

“Look...we’re not the bad guys here,” Leandra said before Nassat could work up a hot retort. “I know how all this must sound to you...and if you’re seeing this as a kind of prison sentence, I’m sorry to say there’s some truth to that. But we’re not here to threaten you, or force you to bend to our will, though you may wish we had.” She graced them both with a melancholy expression. “No...the chains I’m ensnaring you with are far more insidious, I’m afraid.”

The Minister rose to her feet and went to the Saurotaur pair. “Nassat, Raichret...we need you. The Tetrarchy needs you. Your people need you...even more now than they did before the war. I can find anyone to carry a rifle, or treat the wounded...but there is no one else at the moment who can offer us what you can, in terms of publicity and morale. Like it or not, it’s your duty. Both of you.”

Nassat had been moments away from taking Raichret’s hand and storming out...but the word “Duty” brought him to a crashing halt. His heart sank as he recognized the trap before him...and realized there was no way they could avoid it. “This is to be our life then?” he asked. “Forced to be forever pulled by your strings? A mere performer for your publicity campaign?”

“It won’t be all bad,” she assured him. “I can guarantee you two will have the biggest wedding the Triumvirate has ever seen. You’ll lead parades, your faces will be everywhere, and there won’t be a single citizen that won’t fawn over your every word, and wish they were you. And in time, with luck and barring a catastrophe...someday you’ll have my job.”

Raichret shivered...and not from the cold. Nassat held her close as he glared back at the Minister. “And you are that certain you can maintain your grip on us, even then? When we could walk away, with no one to stop us?”

“No,” Leandra said quietly, “because by then, you will understand the necessity of it...just as I do.”

A foreboding silence filled the room as they dwelled on that until Antuma spoke up. “There’s another reason we need you Nassat...two, in fact. Tell me, how would you describe the Khonhim? Being completely honest, I mean.”

The sudden change in topic gave him pause, as he considered his answer. “Warlike, all too comfortable with bloodshed...even barbaric,” he said at last.

The Marshal nodded in agreement. “Remind you of anyone?” he probed.

Nassat flushed. “Sir, I did not mean to imply…” he began, as Antuma waved his apology aside.

“It’s all right...we humans can acknowledge our own shortcomings,” he said. “The thing is, we have a lot in common with the Khonhim...too much, in fact. Now that we are creating a military again, after all these years, there will be those who will want to use it...and what better enemy to test our mettle against than them? It wouldn’t take much to set us off either...and if that happens, all bets are off. We could end up destroying everything we’ve worked so hard to achieve...unless there is someone who belongs to neither camp who can act as mediator.” A dry chuckle passed his lips. “Someone civilized to keep the two barbarian tribes from slaughtering one another.”

“But...it sounded as if I was to be nothing more than a figurehead,” Nassat stammered.

“At first, perhaps, but that won’t last,” Antuma explained. “It can’t, not if there will be anything resembling long term stability...which brings us to the second reason.” He nodded at Leandra, who picked up the thread.

“Less than a year ago they treated humans like unruly children in the Triumvirate,” she said. “Fear of the Khonhim changed the equation...and we shamelessly took full advantage of it. We’ve leveraged ourselves into the preeminent role of this new society, but now that the war is ending there will be those who will demand a return to the status quo.” She paused for a moment, and then said, “I can assure you that is not happening. We earned our new position, and we are not giving it up. Not without a fight.”

Nassat barely repressed a shudder. “So...we have simply exchanged one threat for another?” he said in despair.

“I hope not, Nassat, but like Kwasi, I too know my people. Once we get our hands on power, we don’t give it up…unless there is someone there to speak for the other races. Someone they trust. Someone who’s proven themselves strong enough to stand against even the most formidable of enemies. And...that’s you.”

“How can you place all of this on my shoulders?” Nassat demanded. “I am only one being, and even with Raichret at my side, I cannot do all that you demand of me.”

“You must gather people you trust, of course,” Antuma nodded. “Build up your own power base, one separate from ours. In fact...I believe I can help with that,” he smirked, before pressing a hidden button. “Show him in, please,” he spoke into the intercom.

The doors slid open, as a human in uniform marched in, coming to a halt in front of the incredulous pair of Saurotaurs. “Sergeant Jehiel Lin reporting for duty, Sir!”

Nassat stared in shock. “You? But...you’re human.”

“Think of me as being on indefinite loan,” Lin said with a smile. “Besides...you’ll need someone to teach you all the dirty tricks they’ll throw at you,” he said jerking his head towards the other humans. “Unless you’d rather not have me on your staff.”

Nassat rose to his feet. “Nothing would honor me more than to have you at my side,” he said, suddenly overcome with emotion. He held out his hand in the human way, as Lin grasped it firmly. “I will find it difficult to have you calling me ‘Sir’, however,” he admitted.

“You’ll get used to it…Sir,” Lin smirked.

After all the hammer blows they had hit them with, Raichret could no longer contain herself. “But...we won the war,” she blurted out. “How can it end like this?”

Marshal Antuma sighed. “We only won the first battle,” he corrected her. “The war, I’m afraid, is just beginning.”

THE END

The Barbarian War - Chapter 1

There was a time when ignorance made
Our innocence strong
There was a time when we all thought
We could do no wrong
There was a time, so long ago
There was a time
But here we are
In the calm before the storm

Rubén Blades - “The Calm Before the Storm”

“...and so, it gives me great pride to introduce Chief Healer Raichret, to dedicate the Tetrarchy’s newest addition to the fleet...the Hospital ship Florence Nightingale!”

The crowd erupted into applause as she stepped forward, accepting the proffered bottle of champagne from the Prime Minister before taking position in front of the exposed section of the ship’s hull. The rest of the vessel hung in space, ready for launch, but the ancient human custom required a reachable spot. Raichret faced the crowd, and intoned, “May the Creator bless this ship and all who sail in her,” before raising the bottle and smashing it against the metal structure.

Cheers and applause filled the space once more, as she smiled and posed for the cameras alongside Leandra Singh. From the wings Nassat beamed with pride, pointing out his mate to their children, Taichist and Chechla. They watched with wide-eyed curiosity as their mother played her part like a professional...until the reporters spotted them in the crowd.

“...Colonel Nassat! Does this continued shipbuilding mean you expect renewed hostility with the Khonhim?”

“...do you feel the Tetrarchy military has expanded too far?”

“...is this a provocation for war?”

Ten years of practice kept him from sighing and rolling his eyes. Instead, he glanced over at the Prime Minister, who gave him the barest of nods. Bowing to the inevitable he whispered to the twins, entrusting them to the human who stood at his side, before stepping out onto the stage and taking his place alongside the other honored guests, as a hush fell over the crowd.

“First, let me say that this ceremony has little to do with me,” Nassat said with a gentle smile. “I am here to support my talented wife, without whose hard work and dedication this ship...and her sister vessels...would not exist.” He took her hand as they shared a brief smile. “Speaking as someone her medical skills once saved, I can only say that I am gratified that these ships exist...and pray we will never need them.”

The more fervent journalists in the room weren’t mollified. “Colonel Nassat, do you favor renewed hostilities with the Khonhim?”

He turned to face the speaker. “I favor the security and safety of our worlds, but if I am given a choice, I would much prefer to see that take place on the field of diplomacy, as opposed to the battlefield. War should always be the last resort, that irrevocable step taken only when all other options have failed.”

The other reporters began shouting out their own questions, only for the Prime Minister to step forward. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have,” she said with a smile, as the junior functionaries guided them out of the room, the din disappearing behind them as the door slid shut.

“Dear Creator, I hate those things,” Nassat sighed, as he and Raichret leaned on each other for support.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Leandra chuckled, “you’re getting quite good at it.”

“Only because you forced us into this,” Raichret snapped, her features softening as the twins came bounding up to meet them.

“Mother! Father!” they shouted with glee, prancing all around them with the energy all young children seemed to share. “You said we could go on the ship!” Taichist demanded.

“You promised,” his sister whined, as their keeper caught up with them.

“Now what have your parents told you about running off?” Sergeant Major Lin asked, giving the adults a wink.

To their credit, the twins looked suitably chagrined. “...we’re sorry,” they said in unison, prompting another chuckle from the Prime Minister.

“They didn’t run that far,” she said in their defense, kneeling down beside them and producing two candies from the folds of her gown.

They quickly snatched the sweets up. “....thank you, Auntie Leandra!” they shouted, as the candies disappeared into their mouths.

Raichret gave the other woman an old fashioned look. “You will spoil them,” she clucked, pulling the children in close beside her.

“If I didn’t know you loved them as much as we do, I would accuse you of engaging in bribery,” Nassat said with an exasperated smile.

“Well of course I am,” the Prime Minister chuckled. “I’m a politician, and must maintain certain standards.”

The group laughed before she grew serious. “I’m afraid I have to pull you away from your family for a moment,” Leandra informed him, as Nassat nodded in understanding.

“Dear...could you take the children on that tour?” he asked. “It is your brainchild, after all.”

Raichret shot the minister a look, before turning to the twins. “Come along,” she said, “we’ll meet up with your father later.” The children bounded forward, as their mother hurried after them, begging them to slow down.

Nassat glanced at Lin, who shrugged, before turning his attention back to Singh. “So...what is it you wished to discuss?”

Leandra found a comfortable chair and sat down. “I take it you noticed the tone of the reporters’ questions?” she asked.

“I did,” he said. “I assume there has been some recent development?”

“Yes and no,” she replied. “They got wind of the latest speech from the new Dhyaksh, and it seems he’s been dialing up his rhetoric as of late. Many believe it is nothing more than saber-rattling, but...I am less convinced.”

He stared back at her. “Prime Minister, it has been ten years. Ten years of hard-earned peace. Why would he risk jeopardizing that now?”

“It’s like I told you at the beginning...the war was little more than a setback, in the greater scheme of things,” she said quietly. “Yes, we hurt them...but far less than they hurt us. We’ve had minimal contact with the Khonhim since then and being honest I was fine with that state of affairs. We needed that time, Nassat, to build a capable fleet. But despite all the ships we’ve constructed, ten years isn’t enough time to create the military we’ll need if the worst happens. We’ve expanded the Navy and Army, and we properly train the recruits we turn out now, unlike what you and the others experienced. But a decade isn’t enough time to create the traditions, the wealth of experience a military needs to fall back on if the shit hits the fan.”

“Perhaps if we detached some of those ships and sent them to keep a closer eye on the Khonhim,” Nassat suggested. “That would go a long way to allay people’s fears.”

“You do not know how much I wish I could,” Leandra sighed, “and if we’d done so at the beginning, we could have gotten away with it. But now? They would see it as a provocation, and at the moment that’s something we don’t dare risk.”

Nassat grimaced. “We did not have the ships available to monitor them then.”

“Trust me, no one knows that better than I do,” she said. “We were lucky enough as it was to get them to agree to a ceasefire. If I’d pushed them any harder Jiyazh would have balked...which would have meant fighting it out to the bitter end. Now perhaps we could have still pulled it out, but the numbers at the time weren’t encouraging.” She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I made the best bargain I could, Nassat...but that doesn’t mean it was a good one. In the world of diplomacy, if you’re not dealing from a position of strength…then you’re just not dealing.”

For the first time, Sergeant Major Lin spoke up. “I always said it was another damn Treaty of Versailles.”

“Maybe not quite that bad...but close,” Leandra admitted. “At least we didn’t slap them with the punitive damages the Allies insisted on at Versailles...again, because we didn’t have the means to enforce it then. As it was, I had to show the other Ministers the door just to get it approved. Their replacements were much more…”

“...pliable?” Nassat suggested.

“...I would say pragmatic,” she replied, as Lin snorted.

“There’s a growing number of individuals from the old Triumvirate unhappy with your decision to force out the old guard, Prime Minister,” Nassat said. “Many of them see it as nothing more than a Coup, perpetrated by humans.”

“And they’re not wrong,” Leandra said, “but it was...necessary.”

“I just hope that decision does not prove to be our undoing, in the fullness of time,” Nassat said with some disquiet.

“As do I,” the Prime Minister agreed. “But it’s like the old saying, “It’s hard to remember your job was to drain the swamp…”

“...when you’re up to your ass in alligators,” he finished for her, with a rueful chuckle.

Nassat paused for a moment and then cocked his head. “You know, I’ve always wondered...just what is an alligator?” he asked, as the two humans laughed out loud.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 2

From a fireball we came crossed sea and mountain
We were drinking beauty with our eyes
We were given all to make our own let us be left alone
Laid the tasks and paid the price, everything survives
Crushed and bolted all the great
After every win, what a stake we're in
It's paying better than the grave
When we talk without amends, we see red, and then
Deep inside our blood begins to boil

Judas Priest - “The Rage”

Dhyaksh Chugaz Uydan stood upon the ancient world of Dakik, surveying the wind-swept terrain. He had stood in this place once before, at the beginning of the Great Crusade, cheering the great warrior Jiyazh Ghuuyaz alongside the other clan leaders. It united the warriors of the Khonhim in purpose that day, as they prepared to embark on the journey that would fulfill the Pact. They would mount their ships and reclaim their ancient lands, stolen from them by the Triumvirate, honoring the promise they had made to their ancestors.

It was as if time had stood still, witnessing that historic moment.

And then the crusade itself. One world after another had fallen to their guns, and he had reveled in the destruction of their enemies. On Jituttaz, on Shossudd, on Ψ17, they had reaped, watching the cowards run in terror as they slaughtered them by the millions. No words could describe the heady moments of those glorious days, for they had been everything he had long dreamed of, and more.

But then...the tide began to turn.

It was at Uzaunx where they first met the aliens who called themselves Humans. They were pitiful opponents in the beginning...during their first battle, they completely destroyed the crude ships sent against them, leaving no survivors. That planet too had fallen to the horde, but there was something in the air, some sense that this new element was more than it seemed.

The second time they faced the humans at Uzaunx, the battle had not been so one-sided. It had still been a tactical victory for the horde, but it was the Khonhim who were forced to withdraw. They had inflicted far heavier casualties on the enemy than they’d received...but it was obvious even then that the humans were learning.

Learning quickly, in fact.

ϒ12 had fallen next, and once again there had been losses, though they were light in comparison. But it was at Zaaronq where the Great Crusade came to a halt, smashing against the new human fleet, facing their warriors on the ground. Both forces were left staggered and bleeding, but there had still been a chance to save the day, had Fate not played a cruel trick. It had destroyed the flagship Oathkeeper, the Dhyaksh presumed lost, and with no custom in place to choose a successor the crusade ground to a halt, awaiting orders...orders that were not forthcoming.

And when the command came...it was for their surrender.

He had never imagined defeat. Had never conceived it possible. None of them had. The Triumvirate held powerful technology, this was true, but they were weaklings, with no stomach for the fight. The horde should have plowed right through their worlds, like a blade threshing grain. It is what would have happened...were it not for the humans.

And as the remnants of the horde slunk back to their homeworlds, humbled in defeat, Chugaz began to plan.

Jiyazh Ghuuyaz had chosen exile, rather than live in ignominy among his own kind. With the way cleared to select the next Dhyaksh, Chugaz had lobbied hard to be named his successor. It had been an uphill battle, fought with tooth and claw, for he had staked the heretical claim that the ancient ways must change if they were to fulfill the pact to their ancestors. Those words had been hard to hear, for many of his people, and had they not suffered disaster his struggle would have been a futile one.

But when all is lost, the mob will latch onto anyone who can show them the way to victory.

He was cut from very different cloth than his predecessor. Jiyazh had clung to the old ways to the bitter end, while Chugaz had tossed aside any tradition that did not offer a clear path to victory. Jiyazh had won the rank of Dhyaksh as a warrior, pitting his skills against all that would challenge him, while Chugaz had worked quietly, out of the limelight, forging alliances…and eliminating his rivals. He would allow nothing to prevent his rise to power, in order for the Khonhim to claim what was theirs.

And if that meant the disappearance of those that stood in his way...so be it.

When he was named Dhyaksh, Chugaz had gone straight to work, overhauling the fleet and its tactics. He created clear lines of succession to prevent the disaster that had crippled them in their most desperate hour from happening again. For ten years he had campaigned hard for change, winning over even the most reactionary of warriors. New weapons were tested and put into production, while the clan wars that had forged the Khonhim soul began to change. In the old days, an honorable opponent would often be spared if he fought well. No longer. The new Khonhim fought to win...by any means necessary.

And now...they were ready.

Instead of climbing the hill to the Place of Skulls, Chugaz entered a nondescript structure, nodding at the warriors and clan elders who rose to greet him, before taking his seat at the head of the long table. “Be seated,” he ordered, as the others made themselves comfortable once more.

“The time has come to finish what we began, so many years ago,” he informed them. “The old ways that once served us so well do so no longer, and we have fought to purge their remnants from our civilization. We will take back what is rightfully ours, and when we are finished our ancient enemies will lie broken at our feet.”

“And what of the humans?” an elder asked.

“Ah yes...the humans,” Chugaz chuckled, though there was no mirth in its sound. “They allied themselves with the Triumvirate...so much so they are now its dominant race. They have even renamed their government to reflect this...the Tetrarchy. They remain the most dangerous element of their society, commanding the armed forces and reigning over the Ministry itself. Any plan to defeat the enemy must take this into account, or else suffer the same fate as our last campaign. With that in mind, this is how I intend to address that obstacle.”

With the touch of a button, imagery appeared on the screen above him. He waited in silence as the others watched the simulation he’d had prepared, noting their expressions. For those that showed disquiet...suitable contingencies had been prepared.

As the images faded into black, Chugaz waited for the others to speak. This too was a test, as one of the younger warriors inclined his head.

“An audacious plan,” he said at last. “Simple, yet effective….and it should offer us the element of surprise.”

“Audacious, yes,” one of the older members said, “but this...this is not the Way of the Warrior. There is no honor in these tactics.”

“There is even less honor to in defeat,” Chugaz said, “or have you forgotten what happened when we battled the honorable way?” A shadow passed over the elder’s face, but he stood his ground. “I have not...and only a fool would make the same attempt twice, without variance.” He leaned forward, his eyes boring into the elders. “I am not a fool. Are you?”

The elder bristled at the accusation. “You will either submit to my authority,” Chugaz continued, “or remain behind...and there is even less honor cowering here on the homeworld, while the true warriors go out to do battle.”

The elder snarled, leaping to his feet, his blade teleporting into his hand. “You would insult me like this?” he snapped. “I fought at Jiyazh’s side from first battle to last, and no one will disrespect my courage...not even the Dhyaksh himself.” He stepped clear of the table, his blade weaving about in front of him. “Face me...if you dare.”

The expression on Chugaz’s face never changed...not even when he pulled his sidearm and shot the elder dead from where he sat.

“I see there are still those that cling to the old ways,” he said, returning his weapon to its holster. “If there are any others that feel as he did, speak now...for only those who grasp that victory is all that matters will have a place by my side. The old ways are dead.” A slight sneer appeared on his face. “Just ask him.”

A handful of uneasy glances passed from one elder to another, until one took a deep breath and spoke up. “We are with you, Dhyaksh,” he said, “now, and always.”

“Good,” Chugaz said with a nod. “Gather your warriors...for the time to strike has come at last.”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 3

If today was your last day
And tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
Would you call old friends you never see?
Reminisce old memories
Would you forgive your enemies?

Nickelback - “If Today Was Your Last Day”

Fleet Admiral Hélène Fujimoto gripped the edge of her console as her flagship came screaming out of the sun, diving into the gravity well of the nearby planet. “Message to the fleet,” she growled, “open fire the instant the enemy ships are in range.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am,” her communications officer responded, speaking into her mic as she passed the order to the other vessels. Her opponent had taken refuge behind the gas giant, shielding them from view, but it was only a temporary reprieve. There was nowhere for them to run to now, and she grinned as the fleet closed the gap. Soon…very soon...when they whipped around the sphere’s mass, she’d have them in her sights.

“Ten seconds to intercept,” her XO informed her, as she watched the display. The enemy was good...damned good, in fact...and for the last three hours, they’d led her on a merry chase, playing the mouse to her cat, using every trick in the book to stay out of range of her guns. But now there were no more tricks to play, and she relished finishing them, once and for all.

“Five seconds,” the First Officer snapped, “...four...three...two...one.” He paused for a moment, waiting to confirm contact...but as the seconds dragged on the screen remained clear.

“Where the hell are they?” she snarled in frustration. The fleet continued its run, hugging the planet close as they raced around its equator, but somehow her quarry had slipped out from her grasp. Only where could they have gone?

“Contact!” the Helmsman shouted. “Multiple targets, bearing 113 by Mark 072!”

“Roll ships and fire!” Hélène howled, as the enemy came diving in from the planet’s northern pole, high above the elliptic. But her orders came a split second too late, as the enemy fleet beat her to the punch, throwing everything they had into her. Her flagship Zaaronq shuddered as weapons' fire tore into her flesh, and she watched as the battlecruisers Rapier and Katana erupted into fireballs. She recognized how the enemy commander must have pulled off his ambush, but that knowledge did her little good now. He had them in his sights, and although her fleet was fighting back as courageously as anyone could hope for...it wasn’t enough.

“Reactor is losing containment!” the engineer shouted. “Thirty seconds to overload!”

“Abandon ship!” Admiral Fujimoto shouted in frustration. “All hands to the escape pods!”

...and then everything came to a halt. The red emergency lights switched back to standard, as the frantic conversations of battle dwindled, and disappeared.

“...incoming message, Admiral,” her com officer said, not wanting to raise her ire.

“Put him through,” she sighed, rising to her feet, as Field Marshal Antuma’s face appeared on the screen.

“Calling to gloat, Kwasi?” she asked.

“Not at all,” the dark-skinned man smiled. “In fact, you almost had me.”

“Almost being the operative word here,” she chuckled. “There’s only one way you could have made that maneuver. Just how deep into the atmosphere did you have to dive to pull off that Aerogravity assist?”

“Deeper than I would have preferred,” Antuma grinned. “My engineers are not happy with me at the moment.”

“I’ll bet,” Hélène said. “Still...well played, Marshal Antuma.”

“Likewise, Admiral Fujimoto,” he replied, sketching a brief salute. “So...lessons learned?”

“You mean besides not going up against a seven-times Grandmaster?” she smirked, as Kwasi laughed. “I’m not sure how often that AGA tactic would prove useful in actual combat, but we should start drilling the fleet in its use. Never know when it might come in handy.” She leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “Just how long have you been waiting to spring that on me?”

“Cost you a bottle of 30-year-old Scotch to find out,” he replied, his eyes twinkling in triumph. “Still, I’m impressed with the Fleet. You’ve really built something here, Hélène.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” she demurred, “but I’ll admit to a certain amount of pride. Considering we started with nothing a decade ago, what we’ve accomplished in that time borders on the miraculous.” The Admiral got a wistful look in her eye, reliving a private moment. “If we’d had these ships then...”

“Don’t, Hélène,” Kwasi admonished her. “We all have regrets from that war. We did the best we could, with what we had. Luckily, it was enough.”

“...barely,” she shot back. “What is that quote by Wellington? ‘It was a near-run thing?’” The Admiral sighed. “The Iron Duke didn’t know the half of it.”

Antuma regarded her. “Something tells me you have more on your mind than getting your ears pinned back by me,” he probed.

“You know what it is,” she said. “We’ve spoken about it often enough. Now that we have a real fleet, we should use it...by keeping a closer eye on the Khonhim worlds.”

“That’s a political decision,” he sighed, “and above both our paygrades.”

“Look, I respect the Prime Minister,” she said, “but she’s making a mistake. We have almost no idea what they’re up to, and you know as I do just how dangerous that is.”

“She’s concerned we’d be poking a stick into a hornet’s nest, and I think she makes a good case.” Kwasi gave her a gentle smile. “They’ve stayed on their side of space for ten years now, and as long as they continue to do so, I’m happy to let sleeping dogs lie.”

“You know the thing about sleeping dogs?” she retorted, unmoved by his words. “Eventually...they wake up.”

Mankind had been expanding into space ever since he first set foot on Earth’s moon. Mars was settled first, and after centuries of terraforming had become almost as lush and inviting as the homeworld. It was many decades later that humanity’s first exosolar colony was established, but as Interstellar craft began exploring the nearby suns Man found other worlds to plant his flag. By the time they’d stumbled into the Triumvirate, there were ten planets that he called home, adding an eleventh not long after. After meeting the alien races that would come to have such a major impact on his society Man paused, consolidating his position as he took stock of his future. Making the radical changes demanded by the Triumvirate had not been easy, but as a century of effort drew to a close, he could say they’d taken large strides in maturing as a species.

With the technology gained from their alien allies, the worlds of humanity prospered. Marginal holdings became thriving hubs of exploration and commerce, at which point many a human gave a profound sigh of relief. No longer were all his eggs in one basket, and if the worst were to happen mankind could close ranks, and carry on. His history, his culture, all would survive. Having one of his deepest existential fears laid to rest was cause for celebration, even if it often went unacknowledged. Even the Khonhim War had not smothered that belief...though perhaps that had more to do with the fact they had attacked no human worlds than anything else.

Persephone, in particular, had done well for itself. It had become self-sufficient many decades earlier and given the pristine nature of its biosphere...requiring almost no alteration...it had become one of the most sought after destinations for those individuals looking for a fresh start. Its population skyrocketed, somehow maintaining the rough-hewn charm that came with its recent pioneer past, and yet welding on a patina of sophistication that only increased its value.

Which is why what happened next was such a devastating blow.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 4

Feel us breathe upon your face
Feel us shift, every move we trace
Hunt you down without mercy
Hunt you down all nightmare long

Metallica - “All Nightmare Long”

Marshal Antuma started to rise as Prime Minister Singh entered the chamber, but she waved him back down as she took her seat. She clenched her jaw in a hard line as she looked around the room at both her fellow ministers and the military representatives. She took a moment to steel her resolve before giving the Marshal a nod.

“All right...tell me. What happened at Persephone?” she said in measured tones, though her calm demeanor fooled no one.

Kwasi took a deep breath and met her gaze. “Prime Minister, at approximately 1750 hours, local time, Persephone was struck by what appears to have been a Relativistic Kinetic Kill Vehicle. We’re still in gathering data, and we have only a single image of the vehicle itself, taken a split second before impact. But I can tell you this much, the device was artificial...and that this was no accident.”

“I’m sorry...a Relativistic Kinetic Kill Vehicle?” the new Saurotaur Minister Thrassath interjected before Leandra could respond. “What is that?”

“In layman’s terms, it is a spacecraft that has been accelerated near the speed of light,” Antuma replied, “though in this case, the vehicle in question seems to have been little more than a propulsion system and reactor, with just enough computer control to guide it to its target. We have scrutinized the evidence, and the numbers are staggering. Given our best estimates, the energy discharge was approximately thirty thousand gigatons of explosive force.”

The silence following that pronouncement was deafening. The other Ministers stared at him in shock, struggling to make sense of it.

“Survivors?” Leandra asked, after digesting that difficult fact.

“...None,” he replied. “Perhaps some microbes, on the far side from the impact...which means over one hundred million people were wiped out of existence.” Kwasi’s professional mask was in place, leaving him wooden and stiff. To the uninitiated, it might seem as if he didn’t care about those deaths, but in fact, the opposite was true. It was only by clinging to his professionalism he could cope at all. “There were several ships in the system, which is where we’ve drawn most of our data from, but it destroyed all ships in orbit at the time of the blast.”

“...dear God,” she whispered. “Do we have any idea who might have done this?”

“I think that’s obvious, Prime Minister,” Admiral Fujimoto answered. “It has to be the Khonhim. Unless someone here has any other suggestions.” She glared at them, daring them to disagree.

“But why now?” the Ronin Minister Ω 445 Intersect Γ asked aloud, “and why a human world? I do not disagree with you, Admiral, for I cannot imagine another party being involved, but the Khonhim showed no interest in attacking human worlds during the previous war.”

“Because we intervened,” she shot back. “If we hadn’t stepped in when we did, the Khonhim horde would have destroyed the Triumvirate. If they’ve decided to try again, it only makes sense to eliminate the biggest threat first.”

“But Persephone was not a military target,” the Ophiptera Minister Byzaagaab said in confusion. “There was no fleet based there, no critical industry...no obvious reason for it to be attacked.”

“I believe there was, Minster,” Nassat said, “and Admiral Fujimoto has put her finger on the reason.” His inclusion in this meeting was almost an afterthought, but given his ascending star, he was a welcome addition. “Persephone was attacked because it was a human world. Whether it was what we would consider a military target was most likely immaterial in the eyes of the Khonhim. Even now, I believe they consider humanity to be as dangerous as they view themselves, whereas the other races of the Tetrarchy…”

“...are still considered to be little more than cannon fodder,” Hélène finished before giving Nassat an apologetic look. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he agreed.

“Fine...we’re all in agreement it must be the Khonhim who attacked Persephone, absent any conflicting data,” Leandra interjected, as she steered the discussion back to its roots. “The more important questions are these...is there any way of knowing when and where they’ll strike again, and can we stop another attack once they have launched it?”

The Marshal and the Admiral shared an uncomfortable look before Kwasi answered. “No, Prime Minister...there is not. Not easily, at any rate.”

“Do you mean to tell me there’s nothing we can do?” she growled. “The Khonhim can just fire one missile after another until Earth itself is destroyed? Because I am telling you right now, that answer is unacceptable.”

“If...and I stress if...we locate the launch vehicle before an attack, then we have an excellent chance of preventing it from taking its place. Short of that?” Antuma shook his head. “We could try deflecting it somehow, but considering how large an area we would have to cover, and the very brief window we would have in which to work with...Ma’am, preventing another attack will require a great deal of luck.”

“What about planetary shields?” Leandra asked. “We never placed them around our own worlds, after seeing how the Khonhim defeated them but is it possible they would shield us?”

“No, Prime Minister,” Kwasi said. “It would take months to build and emplace the generators needed for the shields...months that we do not have. And as you said, the Khonhim already know how to defeat them. We can and will do everything in our power to hunt down the ship or ships responsible for this attack...but at the moment we are at a loss as to how.” He took a deep breath, and mumbled, “...I am sorry, Ma’am.”

For a moment it looked as if the Prime Minister was about to launch into one of her famous tirades...but instead she rose to her feet and turned away, looking at something only she could see. The seconds stretched out into minutes until she spoke at last.

“...if we are unable to prevent another attack, then at the very least we can ensure the Khonhim live to regret their decision,” she said. Leandra turned and faced the others, her eyes as hard as stone. “Assemble your forces, Marshal. I hereby authorize you to do whatever it takes to wreck their ability to make war.”

The look on his face was unreadable. “Meaning…?”

“...meaning I want them broken, Field Marshal. You will send a punitive fleet to the Khonhim worlds and shatter them. You will use all means at your disposal to see that they never, ever, threaten anyone again.” She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. “Do I make myself clear?”

“...Yes, Prime Minister,” he said softly, “crystal clear.”

The next day, a small shuttle entered the orbit of a remote Tetrarchy world. The planet itself was unremarkable, save that it was one of the few examples where its moon could support life. The satellite was sparsely populated because of its poor soil and unpredictable weather. The shuttle landed near the foothills of the moon’s largest mountain ranges, far from the beaten path. A small cottage lay nestled in the shadow of a snowy peak, requiring the lone Saurotaur who had emerged from the craft to journey by foot up a narrow and treacherous path. He took his time navigating the rocky track before arriving at the door of the humble dwelling. He hesitated for a moment as if even after the long journey he had reached his destination, only to consider turning back at the last second.

Deciding at last, he reached out to knock on the thick wooden door...only to have it swing open before making contact. The resident of the cottage stepped out to greet his visitor, saying nothing as he regarded the Saurotaur who shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“...Hello Nassat,” Jiyazh Ghuuyaz sighed, “I was wondering when our paths would cross again.”

“Greetings, Dhyaksh...” he began, only to be waved off.

“I am no longer Dhyaksh,” the Khonhim sighed. “That part of my life is behind me.” He folded his arms as he took in the Saurotaur’s uncomfortable stance and chagrined expression. “I take it this is not a social call,” he continued, as a wintry smile appeared on his face.

“No,” Nassat replied. “You once asked for my help to help negotiate an end to the war.”

“Yes, I did,” Jiyazh acknowledged, “and for that, I am in your debt.”

The Saurotaur nodded. “…I have come to collect.”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 5

Now I will tell you what I've done for you
Fifty thousand tears I've cried
Screaming deceiving and bleeding for you
And you still won't hear me
Don't want your hand this time I'll save myself
Maybe I'll wake up for once
Not tormented daily defeated by you
Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom
I'm dying again
I'm going under

Evanescence - “Going Under”

The human colony of Thule was far from a garden paradise. Its many glaciers and fjords were spectacular, to be sure, but except for a narrow band at the equator, the bulk of the planet was a frozen wasteland. Blizzard conditions were the norm on much of the surface, and outside of the hardiest of adventurers, it was far from a popular destination.

What made it valuable, however, was its location. Its many moons were rich in minerals, from titanium and phosphorus to fissionables, such as uranium and plutonium. It had become one of the major fabricating facilities of the Tetrarchy, and they had constructed much of the new fleet in one of Thule’s many shipyards. Most of the colony residents lived in orbital structures near where they worked. Such an important location was guarded and monitored, and when the alarms began to sound the population headed to the shelters, while the Naval garrison sought to train their guns on the attacker.

Only the RKKV traveled at relativistic speeds, and 37.2 seconds was not enough time to react between first sighting...and impact.

Marshal Antuma was ashen as he relayed the news. Hélène Fujimoto could only stare in shock, her head in her hands, as Kwasi slumped into his chair. Nassat looked at the humans...first one, then the other...before clearing his throat, as he had so often seen them do under similar circumstances.

“Marshal...what are your orders?” he asked.

Kwasi turned to him as if even that simple movement took every gram of strength he had. “The Prime Minister’s directive was clear, Colonel,” he replied. “The attack on the Khonhim homeworlds goes as planned...with one slight alteration.”

“...and what would that be?” Hélène asked, still stunned by the tragedy.

“That I will not be taking charge of the fleet,” he said, “you will.”

The Admiral started to protest but was cut off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re not up to the challenge, because I know better,” he informed her. “No one knows how to use those ships better than you do.”

“Other than you,” Fujimoto said. “And just what will you be doing in our absence?”

“Trying to stop these attacks,” he said. “What good does it do to pound the Khonhim into paste, if there’s nothing left to come back to?”

“Marshal,” Nassat said, “you said there was no way to stop them...not without a great deal of luck.”

“Then let us hope I am lucky,” Kwasi said with a half-smile. “In the meantime, Admiral Fujimoto will be relying on you even more than before.”

“Of course, Sir,” Nassat said quietly. “I will not let you...or her...down.”

“I know you won’t,” said after a moment, as an odd expression played across his face. “Once again, I must ask the impossible from you, Nassat. I would apologize for that, except…” He shrugged, unable to finish.

“I understand,” the Saurotaur nodded. “After all...Humanity came to our aid when it was most needed. It is only fitting that we return the favor.”

“I hope you still feel that way in a moment,” Hélène informed him, with a trace of levity, “because I must tell you I have no need for a Colonel.”

Nassat blinked in surprise. “I do not understand...if you do not require my services I will stand down, but…” He froze the words dying in his throat. “...dear Creator, not again.”

“I’m afraid so…General,” she said with a smirk. ”Morale will be important now, and you commanding a division could make all the difference.”

“Ten years ago I’d never touched a weapon,” he protested. “I am not qualified to lead a company, let alone a division. By human standards…”

“...as you have pointed out so many times before, you aren’t human,” Antuma said, interrupted him. “You have risen to the challenge repeatedly, and I know you will do so again.” Nassat started to speak, but the Marshal shook his head. “The debate is closed, General.”

“...yes, Sir,” he said at last.

“I’ll give you the Attack Transport Gabriel,” Hélène informed him, “though Navy personnel will handle the actual piloting. She’s a good ship, with a good crew.”

“I’m sure she is,” Nassat said, with some trepidation. He paused for a moment, struck by a sudden thought. “I have do a request, Admiral.”

“I suspect I already know what it is,” she nodded. “We slated Raichret to command the Medical detachment on the Clara Barton if memory serves. I’ll see to it we assign your ship and hers to the same Task Force.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “As it happens, I have a request for you.”

“Of course,” Nassat answered.

Her face softened. “Go home, Nassat. Spend time with your family. Hug your children.” She found it hard to meet his gaze. “...because I have scheduled us to depart in thirty-six hours.”

“But why do you have to leave?” Taichist asked as he clutched his mother’s hand.

“Please don’t go,” Chechla sobbed, as she buried her head in her father’s chest.

Nassat and Raichret both struggled to fight back their own tears as they sat their children down. “We don’t want to go,” Nassat whispered, holding his family close, “but there is something important we must do.”

“...it’s the Khonhim, isn’t it?” their son said with sudden vehemence. “I heard people talking. They want to kill us.”

Their daughter lifted her head, her eyes wide. “Is that true?” she whimpered.

“...I had hoped we would never need to have this conversation,” Raichret said to her husband, as heartache stained her every word.

“Nor I,” Nassat replied, as she laid her head on his shoulder. With a heavy sigh, he looked at his children. “...the Khonhim have attacked the human worlds,” he told them, “so we must stop them. But I promise you, we will be back before you know we are gone.” He forced a smile on his face, but his children saw right through it.

“But what if something happens,” Chechla wailed.

Raichret took a deep breath and lifted her children’s heads. “Now listen to me,” she said in firm tones, “we will have none of that. Your father and I have both fought the Khonhim before, and nothing happened.” The two of them shared a brief glance, as they ignored the lie.

“Your mother is right,” Nassat said, “so I need the both of you to be very brave.” The twins looked at him, still unmollified. “Aunt Pellat will look after you, but she’ll need you to keep her from being frightened. Can you do that for me? Please?”

The twins looked at one another and then solemnly nodded. “We promise,” they vowed.

Emotion threatened to strangle the words in his throat. “I’m so proud of you,” he said...as Raichret bit down on her lip to fight back the tears.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 6

And you can see the coming battle
You pray the drums will never cease
And you may win this war that's coming
But would you tolerate the peace?

Sting - “This War”

During the last war, Marshal Antuma had found himself in the unenviable position of sending others off to fight...and all too often die...while he himself stayed behind in relative safety. “Relative” being the operative word since the Khonhim had intended to attack all the Triumvirate worlds, but the war ended before they could complete that goal. Not being able to share in the danger with those under his command had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, much harder than discovering the war he’d be fighting would be for real. Part of him longed to be part of the mission to the Khonhim homeworlds, but what he’d told Hélène had been correct.

If there were no human worlds to come back to when they finished their job...then all they would have achieved was mutual destruction. A less than ideal outcome.

The problem was that there were eleven human worlds…nine, now...that were potential targets. He could cover two with the forces he had, and that was stretching his units to the absolute limit. Not to mention the fact they still hadn’t come up with a way to find the attackers...preferably before they launched another RKKV.

One location was an easy decision...Sol. With both Earth and Mars as potential targets, not to mention being the homeworld and the most populated planets by far, that system had to be covered...a mission that he had taken on himself. The other colony, however...which did he choose? Endymion? Zion? Paraíso? Where would the Khonhim strike next?

And what would happen if he chose wrong?

“According to our intel, the journey to the nearest Khonhim homeworld will take approximately two months,” Admiral Fujimoto informed her commanders. “During that time, I expect each officer and NCO to train their people to a razor’s edge. Many of you have fought them before, and you know they will throw everything they have at us to defend their homes, just as we would. I can assure you; they will not just roll over without a fight.”

The officers nodded in agreement. Most were not present, instead represented by a holographic projection. It was an upgrade that she heartily approved of, having her commanders flying around for a staff meeting struck her as absurd.

She touched a key on her console, bring up an image on her display. “This is our first objective…Dzach. Our best information describes this planet as being sparsely populated...almost an outpost, in fact. I was tempted to bypass it for one of the other targets, but I believe it will give us the chance to learn what new tactics and weapons the Khonhim have in store for us. That’s my hope, at least.”

The Admiral looked around the room, gauging their response. So far it was encouraging, but many of them had yet to face the Khonhim in battle. She knew she could count on the veterans, but the ones who were still unblooded were an unknown quantity. It was perhaps an even bigger reason for her choice of Dzach as their first objective, to give the rookies a chance to test themselves at little cost. The confidence and experience they gained from this first battle would pay dividends for the next objective.

“We are still gathering information,” she continued, “and as we learn more, we will pass that on. Study what you have, and we will reconvene at 0800 tomorrow for a more in-depth analysis. Dismissed.”

One by one, the officers either left the briefing room or disconnected their holographic avatars...until only the image of Nassat remained. “Where are we on the Intel side of things?” she asked, coming straight to the point.

“I am making progress, but I am afraid that Jiyazh is growing uncomfortable in his role,” Nassat reported. “Unsurprisingly, he still feels a sense of loyalty towards his people, despite his disagreement with their current tactics.”

“I see,” Hélène said. “Is this going to become a problem?”

“I am...unsure,” the Saurotaur admitted. “He is growing reluctant, but so far has not yet refused to answer questions. That, however, could change.”

“Then you need to explain to him the consequences,” the Admiral said. “His people broke the ceasefire and are systematically destroying human worlds. We will not tolerate either prevarication or reticence on his part. Make him understand that.”

“Admiral,” Nassat began, uncomfortable, “Jiyazh accompanied me because he believes he still owes me a debt of honor. However, he is also a patriot, despite his self-imposed exile. It is my opinion that eventually, he will come to a line he will refuse to cross. When that happens…”

“...when that happens...the kid gloves come off,” Hélène growled. “I don’t think you appreciate what the Khonhim have done, Nassat. Not the weapon they used on us...but how it has affected humanity.” Her dark eyes flashed. “He will tell us what we want to know...one way or another. Is that understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

“Good,” she said. “And...I believe the time has come for some introductions, don’t you?”

Nassat closed his eyes. “...I will see to it, Admiral.”

“Excellent,” she smiled. “Jiyazh is a warrior, not to mention smart. He’ll figure it out...assuming he hasn’t already. I’ll expect your report after tomorrow’s briefing. Dismissed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he repeated...as his image disappeared from sight.

Nassat’s shoulders slumped as he turned away from the imager.

“I warned you this was coming, Sir,” Sergeant Major Lin murmured.

“I had hoped you were wrong,” he said, defeated.

Lin nodded in understanding. “Do you recall the first time we met?”

Despite himself, Nassat barked out a laugh. “I’m not likely to forget. I was terrified of you.”

“That was the idea,” Lin chuckled. “But I was thinking about something you told me about that day...how you thought I was sizing you and the other trainees up for their nutritional value.” He cocked his head regarding him. “I wasn’t, but that primal fear you felt, coming face to face with a predator in all his martial glory? Hold on to that memory...because that is what the Khonhim have unleashed.”

“I understand…” the Saurotaur began, only for the human to cut him off.

“...no, you don’t,” Lin said. “Your people were right about one thing...inside each human, lies a monster. We try to keep it chained up, and mostly we succeed. But when something like this happens…”

Somehow, Nassat repressed a shudder. “Then it is up to us to keep that monster at bay,” he said quietly. “Send in Jiyazh, Sergeant Major,” he directed, reverting to formality, “and then invite our guests to join us.”

“Yes Sir,” Lin nodded as he exited the room. Moments later, the door opened once more, as the former Dhyaksh entered, regarding Nassat as he took a seat across from him.

“So...more questions?” he asked.

“Later,” Nassat replied. “I have just finished speaking with Admiral Fujimoto, and she is most emphatic about your cooperation. I am afraid she has given me...and you...little choice in the matter.” It was difficult to meet his gaze. “I am sorry, Jiyazh,” he said with regret.

The Khonhim’s nostrils flared for a moment before he nodded. “I have always known this day would come,” he said at last. “I could refuse to cooperate...or ensure they cannot question me.”

“You could try, yes,” Nassat agreed, “but it is unlikely they will allow you either choice.”

“Perhaps you underestimate me,” Jiyazh replied, as a mocking smile played across his face.

“No...I do not.” Nassat took a deep breath. “I am afraid there is more. The Admiral also wishes for you to take a more…active role. There are certain missions where she feels your participation would be indispensable.”

“I see.” The smile disappeared. “And just how is she planning on enforcing her wishes?”

A chime sounded at the door before Nassat could respond. “She has thought of that,” he said, as the door slid open...revealing a small group of humans.

“Well hello there,” Whisper smirked.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 7

There was nothing inside
The memories left abandoned
There was nowhere to hide
The ashes fell like snow
And the ground caved in
Between where we were standing
And your voice was all I heard
That I get what I deserve
So give me reason
To prove me wrong
To wash this memory clean
Let the floods cross
The distance in your eyes
Across this new divide

Linkin Park - “New Divide”

“And we do not know who sent the message?” Lassoarth asked the other two beings sitting across from her.

“None,” Σ 121 Sub Δ replied. “The message came by courier, on an encrypted data chip. I queried the corporation who used the messenger, and what little information they had was falsified.”

“Is it possible this is some trap laid by the Prime Minister, to further curtail our influence...perhaps even betray us?” Qomzoixaa suggested, voicing the thought at the forefront of all three former minister’s minds.

The years following the first Khonhim War had been bitter ones for the erstwhile representatives of the Triumvirate. Prime Minister Singh had never forgiven them for their role in the millennia-long deception that had drug the humans into the war, nor had she forgotten the years of humiliation mankind had suffered at the hands of the three individuals seated around the table. When the Khonhim attacked, in their desperation they had agreed to her demands, only to discover they had invited a wolf to their table. Somehow...and to this day they were still not sure how it had happened...they found themselves pushed aside as the warlike and primitive humans leveraged themselves into the leadership roles of their society. The Triumvirate had given way to the Tetrarchy, and once the ceasefire was in place Leandra Singh informed they would no longer require their services.

A bitter pill to swallow, indeed.

So it was with a certain degree of schadenfreude that the three former ministers watched as the human worlds came under attack. Their reaction was predictable...after all, not so long ago they had been in the same position. But as the fleet charged off to do battle once more, a curious state of affairs began to arise in the old Triumvirate worlds. Were these attacks retribution for humanity’s involvement in the last war? Was it possible the Khonhim had found a new enemy, one both willing and able to fight back?

And what did this mean for them?

But it was the encrypted chip that had galvanized them into action. A request for a meeting by parties unknown. The details were scanty, but that it specifically directed a request for an audience to the defrocked and disgraced ministers spoke volumes. The location was a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of the capitol, and the discovery of the imaging unit upon their arrival suggested they would not be meeting their anonymous associate today.

“I do not believe the Prime Minister...” and even now it was still difficult to keep the acid from her tongue as Lassoarth named her, “...would feel the need to involve herself in such an obvious attempt of entrapment, if for no other reason than there is no reason for her to do so. Should she choose, she could simply have us arrested.”

“Such an order would require a majority of the minister’s approval,” Qomzoixaa pointed out.

“And do you doubt the sycophants Singh appointed in our stead would refuse such a request?” Σ 121 Sub Δ said. Despite being an artificial life form, the Ronin were just as capable of expressing emotion as the Saurotaur and Ophiptera were.

“No,” Lassoarth snorted, “not for a moment.”

Qomzoixaa considered that response and nodded. “Then we must assume this contact is legitimate, at least until they give us further evidence to weigh.”

Before either of his associates could respond the imager came to life, but where a projection of the individual transmitting would be visible, instead there was only darkness. The three former ministers looked at each other in confusion, as a filtered voice began emanating from the device.

“Greetings Ministers,” the voice said. “I must apologize for keeping my appearance hidden, but these are dangerous times we live in. I crave your indulgence and hope you understand the need for circumspection.”

“You have us at something of a disadvantage,” Σ 121 Sub Δ replied. “After all, you know who we are.”

“I regret the necessity, and in time I hope that it will be safe for me to reveal my identity,” the voice continued. “Until then, I must insist on preserving my anonymity.”

Each of the three wrestled with that requirement until Qomzoixaa spoke. “For now,” he said. “Since it was you who contacted us, perhaps you could explain why?”

“I represent a consortium of individuals who have grown uncomfortable with the direction the Triumvirate has taken in recent years,” the voice explained. “For ten thousand years our society was a stable one, the greatest commonwealth ever known. At least, until the humans arrived.”

The ministers regarded one another before Lassoarth responded for them all. “And so you contacted us. Understandable, given your view, but I do not see what you have to gain by this meeting.”

“It is not just I that seeks to profit from our meeting, but you as well,” the voice said. “Imagine for a moment returning to those halcyon days, and how much improved the average citizen’s life would be, if the humans were no longer around to infect the Triumvirate with their primitive and warlike ways.”

“The humans are not going anywhere,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said in disgust. “They have infiltrated every aspect of our lives, and control not only the government at its highest level but the military as well. Perhaps once we could have sent them packing, but that day is far, far behind us.”

“And perhaps not,” the voice shot back. “The humans have found themselves on the defensive, as the Khonhim destroy their worlds one by one. Soon, they will have none left.”

“You will forgive me if I refuse to accept that until it happens,” Qomzoixaa retorted. “If we have learned nothing in the last ten years, it is that humans are not only tenacious...but difficult to kill.”

“Besides, without the humans, there would be no Triumvirate,” Lassoarth admitted. “No one finds them more distasteful than I do, but even I cannot deny it was only through their efforts we survived the last war.”

“At what cost, Minister?” the voice countered. “The humans may have saved us...but they have also enslaved us. Even now, we dance to their tune. How much longer will we tolerate this abhorrent state of affairs?”

“Have you forgotten that we are at war once again?” Σ 121 Sub Δ asked the hidden figure. “Even if what you suggest were possible, why would we do so now, when the Khonhim threat is once again at our door?”

“Have they attacked a single Triumvirate world?” the voice demanded. “It is obvious they have decided that the humans are the actual threat and not the other races. But even if the Khonhim do have plans for us once they have dealt with the humans, consider this: both they and the humans are almost equally matched. Once each has destroyed the other’s homeworlds, who will remain? Who will be in a perfect position to reassert control when they are gone?”

Qomzoixaa gave his companions an appraising look, before regarding the figure. “Just what is it you propose?”

“For now? Merely the exchange of ideas,” the voice replied. “But as this war progresses, as each side grows desperate, it is possible we will find ourselves in the position of doing something about this situation. You have contact with many individuals and organizations that share your feelings, whereas the organization I represent has access to materials that may prove useful...when the time comes.”

The silence that followed was pregnant with swirling and conflicting emotions, as each of them struggled with how to respond. “We will consider your proposal,” Lassoarth said at last.

“That is all I ask,” the voice answered. “Until we meet again.”

And with that, the connection was severed.

Dhyaksh Chugaz Uydan chortled with delight as Ministers faded from view. They would take the bait; of that he was certain. And when they slid their blade into the back of the Tetrarchy, hoping to reclaim what they had lost…

...they would seal their own fates.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 8

Hush little baby, don't say a word
And never mind that noise you heard,
It's just the beast under your bed
In your closet, in your head
Exit light
Enter night
Take my hand,
We're off to Never-Never Land

Metallica - “Enter Sandman”

Musashi pressed a glass into the former Khonhim leader’s hands, before pouring one for himself. “I don’t know if your species uses alcohol, but you look like you could use a stiff drink right about now,” he said.

Jiyazh accepted the tumbler of amber-colored liquid, giving it a cautious sniff. After a moment he raised it to his lips, letting the fiery liquor play across his tongue. “My people make something similar,” he said after a moment, as he took a second sip. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Musashi smiled, easing into one of the available chairs. He looked over at Nassat, indicating his glass. The Saurotaur waved him off. “My species lacks your tolerance to ethanol,” he explained.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, as he took another drink. He glanced at Tango, who had made herself comfortable at the table and was now disassembling and cleaning a rather impressive array of weaponry. Her own glass sat untouched at her elbow, as her full attention was currently on the sniper rifle she was administering to.

“Graybird is working on some new modifications to his equipment, as per your suggestions, Jiyazh,” Musashi explained. “We’ll touch bases with him in the morning, and check his progress.”

“And the other one?” Jiyazh asked.

“I told Whisper to go amuse himself somewhere...which means we’ll be hearing from the MP’s,” he sighed. “But he won’t be bothering you anytime soon, if that’s what you’re asking...at least until we prep for our first mission.”

Jiyazh took another long drink, before setting down his glass. “If I told you I was looking forward to it, would you believe me?”

“Not hardly,” Musashi chuckled.

The former Dhyaksh nodded, before turning to Nassat. “When I said I owed you a debt, this is not what I had in mind.”

“I know,” the Saurotaur said. “I am under orders. But as much as it pains me to admit it, Admiral Fujimoto makes an excellent point. Your knowledge and skills could prove valuable.”

“I have no doubt,” Jiyazh said, before turning his attention back to the human. “Just where did you find your…associate?” he asked.

“Whisper was assigned to us, much the way you were,” Musashi replied. “As for his background...I’ve learned not to ask.”

“Why?” Jiyazh inquired.

“Because he’ll tell you,” Musashi said.

“...in detail,” Tango chimed in, not bothering to look up.

Jiyazh shook his head. “And they call my people barbaric.”

“I guess you could say Whisper is a throwback,” Musashi said after a moment, “or perhaps...you could call him a reminder. A living memorial to what we once were.”

Tango snorted, as she ran a brush down the barrel. “...once?”

“Humans are...complicated,” Nassat explained. “I have witnessed them perform great acts of compassion and sacrifice...and then turn around and commit acts of pure savagery. No one is more aware of this dichotomy than they themselves, and yet...sometimes they do not grasp how they appear to others. Even now, after all these years, I still find myself occasionally uncomfortable in their presence.”

“And me?” he asked, regarding the Saurotaur. “Do I make you uncomfortable as well?”

“Not you personally,” Nassat said after a moment, “but if you are asking about your species, then uncomfortable is not the word I would choose. Something more...visceral, perhaps.”

Jiyazh gazed at him. “You have always been an enigma to me, Nassat,” he informed him. “The pacifistic herbivore who became a warrior...a rather skilled one, in fact.”

“They gave me little choice,” he said quietly.

“That is true enough, I suppose,” the Khonhim admitted. “And yet I have never forgotten how you stayed your hand when you could have struck me down. Especially after you learned my identity...and that I had just attempted to kill you.”

Tango looked up at that, cocking her head as she regarded Nassat, before going back to her cleaning.

“As I explained then...I will always choose life over death,” he answered, growing self-conscious at his words.

“And yet, despite all that,” Jiyazh pressed, “you showed no hesitation in turning me over to them.” The venom in that last word was unmistakable. “Perhaps the time you have spent among humans has made you more like them than you realize.”

Nassat opened his mouth to respond...only to be interrupted by a loud metallic clack. Heads swiveled towards Tango, who had finished reassembling a sleek looking auto pistol, slapping in a fresh magazine with a smirk...and a gleam in her eye more than a bit unsettling. Musashi just sighed, shaking his head, as he took another sip of his drink.

“...if you are suggesting I am not the same person I once was, then the answer is yes,” Nassat replied. “How could I be, given my experiences? But if you are accusing me of something more nefarious, that by following orders I am complicit in a criminal act…” He paused for a moment and then bowed his head. “I can only offer in my defense the advice the human who trained me, and now serves as my aide-de-camp, once gave.”

“And that advice is?” Jiyazh asked.

There was a faraway cast to his eyes, as Nassat lifted his head. “...do what you have to do,” he whispered.

Jiyazh appeared to be unmollified, as Musashi cleared his throat. “General Nassat speaks the truth,” he said quietly. “I won’t apologize for our questioning you. I won’t even apologize for Whisper’s…unique approach. I realize that you are not responsible for the current attacks...but in a very real sense, you bear a certain amount of culpability. If you had not attacked in the last war, we would not be here today.”

“And if General Nassat’s ancestors had not tried to wipe my people from existence, we would not be here either,” Jiyazh shot back. “If you are looking to place blame, I can assure you there is plenty to go around.”

“Isn’t there always,” Musashi said. “But this time...your people have crossed a line. Had they attacked using more conventional means, we would still be outraged...but this...” He shook his head. “Jiyazh, the very nature of these attacks have aroused something in humanity...something dark, and ugly. You thought Whisper was bad? Try picturing a billion Whispers...all coming for you.”

Despite himself, Nassat shuddered. Musashi nodded in understanding. “I was there on Uzaunx, you know,” he continued. “They dropped us in before your forces landed. We watched and recorded every atrocity for weeks until Nassat and his team pulled us out.” The tone of his voice had become unfriendly. “Whatever you may have suffered at our hands, pales compared to that.”

The temperature in the room seemed much cooler, as the gloves came off. Nassat rose to his feet, ready to intercede and stop things from getting any more heated...when they were interrupted by a chime from the console. A press of a button and Admiral Fujimoto’s face appeared.

“We just received word from Marshal Antuma,” she said. “There’s been another attack.”

Nassat closed his eyes. “Where?” he asked.

Her gaze lingered over Jiyazh, before turning back to Nassat. “...Zion,” she said quietly. “We’re projecting casualties of over five hundred million.” Hélène worked her jaw as she stared daggers at the Khonhim.

“Your people just signed their death warrant,” she snarled before the display went blank.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 9

Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers
One hundred million angels singin'
Multitudes are marchin' to the big kettledrum
Voices callin', voices cryin'
Some are born and some are dyin'
It's Alpha and Omega's Kingdom come

Johnny Cash - “The Man Comes Around”

The news from Zion hit Marshal Antuma like a thunderbolt. He’d grappled with the choice of where to send the second protecting force and came down to two choices. The two colonies outside of Sol that were the most important to humanity: Endymion...and Zion.

And he’d chosen wrong.

Perhaps the Khonhim had spotted the task force at Endymion and shifted targets. Or maybe it was bad luck. There were a thousand factors that may have played a part, not that it mattered now. He was almost tempted to shift the task force to one of the other colonies...Quivira, or Anzen, but forced himself to ignore that urge. It would be due to guilt and not tactical reasoning, so he kept the ships at Endymion and prayed.

Besides...he had a hunch the next target the Khonhim chose would be a little closer to home.

In fact, it surprised him they hadn’t struck Earth already. Destroying mankind’s birthplace would cripple their ability to retaliate, and the blow to morale scarcely bore thinking about. Given the chance, humanity could recover, in time, but they would never be the same. Man, without an Earth to call home...that kind of shock to the system would bring out the very worst in Homo Sapiens. It didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to predict their response...becoming a species that viewed everyone as a potential threat.

One that would have no compunctions adopting the philosophy; “Do unto others, before they can do unto you”.

In less than a generation, the other races of the Tetrarchy would become little more than slaves, serving the Terran Empire. And who knows what other species might lurk out there, plotting God knows what? They’d send out ships to scour the cosmos, and they would give every new race they discovered the stark choice of serving their new human masters...or suffering their wrath.

That possibility frightened him most of all.

So it was up to him to guard the solar system to prevent that from happening. There was one bit of good news in his favor, by sheer coincidence Mars and Earth were approaching opposition, which put them in roughly the same section of space. “Roughly” being the operative word, since even at their closest approach the two planets were separated by almost 60 million kilometers. If they’d been on opposite sides of the sun, he’d be faced with a grim choice...condemning millions of Martians to their fate to protect Mother Earth. At least they spared him that much, for all the good it did him.

His task force was currently scattered across the system, acting as his eyes and ears, while he and a handful of upgraded F-103D Starfire fighters flying escort held station above the two worlds. They had pressed every ship available into service to evacuate as many as they could, but it was a mere drop in the bucket. There weren’t enough vessels in the Tetrarchy to save everyone, and the imagery from Earth was gut-wrenching. Frantic families trying to escape, children torn away from their parents, security personnel forced to take increasingly drastic measures...while freighters and passenger liners packed to the gills raced away from the system like the plague ships of old, seeking any safe harbor.

But was anywhere safe?

There had been so many times in the last decade he’d wanted to scream, “I’m just a gamer!” His years in the Guilds had been fun, and he’d discovered he had a talent for tactics and strategy. He’d worked his way through the ranks to the very pinnacle of success, with a record that was still unrivaled...until the day they informed him he would now be doing it for real.

Nobody dies in a computer simulation. You don’t have to see their bodies or witness the devastation. You don’t have to write letters to the loved ones of fallen electrons, saying they died with honor. And even though Hélène had always been the maverick of the pair, the gambler who would take insane risks based on a hunch, on more than one occasion he’d made choices that condemned entire worlds of electronic avatars to death...because that’s what the numbers said. Kill a billion, save two billion.

Simple. Obvious. Cold.

Doing the same thing when real lives hung in the balance had almost destroyed him. He’d all but begged Minister Singh to relieve him for cause after the disaster at Uzaunx, only to be refused. They shot down every argument he made, and all for the same reason…that there was no one else. No one who had more experience. No one who had a better grasp of military theory.

No one.

Kwasi shook his head, forcing his mind away from that well-trodden path. Now was not the time for self-recrimination. Fate had thrust him into the role of Earth’s guardian and protector, and like Heimdall on the Bifrost bridge he would not waver in his duty...though he wasn’t so vainglorious to believe he possessed god-like powers. Be nice if he did, but as a mere mortal, he’d have to make do with the tools at hand. In fact…

An urgent signal pulled him out of his reverie as he punched the Accept icon. A face appeared on the screen. “Sir, we’ve got something,” the captain of the carrier Kestrel reported. “It’s stealthed and picking up speed...initial tracking data has it on a direct trajectory to Earth.”

“Where?” he demanded, as he signaled the other ships in the system.

“It slipped through the outer perimeter,” the captain grimaced. “It seems to use some masking technology we haven’t seen before. Current location is approximately 3.8 AU from Earth, just inside Jupiter’s orbit. ETA to Earth intercept...34 minutes.”

34 minutes? How did they get so close? “Flush your birds, Captain,” Kwasi ordered, as he tied into the Command circuit. “Marshall Antuma to all ships, we have a possible location of the RKKV. I’m ordering you to converge on those coordinates under maximum power.” He paused for a moment, as the acknowledgments started coming in.

“You are to stop that craft by any means necessary,” he informed the commanders, as he made the call. “There are ten billion people on Earth counting on us to save them. Nothing else matters.”

The flagship Jituttaz thrummed with power as it changed course, charging forward as it raced to intercept the planet-killer. Kwasi could almost feel the massive dreadnaught’s eagerness for battle as he brought up the display, his blood turning to ice in his veins as the cold equations told the tale. Kestrel was close, and its fighters might have a chance of engaging the enemy, but the numbers weren’t encouraging. They’d be firing from extreme range, and the hit probability for something moving at near light speed, and stealthed, were a poor bet by even Hélène’s standards. There was one ship that had even a prayer of intercepting the RKKV...and that was Jituttaz itself.

At least we’ll be bringing plenty of firepower, he thought. The Starfires on his flanks were far more deadly than the hastily constructed Comets of the previous war, and Jituttaz herself was no slouch either. Heavily armored, sporting multiple batteries of antimatter cannons, she could tear through the massive Khonhim ships they had faced before.

But would it be enough now?

Antuma watched the display as they closed the distance between them. The two vessels would intercept just outside Mars’ orbit, though the planet itself was well out of range. The clock seemed to tick down at an almost leisurely pace until the instruments declared they were nearing the target. They’d get only one shot at this; if they somehow missed, Earth would be a cinder well before they could be in range to try again.

“This is Antuma,” he said, “prepare to fire on my Mark. Five...four...three...two…”

A massive hit rocked Jituttaz, as klaxons began to scream all around him. “What the hell’s happening?” he howled when the dreadnought shuddered yet again.

“We’re taking fire!” his flag captain shouted back, and as he watched in dismay the Starfires began disappearing from his display, one by one. “Return fire!” Kwasi ordered as the damaged behemoth struggled to respond. The turrets were firing blindly...with the RKKV traveling at near light speed it forced them to rely on the sensor data of the other ships, but the data transfer was lagging farther and farther behind. The massive gun batteries had nothing to lock on to. They needed pinpoint accuracy to hit their target, and that was nowhere to be found.

Navigation, however, was another matter.

Kwasi inputted the command himself, as the damaged ship altered its course. There was no time to pass the order to the captain or the helm...and in the last few seconds, he prayed it would be enough.

They saw the resulting explosion from both Mars and Earth as Jituttaz and the RKKV impacted, rendering them down to their component atoms.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 10

The reckoning
You never saw coming
You never saw me coming
The reckoning
I’m the reaper outside your door
I am the reckoning
For every wrong you ever did to me
I am the reckoning

Halestorm - “The Reckoning”

The fleet was only a few hours from Dzach when Admiral Fujimoto requested Nassat’s presence on the flagship Zaaronq. It had been politely worded, but something about the note’s subtext put him on edge. So much so he’d diverted the shuttle sent to retrieve him...one perk of being a General...to swing by the hospital ship Clara Barton to pick up Raichret. Despite his stature in the fleet they had only seen each other a handful of times during the journey, and he sensed he would need her strength now, more than ever.

Arriving on the bridge, it surprised him to see he was not the only invited guest...though perhaps the term “Guest” was inaccurate. “Hostage” might be a little more on point when describing the somewhat vague status of Jiyazh when taking into account his companions. The technician Graybird was seated at a console, busying himself with some esoteric bit of electronics, while the leader Musashi stood between the Admiral and the former Khonhim commander.

Flanking him, however, were the humans Tango and Whisper. The blonde female was wearing her auto pistol in a shoulder holster, as still and silent as a spirit, whereas her companion...

... were it not for the fact he had witnessed humans react the same way in his presence, Nassat would have felt self-conscious in his urge to place himself as far from the unstable Whisper as possible. He interposed himself between the human and his wife, eyeing him as he toyed with one of his ubiquitous knives. Jiyazh was doing his level best to ignore the madman, his back ramrod straight and eyes focused ahead, but he was fooling no one. What sounded like a giggle seemed to emanate from Whisper’s mouth as he watched his charge...and Nassat didn’t doubt for an instant he was hoping his prisoner would try to escape.

The Admiral stood in front of the banks of monitors, her hands clasped behind her back and her booted feet planted on the deck. She seemed as solid as a granite statue, but Nassat was certain that was mere illusion. The death of Marshal Antuma in the defense of Earth had to have wounded her, yet she gave no outward sign. It was as if she was husbanding her pain, molding it, forging it into a weapon, and when she was ready to strike...

Hélène turned, acknowledging his appearance with a nod and noting Raichret at his side before returning her attention to the display. “We are nearing our target,” she informed them, as the image of Dzach grew larger on the screen. “What forces can we expect to face, Dhyaksh Jiyazh?” she asked, the use of his former position a calculated slight.

Jiyazh stiffened but refused to take the bait. “I have not returned to the homeworlds in many years, as you know, Admiral,” he responded. “I do not know what new defenses Dhyaksh Uydan may have placed here in my absence.”

Raichret clutched her husband’s hand as the level of tension on the bridge escalated. Admiral Fujimoto gave her prisoner a brief derisive look before glancing away once more. “Well, no matter,” she said after a moment, “I suspect we will find out soon enough for ourselves.” She tapped an icon on her console and began to speak.

“This is Zaaronq to all units...carriers are to flush all fighters and take their stations. All ships are to form Tactical formation Gamma.” Acknowledgments began coming in as the fleet began to alter their ranks.

“Sensors show approximately three dozen ships, of various classes,” one of the bridge officers reported. “We’re reading some clutter on the nearest approach, Admiral.”

“Adjust course,” she ordered, “307 degrees by Mark 115.”

“Aye aye Ma’am,” the helm responded, as the fleet began to shift. Jiyazh noted her response and nodded in understanding...something that did not go unnoticed by the Admiral.

“We’ve learned a few tricks since that first battle at Uzaunx,” she sniffed. Musashi raised his eyebrow at that, but for reasons of his own said nothing. A thin smile appeared on Hélène’s face as she spoke to her communications officer.

“I believe a little music would be appropriate, don’t you?” she said almost airily, though beneath every word lie a frozen dagger. The com officer nodded, tapping an icon on her console, as it filled the bridge with the sounds of stirring strings and blaring horns.

The humans reacted immediately, leaving those not from Earth looking to one another for an explanation.

“Ride of the Valkyries,” she smirked, though there was no warmth in her words. “A little something from our past.” There was a part of Nassat that wanted to enquire more about her choice of compositions but refrained.

“Starfires have contacted the enemy vessels,” the Tactical Officer reported. “Engaging now.” Nassat watched as the agile fighters swooped in, firing at the ships defending the planet who were moving to intercept the fleet and returning fire. Behind the fighters, the battlecruisers moved in for support, adding their own salvos of antimatter into the fray. Even though naval tactics were not his specialty, Nassat could see that the Khonhim defenders were at a disadvantage here, outnumbered and outgunned. The battle wasn’t one-sided and already several fighter craft had disappeared from the display. One battlecruiser…Scimitar, according to the digital readout...had taken several hits and was falling back, as her squadron mates moved to cover her.

The Khonhim ships were taking horrendous casualties. One by one they were shattered and broken, staggering off course as they went black and silent, or disappearing in fireballs. The flagship itself was now in range, as Zaaronq belched a continuous volley of deadly projectiles, tearing into the enemy without pity, or mercy...until the survivors decided they’d had enough. A mere handful of ships reversed course, diving away from the Tetrarchy fleet, with the Starfires in hot pursuit.

“Let them go,” Fujimoto ordered, as Nassat felt a sudden stirring of hope. The Admiral turned away from the monitors, facing Jiyazh for the first time since his arrival. She cocked her head, studying him as if he was some curious form of insect.

“I chose this planet as a test,” she informed him, “a way to bloody our pilots and gunners. And now that its defenders are in full retreat, Dzach lies naked, and exposed.” She took a step forward, her eyes boring into his. “Shall I ask their surrender, Dhyaksh? she asked. “Would they yield to me? Can they even conceive of such a thing?” A sneer appeared at her lips. “Or would they prefer death, instead?”

His entire body trembled with emotion, working his jaw as he bit back a response. The sneer became a sardonic grin. “I thought so,” she said in exultation, as she turned her back to him, striding to her console.

“Zaaronq to all ships...Attack Formation Shiva,” she snarled, as the fleet began moving once more, taking stations surrounding the planet.

Nassat could remain silent no more. “Admiral...what are your intentions?” he demanded.

Hélène spun on her heel, her eyes blazing with fury. “My intentions?” she shot back. “My intentions are to follow the orders of Prime Minister Singh, General,” she said in dangerous tones. “She ordered the Khonhim broken, as you may recall, and their worlds shattered. And for once, I am thrilled to obey.” She spun away once more and growled into her mic. “Zaaronq to all ships...you may commence firing.”

For a moment it seemed as if the fleet had hesitated, but Nassat realized the ships were coordinating their assault. In a single massive burst, the Tetrarchy armada exploded, raining fire down on the surface below. Red-orange blooms began to appear as matter and antimatter annihilated one another, leaving devastation in their wake.

“...Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds,” she whispered, as Dzach suffered her wrath.

Raichret’s grasp threatened to crush his hand, but Nassat barely noticed. The two Saurotaurs were utterly horrified at what they were witnessing, and as for Jiyazh, he seemed to have disappeared deep within himself, struggling to shut out the atrocity being visited upon his people.

But the Admiral was not willing to leave it at that.

She turned away from the burning world and approached him once more. “I wanted you to witness this for yourself, Dhyaksh,” she hissed at him. “I want you to always remember what your kind has unleashed...and every world we destroy, I’ll make sure you have a ringside seat. I want you to see it all.”

The Khonhim could only stare at her, as she bared her teeth. “You sowed the wind...now reap the whirlwind.”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 11

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said
"The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence

Disturbed (Cover) - “The Sound of Silence”

“Dear Creator...they are no better than the Khonhim,” Raichret got out, still in shock over what they’d just witnessed.

As much as Nassat would have liked to disagree with his wife, he couldn’t. Dzach’s destruction had shaken both of them to the core, and now there was a rather large question looming over the both of them...what did they do now?

“We always knew the humans possessed a barbarous streak, even a vicious one when needed, but you are correct. What they are doing now is little different than the Khonhim attacks from the last war.” He closed his eyes and strove to recall the meditation techniques he had learned as an Acolyte, but they danced just out of his reach. Sighing, he opened his eyes once more.

“Perhaps we should not judge them so harshly,” he said after a moment’s reflection. “They lost three of their worlds to devastating attacks. Had we their skills and temperament ten years ago, is it not possible we also would have responded in such a manner?”

“I would hope we would not be so eager to leap into the abyss,” she said, grimacing as her husband looked as if he were about to say something, and then changed his mind. Sighing, she reached for his hand. “I have not forgotten how I almost killed Jiyazh out of hand, Nassat,” Raichret said at last. “I was not in my right mind then, as you know.”

“And neither are the humans,” he replied, giving her a gentle smile. “Though in the Admiral’s case, I do not believe it is the loss of the human colonies that has so affected her...but the death of Marshal Antuma. She was furious when Zion was destroyed, but not...not...” He stumbled for a moment, grasping for an appropriate word.

“...malevolent?” she suggested.

“Malevolent, yes,” Nassat agreed. “Her treatment of Jiyazh in particular. He is not responsible for these attacks.”

“No...just the attack that murdered my family,” she said. “He may be innocent of these crimes, but never forget his hands are covered in blood.”

“I have not, my wife,” Nassat vowed. “And many other families...but despite all of that, I know in my heart that this is not the way.”

“And the Prime Minister’s orders?” she asked. “Do you not have a duty to obey?”

“I am...unsure,” he admitted. “Before tonight my path was clear, but after witnessing that…” He shook his head, trying to clear away the image. “I am no expert of human history...far from it...and yet I can recall many occasions in their past where blindly following orders was the path to ruin. Even...damnation.”

Raichret became very still. Her eyes were huge golden orbs as she stared at her husband, gripping his hands. “Nassat, listen to me. Whatever you are about to say next, choose your words with care. You know I would never betray your confidence, but others might...especially if the Admiral were to learn you were contemplating treason.”

Nassat stared at her in shock. “Treason? I have said nothing of treason.”

“And just how do you think Admiral Fujimoto, in her current state, would react if you said this to her?” she demanded. “I fear that in this moment, there are only two groups in her mind...those that follow her orders, and those that would conspire against her. I dread what would happen to you, should she place you with the second faction.”

“Prime Minister Singh would allow nothing untoward to happen to me...or to us,” he said. “We are still far too valuable to her.”

“The Prime Minister is also very far from here,” she said, “and would never learn the truth if the Admiral decided you were a supporter of the enemy. I fear she is already suspicious of you, given your...relationship...with the former Dhyaksh.”

“She ordered me to bring him here,” Nassat reminded her.

“And tonight, you learned why,” Raichret whispered. “For the sake of our children, do not give her reason to do the same to you.”

At that very moment, Leandra Singh was standing before the glass wall of the Minister’s chamber, gazing out over the alien city. She had come to this place decades ago as a supplicant, begging for table scraps, and now, in a very real sense, she commanded all that she surveyed. Sometimes she could enjoy the heady emotion that came with that realization, but today was not one of them. Admiral Fujimoto’s report of the destruction of Dzach filled her thoughts, as she questioned yet again her orders to the fleet.

She sighed and turned away from the view. What other choice did she have? The Khonhim had to be stopped, and if she had learned anything in the last war, it was that raw violence was the only thing they recognized. If she pounded them hard enough, they would see the error of their ways...or at least recognize that continuing along the same path would become a very expensive proposition. Make the price high enough, and eventually, the enemy would refuse to pay it.

Are you certain that’s what this is about? a traitorous voice in her head asked, Not revenge?

And that was the big question, wasn’t it? The images from Persephone, from Thule, and from Zion had shaken her to the core. It wasn’t the first time she had seen ravaged worlds except that these were human worlds. That shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did.

Oh yes...it did indeed.

In the last war, she had been the one counseling patience to the other ministers, as they scrambled to create a military from scratch. She had sympathized with their pain, even shared it, but she had been willing to accept the horrendous losses. She told herself that there were still plenty of other Triumvirate worlds, with trillions of citizens still alive. In retrospect perhaps it had been callous and cold-blooded, but what other choice did they have? What we cannot cure, we must endure.

Now, the situation was different. They had a military, far more powerful than what they had scraped together to fight the last war. They could strike back now, instead of being forced to absorb the blows. That had to change the equation, didn’t it?

Didn’t it?

How she longed for Marshal Antuma’s counsel, now more than ever. Even in their darkest hours, he had radiated a calm sense of purpose and reason that had helped guide her decisions. She depended on him these last ten years, and his loss felt as if her right arm had been torn from its socket. Admiral Fujimoto was a skilled warrior to be sure but could never take Kwasi’s place. Not in the way she needed. She and Antuma hadn’t become friends...the very nature of her position prevented her from calling anyone friend...but she had grown to trust and respect the man.

And now, he was gone.

Even though he hadn’t said a word, she knew he had been uncomfortable with her orders to shatter the Khonhim. He’d understood the necessity, he had been far too skilled a strategist and tactician not to, but there had been a shadow on his face when she’d given the order...as if he were staring into a dark future only he could see.

Except that now, she was beginning to sense it as well.

His sacrifice had had a profound effect on humanity. For a moment mankind had breathed a sigh of relief...only now whatever comfort they had taken from their salvation had galvanized their terror and anger in a way that was frightening her. The mature and civilized veneer Man had worked so hard to cultivate had been stripped away, revealing a ravenous beast.

The mob now howled for blood...and it would not be denied.

Dear God...what have the Khonhim unleashed? she asked herself yet again...as she wondered how many more worlds would have to die.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 12

Well, I just got back from a break in the fight
I was weighing in heavy but still feeling alright
All I hear in the distance, mines and shells
Here come the sirens wailing, another attack to be repelled
Do you think we're gonna make it?
I don't know unless we try
You could sit here scared to move
Or we could take them by surprise

Dropkick Murphys - “The Gauntlet”

Philippe Granville looked up in surprise as Admiral Ouri Matevosian burst into his office. “Governor...we’ve just received a Priority Alert from one of our Deep Space Array satellites in orbit over Neptune. We’ve spotted dozens of point targets entering the system, on a direct course to Earth.”

The color drained from the Governor-General’s face. “Dear God...another RKKV?”

The Earth Force commander shook his head. “No Sir, we’re not seeing any signs of another planet killer. It appears to be an attack fleet, comprising of warships. We’re still waiting for a breakdown of the ship classes involved, but I can tell you this much...they do not appear to be the same type the Khonhim used in the last war.”

The Governor closed his eyes and nodded. “So, we’re not the only ones who have been building new ships.” He took a moment to steady himself, before looking back up at the Admiral. “How long until they arrive?”

“At current speed...five hours,” Matevosian replied. “We caught them earlier this time. We are redeploying the ships within the system to meet them.”

“...will it be enough?” he asked. “With the loss of Marshal Antuma and Jituttaz, do you have enough to stop them?”

The Admiral met his gaze and shrugged. “I don’t know, Sir,” he answered. “Jituttaz was the only Dreadnaught we had in the system, and as for the Marshal…” He looked worn and haggard. “Kwasi was the best there was, bar none. In my Guild days, I never came close to beating him.”

“You don’t have to,” Phillippe reassured him, “since you’re facing the Khonhim, and not the Black Death,” giving him a wry look as he used the Marshal’s old Guild handle.

“Kwasi always hated that nickname,” Matevosian smiled, “though he wasn’t above using it to rattle his opponents.” The smile died away, as he looked out the window. “He’ll be missed. Especially now.”

“Yes, he will,” the Governor agreed. “But he’s not here...and you are. So I ask again…can you hold?”

Admiral Matevosian snapped to attention. “We’ll hold, Sir. One way or another...we’ll hold the line.”

Granville nodded. “Whatever you need, consider it done.” He took a deep breath, and asked, “Should we evacuate the cities?”

The Admiral shook his head. “Five hours’ notice isn’t enough time. You’d only start a panic, and if the Khonhim break through…” He sighed, “...it wouldn’t make a difference.”

“Understood,” Governor Granville said. “Please keep me apprised of any changes. In the meantime...the public needs to be told.” He was already preparing the speech he’d have to give...and choking on every word.

“Yes Sir,” Matevosian replied, spinning on his heel and retreating the way he’d come, already issuing orders via his comlink.

“...God be with you,” Philippe whispered, praying Earth had one more miracle in its favor.

The fleet that guarded Earth had a ragged appearance. Ships were still scrambling to report in from across the Solar system, the remnants of the task force that had stopped the RKKV mere weeks earlier. They hung in deep space, far from the planet’s gravity well, watching and waiting for the enemy’s arrival.

Admiral Matevosian had made Kestrel his flagship, being the largest surviving vessel available. The carrier had already disgorged its fighters, waiting in formation forward of the fleet. The Starfires would be his eyes and ears, probing the Khonhim armada and looking for weaknesses. The battlecruisers would then exploit any chinks in their armor, but as the enemy drew closer the numbers were not encouraging.

It was likely to be a far closer fight than any sane commander would willingly court if he had a choice...but he had no choice at all. This was Earth, the one planet they could not afford to lose. The Khonhim knew that which was why they were attacking again so soon after the last attempt. No follow up offensives had been necessary at the other colonies, but the one aimed at Man’s homeworld had been stopped cold. The Khonhim were going for the knockout blow, hoping to cripple the humans and opening the doorway to their ancient enemies. It was a huge gamble, considering Hélène Fujimoto’s assault on their own planets, but it was becoming obvious the new Dhyaksh thought it was worth the risk.

Only one way to find out.

Matevosian turned to the tactical officer. “How long until the enemy is within firing range?”

The Lieutenant checked her display. “Approximately...25 minutes, Sir,” she replied.

The Admiral nodded, taking that in. In the last war, he’d been a Lieutenant himself, piloting one of the old Comets alongside their Ophipteran and Ronin allies. The last battle over Zaaronq had been a bloodbath, and to this day he still wasn’t sure how he’d survived. Afterwards, the Navy had undergone a massive expansion program, and he’d been kicked further and further upstairs. He had the rank, but in terms of actual experience? Woefully inadequate. He was hardly alone in that, it was a service-wide problem and would be for decades. You don’t spend a century disassembling your military without a huge loss of institutional knowledge, and on the Triumvirate side, things were even worse. They were learning...except that Final Exams had come before anyone expected.

And graduation in this school meant staying alive...a test far too many of them would fail.

“...Status Change!” the Lieutenant shouted, throwing up her plot onto the main display. “The Khonhim have altered course, now bearing 234 degrees by Mark 027.” The computer plotted the new course, an angry red arrow pointing to their new destination.

“...Mars,” Matevosian whispered.

Apparently, he’d spoken loud enough to be heard. “Yes, Sir,” the Lieutenant confirmed. “Revised ETA has the Khonhim fleet within range of Mars in...12 minutes.”

The Admiral mashed down his com button. “This is Matevosian to the fleet. All ships increase to flank, best possible speed to Mars. Any ship that can’t keep up, gets left behind.” He cursed his own folly, even as he switched channels. The Governor-General’s face soon appeared on his console display.

“We know,” Philippe Granville said, viewing a plot of his own back on Earth. “Can you get there before the Khonhim?”

A question he himself had been asking, while the computer crunched the numbers. The response appeared on his screen, and it was only by sheer force of will he managed not to give out a low whistle at the answer. “It’s gonna be close, Sir,” he said after a moment. “Their trajectory gives them an advantage, it’s why they waited until now to spring their surprise. You should inform your Martian counterpart her people better hunker down.”

“Already done,” Granville confirmed. “Mars has maintained the old shelters from before the Terraforming.” He paused for a moment, as his face turned to stone. “Of course, the population was much lower back then.”

“Yes Sir,” Matevosian said in understanding. What they left unsaid was how little warning it had given the Martians. Their forces were on alert had been ever since the Khonhim entered the system...but given the assumption, the enemy armada was racing for Earth...

“We’ll do our best,” the Admiral said. “Matevosian, clear.” He swiveled back in his chair, watching the plot as the numbers ticked down. The computer was updating its estimate, and now it appeared the Khonhim would enter Mars orbit just as they were within weapons range.

Barely within range, but at that distance a miss came with its own little complication..., hitting the planet with their own weapons. Their own antimatter weapons. He could wait, letting them get close enough to at least ensure any misses wouldn’t endanger the planet, but that would allow the Khonhim to begin their own planetary bombardment. They wouldn’t need much time at all, to ravage Mars.

He wanted to wait...dear God, he wanted to wait. Even a minute could improve their hit probabilities to where he’d be certain their own fire wouldn’t impact the planet surface. But with an enemy fleet in orbit overhead, sixty seconds was an eternity.

Matevosian watched the tactical plot as the range distance showed in red. His finger was already stabbing the com button the instant it changed to yellow.

“All ships…Fire!”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 13

Godless, meteoric war
Anger, our existence nevermore
You awoke the giants who were dormant in the sky
Comets raining death from a fiery eye
Mother of all, your time is coming
One with eternity
When planets collide

Avenged Sevenfold - “Planets”

Admiral Matevosian’s task force exploded with fire, hurling bolts of antimatter at the Khonhim fleet. The enemy had a choice...they could ignore the incoming fusillade, and direct their weapons at Mars itself, or they take up defensive positions and return fire. Bombarding the planet would leave their flanks vulnerable, and as long as they focused on the incoming threat, Mars would be safe. Attempting to do both would buy them the worst of both worlds. They’d get some licks in, but not enough to do them any good before his own ships tore them apart. Ouri almost hoped they’d make the attempt, but the Khonhim commander was far too canny for that. The enemy fleet not only swung around to face the human ships but charged forward to meet them in battle, a swarm of missiles and cannon fire arcing away. Chatter between the Tetrarchy ships increased as they refined their targets, while gunners and their computer systems fought to swat away as much of the incoming fire as they could.

The Starfires danced and weaved, seeking their targets with deadly precision. They didn’t pack anywhere near the punch the battlecruisers did but given their agility, they were also much harder to hit. They raced forward as well, seeking the Khonhim lead elements, and Admiral Matevosian drummed away on his armrest as he watched the battle unfold.

Because something about the enemy’s formation was wrong, somehow.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was nagging him. Had he been in command of the Khonhim fleet he would have held his range open, counting on his superior numbers to whittle down the humans as they closed in. It was possible their commander was bold and given what they knew of the Khonhim warrior culture that was a possibility, but…

...it just didn’t feel right.

Why are they coming on so aggressively? he wondered. Sure, closing the distance improved their hit probabilities, but that sword cut both ways. His odds would increase as well, and given their respective rates of fire, the closer they got the more the balance would swing in his favor. So why do it? By all appearances, they were still building up speed, and at this rate, they could tally the engagement envelope in mere seconds. Unless they began decelerating soon, they’d end up blowing right past them, and…

“...oh my God,” he whispered, as the realization struck home.

His finger mashed down the com button. “This is Matevosian to the fleet. Reverse course immediately. Mars was just a decoy, the enemy still intends to strike at Earth, using our own momentum against us.” They’d sucked him out of position, and now they would charge straight for Earth, with his task force chasing behind. They wouldn’t be able to linger in orbit for a full bombardment, but they’d get quite a few blows in even in passing. If they targeted the major population centers, they could kill billions.

The fleet responded to his command, flipping their ships end-over-end and burning hard to reverse course, but even with their advanced drive systems, they were still bound by the laws of Newton. The Delta-v required to double back the way they’d came took time to overcome...time they did not have.

And even worse, now their weapons were pointed away from the enemy.

The Khonhim commander must have been waiting for this maneuver, and took full advantage of it, raking the task force in a deadly broadside as it blew through their formation. The battlecruisers Spatha and Baselard staggered and tumbled out of position, their speed dropping off as their captains struggled to save their ships. The Khonhim didn’t have to destroy them...all they had to do was slow them down.

And it forced him to leave them behind, in the race for Earth.

The engagement hadn’t been one-sided, watching with grim satisfaction as a handful of Khonhim vessels were hit as well. He could spare no time to deal with the cripples, instead passing orders for his own wounded ships to deal with enemy left behind. There was still the possibility they could limp back to Mars and finish what they’d started...and in the cruel formula of war, Earth had to take priority over the Martian colony.

The Khonhim ships were still pulling away from his task force as they struggled to overcome their initial disadvantage in momentum, as he passed on his orders. “All ships are to target the enemies propulsion systems. I don’t care if they can still fight, as long as they can’t run.” A fresh barrage of fire went chasing after the dwindling vessels, with the task force burning hard on its heels. At least the bulk of the Khonhim’s weapons systems were now pointed away from the task force, though at the moment he found it to be small comfort.

An angry red icon appeared on his display, and he winced as he reached out to respond. The Governor-General’s haggard visage appeared on the screen. “How long do we have?” he asked, cutting to the chase.

“Not long,” Matevosian said. “Ten minutes...maybe fifteen, if we can slow them down. No more than that.”

“Understood,” Granville replied, his face carved from stone. “Planetary defenses are standing by. We’ll try to hold them off until you arrive.” By the sound of his voice, it was obvious the Governor wasn’t holding out a great deal of hope that it would be enough.

With good reason.

“We’re only four minutes behind them, Sir,” Admiral Matevosian vowed. “If you can target their weapons, it might be enough.”

The Governor managed a wan smile. “We’ll do our best, Admiral,” he said gently...even though both men knew full well they were just whistling past the graveyard. “Good luck, Admiral. See you soon.”

“And you as well,” he said in hushed tones, his words sounding like a prayer, as the screen went dark.

Ten minutes. The blink of an eye. Barely enough time to wolf down a simple meal. A quick trip to the nearby market. A brief shower.

Not nearly enough time to say goodbye to the ones you love.

The Tetrarchy ships fought to wring out every joule of thrust from their engines, violating every safety protocol on the books. Matevosian watched as the ETA was continually revised…3.85 minutes...3.72 minutes...3.66 minutes. They used every trick they could think of to narrow the gap.

It just wasn’t enough.

At 3.57 minutes, the Khonhim fleet was at last within range of Earth. The orbital defenses went to automatic fire, splitting their munitions across the entire armada. They just needed a few lucky hits to slow them down, to buy time for the task force...and several of the enemy ships took enough damage to put them out of the fight. The armada sought out and destroyed the weapon satellites, one by one...the last going offline at 2.26 minutes.

Somehow, the human task force was able to shave a few more seconds off their ETA, slamming into the Khonhim fleet with a ferocity not seen since the days of Genghis Khan. No quarter was asked, and none was given. The ships under Admiral Matevosian’s command fought to save their world, hurling their own vessels into the enemy like the kamikazes of old, when there was nothing left in their armories to fire. Shattered hulks drifted throughout the battle zone, dark and lifeless, at the end of Matevosian’s ride. Through the stubborn tenacity that had defined humanity since the dawn of time, Earth had survived.

Though not unscathed.

Matevosian waved off the corpsman trying to tend to his wounds, as Kestrel’s crippled computer systems crashed and rebooted, while he fought to survey the damage. The distinctive mushroom-shaped clouds dotted the landscape, as a list of obliterated cities began to appear on his cracked display.

Beijing
Seoul
Kyoto
Toronto
Chicago
Detroit
Cairo
Benghazi
Algiers
Santiago
Buenos Aires
Montevideo
Kiev
Vienna
Munich

…Geneva

“...Sir.”

Admiral Matevosian turned to face the voice. Kestrel’s captain, her arm in a crude sling, her uniform singed and bloodstained, stared at him with hollow eyes. “Sir...who is in charge, now?” she asked in shock.

He could only stare at the cloud over Geneva, the city chosen long ago as Earth’s capitol…that had once housed the official residence of the Governor-General.

“...I don’t know,” he whispered.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 14

Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are
As my memory rests
But never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends

Green Day - “Wake Me Up When September Ends”

The mood was a somber one aboard the flagship Zaaronq as an officer escorted Nassat to Admiral Fujimoto’s quarters. The news from Earth had hit the humans hard, and now more than ever he feared their response to this latest calamity. It took little imagination on his part to place himself in their position...all it required, in fact, was to recall his beloved wife’s response when they had discovered the bodies of her family.

The human officer acting as his guide had spoken little during their brief journey from the shuttle docking bay, restricting himself to only the barest of formalities. Nassat wanted to enquire of him the nature of his summons, as the message itself had been maddeningly cryptic. But the lieutenant might as well have been carved from stone, and the attempt to engage him further died on his lips. Perhaps he was one of the xenophobic minority though as this latest war progressed their ranks seemed to swell with every new attack.

What will become of the Tetrarchy, if they view all aliens as a threat, and not merely the Khonhim? he wondered. It was a disturbing thought, for if the humans broke with old Triumvirate races…

They came to a halt in front of the Admiral’s quarters, interrupting his thoughts. The lieutenant pressed an icon on the keypad, announcing, “General Nassat, Ma’am.” He came to attention as the door slid open, acknowledging his nod of gratitude as he made his way inside.

Someone had dimmed the lights within, and for a moment Nassat found himself disoriented, until as his eyes adjusted he could make out a dim glow at the far end of the cabin. An unusual scent filled the air as if something was set aflame, and as he moved closer he spotted the Admiral kneeling before a burning candle, a smoldering reed at its side.

“...Nassat,” she whispered, not lifting her head. “Join me.”

He moved to her side, folding his legs beneath him, as he inspected the woman beside him. She wore a simple black robe of some form, in a style unfamiliar to him, though even he could tell it was exquisitely made. It was the first time he had seen her in any attire other than her uniform, though they had worked well together over the years, theirs was a professional relationship, and nothing more. Other than Sergeant Lin there were few humans he could call friend...and fewer still that would return the sentiment.

“You wished to speak with me, Admiral?” he asked, not wishing to interrupt the contemplative setting.

“I did,” she replied, still not looking in his direction. “Before the last war, you were a priest, were you not? A kannushi?”

Nassat blinked at the odd term, though this was not the first time a human had asked this question of him. “I was, yes...an Acolyte, to be specific,” he replied.

She nodded at the confirmation. “Tell me...do you still practice your faith? Do you still believe?”

Considering the tone of their previous encounter, this was the last question he would have expected to hear her ask. “...I do,” he said at last. “It has not been easy, but I still believe.”

Admiral Fujimoto repositioned her body so she could face him, gazing into his eyes. “Tell me of it...your faith, I mean. What do you believe? How do you express your faith?”

Few humans had ever asked him that. “We believe that there is a balance, in all things,” he answered, after collecting his thoughts. “A purpose. It is our duty to seek this purpose, and learn what it asks from each of us. For an Acolyte, it means spending much of your time in quiet contemplation and studying the gathered wisdom of our people. It is a...simple life. One that appealed to me, when I was...well...before,” he finished with an awkward shrug.

She cocked her head as she regarded him. “I believe my father would have liked you,” she told him, as a ghost of a smile crossed her lips, only to disappear. “He too was a man of faith...a faith similar to yours, in fact.” She looked away, staring at something only she could see. “His greatest regret was that I did not share it.”

“Perhaps...that was not your Path,” he said quietly. “I cannot speak to your father’s beliefs, but if they are comparable to my own, then he would have understood that each of our journeys are a solitary one and that no two are ever alike. Even if you do not share his faith now, you may come to share it. In time.”

Hélène seemed to consider that for a moment and then shook her head. “Somehow...I doubt that,” she said, as she snuffed out the candle with her fingers. “But then we will never know.” She rose to her feet, as Nassat did the same. “Seeing how my father was in Kyoto when the Khonhim attacked.”

Nassat felt his breath catch in his chest, as everything fell into place. He bowed his own head, crossing his arms. “...my very deepest condolences,” he said.

She barely acknowledged his words, waving them away as she extinguished the smoldering reed. “I have spent hours trying to find some solace, attempting to embrace the rituals of my youth,” she snapped, “but all I feel is rage.” She spun on her heel, turning to face him. “I can only assume the Khonhim understand nothing of humanity,” she spit out, “or it could be they just have a death wish...because everything they do seems calculated to bring out the very worst in us.” The smile he had seen reappeared, but this time it was dark and twisted...a thing to be feared. “At every turn, they have taken something from me, and I for one have had enough.” Her hands clenched and unclenched in her fury as if she was moments away from taking out her anger on him.

Nassat vividly recalled another conversation, one that now sounded almost prophetic. When Minister Singh and Marshal Antuma had hijacked his life, and the life of his spouse...all the while claiming that they needed him:

“The thing is, we have a lot in common with the Khonhim...too much, in fact,” Marshal Antuma said. “Now that we are creating a military again, after all these years, there will be those who will want to use it...and what better enemy to test our mettle against than them? It wouldn’t take much to set us off either...and if that happens, all bets are off. We could end up destroying everything we’ve worked so hard to achieve...unless there is someone who belongs to neither camp who can act as mediator.” A dry chuckle passed his lips. “Someone civilized to keep the two barbarian tribes from slaughtering each other.”

Nassat felt ill, as realization slammed into him. It had been too much to ask of him even then, but that predicted moment had finally arrived. They had chosen him to be the voice of reason in the dark times to come...and despite Raichret’s warning, he knew he could no longer stand by and let this abomination go on.

He stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. Her dark eyes flashed with savage violence, but as he once had on the battlefield...Nassat stood his ground.

“Admiral…Hélène...” he said, using her given name for the first time in his life, “this is not the way. I understand your anger, for I have felt it as well, but repaying atrocity with atrocity will only end in the destruction of your own people.” Her face contorted in vehemence, but Nassat plunged ahead. “And even if humanity manages to survive, it will only be as a twisted mutation, a dark mirror to what I know your race can be...if only you can step back from your hate.”

But his words fell upon deaf ears. “How dare you!” she thundered. “You say that to me, after what we’ve suffered?”

“You are not alone in your agony,” he said. “I know all too well what you are now feeling, but…” He froze, fumbling for the right words, before finally closing his eyes and bowing his head.

“...this is not what Kwasi would have wanted,” he whispered.

“Get out,” she hissed, as her fire turned to glacial ice. “Don’t think for a moment you can dissuade me from seeing justice done.”

“This is not justice,” he protested, “but vengeance.”

“...like there’s a difference,” she snorted, turning her back on him. “By the time I’m done...the only place the Khonhim language will be uttered will be in Hell.”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 15

Down in a hole and they've put
All the stones in their place
I've eaten the sun so my tongue
Has been burned of the taste
I have been guilty of kicking myself in the teeth
I will speak no more of my feelings beneath

Alice In Chains - “Down in a Hole”

Once again Nassat found himself at Raichret’s side, as he replayed for her the confrontation with Admiral Fujimoto. He could sense her growing apprehension as the tale unfolded, and as he finished, she stood up and faced him.

“I begged you not to do this,” she said, now distraught, “for the sake of our children, I begged you. Did you not hear my words? Did you not listen?”

Nassat winced, as he rose to join her. “I did, my wife,” he said in placating tones. “But you have seen with your own eyes how the Admiral has reacted to all that has happened. As a Healer, as someone who has experienced pain and loss herself, tell me...were she your patient, what would be your diagnosis?”

Raichret froze, thrown for a moment as he engaged the professional side of her persona, instead of her emotional one. “I would be forced to say…” she said, “that Admiral Fujimoto is exhibiting the classic symptoms of Post-Traumatic Embitterment Disorder, besides obvious signs of Post-Traumatic Stress.” She grimaced and shook her head. “But considering what has happened to their homeworld, I expect that most humans would exhibit those same signs.”

“Most humans are not in command of a fleet of ships, capable of rendering the Khonhim extinct,” Nassat replied, “but they are not the ones I fear for. If the humans continue down this path, their very souls could be in peril.”

“They are barbarians,” she said, “both the humans and the Khonhim. Let them destroy each other. The universe will be a far better place without them.”

Nassat sighed and reached for his wife’s hand. “Barbarians they may be, but those same barbarians came to our aid, in our hour of need. Without their help, neither you nor I would be here today...and our children would never have been born at all.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “How can we turn our backs to them now, in their darkest hour?”

She grimaced and looked away. “It is a fool’s errand, Nassat,” she said. “You are but one person. How can you keep the humans from their path of revenge?” Raichret forced herself to turn and look into his eyes. “All you will do is incur their wrath, and only the Creator knows what they will do to you then.” She stepped closer, clutching at him. “Please, I beg you...do not do this. After all that has happened, all that we have suffered...I cannot bear to lose you, too.”

He bowed his head and pressed it against hers. “I must,” he whispered.

Raichret shuddered, as tears filled her eyes. “...of course you must,” she answered. “Was there ever a battle you walked away from?”

“I did not choose this path, my wife,” he said gently, “and no one knows better than you how I have struggled against it, at every turn.” He shrugged and shook his head. “But it would seem that my fate is not mine to chart.”

“Nor mine, it seems,” she said. “So...your path leads you from General to mutineer?”

“I pray it does not come to that,” he replied.

“Then how?” Raichret demanded. “For I can see no other way.”

Nassat sighed. “I believe the human term for it is...‘Calling in a Marker’.”

Prime Minister Singh shook her head in disbelief. “You have got to be shitting me.”

Nassat looked abashed, as he stared at her image on the screen. “I can assure you, Prime Minister, that I am not.”

Leandra snorted. “No kidding. They strangled your sense of humor at birth.” She sighed, leaning back into her chair. “You want me to relieve Admiral Fujimoto for doing what every single human in the galaxy wants her to do?”

“Well…yes, Prime Minister,” Nassat replied. “You must see the danger in letting her continue in her crusade?”

“Perhaps you should take a moment to consider the danger if I don’t,” she shot back. “There isn’t a single human alive that doesn’t want payback for what the Khonhim have done. Three colonies destroyed. Our homeworld attacked. Governor Granville and Marshall Antuma, both dead,” she spat out. “Humanity hasn’t been this pissed off since…” She paused for a moment, cocking her head. “Actually, I don’t think we’ve ever been this pissed off...and if you’re familiar with our history at all, that should fucking terrify you.”

“It does,” Nassat said quietly, “more than you know. But I also know that if we do nothing to rein in that impulse, that desire for revenge, it will only grow stronger and more dangerous with each passing day.” He shrugged. “Isn’t this why you and Marshal Antuma groomed me for this post? To prevent your species from acting out on its darker urges?”

The Prime Minister blinked in surprise, and then managed a brief chuckle. “Touché,” she said at last before the smile disappeared. “Here’s the problem, Nassat. Even you can’t argue that we’re the aggrieved party here. They attacked us, without provocation, using tactics that go beyond the pale...and in our eyes, there is only one way to balance the books. The Khonhim must pay for their crimes. My orders to you and Admiral Fujimoto still stand. You want to quibble over tactics? Fine...but you need to recognize I gave that order for a reason. Unless we break the Khonhim now, in another ten years we’ll be forced to do this again. Sooner, maybe. Do you want that on your conscience?”

Nassat shook his head. “No, Prime Minister...but there is a right way, and a wrong way.”

Leandra shook her head. “You’re dancing on a razor’s edge, Nassat. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I,” he admitted.

The Prime Minister steepled her fingers and regarded him. “If I do this...there would be certain conditions attached. Namely, that the fleet continues to carry out my orders.” She fixed him with a hard stare. “That is non-negotiable.”

“Understood,” he nodded. “There are still many details that would need to be worked out...locating a suitable replacement, to begin with.”

Her smirk came back with a vengeance. “Oh, don’t worry...I already have someone in mind...”

Nassat marched down the corridor to Zaaronq’s bridge, with Sergeant Major Lin at his side, pausing as they reached the guards stationed outside the hatch. The ranking Petty Officer nodded at their approach, as he thumbed the com button. “General Nassat to see the Admiral,” he informed the bridge...only to earn a scowl from Lin.

“What’s the matter with you, PO?” he barked. “Have you gone blind or something?”

The guard blinked in confusion, his eyes going wide as he did a double-take. “...my apologies, Sir,” he stuttered, as he hit the button once more. “Correction…Marshal Nassat, to see the Admiral.”

The hatch slid open, allowing them entrance, as the pair approached Admiral Fujimoto...who stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the Saurotaur.

“What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded. “And what’s this “Marshal” nonsense?” She stared at his shoulder boards, as her eyes narrowed. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

“...I wish it were,” Nassat sighed, as Sergeant Lin held out a tablet. Hélène snatched it out of his hands, her nostrils flaring in anger as she read the brief message.

“By order of Prime Minister Leandra Singh, I am relieving you of your command, Admiral,” Nassat said in firm tones, “...effective immediately.”

The Admiral read the message again and then tossed the tablet aside. “Like hell. This is my command, and I don’t give a damn what strings you pulled!” Her head snapped around, as she called over one of the armed ratings. “Guard, arrest this traitor!”

“Admiral, you’re making a mistake,” Nassat said quietly, as the rating approached, “I beg you to reconsider.”

“The only one making a mistake is you,” she snarled, as the rating withdrew her sidearm. “No one will start a mutiny on my ship!” The glint in her eye was full of malicious glee...until she felt a gun barrel pressed against her head.

“...oops,” Tango smirked.

Hélène stared at Tango in shock, then darted away, trying to escape...only to come skidding to a halt when she spotted Whisper blocking her path, also dressed in a naval uniform, cleaning his fingernails with a dagger.

“...going somewhere?” he giggled.

Her head whipped around like a caged animal, her face contorted in rage. “What are you doing? she shrieked. “You answer to me!”

“In fact, we report to the senior ranking officer of the Tetrarchy armed forces,” Musashi said, rising from behind a console, “...and as of two hours ago, that’s him,” nodding towards Nassat.

“Sergeant Lin was concerned you might not...react well,” Nassat after a moment, “hence the subterfuge.”

“You won’t get away with this,” she growled.

“Admiral, believe me...this is the last thing I wanted,” he said, before turning to Lin. “Please escort the Admiral to her quarters.”

“Aye Sir,” Lin nodded, as he took her by the arm. “This way, Admiral.”

The former fleet commander looked around the bridge for support, but there was none to be found. The officers and ratings were all looking elsewhere, and once that sank in the fight seemed to go right out of her. Lin and the others escorted her off the bridge without further incident.

Nassat watched her leave, filled with regret. He had so hoped it would go differently. Gazing around the bridge, he motioned to the XO.

“Your orders, Sir?” the Captain said.

The newly minted Marshal gazed at the empty command chair and sighed. “Best speed to Gzuj,” he said quietly. “We still have a war to fight.”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 16

Steps have been taken, a silent uproar
Has unleashed the dogs of war
You can't stop what has begun
Signed, sealed, they deliver oblivion
We all have a dark side, to say the least
And dealing in death is the nature of the beast

Pink Floyd - “Dogs of War”

“Prime Minister, of course we’ll send help to Earth,” Minister Thrassath said. “We owe humanity a great debt for our own survival, and if we can repay your kindness in even the smallest way, it honors us to do so.”

“Indeed,” Minister Ω 445 Intersect Γ said in agreement. “Preparations to provide aid to your homeworld are already underway. We are gathering together a relief fleet as we speak, and they should depart shortly.”

“In addition,” Minister Byzaagaab continued, “another task force has completed its trials, and has been rerouted to the Sol system to provide security. The dreadnaught Ψ17, the carrier Osprey, hospital ship Marie Curie, as well as several battlecruisers and various other craft. They will keep your people safe.”

Leandra looked at the other ministers and felt nothing but profound relief. Humanity was doing all it could to deal with the damage inflicted on Earth, but even with the resources of both it and Mars, it was still a Herculean task…and the security situation was even worse. Admiral Matevosian’s surviving ships were badly damaged, and if there were another enemy armada out there somewhere…

“On behalf of my people and my planet, I thank you,” she said. It was never easy, asking for help. Avoiding any appearance of weakness was ingrained in her, but there comes a time when one must cast aside ego and hubris, for the greater good.

The one nagging concern in the back of her mind was that the task force Byzaagaab was speaking of was crewed almost entirely by the old Triumvirate races. It was an experiment, in fact, an attempt to prove just how far they’d come in the last ten years. At least the key command positions individuals who had served in the last war, so each brought practical experience with them that should serve well.

She wasn’t sure why it was bothering her, other than concerns regarding their experience. Though it’s not like we had any combat veterans in the ranks when we first charged into battle, she thought. Maybe it was because she still had concerns regarding their still prominent pacifistic tendencies. Ten years wasn’t enough time to instill the warrior spirit into races that had no martial tradition, in her opinion.

Or perhaps it was the notion of letting others guard Earth. By tradition, Earth Force was human, though much of that was because of the latent xenophobia many humans still possessed. Finding volunteers had never been a problem, but building the ships from scratch would take time they did not have. For now, by necessity, individuals who had evolved under distant suns would guard the Sol system, but as soon as they could construct replacement ships Mankind could begin relieving the task force.

It's only temporary, she thought to herself, an emergency measure, nothing more.

Sergeant Major Lin came to a halt outside the compartment, as Nassat prepared to open the hatch. “Are you certain you don’t want me in there with you?” he asked.

“Not for this conversation,” the newly promoted Marshal replied. “As much as I rely on your guidance and expertise, this is something that I must do myself, I think.”

“Probably,” Lin agreed, “but I’d still feel better if I was watching your back.”

“You are,” Nassat smiled, “and I know you will set new records gaining entrance should I require your help.”

“Count on it,” the sergeant said.

“You see? There is nothing to fear,” Nassat said as he clapped the human on his back, as the hatch opened and he stepped inside.

The hatch slid closed behind him, as he entered the compartment. Its sole occupant gazed up at him from a comfortable looking chair, as she waved a glass around. “Come to gloat, Nassat?” Admiral Fujimoto asked. “You could have at least knocked.”

“I feared you would not allow me entrance, and I needed to speak with you, Admiral,” Nassat replied.

“Well then, by all means,” she scowled, taking a drink from her tumbler, “invade what little privacy I still have left.”

Nassat grimaced as he seated himself across from her. “I regret the necessity of my actions, Admiral,” he said, “but I can assure you, I would not have gone to such great lengths, did I believe in my heart not doing so would have led to tragedy.”

Hélène took another swig of her drink, before setting it aside. “So tell me, Marshal,” she said, “what brings you to my little corner of the universe? Come to tell me you changed your mind? Or did you discover you bit off more than you could chew?”

“Admiral, in just a few days we will arrive at Gzuj,” he informed her, coming straight to the point. “We do not know what awaits us...but I suspect the Khonhim will have at least some ships stationed there. That sort of battle is not part of my skill set, and I fear my handling of such an engagement would cause many pointless deaths...deaths that could have been avoided.”

She froze, as she gave him an appraising eye. “Unless they turn tail and run at first sight of the task force, I can guarantee you’ll be out of your league. So I’ll ask again...Why. Are. You. Here?”

Nassat took a deep breath. “Because I would like you to be in tactical command of the task force when our fleets meet in battle.”

“Ha!” Fujimoto barked out a laugh. “Not even forty-eight hours and you’ve already come crawling back to me.” Her face twisted into a cruel parody of itself. “You wanted command? Well, now you’ve got it...and I hope you choke on it.”

The Saurotaur sighed. “Hélène...those are your people out there. People that you trained. Are you so filled with anger towards me you would let them die, to prove a point?”

She snarled and turned away. “...damn you,” she cursed. “Ten years ago, you were just a recruit. You are completely out of your depth...hell, you should still be a sergeant!”

“Believe me, I wish that I were,” he said quietly. “And yet you yourself promoted me to General, as you may recall.”

“That was a political decision,” she snapped. “You had trained subordinates that would handle the actual fighting.” Hélène sneered as she glared at his uniform. “Marshal,” she hissed. “Kwasi was a Marshal, back when you were still a private and a damn good one. You...you’re not fit to shine his boots. He earned that right, by having the best strategic and tactical mind of our generation. Can you make that claim?” Nassat chose not to take the bait, which Hélène saw as assent. “Damn right you can’t,” she sniffed, as she rose to refill her glass. “And now he’s dead, and you’re alive. Tell me...where’s the justice in that?”

“Marshal Antuma was an honorable man,” Nassat answered, “and you are correct...my skills pale compared to his.” He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “But there is more to command than tactical expertise, Admiral. Kwasi understood that.” There was a moment of silence before he fixed her with a hard look. “And you, do not.”

Fujimoto whirled around, drink in hand. “How dare you!” she snarled. “What gives you the right to judge me?”

“This is not about rights,” he said, “except perhaps, for what your people call Human rights...and by that, I do not mean whatever privileges you believe we owe your species. When the enemy is defeated in battle, the conflict ends there...or at least, it should.” He rose, as they squared off. “...and not be subject to reprisal.”

She snarled once more, ready to hurl another insult into his face, but Nassat was having none of it. “I have read the histories of your world, Admiral, and there have been others who have acted as you did. Warriors who acted out of hate, or fear, or pain….and History did not judge them kindly.”

That seemed to give her pause. “You and Kwasi saved my people, and in the process created something more, something to be proud of,” he said quietly. “Do not let what has happened tarnish that legacy, Hélène. Now, you may stay here, in your quarters...but before you make your choice, allow me to tell you what others have told me.”

The Admiral turned and looked away. “And what is that?” she asked, in uncertain tones.

“...that we need you,” he said. “That this fleet needs you...and that there is no one else who can do what needs to be done, as well as you can.”

The silence seemed to draw out forever before she responded. “...will you will give me full autonomy?” she asked.

“In tactical matters, yes,” he nodded. “But we will supervise you at all times. That I cannot change.”

Hélène turned back to face him. “I’ll think about it,” she said at last.

“That is all I can ask,” he answered, as he sketched a formal bow...retreating to leave her alone with her thoughts.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 17

I need you to know what you've done can you hear?
Can you hear me roar?
I will not take this anymore
These words will never be ignored
You want a battle?
Here's a war

Bullet for My Valentine - “You Want a Battle? (Here’s a War)”

The Tetrarchy had absorbed most of its military traditions from humanity, which only made sense since the other races had no such background. By necessity, some had required alteration, but a human from Earth’s past would have felt comfortable on the bridge of Zaaronq, named for the last battle of the previous war. Naval protocol was strictly enforced, and when a higher-ranking officer visited they announced their arrival. They had disposed of the tradition of coming to attention with, however, if the individual was at a console since the flagship was a working vessel. Interrupting the crew amid their duties to acknowledge the appearance of a superior officer was deemed an unnecessary distraction.

However, a senior officer was not announced when one of higher rank was already present. That too was tradition, one left unchanged. It was an insult, a slap in the face to the officer in question, and that convention was also enforced.

Unless said officer made the announcement themselves.

As Admiral Fujimoto arrived on the bridge, Nassat was already on his feet. “Attention on deck!” he barked, catching the crew by surprise. They recovered once they spotted her entering, and no one could have asked for a better display. Hélène hesitated, not expected the honor, but she recovered and made her way to the command chair with confident strides. She came to a halt a comfortable distance apart from Nassat, while Sergeant Lin stood by his side, his eyes missing nothing. The Admiral gave him a brief glance, tarrying for a moment at the sidearm at his waist, before returning her attention to her commander.

“Marshal Nassat,” she said.

“Admiral Fujimoto,” he replied, in subdued tones. “We are thirty minutes out from Gzuj orbit, and sensors are indicating several Khonhim vessels.” He took an exaggerated step to one side, away from the chair. “Tactical command is yours, Admiral.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgment, seating herself on the chair. Her back was as ramrod straight as ever, but there was also a wariness in her eyes as if she wondered how long he would allow her to remain in this place of power. She took a moment to study the tactical display, still somewhat vague in details this far out, before turning her attention back to Nassat.

“Thank you for that,” she whispered, “though it was unnecessary.”

“I believe it was necessary,” he disagreed. “The crew needed to know you have my support. As for the announcement itself...Sergeant Lin has been coaching me.” Lin himself smirked, though Nassat seemed unaware of the gesture.

Hélène chuckled at that, before turning her attention back to the display. “What are my operational parameters?” she asked.

“Prime Minister Singh’s orders still stand,” Nassat replied. “We are here to defeat the Khonhim, to destroy their warfighting capabilities, and to do everything in our power to ensure their eventual capitulation.” He paused for a moment, and then said quietly, “However, we will also give their forces the opportunity to surrender, if the tactical situation warrants it, and limit any planetary bombardment to military targets only. If the planet itself surrenders, we will cease all attacks, and negotiate an immediate ceasefire.”

“And if they violate said ceasefire?” she asked.

Nassat sighed. “That would depend on the specifics, I’m afraid. We will still do everything reasonable to avoid civilian casualties, but to put it in terms you are familiar with…‘The gloves come off’.” He looked uncomfortable with that statement, yet recognized the necessity.

Admiral Fujimoto nodded, taking that in. “I can live with that,” she said after a moment, “though it is not what I would prefer.”

“Your species were the ones that created the rules of warfare, Admiral,” Nassat replied, “and I believe the reasoning is as valid now as it was then...possibly even more so.”

“Perhaps,” she answered, still not convinced, as the tactical officer turned to face her.

“Admiral, the plot is clearing up. I am reading over three dozen point targets, though we’re having difficulties locking on to some of the smaller ones. Some electronic countermeasures.”

Hélène’s eyes narrowed. “The same type reported during the RKKV strike on Earth?” she asked. The attack that killed Marshal Antuma was left unsaid, though everyone on the bridge heard it.

“It’s difficult to say, Ma’am,” the officer replied. “The surviving ships of that battle all suffered damage to some extent, and it corrupted many of the data recordings. But it’s possible.”

“Order the carriers to flush their birds,” she ordered, “and tell them to go to active sensors the instant they’re in formation.” She leaned back in her chair, regarding the plot, as Nassat raised an eyebrow.

“If they’ve developed some stealth technology, then they’ll want to get in as close as they can,” she informed him. “That kind of screen takes power, and it’s unlikely they could equip any of their missiles with it. If they can get in close, cut down on our reaction time…”

“I understand,” he said quietly. “But why only the smaller ships? Why are the larger vessels not also equipped with this technology?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe there’s a limit to the size of the field they can create.”

“Admiral, fighters are clear of their bays, and sensors are active,” the tactical officer reported. “Forwarding the data to your display.”

Hélène watched the plot update and nodded to herself. “Fujimoto to all ships,” she barked, “Tactical formation Bravo. Watch your flanks.” The task force began to shift its pattern as the ships took up new positions, darting forward as the Khonhim fleet came out to meet them.

“Ma’am, the Starfires are reporting they still cannot get a target lock on the enemy fighters,” the tactical officer informed her. “All attempts at breaking through their ECM have been unsuccessful.”

“Damn it,” Admiral Fujimoto cursed. “We’ve got to burn through their stealth technology.” She stroked her chin as she thought. “Is there anything within range of the Starfires, other than the enemy ships? Anything at all?”

“Checking,” the officer replied, as he pulled up a new screen. “Other than two minor asteroid bodies, there appears to be nothing else within the designated target area.”

The grin that appeared on Hélène’s face was positively feral. “Target the asteroids, but wait for my signal. Inform the Starfires to watch their displays. We will only get one shot at this.”

Nassat looked at her. “What are you thinking, Admiral?”

“That we need to disrupt their ECM,” she replied, not looking up from her screen. “If we can’t burn through with our onboard systems, then we require something else to do the job.”

“Something like a large Matter-Antimatter explosion,” Nassat said, in sudden understanding.

“Exactly,” she nodded. “That’s why the bigger ships are hanging back. I’m certain of it. It won’t disrupt their jamming for long...just long enough. I hope.” She raised her arm, pointing a finger skyward. “Tell the Starfires to get ready. On my Mark...three...two...one…fire!” Her arm came down with a slash as if she were firing the cannons herself.

The task force belched out a barrage of projectiles, sending them screaming towards the planetoids. Fujimoto gripped the armrests of her chair as she watched the display, as the “Time to Impact” clock raced down to zero. The monitors filtered the explosions to less than blinding levels...as dozens of icons appeared on the screen.

“Got you!” she snarled in triumph, as the Starfires swooped in on their targets. The disruption didn’t last long, but just as she’d predicted it had been enough for the fighters to get a lock. The enemy ships fought back valiantly, but with the element of surprise lost they were now badly outmatched, and the Tetrarchy forces took deadly advantage of it. Khonhim fighters died by the handfuls, as the agile craft showed them no mercy. In the space of minutes, they had cleared the way to the rest of the enemy fleet.

“Well done,” Nassat smiled.

“It’s not over yet,” Hélène growled. “Flagship to all units...time to take the rest of them down.”

Nassat turned and faced the Admiral. “I will return shortly. There is...one last detail I must see to.”

Fujimoto barely noticed his departure from the bridge...her mind already focused on what was to come.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 18

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you’ll bleed just to know you're alive

Goo Goo Dolls - “Iris”

Jiyazh didn’t bother looking up as the hatch to his quarters opened. There was little point. By his calculations, they must near Gzuj, which meant Admiral Fujimoto was preparing to show him its destruction, and the thought sickened him.

She was not the same person he had met all those years ago, as he recovered from his wounds. Then she was every inch the warrior, with no hint of the madness that filled her now. He had turned his back to the Path of War after they broke the fleet, no longer worthy to carry the title Dhyaksh, but there was more to it than that.

He was tired.

Tired of the constant, never-ending fighting. Tired of watching brother warriors die, to no purpose. Tired of trying to fulfill an eons-old promise, the pretext for which no longer seemed valid. Just...tired.

But no one can escape the fate their ancestors have laid out for them, no matter how hard they may try.

“...Jiyazh.”

His head snapped around in surprise, at the sound of Nassat’s voice. “So...you are here to do the Admiral’s bidding,” he said. “Somehow, I thought better of you.”

The Saurotaur stepped forward, and Jiyazh realized there was something different about him. His bearing, the cast of his eyes, his apparel…

He cocked his head as he scrutinized his visitor. “The last time I saw that uniform, a human was wearing it,” Jiyazh said. “It would seem you have made a name for yourself.”

Nassat sighed. “At every turn, someone always seems intent on adding to my burdens,” he replied, his voice tinged with regret. “This time, at least, it allows me to redress a wrong.”

“Indeed?” Jiyazh rose to his feet and folded both sets of arms. “Are you preparing to end the war?”

“No,” he said, “but perhaps you can.”

The former Dhyaksh threw back his head and laughed...a bitter, caustic laugh. “That would seem unlikely, given my current status.”

“As I have learned to my dismay...status can change.” He shrugged and gave the Khonhim warrior an apologetic look. “What they did to you at Dzach was unconscionable, Jiyazh...but you must recognize the storm your people have conjured, by attacking the humans in this way?”

“...it is possible that Dhyaksh Uydan misread their probable response,” he admitted, before fixing Nassat with a look. “It is also possible that he did not.”

“What could he hope to gain?” he asked in puzzlement. “You have attacked a predator in its den without provocation or warning, bereft of any trace of the honor I expected of the Khonhim.” His eyes pleaded for understanding. “In the name of the Creator…why?”

“...because we lost, Nassat,” he said. “For millennia we had prepared for the Great Crusade, only to see it disintegrate before our eyes. It shook my people down to their very core, leaving us without direction...or purpose.” He grimaced and looked away. “Chugaz seized on that sense of despair, grasping it with both hands, and vowed to my people that he could lead them to victory.”

“He has led them to be slaughtered,” Nassat grimaced. “I do not believe you realize the nature of what you have unleashed in the humans.”

“Perhaps that was true before Dzach, Marshal,” he said, “but I can assure you...I recognize it now.” His face showed the discomfort he was feeling. “When we first met them in battle they were ill-prepared and untested. We swept them aside with ease...but that soon changed as the war progressed. Now? They have had ten years to plan for this day, and they have not rested on their victories.” He shook his head and looked away. “I wish they had.”

“Then perhaps there is a way for you to save your people, Jiyazh,” Nassat said. “We are preparing to launch our forces against those defending Gzuj, and I must tell you, the odds are not in your favor. I have every confidence that we will defeat the Khonhim fleet, and when we do...”

“...the Admiral will once again leave our world barren,” he said quietly.

“I hope that will not be necessary,” Nassat replied, “though a great deal of that depends on you.”

The Khonhim turned to face him. “You expect me to betray my people?” he shot back. “How little you must think of me...and how much less you must understand me.”

Nassat stepped forward. “Chugaz betrayed your people,” he said. “Even with my current position, I am uncertain I can contain the human’s wrath. They want your people dead, Jiyazh. They wish to visit upon you the same fate as my ancestors once did...only this time they will ensure that no one survives.”

“Admiral Fujimoto has made that quite clear,” he said.

“Yes, she did,” Nassat agreed. “So answer me this....when the fleet defending Gzuj is defeated, and our forces call upon the planet to surrender...what will be their response?”

It was several moments before Jiyazh answered. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Nassat nodded in agreement. “Neither do I. Perhaps they will accept the reality of their situation, perhaps they will not. Perhaps...they would not believe the humans would be so quick to destroy them. Unless you explained to them what you witnessed at Dzach. You, they would believe.”

His laugh was even more harsh, this time. “You do not know my people,” Jiyazh said. “I am disgraced, a false and fallen leader...and one who comes to them aboard a ship commanded by their enemies.” He shook his head. “No, they will not listen to me.”

“We must try,” Nassat pleaded with him, “for the only other alternative will be their destruction.”

“And you would order this, Nassat?” Jiyazh said in disbelief. “You, the pacifist? Did you not tell me you would always choose life over death?”

Nassat found it difficult to meet his gaze, yet stood his ground. “...I would,” he admitted. “Chugaz has done everything in his power to enrage the humans. If there is a psychological trigger he has somehow overlooked, I am certain it was only by accident.” He sighed and shook his head. “The fates of all our races hang by a thread, Jiyazh. If we cannot make your people see reason...then the humans will do everything in their power to ensure the Khonhim can never threaten anyone ever again.”

“Not so easily done,” Jiyazh said with growing confidence. “Your own race attempted the same, long ago, and failed.”

“They are not us,” he pressed, “and I assure you, the humans will not fail. They will make it their life’s work to see your race destroyed, and they will never, ever forget. If it takes another ten millennia, they will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy, and dance on your graves. I beg you, help me, Jiyazh,” he whispered, “for without your intercession, they will condemn your race to oblivion.”

“...why?” Jiyazh snarled, filled with anger, “why do you care what happens to us? Your wife would not argue so hard for our survival. She would gladly assist the humans…so why are you risking everything to save my race?”

“Because if they do this, if the humans take that final step of madness, there will be no turning back,” Nassat said quietly, “and who do you think will be next?”

Jiyazh froze...and then began to nod. “Finally, a motive I can understand,” he said at last. “I make no promises...but I will try. For both our peoples.”

“Then come with me now,” Nassat urged, guiding him to the door, “and pray the people of Gzuj will listen.”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 19

It's been a long time comin'
And the table's turned around
'Cause one of us is goin'
One of us is goin' down

Sick Puppies - “You're Going Down”

Admiral Fujimoto ordered the fleet forward, as Nassat disappeared from the Bridge. The Khonhim responded to their maneuvers though not as they had at the start. With the loss of their stealthed screening element, it compelled them to fall back on brute force, and in a straight-up fight, the odds were not in their favor.

“Keep them boxed up,” Hélène growled, as the range closed, “I don’t want them scattering and hitting our flanks.” Acknowledgments came in from the rest of the task force as her orders went out, as their displays were suddenly filled with thousands of new targets.

“Missile separation!” the tactical officer called out. “Reading thirty thousand...repeat three zero thousand...enemy guided projectiles inbound!”

“Fire plan Sierra,” Fujimoto said, as the task force returned fire. So far the only new wrinkle the Khonhim had come up with were the stealthed fighters, and with those out of the way, the fight was now a familiar one. Antimatter rounds reached out to swat the incoming missiles aside, while others raced for the enemy ships. The battle became a game of speed chess...lightning-fast fire and counterfire coupled with rapid course adjustments. The modern naval engagement happened far too rapidly for anything but a computer to follow, but as the patterns began to emerge Hélène pounced on the opportunities given her like a jaguar. Holes began to appear in the enemy fleet as ships were damaged or destroyed, though the engagement was not one-sided. Zaaronq itself shuddered as klaxons began to blare, as the enemy missiles found the chinks in her armor. The battlecruisers Kukri and Wakizashi were brutally hammered, rapidly shedding lifepods, as the rest of the task force shifted position to protect them.

But without more ships or some radical new technology, the Khonhim fleet was fighting a losing battle. They fell back against the planet, fighting for every inch of ground, but one by one they pounded them into scrap. And yet they still refused to surrender, despite the continuous messages sent by Admiral Fujimoto, until the rest of the enemy turned tail and scattered, leaving their fallen brethren behind.

Hélène collapsed back into her chair, with beads of sweat on her brow. “Damage report,” she got out, feeling the post-combat crash coming on as the adrenaline in her system began to break down.

“Hull damage to Decks six through nine,” the engineer reported. “Turret Three is offline, and Drive has been degraded by 19%. Estimate...thirty-six hours to complete repairs.”

“Understood,” she nodded. “Expedite the Search and Rescue teams to recover the lifepods, and I’ll want a preliminary report on the status of Kukri and Wakizashi. We need to know if they can be repaired, or will it will force us to scuttle them?”

“We should know something within three hours,” the engineer replied...as Nassat returned to the Bridge with Jiyazh in tow.

Admiral Fujimoto gritted her teeth. “May I ask what he’s doing here?”

“I asked Jiyazh to speak to the inhabitants of Gzuj, hoping to convince them to surrender,” Nassat replied. “He has agreed to this, to save lives.”

She snorted in distaste. “Considering how the Khonhim fleet continued the fight until the bitter end, I somehow doubt the ones of the surface will act any different,” she said in disgust. “But by all means...make the attempt. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” The tone of her voice suggested she was less than enthusiastic on the subject.

“...did they die well?”

Nassat and Hélène turned to face Jiyazh, who was staring at the display. Shattered ships and wreckage filled the screen.

“Yes...they died well,” Fujimoto said at last. “As well as anyone could have asked of them.” There was an odd cast to her eyes as she regarded him before she turned back to Nassat. “Even if they surrender, we can’t afford to stay here forever, nor can we spare the troops needed for an occupation force. They’re certain to bring reinforcements, and if we get bogged down, we’re done for.”

“I understand,” Nassat said. “Do we have communications with the planet?”

“We’ve been broadcasting since the battle began,” Hélène replied. “So far, no response.”

Jiyazh took a deep breath, as his jaw set in a hard line. “Then I suppose it is up to me,” he said. “If you would patch me in, Admiral?”

It was obvious she still harbored doubts about the wisdom of this turn of events, but after a moment she gave him a curt nod. The communications officer tapped an icon on her console, and said, “Live mic.”

There was a long pause, as he marshaled his thoughts. Finally, he began to speak. “I am Jiyazh Ghuuyaz, and I once had the honor of leading our people in the Great Crusade. I speak to you now, from the flagship of the enemy, and ask you to acknowledge me.”

Silence.

He tried again, and again there was no answer. On the third attempt, however, an image flickered to life on the screen. “I am Dhozom Asakh, and I speak for the people of Gzuj.” His eyes narrowed as he regarded Jiyazh. “You have no standing among our people, Dhyaksh,” he said. “Another has taken your place, and he leads us now.”

“I am not here to lead you, Dhozom Asakh,” he replied. “And while I no longer have standing, I have information you do not. If you wish to save the people of Gzuj, you would do well to listen.”

“I do not hear the words of traitors,” Dhozom hissed. “You stand with our enemy, and yet claim the rights of the Khonhim? Why should we listen to anything you have to say?”

“Because I am trying to save lives,” he said. “Your warriors are defeated and driven from the field. The battle is lost. There is no dishonor in recognizing that.”

“Others will take their place,” he growled.

“Perhaps...but not in time,” Jiyazh reasoned. “If you accept the humans’ terms, they will do everything possible to spare your planet further bloodshed.”

“We are not as defenseless as they think,” Dhozom shot back. “Let them come. We will show them the error of their ways, once our hands are around their throats.”

“You will never get that chance,” he said quietly. “They will raze the planet from orbit, and leave you to die. There is no honor in a senseless death, and even less for a commander who would inflict one on his own people.”

“You speak to me of honor?” he snarled. “You, who led us into defeat? Who even now finds his place in the arms of our enemy? I would rather die than embrace that kind of honor.”

“That can be arranged,” Hélène murmured, earning her a look from Nassat.

Jiyazh colored yet stood his ground. “And your children?” he asked. “Are you so willing to send them to their deaths?”

“Better for them to die with honor, than live as slaves,” Dhozom said, “though I would not expect you to understand that, for you have forgotten what honor means.”

“I have not forgotten,” Jiyazh said. “I once thought as you did, Dhozom Asakh. I was proud to be a warrior of the Khonhim, from the time I earned my first blade. But the universe has taught me a harsh lesson...that there is another choice. That there is something besides victory or slavery.” He glanced in Nassat’s direction. “That there is a way to stand on equal ground, with those we once called our enemy.”

“Never”, Dhozom seethed. “You may drink their poison, but not I. If you are still Khonhim...then show us the honor we deserve.”

And with that, the screen went dark.

The bridge froze in silence, as the crew waited for someone to speak. Finally, Jiyazh bowed his head.

“...do what you must,” he whispered, as he turned away, heading back to his quarters with a heavy heart.

Nassat stood in shocked quiescence until Hélène cleared her throat.

“Your orders, Marshal?” she asked.

He gazed at the planet, so teeming with life, and wondered at the strange twists of Fate that had brought him to this place.

“...carry out the bombardment,” he said at last.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 20

I only smile in the dark
My only comfort is the night gone black
I didn't accidentally tell you that
I'm only happy when it rains
You'll get the message by the time I'm through
When I complain about me and you
I'm only happy when it rains

Garbage - “Only Happy When It Rains”

The fleet of ships maneuvered themselves into orbit over Earth, while one of the task forces split off from the main body and headed for Mars. Yet another flotilla was already beginning its patrol of the system, watching over the steady stream of freighters and liners bringing in much-needed supplies and personnel. The scars of the Khonhim attack were still visible from orbit, and Admiral Matevosian could only look away with the greatest of effort.

“You did all that you could,” his new counterpart said. Admiral β 892 Sine ζ wore a humanoid-shaped metal body, for which he was grateful. He wouldn’t have known how to interact with a shiny metallic sphere.

Matevosian shrugged. “Perhaps someday I’ll be able to believe that,” he said, “though I’m not sure I’d care to place a wager on it.” He shook his head and faced the Ronin. “I’m just glad your task force arrived as soon as it did.”

“Leaving Earth unprotected was as unacceptable to us as it is to you,” β 892 Sine ζ said. “Your people have suffered in this war, and it honors us to repay the debt we owe humanity in some small way.”

“Thank you,” Matevosian said with a grimace. “I just wish…” He sighed after a moment and gave the Ronin Admiral a wry look. “I hate the thought of letting someone else do my job.”

“At the moment, your job is to rebuild Earth Force,” β 892 Sine ζ replied. “Our presence here is temporary until they complete the new task force.”

“And then?” the human asked. “Any idea what your orders will be, once we can take over security of the system?”

“Not yet,” the Ronin answered. “Any assumption I made would be pure speculation, given the nature of this new war. There are too many variables.”

“Isn’t there always?” Matevosian said, frowning as he made a contrite gesture to the Ronin Admiral. “My apologies. That came out harsher than I’d intended.”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” β 892 Sine ζ said. “You have been through an indescribable ordeal. It will take time for you to come to terms with it.”

“So the counselors tell me,” he agreed, before regarding the Ronin. “You were at Zaaronq, weren’t you?” he asked.

“I was,” the automaton acknowledged. “I piloted an HK in that battle...and before that, I wore an armored ground chassis at Uzaunx.”

Matevosian nodded. “Must give you a unique perspective.” He softened, as he gazed down at Earth once more. “You know what it’s like, being on the receiving end.”

“I do,” β 892 Sine ζ said. “Admiral, do not be concerned. Look to rebuilding your fleet...and leave everything else to me.”

The meeting took place in a modest dwelling, far from the capitol. Given the clandestine nature of the rendezvous, they had leased the home through a series of cutouts, leaving no trail that could be traced back to the principals involved. Or so they hoped, at least.

“I dislike this,” Qomzoixaa said. “We have held up our end of the bargain,” he told the shadowy figure appearing by hologram, “so I believe it is time for you to show yourself.”

“I must disagree,” the figure replied. “Were Minister Singh to learn of my identity, it could have devastating consequences for all of us.”

“I believe Qomzoixaa speaks for everyone here,” Lassoarth chimed in. “We are the ones taking the risks.”

“I assure you, I am risking more than any of you,” the figure retorted. “In fact, the very reason I called this meeting was to inform you the first shipments have arrived on schedule.”

“Indeed?” Σ 121 Sub Δ said in surprise. “That is good news.”

“As promised,” the figure said. “Given the number of freighters traveling to the Sol system, it was a simple task to conceal our cargo. Our agent on-site is seeing to the arrangements, and the items will be ready when you require them.”

“And how will we take possession?” Qomzoixaa demanded.

“We will transmit the coordinates to your envoy when delivery is complete,” the figure explained. “Should events require us to move up the timetable, I can request the exchange sooner, though I cannot guarantee all items will be available before the agreed-upon deadline.”

“We have no reason to alter the schedule,” Lassoarth assured him. “Though as you say...circumstances can change.”

“Remember, you must act before the humans rebuild their fleet,” the figure warned. “Should you not execute the operation before that time, the odds of success are not encouraging.”

“Have no fear of that,” Σ 121 Sub Δ said. “We will uphold our end of the bargain. See that you uphold yours.”

“You have my word,” the figure replied. “Soon, we will have everything we ever wanted.”

Dhyaksh Chugaz Uydan switched off the transmitter and smiled to himself. The former ministers were so focused on regaining what they had lost, not to mention taking their revenge on the humans, they had never even considered the possibility they were being manipulated. It hadn’t been as simple a process to acquire the discussed items as he had led them to believe, but no matter. There were others among the old Triumvirate races just as eager to see an end to the human primacy, and just as easy to beguile. Being complete neophytes in the ways of treachery, they had made the classic blunder of assuming they were the ones in control.

Fools.

The plan was moving forward, though not without setbacks. He had foreseen the losses of Dzach and Gzuj as possibilities, but that did not make their loss any less painful. Still, sacrifices were necessary in war. They’d salvaged what they could, but their real value was yet to be seen. The humans were reacting just as predicted, and soon that would cost them. Once they lay broken and bleeding, the Khonhim would deliver the final blow.

And then it would be the Triumvirate’s turn.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 21

The change, it had to come
We knew it all along
We were liberated from the fold, that's all
And the world looks just the same
And history ain't changed
'Cause the banners, they are flown
In the next war

The Who - "Won't Get Fooled Again"

“...they didn’t give you a choice, Marshal.”

Nassat turned to face the person speaking to him. Admiral Fujimoto stood regarding him, her arms folded across her chest, as he stared down at the planet below. Zhis had fallen to their guns just as Dzach and Gzuj before, and once again he had brought Jiyazh to talk them into a peaceful surrender.

And just as before, they had chosen death, instead.

“There must be some way of getting through to them,” he said at last. “How can they choose death over life? Not even the deaths of those they claim to care about sway them.”

“...Bushido,” Hélène whispered.

Nassat stared at her. “I do not know what that means.”

“Literally translated, it means ‘The Way of the Warrior’,” she explained. “It was a code my ancestors once followed, a very long time ago.” The Admiral gave him rueful shrug. “It was an attempt to bind the warrior class…Samurai...with august virtues, to enoble them into something more than mere killers. Values such as Honor, and Compassion, and Respect.”

He nodded. “Those are admirable traits. But I do not see the connection.”

She sighed. “Because over time those values became corrupted, perverted into something sinister. Bushido came to mean obedience without question. They treated with contempt those who had surrendered instead of showing mercy...for the crime of not having died to the last in battle.”

The Marshal turned back to gaze at the planet, at the dark clouds now dotting the landscape. “The Khonhim would understand your ancestors well, Admiral,” he said at last. “And what brought an end to this ideology of Death?”

Hélène grimaced, as she pointed at the ravaged planet. “That,” she said.

Nassat shook his head and turned away. “Is genocide the only recourse left to us?” he asked. “I cannot accept that.”

“They’ve spent millennia plotting their revenge against the Triumvirate races,” she said. “They have molded their entire society to serve that purpose. It has defined them for so long they are no longer capable of seeing an alternative.” She gave him a hard look. “Not until they’re forced to, at least.”

“We have devastated a third of their worlds, and they are showing no signs of capitulation,” he shot back. “How many more must we bombard, before they recognize the futility of continuing the fight?”

“Maybe all of them,” the Admiral replied. “You should be prepared for that possibility.”

“If I were human, perhaps I could,” he said. “Were I member of your race, it is possible I could accept the slaughter, accept that there were no other options.” A dark cloud crossed Hélène’s face, as Nassat held up a hand. “That was not a slander against your people, Admiral,” he explained. “I was merely pointing out how dissimilar our races are. Our species are adapted for very different roles, which shapes our view of the universe.”

She nodded after a moment. “True enough, I suppose...but it doesn’t change a thing. They still won’t surrender to us, their enemy. Nothing is likely to change that.”

Nassat bowed his head and closed his eyes. She spoke the truth. The only reason the Khonhim had surrendered in the last war was because they had captured their leader in battle. It had paralyzed them at a crucial moment, and…

His eyes flew open as he raised his head. “You are correct,” he intoned, “the Khonhim will never surrender to us.”

“I’m sorry, Marshal,” Hélène said with some sympathy. “At least we can continue the campaign, recognizing the fact they won’t listen to reason.”

He shook his head, as an odd gleam shone from his eyes. “No...you misunderstand,” he said. “They will never surrender...to us.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Now I’m the one in the dark,” she said.

Nassat only smiled in reply, as he reached for the intercom.

“You cannot be serious,” Jiyazh exclaimed, once Nassat explained his sudden brainstorm.

“I am,” he replied.

“I never thought I would hear myself say this,” Hélène chimed in, “but I have to agree with our...guest.” Nassat wondered what word she originally had in mind, as she plunged ahead. “He tried to negotiate the surrender of both Gzuj and Zhis, and they refused to listen. What would make them heed his words now?”

“Because at the moment they see him as our prisoner,” Nassat explained. “But...what if they did not?”

“He is our prisoner,” Fujimoto contended, glancing at the Khonhim.

“But what if he was not?” Nassat pressed. “What if he was attempting to reclaim the title of Dhyaksh?”

The Human and the Khonhim both stared at him. “I surrendered that title,” Jiyazh said at last. “Chugaz Uydan is Dhyaksh now.”

“But that title is not static, is it?” Nassat asked. “You have explained to me how you earned the position, how you and the other claimants met on the field of battle to prove your worthiness. Why could you not do so again?”

“And how would you propose I do that, assuming I was interested in the first place?” Jiyazh demanded. “Whatever standing I once had, I lost when we lost the war. My resignation was little more than an acknowledgment of that fact.” He shook his head. “You have seen how my people react to me now. Attempting to become Dhyaksh once again would be impossible. The people would never support me.”

“He’s right,” Admiral Fujimoto agreed. “We humans have experience with puppet leaders...and that’s how the Khonhim would see him. Without the respect and consent of those he would govern, the only way he could maintain control would be at gunpoint. Not exactly a stable form of government.”

“You are correct, he could not be a puppet,” Nassat agreed, “which is why it would be necessary for him to earn his position.”

“And I ask again…how? Jiyazh said in exasperation.

“...by leading soldiers into battle,” Nassat said matter-of-factly.

“And where do you propose I find these warriors?” the Khonhim asked, badgering him. “Because I do not see any of my people volunteering to serve under my command.”

Nassat smiled. “Jiyazh, you may not have any warriors at your disposal...but we do.”

“...are you insane?” Hélène snarled in horror. “Are you seriously proposing giving him a commission to fight against his own kind?” She shook her head in disbelief. “There isn’t a single one of our soldiers that would serve under a Khonhim commander...assuming for one minute I would allow such a thing!”

“You are not in a position to allow or deny this, Admiral,” Nassat said. “I am in command here.”

“Not for long, if you plan on giving our enemy his own army!” she shot back. “No one in this fleet would stand for it. I’d be forced to place you under arrest just to keep you from being torn apart.”

Nassat rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Admiral, despite all appearances to the contrary, I am not a fool. We would have safeguards in place to ensure Jiyazh did not get...ideas.” He gave the Khonhim an apologetic shrug. “You understand.”

“And why exactly would I do this?” Jiyazh asked. “The Admiral is correct about one thing...none of your warriors would trust me not to betray them. You are asking me to do battle with my race. What incentive could you give me to accept such a ridiculous notion?”

The Saurotaur Marshal looked back down at the planet below. “Because your only other alternative, Jiyazh...is that,” he said quietly, pointing at the ravaged world.

“This is lunacy,” Hélène hissed.

Nassat closed his eyes. “When genocide becomes tolerable...what is one more act of madness?” he asked.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 22

(War) Good God y'all
(What is it good for?) Absolutely nothing, say it
(War, what is it good for?) Absolutely nothing
Listen to me
(War) It ain't nothing but a heartbreaker
(War) Friend only to the undertaker
Peace, love and understanding
Tell me, is there no place for them today?
They say we must fight to keep our freedom
But Lord knows there's gotta be a better way

Edwin Starr - "War"

“I don’t like this.”

Nassat could only shrug at Admiral Fujimoto’s statement. “Perhaps the Khonhim have pulled back their forces.”

“And left an entire planet exposed?” She spun her chair to face him, shaking her head. “That’s out of character for them, and any time the enemy does something different, I expect the worst.”

“Prudent, but that does not alter the circumstances we find ourselves in.” He nodded at the world on their view screens. “We are here. The Khonhim fleet is not. What course of action would you suggest?”

Hélène grumbled, drumming her fingers on the armrest as she considered their options. Their arrival at the planet Ghakh had been an anticlimax. There were indications the Khonhim forces had pulled out of the system, leaving it undefended, though there was still a sizable population on the surface.

Which gave them...options.

“You already know what my position is,” Fujimoto retorted. “Bombard the planet like we did the others and move on.” She scowled at Nassat’s placid expression, her nostrils flaring with hostility. “But I’m guessing you have other ideas, don’t you?”

“I do,” Nassat agreed. “Based on our observations, Ghakh is an excellent site to learn if we can give the Khonhim an alternative to the current Dhyaksh...and an end to this war.”

“My way is more definitive,” Hélène growled. “Less risk for us, and a swifter resolution.”

“My ancestors thought the same, once,” Nassat said. “It did not end well for anyone. Violence begets violence. Even your own race came to that conclusion.”

“Marshal, there is a time for peace, and there is a time for war,” she shot back, “and this is not the time for peace.”

“Nor am I suggesting that,” he replied, “merely a strategy that is less...final.”

“Fine,” she said, “do as you will.” She leaned forward, stabbing a finger into his chest. “But every death we suffer because of this strategy is on your head, not mine. My way would have saved lives…our lives, which is where your focus should be on. Not some vague notion of turning enemies into allies.”

There had been a time when a confrontation with an angry human would have left him a trembling wreck, but those days were far behind him. Nassat weathered the storm without flinching, waiting until she finished venting her spleen before responding.

“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting,” he intoned, earning him a confused look from the Admiral. “Sun Tzu,” he smiled. “I have found his words most illuminating.”

“Remind me to have a long talk with Sergeant Lin about your reading material,” she grumbled, before waving a hand in defeat. “Very well,” she said at last, “do it your way.”

The smile on his face disappeared. “Admiral...in case you have forgotten, I am in command of this fleet. While I value your input and expertise, when I have made my decision, the time for debate is over. ”His voice grew cold. “Overstep your authority again at your peril.”

The retort she was preparing to fling back in his face died on her lips. “...Aye, Sir,” she said at last.

“This is a bad idea,” Sergeant Lin said. “Marshals have no business in the trenches. You should remain aboard Zaaronq, where it’s safe.”

Nassat raised an eyebrow. “Fine…safer,” Lin amended.

“Under normal circumstances, I would agree,” Nassat replied, “but given the unusual situation we find ourselves in, my presence on the ground could prove crucial. If for no other reason, to reassure our forces they are not marching into a trap. Besides, the fleet is in good hands, and since I have no training in Naval tactics, at least on the ground I can be useful.”

“Just promise me you won’t be leading any rescue missions or cavalry charges,” Lin sighed. “I’ll bet Raichret went ballistic when you told her what you’re planning.”

Nassat looked embarrassed. “...well...” he mumbled.

Lin rolled his eyes. “You didn’t tell her?”

He sighed in defeat. “I was planning on informing her when I arrived on the surface.”

“You mean when you were out of her reach,” Lin smirked. “She’s gonna be pissed.”

“My wife can be very…passionate,” Nassat said.

“...that’s one way of putting it...” Lin muttered under his breath.

Nassat ignored the remark. “May I assume all is in readiness?”

“We’re on schedule...more or less,” the sergeant replied. “The assault forces should be ready by the deadline.” A wry smile appeared on his face. “Just like the old days, right Sir?”

“As I recall, the last time we were in combat I was forced to drag your broken body back to friendly lines,” Nassat said.

A beatific smile appeared on Lin’s face. “Yeah...good times,” he grinned.

Nassat blinked, before shaking his head. “Have I mentioned how strange your species is?” he asked.

“Once or twice,” Lin smirked.

He was struggling to find a suitable response, when Jiyazh appeared in the corridor, flanked by four humans in combat gear. “Dhyaksh,” he said, inclining his head.

“...when you said safeguards, I did not realize you had this in mind,” Jiyazh said in preamble, casting a glance at Whisper. “Would it not be simpler to just slit my throat, and be done with it?”

Whisper seemed to perk up at the notion, as Nassat sighed. “I assure you, they are for your protection,” he said.

“This entire strategy is doomed to failure,” Jiyazh argued. “No Khonhim worthy of the name will believe for an instant I am not acting as your vassal. They will kill me the moment I am spotted.”

“They can try,” Tango snorted, hefting her sniper rifle.

“We will find a way,” Nassat said quietly. “We must.”

Jiyazh gave the Saurotaur a long look. “There are times I wonder if you live in the same universe as the rest of us,” he said at last. “You seem almost untouched by the storm surrounding you.”

“...appearances can deceive,” he replied, with a distant look in his eyes.

There was a long silence before Jiyazh squared both sets of shoulders. “Well then…this brings back memories,” he said.

Nassat grimaced. “The last time we were in battle, we shot each other,” he said in exasperation.

“Yes…glorious times,” Jiyazh chuckled, as he headed for the shuttle.

“...there is something very wrong with the both of you,” he complained to Lin, as they followed in his wake.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 23

What have you caved?
What have you done?
Nothing but shame and there's nowhere to run
Who takes the blame?
Why have they come?
What in God's name have you done?

Nickelback - "The Betrayal (Act 3)"

The Archangel-Class assault craft were a far cry from the crude transports Nassat had ridden into battle as a young recruit. Like the rest of the Tetrarchy’s new Navy, they were state of the art, mounting both offensive and defensive systems, but the biggest difference Nassat was struck by was the view screens. As he and the others dove for the surface aboard the transport Michael, watching incoming fire reaching for them...he couldn’t help but wonder if they counted as an actual improvement.

Admiral Fujimoto had done a commendable job in neutralizing the worst of Ghakh’s military capabilities, but he had ordered her to use a lighter touch than they had in the past. There was no point in landing forces if all they found upon their arrival was ashes...and yet her words were coming back to haunt him. Many more would die because of this strategy. The blame was his, and his alone.

The transport jerked hard, avoiding a brace of missiles, as they raced for the relative safety of the planet’s surface. Once they were on the ground and had secured a perimeter, they could put his plan into action.

Whether or not it would work was another matter.

Sergeant Lin leaned over and shouted into his ear, “Thirty seconds to the LZ, Sir!” The other soldiers were readying their weapons in anticipation, as Nassat glanced over at Jiyazh. He seemed almost calm as if he had accepted his fate, for good or ill, and there was a part of him that envied that. But then the former Dhyaksh had trained since childhood to become a warrior, whereas he...had not.

The thrusters screamed in sudden protest as the assault boats came in hard, slamming onto the surface as they flung the hatchways open. Thousands of Tetrarchy soldiers boiled out of the transports, charging into battle, only to be met with heavy fire. Nassat and Sergeant Lin were right on their heels, just getting clear before the craft roared away, tearing back up to orbit to reload for the second wave. Lin grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to a small depression in the dirt large enough to provide some small measure of protection.

“Resistance is heavier than expected,” the sergeant reported, as he monitored the traffic between units. “Be a while before we’re locked down tight.”

“Securing the perimeter has absolute priority,” Nassat ordered, as he scanned the horizon. “Unless we can hold this position for the next wave, our situation will become untenable.”

A massive explosion rocked them back on their heels, sending a huge fireball into the sky. The two shared a look, as Lin checked his weapon.

“...tell them to expedite,” the human said.

Those who have not experienced combat in space firsthand often have unrealistic ideas about how it’s waged. Even with the advanced ships and weapons used by both sides, the physical laws that shape the universe still hold sway. Over the years engineers and designers have found several ways to tweak the odds in their favor, even a few outright cheats, but there are some things they cannot change. The tactics used by both the Tetrarchy and the Khonhim recognized that.

In space, there is no place to hide. Any force lying in wait is bound to be detected as the enemy approaches, despite the immenseness of the battlefield. The Tetrarchy had managed the trick once in the previous war, only because the Khonhim had been unaware of Humanity’s existence, and after that, they did allow them the opportunity to try it again. You must get close enough to fire your weapons for an ambush to be effective, and to do that your ship must have its reactors and engines online...which is the first thing your opponent scans for. Sure, you can hide behind a planet or an asteroid, only now you have a massive chunk of rock between you. If you can’t see them, you can’t shoot them...and vice versa.

Sneaking up on the enemy isn’t an option either. They will spot you long before you are in weapons range, with predictable results. It becomes a brutal slugging match until one side surrenders or flees. It’s not pretty. It’s not elegant. It just is.

But...if you can somehow misdirect your opponent, lull them into a false sense of security, make them think they have nothing to fear...then all bets are off.

Admiral Fujimoto had scanned Ghakh and the surrounding region as they entered the system. When no enemy was found she scoured the area much more closely, suspicious of a trap. When still no Khonhim were found, she’d scaled back her efforts. You couldn’t keep your entire crew at battle stations forever, if for no other reason than they had to sleep every now and then.

(In theory, this did not hold true for the Ronin. Being artificial lifeforms, “Sleep” was something that did not apply to them, though they did, however, have to power down regularly or risk degradation to their hardware, so it was something of a wash.)

Dhyaksh Chugaz Uydan had prepared the battlefield long before the Tetrarchy forces had arrived. Dzach, Gjuz, and Zhis had been cold-bloodedly sacrificed to draw Hélène deep within Khonhim space, to allow her to fall into a pattern of behavior. When she arrived at Ghakh she had searched for the enemy...and found none. Technicians still monitored deep space in case the Khonhim attempted a counterattack, but it was a skeleton crew. They had all the time in the world to go on alert when they spotted the enemy fleet approaching.

Until suddenly...they didn’t.

Isaac Newton’s first law states: “A body tends to be in a state of rest or motion unless acted upon by an external force”. This holds true in space. Throw a rock in microgravity, and it will continue traveling forever...just as the Khonhim fleet was doing now.

They’d shut down their engines days before, coming in on a ballistic trajectory, having calculated the arrival of the Tetrarchy task force by the frantic communications from each of the doomed worlds. Life support and other necessary functions were held to a bare minimum, and to mask their approach they’d slingshotted in from behind Ghakh’s sun, using its intense glare as cover. Like sharks they swam closer to the unsuspecting vessels, holding their fire until the very last second, as they awaited the final command.

Admiral Fujimoto scowled as she monitored the communications from the surface. To no one’s surprise...except possibly their illustrious Marshal’s...they’d run into stiff resistance from the Khonhim forces. They were holding their own for now, but the situation was far too fluid to be considered resolved.

Fool, she cursed yet again, if he’d listened to me we’d be done by now, and without casualties. Despite humanity’s best efforts, the old Triumvirate races were still far too squeamish for combat, and Nassat was no exception. How he’d convinced Singh to make him Marshal boggled the mind, and she’d ascribe darker motivations for his coup d’état if he wasn’t such a damned choirboy. Maybe he had the best of intentions…Hélène would grant him that much, at least...but unlike him, she knew what they paved the road to Hell with.

She forced a calm expression onto her face. Let him have his moment. She could afford to bide her time, and once the casualty reports started coming in, a copy routed to the Prime Minister’s desk would shatter what credibility he had with her. Nassat would find himself out of favor, and they could get back to the business of winning this damn war.

She stifled a sigh of resignation when her tactical officer jolted upright. “Admiral...I’m getting some odd readings…” he said in confusion, as he began tapping commands on his console.

“What readings?” Fujimoto demanded, leaning forward.

“I’m not sure,” the officer replied. “For a moment I thought I’d spotted…” He froze in horror, spinning in his chair to face her as he shouted out a warning.

“...INCOMING!”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 24

My father was a wolf
I'm a kinsman of the slain
Sworn to rise again
I will bring salvation, punishment and pain
The hammer of hate is our faith
Power and dominion are taken by the will
By divine right hail and kill

Manowar - "Hail and Kill"

There’s an old Earth legend that tells it best:

A horse, having a wolf as a powerful and dangerous enemy, lived in constant fear of his life. Being driven to desperation, it occurred to him to seek a strong ally. Whereupon he approached a man and offered an alliance, pointing out that the wolf was likewise an enemy of the man. The man accepted the partnership at once and offered to kill the wolf if his new partner would only cooperate by placing his greater speed at the man’s disposal. The horse was willing and allowed the man to place bridle and saddle upon him. The man mounted, hunted down the wolf and killed him. The horse joyful and relieved thanked the man and said, “Now that our enemy is dead, remove the bridle and saddle and restore my freedom.”

Whereupon the man laughed and replied, “The hell you say. Giddy-up Dobbin!” and applied the spurs with a will.[1]

After ten years, the Triumvirate horse now despised its rider.

Not all of them, of course. There were many that looked upon the Humans as saviors, while others shrugged and accepted them as a necessary evil. But there were those that chafed at the changes mankind had wrought on their perfect society, longing to see them put back in their rightful place. In the quiet places of the Tetrarchy, they spoke in hushed tones, far from human ears, debating one idea after another how to retake their civilization from the upstart usurpers.

Only there was one small problem they kept running into...the usurpers had all the guns. Not to mention the proven will to use them.

When the Khonhim returned for Round 2, this time focusing their attacks on the humans, the old guard rejoiced as if delivered manna from Heaven. With the upstart apes hobbled, life could once again return to the idyllic perfection they had known before the barbarians had stormed the gates. The fleet sent to Sol after the destruction of Earth Force...with the assistance of an anonymous donor...was the culmination of their plans. All they needed was the final signal to kick things off.

After all...timing is everything.

Admiral Fujimoto stared in horror as thousands of red icons appeared on the display. The shouted alarm from Tactical had given her only a few seconds warning, not enough time to mount an effective defense. Her fist smashed the emergency icon mounted on her armrest as she shouted, “Red Alert! All ships, weapons free!”

She had honed their skills for years, overseen their training, turned the fledgling Tetrarchy Navy into a professional service worthy of the name. Their ships and weapons were best they could design, manned by a crew that had taken her lessons to heart. Hélène would have stacked them up against any foe, past or present.

If only they’d had time to prepare.

Her universe exploded as dozens of missiles detonated against Zaaronq’s hull, tearing away great gouges of metal and exposing entire decks to the vacuum of space. They fought to bring their guns to bear against the enemy, only to have them blasted into debris. The fleet began to break apart, scattering in the desperate hope to stay alive, only to have the hunters run them to ground.

It was a slaughter.

They didn’t go down without a fight. Despite the incredible odds against them, they clawed back with everything they had. Several ships of the Khonhim fleet joined the Tetrarchy in death, while many more were grievously wounded. It was only because of the damage inflicted by the doomed task force that allowed any of their brethren to escape, their survival bordering on the miraculous.

But as any veteran will tell you...miracles come with a price.

Nassat could only listen to the screams and shouted orders coming over the com, often cut off in mid-sentence, unable to intervene. The perimeter was holding for now, but that was the least of his worries. Without the fleet, there was no way to return home, and without its protection, the Khonhim could take them at will. They had no ships, limited weapons, and supplies, outmanned and outgunned at every turn...but even that was not his greatest fear. Raichret was aboard one of those ships. He did not know if she was alive or dead...and he hadn’t even had the courage to say goodbye when he’d snuck off like a thief in the night.

And there was now the strong possibility he’d never get the chance ever again.

Lin was at his side, steadying him without a word. He could see the desperation in the eyes of every soldier who had followed him on his fool’s crusade...thankful to be alive, but recognizing it was only a momentary reprieve. Their turn would come, as certain as the sunrise.

“...Nassat.”

It took several moments to register, as he turned towards the voice. Jiyazh gazed at him, his expression unreadable, while his human guards hovered in the background. He looked at the Khonhim warrior, as desolation filled his soul.

“We cannot stay here,” the former Dhyaksh said. “By maintaining the perimeter we are a target for the fleet above our heads.”

His words were grim confirmation of the hopelessness of their situation. “What do you suggest?” he asked in desperation.

“We must disappear into the terrain,” Jiyazh said. “Break up into smaller groups, and scatter in all directions. Infiltrate the nearby cities and villages, and use their presence to shield us from Chugaz Uydan’s forces. This is the only way we will survive.”

Lin nodded in agreement. “Guerilla warfare,” he chimed in, giving the strategy a name.

Nassat took a deep breath. “They will hunt for us,” he said without emotion.

“Yes, they will,” Jiyazh concurred. “But for the clever warrior, there are ways to turn the enemy’s advantages against him.”

A cold smile appeared on Sergeant Lin’s face. “Damn right there are,” he said, hefting his rifle, “and humanity has spent thousands of years learning every dirty trick in the book.”

It wasn’t much...in fact, it was almost nothing at all. But for a desperate man, a flickering candle can seem like a raging bonfire.

“Very well,” he said at last, “...do it.”

Admiral β 892 Sine ζ had grown tired of the charade, of playing the smiling lackey to the barbarians. But his superiors, the former ministers cast aside by Leandra Singh, had insisted he stand by until all was in place. Surprise was the key to their strategy, and though they had convinced the humans they were their staunch allies, the ministers had ordered him to hold until they gave the command. It was obvious they were waiting for something, but waiting for what? It made no sense to him, but it was obvious he was not privy to all their plans. There were still the Triumvirate worlds to be reclaimed, so perhaps they were delaying until they had completed their other preparations.

Whatever the reason…the moment had come at last.

The Admiral’s metal form lacked the ability to express emotion, in fact, even the concept was poorly defined in his race. They knew happiness, and sorrow, hate, and fear, but somehow they seemed diluted in the Ronin, compared to the biological species.

Now, however, he could have danced with joy.

He settled into his chair, gazing at the displays. “It is time,” he informed his crew, as they readied themselves for battle. The Khonhim attack of Earth had been as thorough as it had been brief, all but wiping out the various satellites and installations orbiting the planet. The few that had survived had been hastily repaired, forming the nucleus of the shipyards now housing the skeletons of Earth’s replacement fleet. It would be the work of many months before they were completed...except they would never give them that chance.

“This is Admiral β 892 Sine ζ to all ships in the Task Force,” he said with great satisfaction.

“Target the shipyards...and fire.”

1. Isaac Asimov, Foundation

The Barbarian War - Chapter 25

You got the world on its knees
You're taking all that you please
You want more! (You want more!)
But you'll get nothing from me
You're like the burden we bear
You love the hate that we share
You want more! (You want more!)
But you'll get nothing from me
But enemies! Enemies!

Shinedown - “Enemies”

Prime Minister Singh stared at the communiqué in shock. “Dear God,” she whispered, as the other ministers moved towards her. “The fleet we sent against the Khonhim homeworlds...it’s...it’s…” Her words trailed off into silence.

Minister Thrassath took the note from her hands and scanned its contents. “Merciful Creator,” he whispered, “they have been ambushed.”

“Are there any survivors?” Minister Ω 445 Intersect Γ asked.

“...we don’t know,” Leandra replied, taking a moment to compose herself. “The message was...interrupted.”

Thrassath was about to respond when the doors burst open. Half a dozen Security officers pushed their way in, taking position in front of the exit as their sergeant stepped forward. “Prime Minister, I regret that I must place you and the others under arrest,” he said in measured tones.

“Under arrest?” she said in disbelief. “On what charge?”

“Treason, Prime Minister,” he answered...and as Leandra looked closer it was impossible to miss the expressions on their faces. None of them seemed to regret a thing, in fact, they appeared to be gleeful.

Warning bells started going off in her head, as the other ministers began to squawk in protest. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, silencing the others with a wave of her hand.

“May I see your warrant, Sergeant?” she asked, stretching out her hand.

“Of course,” the sergeant replied, unable to hide the smirk from his face as he handed it over...only to freeze in place as he felt something cold pressed under his chin.

His warning cry died on his lips, as Leandra mashed the barrel of her hideout gun against his throat and pulled the trigger.

The officers behind him stared in shock as he crumpled to the floor, but she was already firing at her next target. Two more went down before they turned and ran for the door behind them, seeking cover, as Leandra grabbed Minister Byzaagaab by the arm.

“Come on!” she shouted, dragging her away.

“...what is happening?” Minister Thrassath screeched, as the Security goons began returning fire.

“It’s a goddamn coup!” she howled, firing another round at their attackers. The shot went wide, but the officers ducked just the same. It was obvious they hadn’t been expecting trouble and were now scrambling about, unsure what to do. It wouldn’t last for long, eventually they’d regroup, and it was doubtful she could hold them off forever. “Get to the Emergency exit!” she screamed at them.

“...but...it must be a mistake!” Minister Ω 445 Intersect Γ wailed.

“You’ve got two choices,” she snarled, firing another round, “come with me and live, or stay here and die!”

Despite their terror, it only took the ministers a split second to make up their minds, hurrying behind her as they raced for the exit.

The missiles provided by their anonymous benefactor raced away from the task force, closing the distance to the shipyards in a handful of seconds. They were of Khonhim manufacture, scavenged from the previous war, designed to give the Tetrarchy forces plausible deniability. They would claim the enemy had fired them from stealthed Khonhim ships...and once the Earth Force ships were destroyed, they could clamp down on the planet’s population, all in the name of “Security”.

After all, it wasn’t the first time they’d engineered a coverup. The last one had held up for ten thousand years.

The shipyard’s defenses were minimal, nowhere near enough to prevent their destruction. The missiles bored in, detonating with pinpoint accuracy, the explosions wiping out the half-completed vessels, the yards and repair facilities...and the thousands of workers who had once called it home.

There were no cheers on the flagship as they wiped out the human installation, for that was not their way. But the self-satisfied smiles on the faces of Admiral β 892 Sine ζ and his crew spoke far louder than any words could have managed. They had done it. Despite the odds, they had come to the Human homeworld and broken them.

As they congratulated one another in hushed tones, the communications officer turned to face the Admiral. “Sir, I am receiving a transmission,” she said, “...from Admiral Matevosian.”

Conversation ground to a halt, as the Admiral nodded. “On screen,” he ordered.

As the human’s image appeared, Admiral β 892 Sine ζ launched into his rehearsed report. “Admiral, stealthed Khonhim fighters have infiltrated the system. We are attempting to locate them as we speak.”

Matevosian glared at him in return. “Do you think we’re stupid, Admiral?” he snarled. “We have a dozen satellites in orbit dedicated to keeping an eye on you, and they’re all reporting the same data...that you fired on the shipyard!”

Admiral β 892 Sine ζ leaned back in his chair. “Your satellites are in error, Admiral,” he said, “but I can assure you, we will deal with the guilty parties.”

“You can count on it, you traitorous son of a bitch,” Matevosian snapped. “We’re disseminating the data as we speak. If you thought you could keep this hidden, you thought wrong.”

“I believe there is a saying among your people,” the Ronin replied, as amusement crept into his voice. “History...is written by the victors.”

Matevosian sneered in disgust. “Do you believe we humans haven’t faced your kind before? It’s happened so many times in our past the words we use for traitors are taken from their very names. Judas, Quisling, Benedict Arnold...oh yes...we know your kind quite well.” A thin cold smile appeared on his face. “Which is why we have learned to take...precautions.”

“It would appear, Admiral, that your so-called ‘Precautions’ have failed,” as all pretense disappeared. “Your ships are destroyed. We’ve beaten you.”

“Have you now,” Matevosian replied. “Tell me Admiral...just who do you think designed your ships?”

A growing sense of horror began to dawn on the Ronin Admiral, as the human showed his teeth.

“Goodbye, asshole,” Matevosian smirked...as every ship in the task force exploded in brilliant balls of flame.

Tango was nestled in the crook of a tree, high above the others, scanning the horizon with her scope. “We’re clear,” she whispered into her mic, as those on the ground huddled in conference.

“Our best chance is here,” Jiyazh informed them, highlighting a spot on their HUD displays. “Two days travel, perhaps three. It will be difficult for them to track us in the swampy terrain, and we can resupply at our destination.”

Sergeant Lin tugged on his ear. “Food and medical supplies, maybe, but we burned through a lot of ammo during the breakout. I figure we’ve got enough left for one or two engagements before we’re forced to throw rocks at them.”

Nassat grimaced at his words. “Suggestions?” he asked.

“Traditionally, guerrilla forces have taken their weapons from their enemy,” Musashi replied.

All heads swiveled back to Jiyazh. “It will not be easy,” the Khonhim warrior said after a moment. “There is no depot within range we could raid, and even if one were available, it would be well guarded. I doubt we have the strength to launch a successful attack.”

Nassat gazed at the map, and then looked around at the others. They were exhausted, after thirty hours of nonstop movement and combat every one of them was dead on their feet.

But as he scrutinized their faces, what he saw was resolve. They would find a way through this, or they would die in the attempt. Nothing else mattered.

He turned his attention back to the map and highlighted a nearby section. “Here,” he said with growing confidence. “We lure the forces tracking us to this location, and then…”

“...we ambush the bastards,” Lin smirked.

“Providing us with the weapons we need,” Musashi nodded.

“Assuming we are successful,” Jiyazh pointed out. “They will look for such a trap.”

“Then we must be clever,” Nassat smiled...though it did not touch his eyes.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 26

Run, you better, run you know
The End is getting near
Feel the wind of something hard
Come whistling past your ear
As they try to get you
Where it will upset you
Down
Now you know what I mean

Chicago - “Someday”

“What is this place?” Minister Thrassath asked as he looked around the small suite of rooms.

“Safehouse,” Leandra explained, “one of several we have scattered around the Capitol.” She held her hideout gun at her side as she peered out a window. “I don’t think they followed us.”

“Safehouse?” Minister Ω 445 Intersect Γ asked. “What does that mean?”

The Prime Minister took one last look outside, before slipping her weapon back into her robes. “A bolt hole, in case things get bad.” She sighed and sat down. “Back when we first made contact with the Triumvirate, we knew we weren’t beloved by the populace. It seemed like a good idea to have places to hide our people if you suddenly declared them persona non grata.”

Minister Byzaagaab just stared at her. “You mean you’ve had these ‘Safehouses’ in place for over a century?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Doesn’t that seem...well...paranoid?”

“Human paranoia just saved your ass,” Leandra said. “If I hadn’t had my weapon with me, we’d either be rotting in a prison cell awaiting sentencing...or worse.” She gave the ministers a withering look. “Your kind has had it good for so long, you can’t imagine anything else. Even the last war was barely a blip on the radar for you, wasn’t it?” Her companions found it difficult to meet her gaze, as she nodded. “Us humans, on the other hand, know all too well how things can go to hell in a handbasket. Our history is filled with one self-inflicted horror after another, and if we’ve learned nothing else from it, we at least learned how to prepare for the worst.”

An awkward silence filled the room, as the ministers looked at one another. “Our apologies,” Thrassath said at last, speaking for the others. “We did not mean to sound ungrateful. It is just...never in a million years did we ever consider the need for us to flee for our lives.”

“I still do not understand why,” Ω 445 Intersect Γ lamented. “Who were those officers? Why did they try to arrest us? Who sent them?”

“I don’t know who’s behind this, but finding out has top priority at the moment,” Leandra vowed. “As for why...you know as I do the ‘New Order’ has more than its fair share of detractors. I’m willing to bet one of them is behind it.”

“So what do we do now?” Byzaagaab asked. “We can’t just stay here.”

“For now, we can,” the Prime Minister assured her. “There’s food, beds, all the necessities. But you’re right, staying here isn’t a long term solution.” She rose to her feet and pressed a hidden button underneath the countertop. A concealed panel slid away, revealing a monitor and communications console. “First thing we need to do is check in,” she informed them, as she powered up the system.

“Is that safe?” Thrassath asked.

“As safe as we can make it,” Leandra replied. “Shielded and encrypted by some seriously paranoid technicians.” She turned and gave the others a smirk. “They make me look like a naive schoolgirl.”

The ministers stared at each other as they parsed the implications of that statement, as Leandra began to speak. “Control, this is Sheranee, checking in. Verification code Epsilon Delta one niner seven five Xi Sigma Tau.”

There was a pause before a voice came back on the com. “Copy, Sheranee. Stand by for Level 2 Authentication.” There was another pause, and then, “...What is the color of Aslan’s eyes?”

Leandra chuckled, and replied, “Aslan has no eyes, Control.” The ministers drew back in unison from her as she laughed. “Aslan was a stuffed toy I had as a child. The eyes were torn off when I was little, and never replaced.”

The ministers breathed a sigh of relief, as Control responded. “Confirmed, Sheranee. Thank God you’re safe. What’s your status?”

“I’m at the Hilton Hotel, along with Larry, Moe, and Curly,” she answered. “Someone’s goon squad tried dragging us off to the Bastille. They were...discouraged. Requesting extraction and exfiltration.”

“Easier said than done, I’m afraid,” Control replied. “Have you been monitoring the broadcasts?”

“Too busy trying to stay off the radar,” Leandra replied. “What’s happening?”

“Easier if I just show you,” Control answered, as the display came to life.

“...Sectors Three, Nine, Fourteen, and Twenty-One have been sealed and declared off-limits to nonresidents,” the announcer reported, as the others crowded in to view the images. “We are now reporting clashes near the Ministry buildings and other government facilities. We ask all citizens to remain calm during this crisis and to stay indoors. Renewed fighting has broken out in Sectors Eleven and Twelve, and we urge all residents in those blocs to avoid confrontation with Security and the Anarchistic elements responsible for attacks throughout the Capitol. The authorities are subduing and apprehending the individuals responsible for the current state of unrest. To repeat, Sectors Three, Nine, Fourteen, and Twenty-One…”

Leandra turned off the sound, as the message started over. “The authorities?” Ω 445 Intersect Γ asked in shock. “I thought we were the authorities.”

“Not at the moment, it seems,” the Prime Minister said. “Control, do we know who’s behind this?”

“We know who’s claiming responsibility, at least,” the voice replied. “The original Stooges released a joint statement, declaring we forced them by our actions to take back control of the Ministry. They’re alleging the current government is guilty of Treason...and they’re pointing their fingers at Earth.”

“God damn it,” Leandra swore. “The relief task force we sent.”

“Copy that,” Control said. “We’ve received a message from Earth Force...what’s left of it, that is. Matevosian activated the Hindenburg Protocol after they destroyed the shipyards.”

Singh closed her eyes, bowing her head. “...Jesus...” she whispered. “And Fujimoto? Nassat? Have we heard anything from either of them?” she got out.

“Nothing,” Control replied. “It’s possible they’ve gone silent.”

“Sure,” she said, not believing a word of it. “But until then…”

“...until then, we’re defenseless,” Control finished, confirming her worst fears. “Sheranee...what are your orders?”

Leandra could only stare at the display, as the sheer scope of the disaster threatened to drag her down into the abyss. The Tetrarchy was wide open, with nothing to stop the Khonhim onslaught, and unless some miracle was waiting in the wings to save them, it doomed all four of their races.

But then her gaze hardened, as she lifted her head. “My orders?” Leandra repeated. “Until we can stabilize the Capitol, our hands are tied. We must take back the government...by any means necessary.”

“Understood,” Control replied in a quiet voice. “We’ll mobilize what we can.”

“Take no action until I give the word,” she instructed them, “and have Support rig a direct line to the media. Don’t tip our hand until we’re ready.”

“We’re on it,” Control informed her. “Until then...stay put. You’re safer there than anywhere else.”

“Let me know when everything’s in place,” Leandra ordered. “Sheranee out.”

She turned to face the ministers, who looked back in despair. “It’s hopeless, isn’t it?” Byzaagaab whispered in anguish.

“Hopeless?” she sneered. “Let me tell you something, Minister...my people have faced far worse situations than this. We survived then, and we will survive now.” Leandra grimaced, as some of her bravado dissipated. “But I won’t lie to you...there are dangerous times ahead.”

The three ministers looked at each other before Ω 445 Intersect Γ spoke up.

“Then it is fortunate the most dangerous predators in the quadrant are on our side,” he said at last.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 27

Gen'rals gathered in their masses,
Just like witches at black masses
Evil minds that plot destruction,
Sorcerer of death's construction
In the fields the bodies burning,
As the war machine keeps turning

Black Sabbath - “War Pigs”

Dhyaksh Chugaz Uydan gazed around the cabin at the gathered warriors and smiled.

The flagship Resolve hovered in orbit over the planet Ghakh as they celebrated their victory over the Tetrarchy forces, but then he had never been one to rest on past glories. While they deserved their moment, this meeting was about something very different.

Planning for Phase Two.

“Be seated,” he ordered, as they found their chairs. “It has been a hard-fought campaign, but at long last, we have fulfilled all our objectives. The enemy fleet has been shattered, the humans neutralized, and now their very government has fallen into disarray. The way is clear, my fellow warriors, to finish what we began ten years ago. We wasted ten long bitter years suffering the ignominy of defeat.” The warriors and clan leaders nodded their heads in agreement, as they relived those rancorous times.

Chugaz rose to his feet. “Nothing lies in our path now. No one can stop us from fulfilling the Pact, and this time…” His lips drew back, baring his teeth, “...this time, we destroy the enemy, once and for all.”

The warriors roared their approval, and he let their adulation wash over him. “When we advance to the ancient lands, we will not repeat the mistakes of the last crusade. We will not linger over the planets we conquer, bloodying our blades on the surface...not when our ships can reduce each world to ash. We will sweep through the old Triumvirate like a hot desert wind, leaving nothing in our wake. And then…and only then...will we plant our boots upon their Capital’s soil. When every world is barren and lifeless, that is when our victory will be complete. Not before.” He gazed at each of those seated. “If you have visions of choking the life from our enemy with your bare hands, put those dreams aside. They have no place here...for that very impulse doomed the crusade. It will not happen again...not so long as I am Dhyaksh.”

The warriors' response was far more restrained at his announcement, though it contained nothing new. The Khonhim were a hot-blooded race, and far too prone to cling to the old ways in his opinion...and as Dhyaksh, his opinion was the only one that mattered. So many of the old warriors clung to traditions that had no place aboard a modern warship. As satisfying as watching your enemy die on your blade might be, leveling their cities from orbit was far more efficient. They might not like it, but as long as he kept handing them one victory after another, they would accept it.

Of course, if he could not provide them with such victories, that could prove problematic.

Those at the table nodded in agreement, though the odd grumble could be heard if one listened. Chugaz chose not to, as long as they obeyed his orders he could accept their bruised egos. Let them grumble. His actions...his victories...spoke for themselves.

He sat back down, leaning back in his chair, as he prepared for the briefing. They had a great deal of ground to cover…

“...and what of the Humans?” a voice demanded.

All talk ceased, as they turned in unison to face the speaker. Chugaz’ eyes narrowed, as he located its source. Azhum Ganakh. He should have known. Once he had been one of his staunchest allies, but of late he had grown silent at these meetings. As long as he did not oppose him openly he had been willing to overlook his lack of resolve, but it would seem his leniency was about to end.

“We have dealt with the humans,” the Dhyaksh replied. “We have destroyed their fleet, wrecked their planets, and crippled their ability to rebuild. They now view their erstwhile ‘Allies’ as an even greater threat than ourselves.” He allowed himself a small chuckle, though there was little actual humor in it. “This war was never about them. They were merely...in the way.”

“As long as they live, they are a danger,” Azhum warned. “Despite their best efforts, they are still the only warriors of note in their alliance...and we ignore that threat at our peril.”

“And just how are they a problem for us?” Chugaz smirked. “Without ships, and without weapons? Were we foolish enough to land on their worlds, perhaps...but that was never a part of the plan.” He kept his tone light, for if he were to give the others the impression he took this upstart seriously, there could be...complications.

Azhum seemed unwilling to give even an inch of ground. “You have done all that you promised, Dhyaksh,” he said, “but I must ask, at what cost?” He held up his hand and began ticking off his fingers, one by one. “Dzach. Gzuj. Zhis. And now, Ghakh. We may have defeated their fleet, but their forces still ravage the planet below.” He snorted. “Any more victories like that, and they may force us to surrender yet again.”

“Losing those worlds was regrettable but necessary,” he replied...but inside he seethed with fury. To be confronted like this? It was unacceptable. Chugaz nodded to himself, as he reached a decision. Azhum had become a liability, but he could not afford to deal with him now. As Dhyaksh all that he did was scrutinized, and if his political enemies smelled blood, they would pounce as surely as a carnivorous predator would take down lamed prey. No...this required subtlety. Simple enough, and he had handled similar problems in the past the same way.

One day soon, Azhum would just...disappear.

“We are Khonhim,” Chugaz said, “warriors from birth. There is no battle without sacrifice, and without sacrifice, the battle has no meaning...or did you think we would wage this war unopposed?” His reply cut with sarcastic precision, earning smirks and chuckles from those at the table...but as he watched their reaction, he could see others consider Azhum’s words. Oh yes...his days were most definitely numbered.

“Calling what happened to those worlds “Battle” is to stretch the word into a shape unrecognizable,” Azhum fired back. “Try instead…sacrificed, like tokens on a board.”

The room grew quiet as the grave, as he lay the challenge bare at last. “Choose your next words with care, Azhum Ganakh,” Chugaz hissed, “or you too will taste my blade.”

Azhum froze, as he realized he had taken a step too far. Glancing at those around him it grew obvious that what support he might have for his position was slender at best, and growing weaker by the moment. Should he declare his opposition now, he knew his remaining existence would be short indeed.

But as the moments ticked on, he began to comprehend that last step had been fatal. Chugaz was a skilled warrior but few of his enemies died on his blade. Quite the opposite, instead they suffered accidents...if one could use the word to describe an orchestrated demise. It flew in the face of everything the Khonhim had once stood for, but then the Dhyaksh was cut from a very different cloth than his predecessor. Jiyazh Ghuuyaz had obeyed the ancient customs of their people, and it had cost him dearly, but no one had ever accused him of cowardice or slipping a blade into the back of the unwary. No one accused Chugaz of such things either...not if they wished to continue drawing a breath.

“...my apologies, Dhyaksh,” he said at last. “I spoke rashly, and beg your forgiveness.”

Chugaz gazed at him with flat, cold eyes, and in that instant, Azhum knew what his future foretold. The Dhyaksh let the moment draw out, before giving him a curt nod of abeyance...but it was a lie, and both men knew it.

The briefing resumed once more, as their commander began outlining his plan...but in his mind…Azhum began making plans of his own.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 28

Young men, soldiers, nineteen fourteen
Marching through countries they'd never seen
Virgins with rifles, a game of charades
All for a Children's Crusade
Pawns in the game are not victims of chance
Strewn on the fields of Belgium and France
Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade
All of those young lives betrayed
All for a Children's Crusade

Sting - “Children's Crusade”

“...are you saying you won’t support us, Admiral?” Leandra demanded, her tone growing more heated.

“No, Prime Minister, I’m saying that I can’t,” Admiral Matevosian replied, “for several reasons.”

She forced herself to take a calming breath, before responding. She and the other ministers were still taking refuge in the safe house, as rioting and crackdowns continued in the Capital. The forces under her command that she could rely on were still far too few to attempt a rescue, at least until things were a little more settled. There were plans in the works to deal with the unrest, but until they were ready she wasn’t prepared to go off half-cocked. At least Control had been as good as its word, rigging a secure com net that allowed her to speak to Earth, but it wasn’t enough. Besides, she had bigger problems.

“Then why don’t you explain them to me,” she fired back, cursing her rising temper yet again. Cabin fever was getting the better of her.

“Ever since this latest attack, things have taken an ugly turn,” he answered. “The relief force was supposed to be aiding us, and they did provide us supplies...at first. But even then, there was a rather vocal element denouncing the idea of having aliens in charge of guarding Earth. We kept them on a short leash, as long as the task force was ministering to our needs.” He sighed and shook his head. “But once they attacked the shipyards…”

“...the leash came off,” Leandra whispered.

“With a vengeance,” the Admiral said. “If you think what you’re seeing at the Capital is bad, it’s nothing compared to what we’re facing here. There isn’t a city on the planet that hasn’t seen full-scale rioting, and it’s not much better in any of the remaining colonies.” He shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable. “It’s gotten so bad it has forced us to put all Triumvirate citizens into protective custody.”

“What?” she said in shock.

“It was the only way we could keep them alive, Prime Minister,” he said. “I have two whole divisions surrounding the camp, keeping our own people at bay. And...I’m hearing some disturbing rumors from the rank and file. A growing number of those same guards openly suggest that they’re pointing their weapons in the wrong direction.” He held up his hand before she could respond. “I have things under control for the moment, but I don’t know for how much longer I can say that.”

“Dear God,” she whispered. “Admiral...you must keep them safe. They aren’t responsible for what happened. This is the work of a single faction, and in time I know we can contain them. But if you gun down non-humans for the crimes of their brethren…”

“I know,” the Admiral said. “We’re doing the best we can, but I’m telling you now, the pot is ready to boil over.” He shrugged. “That’s why I can’t send you any support. Any humans we send to restore order aren’t likely to discriminate...they’ll just declare open season and start shooting everybody.” Matevosian sighed once more. “Besides, it’s a moot point anyway. We lost every ship under construction when the shipyards were destroyed. There’s nothing left to send.”

Leandra was about to respond when an idea struck her. She leaned back in her chair, an odd expression playing about her face.

“...actually Admiral, that’s not entirely true,” she said with a wry smile.

Graybird grimaced as he double-checked his equipment, before shaking his head. “I’m sorry Sir, but there’s been no response. Bravo Two-Two hasn’t acknowledged coms in over forty-eight hours.”

Nassat closed his eyes. “Perhaps they’ve had a malfunction,” he said.

The Hacker put on a brave face. “Yes, sir. That could be it,” he answered, but as he looked up at the Marshal, they both knew the truth. Bravo Two-Two...and the dozen soldiers still under his command...were gone.

The Saurotaur turned away, seeking privacy, though there was none to be found in their latest hiding spot. An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the Khonhim township had provided refuge for the last few days, but they couldn’t stay much longer. Even though they’d sought locations as near as possible to population centers for protection from the enemy fleet, it increased the likelihood of being spotted by residents on the ground. The longer they stayed, the worse the odds. Better to keep moving.

Nassat found a corner behind the human sniper Tango and sat down. She wouldn’t interrupt his thoughts as she kept watch, in fact, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her speak two sentences in a row since they landed. She was focused, even for a human.

Another team gone. He’d lost track of how many it was now, but even one would be a tragedy. They’d scattered to the four winds after breaking out of the perimeter, and they’d hurt those that had come after them, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, not when you counted those they had lost. Sergeant Lin and Musashi had both done their best to school him in the realities of guerilla warfare, but each lesson was a bitter pill. By definition, a guerilla fighter was lacking in weapons, in support, in all the things he took for granted serving in the Tetrarchy forces. The humans believed in the philosophy “Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it,” and had passed that concept on to their Triumvirate pupils.

Now they were learning a very different doctrine, one they called “Using all parts of the buffalo.” Nassat still didn’t know what a buffalo was. He hadn’t thought to ask. Not that it mattered.

He glanced up as someone took a seat beside him. Jiyazh. He sighed, and closed his eyes, not wanting to engage in conversation. Somehow the Khonhim warrior sensed this, and remained silent, for which he was grateful. Words seemed hollow just now. Perhaps they always had been.

His mind searched for solace, as images of his wife and children appeared in his imagination. Raichret. Was she even still alive? Would he ever see his children again? Would they grow up as orphans, while his bones rotted in a grave on a distant alien world? Or worse...would the Khonhim allow them to grow up at all? Nassat winced, shaking his head. Not even in the privacy of his own thoughts could he find peace.

“...huh.”

Nassat opened his eyes, searching for the source of the odd articulation. A quick glance at Jiyazh proved he was just as curious, as they both turned their attention to the alcove’s only other occupant.

“Have you spotted something?” Jiyazh asked.

“...I think one of your buddies is lost,” Tango said. “He’s just standing out in the open, holding some kind of a banner.” The sniper rifle was snugged into her shoulder. “Easy target.”

Jiyazh all but leapt to his feet. “What kind of banner?” he demanded.

“...just a plain black flag,” she replied. “Mean anything?”

Nassat rose as well. “Have they spotted us?” he asked the Khonhim.

“...perhaps,” he said, in an atypical voice. “It is a flag of parley.”

A sudden sinking feeling threatened to overwhelm him. “They are asking for our surrender.”

“No...I do not think so,” Jiyazh said. “If our pursuers had found us, they would not bother with such a convention. They would simply open fire.”

Nassat stared in confusion. “Then what?”

“I do not know,” Jiyazh said after a moment, “...but I believe someone should speak to him.” He turned to face Nassat. “By displaying the banner, he is guaranteeing safe conduct. Not even Chugaz Uydan himself would dare violate this custom.”

The Saurotaur considered that for a moment, and nodded. “If he has something to say, then we should hear his words,” Nassat agreed, “though I wonder how he found us.”

“Then let us ask him,” Jiyazh said with a crooked smile, as the two of them began heading for the building’s entrance.

“...not without me, you’re not,” Sergeant Lin said, as he appeared out of nowhere. Nassat and Jiyazh stared at him dumbfounded, as he hefted his weapon. “Tango sent me a feed of your conversation,” he explained. “We have...an understanding, you might say.”

Nassat raised a questioning eyebrow, as Jiyazh chuckled. “By all means, we welcome your company, Sergeant,” his eyes twinkling with good humor, as the three of them stepped out of the warehouse.

It was a short walk to the low hill where the lone warrior waited. He gazed at the three of them...Human, Saurotaur, and fellow Khonhim...before turning his attention to the latter. “Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz,” he said. “I have been searching for you.”

“I am no longer Dhyaksh,” he replied. “Why have you sought me out, under a banner of parley?”

A cold smile appeared on his face. “My name is Azhum Ganakh. I believe we should talk...that is if you wish to defeat Chugaz Uydan.”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 29

There must be something worth living for
There must be something worth trying for
Even some things worth dying for!
And if one man can stand tall
There might be hope for us all
Somewhere, somewhere in the Spirit of Man

Jeff Wayne’s "War of the Worlds" - “The Spirit of Man”

Sergeant Lin scowled at the Khonhim, before turning to Nassat. “Sir, I’m telling you, I think this is a bad idea. The whole thing sounds like a damn setup to me.”

Jiyazh seemed unperturbed by the outburst. “I understand your concerns, Sergeant, but Azhum Ganakh has assured us that…”

“...and what good are his ‘assurances’?” Lin fired back. “You don’t even know this guy! For all we know he could be leading us into a trap!”

“But what if he is not?” Nassat replied. “If we do not take this chance, what does our future hold? Stranded far from home, on an alien world, without support...if Chugaz Uydan wishes us dead, he need not lift a finger. Time alone will see to our demise as we are whittled down, bit by bit until nothing is left.”

Lin remained unconvinced. “Even if he isn’t setting us up, it’s still one hell of a gamble. Suppose everything breaks the way we want it to. All we’ll have done is gain a few allies, who’ll still be massively outnumbered. It’ll just take a little longer before they finish killing us.”

“Not necessarily,” Musashi said after a moment’s thought. “There is a historical precedent for this. Prior to the Battle of Sekigahara, Tokugawa made secret alliances with several of the daimyō affiliated with his enemy. In the middle of the battle, they switched sides, securing his position as Shōgun of Japan.”

“Such is also our way,” Jiyazh nodded in agreement, “or it was, prior to our invasion of the Triumvirate.” He and Nassat shared an uncomfortable look before he continued. “Our loyalty was to the clan, and changing allegiances in mid-battle to secure a better position was common. It was only the Great Crusade that united us into a single force, and when it failed, it was Chugaz Uydan’s empty promises that held them together after I chose exile.”

“Not so empty, if he pulls it off,” Lin muttered.

Jiyazh turned to the sergeant. “I know these men. Yes, Chugaz Uydan has given them victories, but we have paid for them with innocent blood. A third of our worlds now lies in ruins as a ruse to lure the Tetrarchy in.” He shook his head. “He spends the lives of those sworn to him like water, not caring about the cost. He spits upon the very traditions that we hold dear...all in the name of ‘Victory’.” Bitterness tinged his every word. “Victory at any price is too high a price to pay, Sergeant. It is only the lack of a viable option that keeps them at his side. Give them that option, and I am certain many will take it.”

Nassat rose to his feet. “We have no other choice. If any of our races are to have a future, then we must take this chance...or else watch our worlds burn, one by one.”

Lin looked at the faces of the others, all set in resolve, and sighed. “Ah...what the hell. Not like I had anything else planned.”

Jiyazh laughed, clapping him on the back. “Spoken like a true warrior. We will make a Khonhim of you yet!”

“...wonderful,” Lin said.

“So, how do we do this?” Nassat asked.

“We wait for Azhum Ganakh’s signal,” Jiyazh explained. “He will ensure they hear our voice...not only throughout the fleet but on the homeworlds as well. It will take time for Chugaz Uydan to track down the source of the transmission. With luck, it will be long enough for those listening to make their choice.”

“And then all hell breaks loose,” Lin said.

“Even if it delays his efforts, that would be a victory,” Nassat replied, “though I pray your words fall on fertile soil...Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz.”

“As I have said before, I am no longer Dhyaksh...” Jiyazh reminded him, only to have the Saurotaur cut him off.

“...you can no longer hide behind that fiction,” Nassat said. “If your people are to choose, then give them a real choice. You must declare Chugaz Uydan a false leader, a usurper...and reclaim the title for yourself.”

“The King is Dead...Long Live the King,” Musashi grinned.

The Khonhim’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea the position you place me in?” Jiyazh demanded...only to blink in confusion as the others dissolved into laughter.

“...I believe I may have some small inkling,” Nassat said.

“Are you ready to do this?” Leandra asked the others.

“We can delay no longer,” Minister Thrassath said. “If we are to put an end to this chaos, then it must be now.”

“The people must know the truth,” Minister Ω 445 Intersect Γ agreed, “for as long as they divide us, we leave ourselves vulnerable to the Khonhim horde.”

“We stand with you,” Minister Byzaagaab said with no small amount of pride. “If we learned nothing else from Humanity, we know there are some causes worth the risk.”

Leandra closed her eyes, as she reflected on just how far they had come. A decade ago she could never have imagined a moment like this one, where after so many long years, humans were being accepted as equals. Not out of fear, or need, or reluctance...simply an acknowledgment that they too had something to offer. Something special.

“...then let’s do this,” she said at last, once she was sure she could trust her voice. The four ministers seated themselves, facing the camera in their makeshift studio. While it might lack the grandeur of the Ministry chambers, its simplicity would make a much more powerful impact. Revolutions aren’t begun in palaces.

Though occasionally, they end there.

“Are you ready Control?” she asked.

“Ready,” Control replied. “Preparing to break into all communication channels in five...four...three...two...one.” A red light signaled they were live, as they put on their professional faces.

“Good evening,” Leandra said with quiet confidence. “I am speaking to you now to address the unrest that has crippled our society...a crisis brought on by those that would turn back the clock to a simpler time. A time when the Triumvirate knew only peace...and a time when Humanity was held at arm’s length. I know many of you long for those innocent days, and it might surprise you to learn that I too wish we were not faced with the dilemmas that plague us now...even if it meant my people taking a subordinate role once more.”

She shook her head, displaying all the gravitas she could muster. “But it is an immutable law of nature that we cannot go back, no matter how much we may wish we could. Those that claim otherwise are selling you a lie...the same lie they told you again and again, for ten thousand years. That all is well, that there is nothing to fear, although we all know now the ugly truth. The truth that safety is an illusion, that Fate can intercede and turn one’s life upside down...or even end it forever.”

Leandra took a deep breath and leaned forward. “The truth is this...the Khonhim are coming. Those that claim otherwise are at best dupes and pawns...and at worst, traitors, aiding those that would murder you in your sleep. Perhaps they have convinced themselves of the lie, as they did once before. Or perhaps, they do not care. Should the worst befall us, I guarantee you will not count their corpses among the dead, for their kind never allow themselves to suffer the same fate as those they would rule. They will slip away into the night like thieves, and leave you to your doom.”

Her jaw set in a hard line, as she drove it home. “To the former ministers Lassoarth, Σ 121 Sub Δ, and Qomzoixaa, I say this now. Run. Run now, while you still can. Run far, and run fast, and you may avoid the fate you deserve.” Her eyes narrowed, her predatory binocular vision glaring into the camera, as she bared her fangs.

“To those that serve the usurpers, the betrayers of all that is just, and good...lay down your arms, and we will forgive your actions. Do it now, for this amnesty will not last forever.”

“And finally, to those of you listening, wondering what is the right course of action…this is your call to battle. Take back what is yours. Fight for what you believe in, and for those you swore to protect. And anyone that would stand in your way…no mercy.”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 30

I raise my flag, and dye my clothes
It's a revolution, I suppose
We're painted red to fit right in
I'm breaking in and shaping up
Then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the Apocalypse

I'm waking up
I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my system blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
I'm radioactive, radioactive

Imagine Dragons - “Radioactive”

Jiyazh entered the captured communication center and looked at the others. “We have just received word from Azhum Ganakh,” he informed them. “It is almost time.”

“Very good,” Nassat nodded. “Are we ready on this end?”

Graybird crawled out from underneath a console. “I’ve got everything wired back together,” he said, wiping off his hands. “Next time, try not to shoot up the actual objective, please?”

The others looked somewhat chagrined. To broadcast Jiyazh’s message they needed a transmission site with enough power to reach the Khonhim fleet, and after scouring the maps of the area they’d found a suitable location. Unfortunately, it was a military installation, and the warriors guarded with its protection had not been inclined to listen to reason. They’d fought to the last, in true Khonhim fashion, and the battle had damaged the very equipment they’d hoped to use. Much of it had been repaired easily, but one of the key components had required replacement. No spares were to be found anywhere, forcing Graybird to cannibalize what he needed from other systems and jury rig the contraption together. It seemed to be holding...for now.

Nassat acknowledged the rebuke with a nod, before turning his attention to Jiyazh. “Your words must inspire the warriors now sworn to Chugaz Uydan to turn and betray him. Have you prepared a speech, something that declares how he has failed them?”

Jiyazh shook his head. “That is not our way. A true leader speaks from the heart, not the head when he is calling them to battle. I am sure the words will come to me as I need them.”

Lin and Musashi both looked askance. “It takes someone with a rare talent to pull that off,” the Sergeant said. “You sure you don’t want Musashi to whip something up? Maybe ‘Blood, toil, tears and sweat’, or ‘Give me Liberty, or give me death’?”

“I have done this before,” Jiyazh said with a smirk. “I will be fine. Besides, there is no more time.”

“Right,” Nassat agreed. “We will be just outside, listening in. Good luck, Dhyaksh,” he said with a wry smile, as he ushered the others out.

Jiyazh managed not to roll his eyes as he took his place. Less than a minute later, an image appeared on his display. “All is in readiness, Dhyaksh,” Azhum Ganakh informed him. “I am unsure how long I can prevent Chugaz Uydan from interrupting the signal, so speak quickly,” he said.

“I am ready,” Jiyazh said. “Establish the link.”

“...broadcasting to all units…now,” Azhum Ganakh said with determination.

The Khonhim warrior took a moment, allowing those watching to recognize his face. “I am Jiyazh Ghuuyaz,” he said in preface. “Once you called me Dhyaksh, as we sailed from our homeworlds on the Great Crusade. We struck a blow in memory of our forebears, but a final victory over the Triumvirate was not meant to be. In my shame I stepped aside, choosing exile, to allow the Khonhim a choice. I had hoped my successor would lead our people to greatness...but to my great sorrow he has only led you to your deaths.”

He paused, letting that sink in. “Yes, he has claimed victory over the humans, but that is a lie. Those of you who fought at my side know just how cunning and resourceful an enemy they are, and most their race lives still...their hearts now filled with righteous fury. Just as we have not forgotten the wounds we suffered, so long ago, neither have the humans. They will stop at nothing to avenge their dead, and Chugaz Uydan knew this. Knew it, and used that knowledge to lure their fleet in, sacrificing the worlds of Dzach, Zhis, and Gzuj on the altar of his lies. Billions of Khonhim dead...and for what?”

He shook his head, as both hands gripped he console. “Chugaz Uydan has betrayed the Khonhim by his very deeds. He soils the title he wears by his actions...and I can stand by no longer.”

Jiyazh rose to his feet and pointed a finger at the camera. “I accuse you, Chugaz Uydan, of treachery, and avow you are unworthy of both your title and position. I challenge you to face me on the field of honor...unless you fear my blade.” His lip curled up in a sneer as his eyes blazed with anger. “Let the Khonhim see what sort of leader you are...once and for all,” he snarled, as his hand came down to end the transmission himself.

The others could only stare in shock. “...did he just challenge him to a duel?” Lin got out.

Nassat barged into the communication center and glared at Jiyazh, who returned his gaze with aplomb. “I thought you planned to convince your people to rise against Chugaz Uydan...not demand he face you in single combat,” he said with quiet anger.

“It is our way, Nassat,” Jiyazh said. “By challenging him I have forced his hand. Either he agrees to face my blade, or they will brand him a coward and strip him of his title...perhaps even his life.” He smiled at the Saurotaur, who could only shake his head in disgust.

“And if he kills you?” Nassat demanded. “What then?”

“Chugaz Uydan is no warrior,” Jiyazh scoffed. “A politician, an assassin...but not a warrior. On the field of honor, he will taste my steel.”

“Uh-huh,” Lin said. “I think you’re overlooking one minor detail.”

“And what is that, Sergeant Lin?” Jiyazh replied.

“...that he’ll cheat,” Lin shot back. “I can think of a dozen ways for him to game the match without even trying. If he’s the man you say he is, I guarantee he’ll ensure you never walk off that field alive.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Jiyazh growled, “not with our people watching. To do so would violate our most sacred traditions...not to mention it would be an admission of cowardice. He would never keep the title Dhyaksh were he to attempt such a thing.”

Lin just stared at him. “You can’t be that naive,” he said.

“I am inclined to agree with the sergeant,” Nassat said quietly. “In warfare, I have learned to trust his instincts. Besides, you described him as an assassin. Why would he not use those talents now, with so much at stake?”

That gave the Khonhim pause. “...then it will be up to the rest of you to watch him,” he said at last. “Should he make the attempt, you must prevent it from happening.”

“You could still lose anyway,” Nassat pointed out. “It may be unlikely...but we have known such things to happen.”

“Should I fall in honorable combat, it would mean I was unworthy,” Jiyazh said gently. “It is our way. If we are to succeed, then this is how it must be.”

Lin groaned and turned to Musashi. “You talk some sense into him.”

Musashi just shrugged. “You’re wasting your time,” he explained. “This is a cultural institution so ingrained in their psyche, they can’t think about it rationally. My advice? Start planning how we’ll keep this on the up-and-up.”

“Easier said than done, I would imagine,” Nassat said.

“Have faith,” Jiyazh smiled. “Once I have defeated Chugaz Uydan, our struggles will be at an end.”

“Get your team ready,” Lin hissed to Musashi, “...especially Whisper. He might be crazy...but he’s the kind of crazy we’re gonna need.”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 31

Well, I won't back down, no I won't back down
You can stand me up at the gates of Hell
But I won't back down
No, I'll stand my ground, won't be turned around
And I'll keep this world from draggin' me down
Gonna stand my ground
And I won't back down
Hey baby, there ain't no easy way out
Hey I will stand my ground
And I won't back down

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers - “I Won't Back Down”

The races of the old Triumvirate were about the furthest thing imaginable from the notion of wild-eyed radicals. Until the first Khonhim War their society had gone unchanged for millennia, and even its introduction to Humanity had caused barely a ripple. Stability, order, tradition, caution, and an almost ruthless preservation of the status quo had been their watchwords for as long as anyone could remember.

The war changed all that, as wars do. With Humanity’s star now in ascension, change came at a breakneck pace, as one revered institution after another came crashing down. Even by human standards, the metamorphosis was a radical one, driven by the need to create a military force from scratch and the support structures essential to keep it supplied and operational. For species long used to the static civilization of the Triumvirate, the Tetrarchy came rushing at them like a fever dream.

As predicted, many were unhappy with this turn of events.

It was that same frustration that had fueled the Ministers' coup d’état and the attack on Earth. When Admiral Matevosian destroyed the Triumvirate fleet, the Ministers lost their greatest offensive power. Still, they had the support of the masses, those same individuals who had chafed against their society’s upheaval.

Except...those same individuals had spent ten years growing accustomed to the new changes. They still didn’t care for them, but they were at least used to them. They had learned to grit their teeth and...in the parlance of humanity…“Go with the flow”. It was an adjustment, but one they were coming to terms with.

Then the Minister’s Coup came along and upended the applecart. Again.

The irony of the situation was as thick as molasses. By giving the people what they’d thought they wanted, a return to simpler times, they had attacked what the masses craved…stability. The chaos that followed the coup left them simmering with rage, but it was a rage without direction, or focus.

Leandra Singh’s speech gave them that focus.

“This has to be the most well-behaved riot I’ve ever seen,” Leandra remarked, nonplussed.

She and the other ministers stood in the plaza in front of the Ministry building, flanked by security officers they knew they could trust. Beyond them, thousands of Tetrarchy citizens milled about, drawn to the heart of the government by her words, but unsure what to do next. The Ministry had security forces of their own guarding the entrance, and so far, no one had been willing to attempt a breach. For now, it was a standoff.

“I thought this is what you wanted,” Thrassath said in confusion. “They took to the streets.”

She fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. “This is supposed to be a revolution, not a Volksmarch,” Leandra lamented. “If I’d known they were just going to come out and enjoy the fresh air, we could have had it catered.”

Byzaagaab shrugged. “You must understand, this is all new to us. We have no experience in overthrowing governments.”

Leandra pointed an accusing finger at the Ministry building. “They figured it out,” she shot back, “Why can’t you?”

“Prime Minister...while we understand your frustration, the situation is unlikely to change,” Ω 445 Intersect Γ said, “...unless someone were to go out there and lead them.”

The three ministers looked at her, as she raised her head to the heavens. “Vishnu...grant me strength,” she groaned, before looking back at them. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth, before marching over to one of the security officers. Several were carrying handheld voice amplifiers for crowd control, devices much more compact than the bullhorns of old. Within minutes she had claimed one for herself and had clambered upon an abstract sculpture, surveying the crowd.

“LISTEN TO ME!” she shouted, her voice echoing across the plaza. “What the Hell is wrong with you? Do you think they will just give you back your freedom? Do you?”

The crowd stared back at her, though those nearest to her began shaking their heads.

“DO YOU?” she screamed again, and this time she could hear muttered “No’s” coming from her audience.

“DO YOU?” she howled, as she cranked the volume to maximum.

“NO!” the mob shouted back, finding their voice.

“Damn right they won’t,” she snarled, dialing the volume back down. “Let me tell you something humans learned the hard way, long ago...that freedom isn’t free. It is bought and paid for with the blood of those willing to fight for it. No one will give you your freedom...you have to reach out and take it.”

From somewhere in the back, a chant began. It was muffled at first, but it spread across the courtyard as others joined in, the sound rising and swelling like a tsunami.

FREEDOM!
FREEDOM!
FREEDOM!

Leandra threw out her arms as if to embrace them all, before whirling around and pointing at the Ministry building. “And there, in that building, are those that would deny you your freedom! Are you going to accept that? Are you going to roll over like good little slaves, and let them? Or are you going to fight?”

The roar of the crowd slammed into her like a hurricane.

FIGHT!
FIGHT!
FIGHT!

“THEN FOLLOW ME!” she screamed, hopping off the sculpture and striding towards the Ministry, with the crowd swelling behind her. She could feel their fury as they swept forward, sweeping up everything in their path, and as they reached the steps the Ministry guards shrank back in fear, eyeing the mob. Without pause Leandra mounted the steps, heading straight for the guard commander, stopping mere inches from his position, with the throng pressing in close behind her.

A hush fell over the crowd, as she addressed the guards.

“You have a choice,” she said. “Lay down your arms and join us, or…” She turned to face the mob, a cruel smile on her face, before returning her attention back to the commander.

A cheer rose from the congregation, as the guards disarmed themselves. Her own security snatched up the weapons, keeping them out of the hands of those that might be tempted to use them indiscriminately. Leandra turned and faced the crowd once more.

“Surround the building!” she shouted, “Let no one escape! The rest of you…follow me!”

The crowd surged forward yet again, sweeping her along as they raced for the elevators. They packed the cars to capacity and beyond, before flying up to the top floor, disgorging their passengers with Leandra still leading the pack.

The Ministry Chamber was just as she remembered it...apparently, they hadn’t quite gotten around to redecorating. She flashed back to all those times she had approached these same Ministers as a supplicant years before, begging for scraps, only to be rejected at every turn. Her lip curled, baring her teeth, as she marched forward.

She sure as hell wasn’t begging this time.

Amazingly, they were still in the chamber. Leandra had been certain they would have fled for safety by now. Maybe they thought they were safe here. Untouchable.

Oops.

The trio stared at the crowd in panic, as Qomzoixaa produced a sidearm and tried to point it in her direction. His hand trembled like a leaf, unfamiliar with the deadly weapon, as Leandra rolled her eyes.

“...bitch, please.”

With two long strides, she was on the dais, raising back her arm and slapping the weapon from his hand. It skittered away across the floor as the trio stood frozen in fear.

“Lock them up,” Leandra commanded, pointing at the ministers. The mob reached out for them, as she was forced to interpose her body between the crowd and their new prisoners. “...in one piece, damn it,” she growled. “They’ll stand trial, according to the Law. They’ll be no lynching on my watch.”

Mollified, the crowd dragged them away with minimum jostling, as Leandra sighed in relief. She walked over to her chair and collapsed in a heap, shaking her head.

“Bloody amateurs,” she muttered.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 32

So prepare for the coup of the century
Be prepared for the murkiest scam
Meticulous planning
Tenacity spanning
Decades of denial
Is simply why I'll
Be king undisputed
Respected, saluted
And seen for the wonder I am
Yes, my teeth and ambitions are bared
Be prepared!

The Lion King - “Be Prepared”

“...Is all in readiness?” Chugaz Uydan inquired of his aide.

“Yes, Dhyaksh,” the aide replied, as he handed over a plain black case. “Your blade, as you requested, and the other items.”

Chugaz opened the case and removed the dagger, its steel glinting in the light. He could see no hint of the Ksabhox opiate along its edge. It wouldn’t kill Jiyazh Ghuuyaz, for that would be far too obvious, instead, it would slow him down enough to drop his guard. The former Dhyaksh was a skilled warrior beyond par, and anyone who faced him in a fair contest was at a distinct disadvantage.

Not that he had any intention of allowing the battle to be fair.

The other items in the case were carefully secreted on his person. Any of them could tip the balance in his favor, as only a fool kept a single arrow in his quiver. There was only one way this contest would end...with the death of Jiyazh Ghuuyaz.

“Then let us not keep my challenger waiting,” Chugaz said with a chuckle, as they headed towards the shuttle bay.

“Someone remind me again why I signed off on this insanity?” Lin complained to no one in particular.

“It is a little late to object to the plan, Sergeant,” Jiyazh jested, as they stood in the arena.

“I’ve been objecting all along,” Lin pointed out, “not that it mattered.”

“We had no other viable options,” Nassat said in resignation. “At least this contest gives us a fighting chance. And it allowed us to retrieve the other teams...the ones still alive,” he said.

It had taken several hours, but Chugaz Uydan had responded to Jiyazh’s challenge. The protocol involved was rather complicated, filled with many arcane traditions and curlicues. One right granted to the challenger was safe passage for his clan to act as a witness...which in this case he asserted was the ill-fated unit that had accompanied him to the surface. It had caused some debate, claiming they were acting In Loco Gens, but they had wrangled the necessary permissions. He had also arranged for transport, and as the survivors began to arrive, they realized just how badly they’d been hurt.

Musashi raised an eyebrow at Nassat’s comment but said nothing. Instead, his attention was on the arena itself, as ancient as the Coliseum in Rome, as it filled with Khonhim warriors. He stepped away from the others and whispered into his mic. “Musashi to the team. Are you in position?”

“...in position,” Tango replied. “Have eyes on the crowd, in a good hide. The only way they’ll find me is if they trip over me.”

“Systems up and running,” Graybird chimed in. “I’m tapped into their coms. They try and pull a fast one, I’ll whistle for the cavalry.”

“I thought we were the cavalry,” Whisper laughed.

“Knock it off,” Musashi growled. “You all tucked in?”

“Snug as a bug,” Whisper giggled. “Just say the word.”

“Copy that,” Musashi replied, glancing up as the sound of a shuttle on approach caught his attention. “Target is inbound,” he informed the others. “We are a Go.”

The shuttle eased down into the arena, as the main hatch opened. Chugaz Uydan stepped down the short gangway, flanked on either side by his retinue, as he strode towards the center of the amphitheater. All traces of humor vanished from Jiyazh’s face as he strode out to meet him, with Nassat and Lin in tow. Musashi himself hung back...the tradition only allowed two others on the field to act as the Khonhim equivalent of “Seconds”, leaving him free to coordinate the teams if Plan A went to shit.

As far as he was concerned, “Plan A” had gone out the window the second Chugaz Uydan agreed to their terms. There was no way that snake would play by the rules.

After disgorging its passengers, the shuttle lifted off once more and settled a short distance away, just outside the amphitheater. The two groups stopped a couple of meters apart, in the center of the arena.

“Chugaz Uydan,” Jiyazh said, inclining his head.

“Jiyazh Ghuuyaz,” the Dhyaksh sneered. “It has been a long time.”

“Far too long,” Jiyazh agreed. “We should have settled this matter years ago.”

The Dhyaksh glanced at Nassat and Lin, as his sneer grew wider. “Consorting with the enemy. And yet you dare impugn my honor.”

“You do not know the meaning of the word,” Jiyazh fired back. “I will, however, be glad to teach it to you.”

Chugaz scowled. “Enough talk.” He pulled his dagger from its scabbard. “I have a war to win.”

Jiyazh held up his hand. “Not so fast.” He motioned to Sergeant Lin, who stepped forward with a case of his own, flipping it open to reveal a pair of matched blades. “To ensure the contest is based on skill,” he said. “Choose.”

The Dhyaksh’s scowl deepened. “You insult me yet again, Jiyazh, by accusing me of deception.”

“I accuse you of nothing,” Jiyazh said. “It is, however, my right. Choose...or forfeit.”

Chugaz snarled in quiet fury, before handing off his dagger to his Second. He stomped over to where Lin waited and plucked both blades from the case, making a great show of inspecting both weapons. He made his choice, flipping the other knife at Jiyazh in a gesture of utter contempt.

Jiyazh caught the thrown blade by its handle, nodding to Nassat and Lin, as Chugaz gestured to his own Seconds. All four stepped out of the ring, taking up positions at the cardinal points marked on the earth.

Moving to a crouch, Jiyazh readied himself. “The field of honor is clear,” he intoned. “Only one may leave it alive.”

“You should have stayed in exile,” Chugaz said. “Instead, you will die impaled on my blade.”

“One of us will,” Jiyazh said.

Chugaz sneered at him once more, working his way around him, sizing him up, while Jiyazh pivoted in place. Without warning the Dhyaksh screamed with rage, leaping into the air...driving the dagger straight at Jiyazh’s heart.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 33

They call us problem child
We spend our lives on trial
We walk an endless mile
We are the youth gone wild
We stand and we won't fall
We're one and one for all
The writing's on the wall
We are the youth gone wild!

Skid Row - “Youth Gone Wild”

There was no way for Jiyazh to block Chugaz Uydan’s charge. With over one hundred kilograms of body mass hurtling towards him, it would take someone far stronger than a Khonhim warrior to stand firm.

Which is why he avoided the attack instead.

Jiyazh pirouetted out of the way as Chugaz flew past him, delivering a wicked backslash that left a thin trail of orange blood along his ribcage. The Dhyaksh bellowed with pain and anger, spinning around to face him as danced clear of the follow-up attack. Jiyazh’s blade found nothing but air before he recovered and returned to his stance.

“First blood is mine,” he said.

Chugaz’s hand went to his side before he snarled and charged forward once again, whipping his blade back and forth before him like a buzz saw as he forced Jiyazh back. He gave ground, allowing Chugaz to flail away as they neared the edge of the ring, then dropped and rolled forward, coming in under the Dhyaksh’s knife arm for a disemboweling thrust.

Only to realize too late Chugaz’s attack had been a feint.

His offhand snapped forward, pointing at Jiyazh’s head as a tube concealed within his sleeve coughed, sending an invisible burst of vapor into his eyes. His arm came up as searing pain stabbed into his brain, protecting his face as he tried to scrabble away, with Chugaz close on his heels.

Jiyazh’s collapse did not go unnoticed. “Damn it,” Musashi cursed, as Tango chimed in.

“Got him in my sights,” she said. “Want me to take him out?”

“Negative,” he said, “We kill him now, and we’re the ones who interfered. Remain in Counter-sniper mode.”

“Copy,” Tango replied, as Jiyazh lunged back up to his feet.

The pain was excruciating, as he fought to clear his eyes. With his vision blurred Chugaz’s blade struck, again and again, stabbing into his arms and chest. Jiyazh backpedaled, desperate to put some distance between them, as he heard his enemy’s mocking laugh.

“Surrender, Jiyazh Ghuuyaz, and I will grant you a quick death,” he sneered, before bounding forward once more.

Jiyazh froze, his head canted at an odd angle, as Chugaz’s booted feet slammed into the earth during his charge. The Dhyaksh’s blade was held high as he came in for the kill...only to gasp in shock as Jiyazh’s hand blurred, hurling his dagger straight into his chest.

Sergeant Lin’s teeth flashed in fierce triumph as Chugaz staggered back, gripping the handle protruding from his ribcage and pulling it free as Jiyazh turned to face him. His eyes were red and swollen, but he tracked his opponent’s every movement with ease as he strode forward, his empty hands raised in a martial artist’s stance. Chugaz stumbled back in fear as Jiyazh stalked his prey, and in that moment, Lin knew the fight was over.

Chugaz screamed to the heavens as his hands slipped inside his tunic, before whipping them out to his sides. Nassat shielded his eyes as a blinding light and thunderous explosions filled the ring...as everyone around him vanished from sight.

“Flashbangs and smoke!” Musashi shouted, charging forward as he raised his carbine. “Weapon’s free!”

The amphitheater descended into chaos as both sides opened up. Tango’s rifle coughed again and again as she struck with deadly precision...when Whisper came bursting up out of the ground and leapt into the enemy horde, his blades flashing as he cut through the ranks like a berserk chainsaw.

“Where is Chugaz!” Jiyazh howled with fury, as he staggered out of the choking cloud of smoke.

“Does anyone have eyes on?” Musashi demanded, speaking into his mic when the whine of turbines whipped his head around. The shuttle lifted off and clawed its way into the sky, disappearing in a flash, as he snarled in impotent rage.

“Damn it...the bastard escaped.”

Chugaz hissed in pain as he slapped a dressing on his wound. The blade had cut deep into his chest but had missed the vital organs by mere fractions. It had not been the killing blow Jiyazh had hoped for but even blinded Chugaz knew his opponent had gained the upper hand. At that point, his death was all but inevitable, except that he had planned for this possibility. The grenades had camouflaged his getaway, buying enough time to board the shuttle and launch before anyone realized what happened.

Now to finish it, once and for all.

Nassat charged through the smoke, firing his sidearm, as they fought to take the amphitheater. The enemy was faltering, but there were several pockets of resistance holding firm, making them pay for every meter of ground. Sergeant Lin laid down a base of fire, driving them back, as Nassat leapt over a low wall and breached their defenses.

“Forward!” he shouted, firing once more before his weapon clicked on an empty chamber. An explosion knocked him off his feet, leaving him dazed, as a squad of Khonhim appeared out of nowhere and counterattacked, driving his allies back. He struggled to reload, but his movements were disjointed and uncoordinated. Nassat could only stare as they advanced, though as he watched a warrior’s head exploded in a fountain of orange gore, cut down by Tango’s sniper rifle. Another joined his comrade in death as they surged forward, but he was slow to respond, his brain and body numbed by the blast’s concussion.

Whisper slashed his way through a cluster of Khonhim like a scythe, fighting to get clear, his body spattered with alien blood, but there was no way he’d get clear in time. There had been a time, long ago, when he would have submitted to his fate, bowing his head and baring his neck as he waited for the end...but that individual no longer existed. Instead, he faced his enemy with open eyes, as Death came to claim him at last.

Something slammed into him, knocking him clear, as a furious burst of weapons fire echoed nearby. By sheer happenstance his fingers closed around a fresh magazine, slapping it into his pistol with practiced ease as he staggered back to his feet, searching for a target.

But as he looked around in amazement, there was none to be found.

Chugaz stormed onto the bridge of Resolve, throwing himself into his command chair. “Target the amphitheater on the planet’s surface, and fire,” he ordered.

The tactical officer stared at him as if he did not comprehend his words. With a wordless scream, he yanked out his sidearm and pointed it at his head. “Do as I command!” he howled...as Azhum Ganakh’s face flashed onto the display.

“...when two combatants enter the field of honor, only one may leave it alive,” Azhum said, “yet Jiyazh Ghuuyaz still lives.” His glare was impassive as he gazed at Chugaz. “How can this be, Dhyaksh?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“A detail I am rectifying,” he shot back, only realizing how it might look with his weapon drawn and pointed at the crew. He slid it back into its holster, but Azhum was just getting started.

“You would bombard your opponent, in a contest where only the steel of a blade is permitted?” Azhum sneered in disapproval. “You escaped justice on the planet’s surface by violating our most sacred traditions...and in doing so, revealed your true nature.” Raising his hand, he pointed at Chugaz. “I declare you a coward, and unfit to bear the title Dhyaksh...for only a warrior may claim that authority.”

“You insignificant insect,” Chugaz hissed, as he leapt to his feet. “You think to judge me? I, who have given you the victory Jiyazh could not? I should have dealt with you long ago.”

“Victory?” Azhum scoffed. “What victory? The Triumvirate worlds lie untouched. Your words are empty, and without meaning.” His nostrils flared as he glared at him from the display. “As worthless and threadbare as your honor.”

“ENOUGH!” Chugaz’ hands clenched in fists of rage. “You will submit to my authority, or you will die!”

“Then I die with honor,” Azhum said in contempt, as his face disappeared from the screen.

In all his years, Chugaz had never known wrath like he felt at that moment. He grasped the tactical officer and threw him to the deck, his fist slamming into the console as he triggered a missile launch.

“Kill them! All that oppose us!” he shrieked...as the fleet began to tear itself apart.

Flames licked the ancient structure, as Nassat stumbled over the body of a Khonhim warrior. The survivors of the brief battle looked to one another, exhausted and disoriented, as they struggled to regroup. Musashi made his way over to join him, shaking his head in resignation as they watched Whisper posing the dead enemy in some twisted tableau. Jiyazh spotted his actions and advanced on the maniac, with murder in his eyes, as Whisper raised his hands in supplication and backed away...giggling as he did so.

“You all right, Sir?” Musashi asked, tearing his eyes away from the bizarre scene.

Nassat nodded. “I was certain the end had come at last, but…” He froze for a moment, as a confused expression came over his face. “In fact, I am unsure how I survived.”

Musashi didn’t respond, as Nassat looked at him with a furrowed brow. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“…I think I know,” he said.

“Know what?” Nassat asked, more confused than ever.

“How you survived,” he somehow got out…as he stepped aside to reveal the body of Sergeant Lin.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 34

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell
Blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
Did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?

Pink Floyd - “Wish You Were Here”

Nassat knelt on the ground, his head bowed, in front of the mound of soil, his eyes closed as he murmured, while the others stood a respectful distance apart. They also bowed their heads as they kept vigil alongside the Saurotaur, as many of them echoed his benediction in their own words, each saying farewell to Sergeant Major Jehiel Lin.

Jiyazh remained silent, following the lead of the others, though he found the ritual to be a strange one. For the Khonhim, the death of a warrior who fell in battle was an occasion to be celebrated, not mourned. They would share many tales of their life, as friends and family came together to honor him, and while perhaps the rites were bittersweet, they were never sorrowful.

Nassat lifted his head and opened his eyes but showed no interest in moving. He stared at the simple marker they had erected, lost in his own thoughts, as the others glanced at one another, each unwilling to intrude on his grief.

Perhaps it was unsurprising that Jiyazh was the one who approached him, kneeling at his side, as they contemplated Sergeant Lin’s final resting place together.

“...the first time I met him, he terrified me,” Nassat murmured, as Jiyazh regarded him. “I had never known a human before, and as he screamed at us, I remember fearing for my life.” A brief chuckle escaped his lips, though he quickly suppressed it. “It all seemed so easy for him. So natural. As he trained us to fight, I knew I could never match his skills in battle.”

“Speaking as one who has fought both against and alongside you, I would disagree,” Jiyazh said after a moment.

Nassat shrugged off his words. “I was lucky. Nothing else.” A distant look came to his eyes, as he gazed at something only he could see. “On Uzaunx, when your forces bombarded us, he and I were the only survivors of our company. What we went through together…”

His voice trailed off, shaking his head as he tried to banish the ghosts. “I made him a promise that day. That when his time came...I would recite for him the Prayer for the Dead.” Nassat sighed, as he turned to face Jiyazh at last. “He was more to me than an advisor. He became my mentor...and my friend.” Nassat closed his eyes, and whispered, “And I shall miss him.”

Jiyazh turned to gaze at the mound of dirt. “...if he were here now, what advice would he give you?” he asked.

Nassat took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Do what you have to do,” he said, as he rose to his feet at last, taking up Lin’s battered rifle.

Scanning the ruined amphitheater, Jiyazh could only nod. “Words of wisdom indeed.”

Before he could respond, Nassat spotted Musashi and Graybird approaching. “Sir...you need to see this,” Musashi said without preamble, before glancing at Jiyazh. “You too.”

The Khonhim and the Saurotaur shared a look, falling in behind the humans as Graybird led them to his improvised commo bunker. They could see the face of Azhum Ganakh on the display, stained with soot and dried blood.

“Dhyaksh, we have little time,” he said in a rush. “Chugaz Uydan’s dishonorable actions have split the fleet in two. Many have turned against him, but he still commands most of the fleet. We waged a bitter battle but could not prevent his escape.”

“...he escaped again?” Musashi said in disbelief.

“Yes,” Azhum nodded. “Most of the fleet still stands with him. The rest have sworn themselves to your banner, Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz,” he said with a respectful bow.

Jiyazh nodded. “Where have they gone?” he asked.

Azhum paused for a moment, glancing at the others surrounding him, before responding. “He has set a direct course to the Triumvirate worlds.”

Nassat gritted his teeth. “We must stop him,” he said.

Azhum regarded the Saurotaur. “You ask much. Even those of us who have turned our backs to Chugaz Uydan have little love for your kind. Many of us hope he succeeds.”

“If Chugaz Uydan attacks, it will mean the end of our race,” Jiyazh predicted, his expression troubled. “Not today, nor tomorrow, but it will come to pass. Their nation is vast, and as he wages his war the humans will rearm themselves as quickly as possible, with whatever they can. He wounded them, but the wound was not a mortal one...and there is no more dangerous an opponent than one bent on vengeance.”

The Khonhim rebel looked as if he had bit into a lemon, but he did not refute his words. “What would you ask of us, Dhyaksh?”

Jiyazh took a deep breath. “We must bring an end to Chugaz Uydan’s reign...and to do so, we will require allies.” He regarded the others nearby with a wry expression. “Even if they were once our enemies.”

Azhum hissed through his teeth, before lowering his eyes. “It will not be easy, Dhyaksh...but those of us sworn to you will obey.”

“Send your shuttles to us,” Jiyazh commanded. “Once aboard we will set our course and pursue Chugaz Uydan...to the end of the galaxy if need be.”

“We will launch immediately,” Azhum vowed.

“Excellent,” he said with a thin smile, “for we have much to discuss.”

“We will be ready,” he assured him, before disappearing from the screen.

Space was at a premium aboard the Khonhim ship Dauntless, as they struggled to accommodate the new arrivals. The vessel bore many scars from its battle with Chugaz Uydan’s loyalists, but as Jiyazh scanned her with a practiced eye, he pronounced her fit and ready to serve. If only all his problems were as simple.

The Khonhim eyed their new Tetrarchy “Allies” with suspicion, a sentiment returned in full measure. Jiyazh and Nassat stood side by side as they struggled to contain the more dangerous elements from both camps, but each knew an uphill battle awaited them.

“Have you pinpointed Chugaz Uydan’s target among the Triumvirate worlds?” Jiyazh asked.

Azhum shook his head. “The distance is too great,” he admitted. “We could only determine the general direction.”

“Even if you had, there’s no reason he couldn’t change course at the last minute,” Musashi pointed out.

“We must contact the Tetrarchy, and warn them,” Nassat said.

“Without a specific target, a general warning could prove far more dangerous in the long run,” Jiyazh said. “We need more data.”

“At this range, more data will be difficult to come by,” Azhum replied. “We are already at the limitations of our equipment.”

“Then we must provide them with our best guess...and pray we are correct,” Nassat said.

Jiyazh turned to look at the map. “There must be many of those supporting Chugaz Uydan that do so only from inertia,” he mused. “He will want victories as soon as possible to maintain their loyalty...as many as he can, as quickly as he can.”

“If he manages that, it will tempt many of your own supporters to join him,” Azhum admitted. “Victory is a powerful narcotic.”

Nassat rose to his feet and studying the map, before pointing at a section of the display. “Here,” he said with sudden confidence, “the Chennoor cluster. A dozen worlds near one another. He could launch strikes on many of them before anyone could respond.”

Musashi nodded. “It’s only conjecture at this point...but I agree. If I wanted to rack up as many victories as possible, that’s where I’d strike.”

“It is better than nothing,” Nassat replied. “Will there be any difficulties in contacting the Tetrarchy?”

“I somehow doubt they will listen to anything we have to say,” Azhum said.

“Not necessarily,” Graybird interjected. “With a few modifications, we should be able to spoof a Tetrarchy signal...enough to get our foot in the door, at least.”

“Even if such a thing were possible, our ships will not be enough to stop Chugaz Uydan, and he has a significant head start,” Azhum said. “If we warn the Tetrarchy...do they have anything left to prevent his assault?”

All eyes turned to Nassat. He returned their gaze for a moment, before bowing his head.

“...I don’t know,” he whispered.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 35

I, I'm a new day rising
I'm a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
Do I stay or run away
And leave it all behind?

It's times like these you learn to live again
It's times like these you give and give again
It's times like these you learn to love again
It's times like these time and time again

Foo Fighters - “Times like These”

The worst of the crisis had passed but cleaning up the mess left by the Ministers’ coup would be the work of months, perhaps even years. Leandra had fobbed off as much of it as she could to others, instead focusing her efforts on what was coming. If the Khonhim were to attack now, they would cut through the Tetrarchy like a hot knife through butter, and there would be damn all she could do to stop them.

It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in this position, but to see the efforts of the last ten years just swept away almost brought tears to her eyes. They had worked so hard to avoid this...and it was all for nothing.

Leandra drew herself up and put those fears aside. This war wasn’t over yet, and she still had a few cards left to play. It didn’t matter that she’d put everything she’d had into the pot and found herself holding a pair of deuces. She’d play this hand out to the bitter end and accept the consequences, come what may.

The doors to the chamber burst open, as one of the communications staff came running towards her. “Prime Minister! You must come quickly,” he cried out to her, “We are receiving a transmission!”

“What transmission?” she demanded, rising to her feet.

“It is good to see you again, Prime Minister,” Nassat said, as Leandra leaned back in her chair.

“And you, Marshal,” she replied, eyeing his surroundings. “Interesting company you’re keeping these days.”

“They are our allies, Prime Minister, sworn to the banner of Jiyazh Ghuuyaz. He has vowed to remove Chugaz Uydan from power, by any means necessary,” Nassat explained.

“I see,” Leandra said, steepling her fingers. “And Admiral Fujimoto? The fleet?”

“We do not know,” Nassat said. “Many were lost. Perhaps all.”

The Prime Minister took that in, without revealing her thoughts. “They said you had a message for me.”

“Yes, Prime Minister,” Nassat said after a moment. “Chugaz Uydan and the bulk of the Khonhim fleet are enroute to the old Triumvirate as we speak. We believe they intend to begin their assault at the Chennoor Cluster.”

“...believe,” she said. “Do you have evidence to support this?”

Nassat grimaced. “No, Prime Minister...but we are all in agreement it is the most likely target.”

Leandra didn’t move a muscle, but it seemed as if her entire demeanor changed in a heartbeat. Her eyes narrowed as she fixed him with a piercing stare. “And you think we should position our forces there to head them off, is that correct?”

“Yes Prime Minister,” he replied, somewhat puzzled by her response. “It seems the most prudent course of action.”

She nodded, but there was a cool calculation to the gesture. “Do your allies agree with your assessment as well?”

“They do, Prime Minister,” he said in confusion. “Is there something wrong?”

“Just this,” she said, leaning forward. “Why should I believe a word you’ve said?”

Nassat blinked in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” she fired back. “We haven’t had contact with anyone from the fleet in weeks. You tell me Admiral Fujimoto is likely dead…after you asked my support to remove her from command. You yourself are transmitting from the bridge of a Khonhim vessel...our enemy, in case you’ve forgotten. And it was elements of the old Triumvirate races...including yours...that attacked Earth. So, there are two possibilities. One...that you have been taken prisoner by the Khonhim, and are now speaking under duress, or Two...that you have been an active co-conspirator with the former Ministers from the very beginning.” Her nostrils flared as she glared at him. “One makes you a pawn. The other makes you a traitor. So you tell me, Marshal...why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

His jaw dropped in shock. Nassat struggled to respond, but words failed him as Leandra pressed her attack home.

“You tell me to rush our forces to the Chennoor Cluster...without a shred of evidence to support it, I might add...to prevent an invasion. Let me tell you what I think is a more likely scenario...that the Khonhim will attack anywhere but Chennoor. I think this is nothing but a wild goose chase, a ruse designed to render our remaining forces useless.” She gripped the armrests, enough so that her knuckles showed white, as her eyes burned into his. “So I ask for the third time…why should I believe you?”

Nassat looked around for support, bowing his head as Musashi stepped into view. “Prime Minister, everything Marshal Nassat said is accurate. In fact…”

Leandra cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Every point I just made could apply to you,” she said. “Earth has a long and rich tradition of humans betraying their own kind.”

“Prime Minister…Leandra...I beg you to listen to me,” Nassat implored her. “You have known me for ten years. It was you that insisted I take on the role I have, despite my repeated objections. Were I the traitor you claim, would I have not sought those promotions?”

“In fact you did, Marshal,” she reminded him. “You may not have started out intending to betray the Tetrarchy, but people change...yours and mine.”

Nassat closed his eyes. “Raichret was aboard one of those ships,” he whispered. “Even now, I do not know if she is alive, or dead. Yesterday, I buried my mentor. He died saving my life. “He opened his eyes, pleading with her. “My very children claim you as family. Forget everything your head is telling you, and listen with your heart. You know me, Leandra...know me better than I know myself. I would sooner die than become what you claim...and if you look deep within yourself, you know that to be true. Please…help me. Help me save our people…all our people.”

Something in her expression softened as he spoke, but as he finished she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Nassat...but I can’t. Not without proof. I’m responsible for trillions of lives, and I can’t...I won’t...risk their safety on your say so.”

“Then at least put out scouts in the cluster’s vicinity,” he beseeched her, “something that will give you enough advanced warning when Chugaz Uydan’s forces draw near.”

Leandra’s professional mask was back in place. “Given the circumstances, it would be inappropriate to discuss with you the details of our military strategy,” she said, “but all defensive measures available to us will be put to good use.” She looked as if she were about to say something else, but bit it off before it passed her lips. “Unless you have some shred of evidence to support your claims,” she said at last, “I am ending this conversation. Good day.”

And with that, her image disappeared.

Nassat could only stare at the blank screen in dismay, as Jiyazh regarded him with sympathy. “So...it would seem we are both traitors,” he said without humor.

He looked up at the Khonhim, his eyes wide and desperate. “How could she believe that of me?” he asked.

Jiyazh sighed. “Nassat...she made the right decision.”

“What?” he all but shouted. “How can you say that? You know it isn’t true!”

“It does not matter what I know,” Jiyazh said, “you must consider it from her perspective. Every point she made was a valid one. Can you tell me that if your positions were reversed, you would not react as she did?”

Nassat thrust out his chin. “I hope I would remember to trust my friends,” he said with a hint of anger.

Jiyazh snorted in dry amusement. “That is your first mistake. At the level you and I are at now, we have no friends...only temporary allies, supplicants, and enemies.”

“I refuse to be that cynical,” Nassat shot back, as Jiyazh barked out a laugh.

“Not cynical…realistic,” he chuckled...as klaxons began to scream.

“What is happening?” Jiyazh demanded, as his tactical officer looked up at him.

“Unidentified ships on an intercept course!” the officer shouted...as Dauntless cleared for battle.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 36

All our times have come
Here but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
We can be like they are
Come on baby, don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly, don't fear the reaper
Baby I'm your man

Blue Öyster Cult - “Don't Fear the Reaper”

There’s was a moment’s hesitation as Jiyazh looked to Azhum Ganakh. Dauntless was his ship, but a simple gesture decided the question of command. Azhum bowed his head and stepped aside, leaving the way clear, as Jiyazh all but leapt into the command chair and turned to the tactical officer.

“What do we have?” he demanded, as the officer threw the plot onto the main display.

“Readings are indeterminate, Dhyaksh,” he said, “but there appears to be from ten to twenty vessels bearing down on our position. They are jamming our sensors.”

Nassat and Musashi stared at the screen and then turned to one another. “Do you think it could be…” Musashi said in disbelief.

“...it must,” Nassat said, before facing Jiyazh. “It has to be Admiral Fujimoto’s fleet,” he informed him, as a surge of hope filled his chest.

“Perhaps,” Jiyazh replied, as he gazed at the display. “It is also possible this is one of Chugaz Uydan’s tricks.” Without missing a beat he turned back to Tactical. “Ready all weapons, and prepare to fire.”

“What? No!” Nassat shouted as he rushed to Jiyazh’s side. “Let me speak to her,” he begged, “I can convince her to stand down.”

“Can you?” he asked. “If that is Fujimoto, then she will react as the Prime Minister did. More so, in fact...seeing as the very ships she now faces are the same ones that devastated her command. There is a very good chance she will not believe you.”

“I must try,” Nassat pleaded. “My wife is on one of those ships!”

Jiyazh grimaced, and then glanced at the tactical officer. “How long until we are in weapons range?”

“Thirty seconds, at current velocities,” the officer responded.

The Dhyaksh gave a curt nod and mashed down a button on his armrest. “That’s how long you have to convince her,” he said, “or until she opens fire.”

Nassat wasted no time with pleasantries. “Admiral Fujimoto, this is Marshal Nassat. We are aboard one of the Khonhim vessels you are now attacking. Stand down!”

Nothing.

“She thinks it’s a trick,” Musashi said.

“...fifteen seconds,” Jiyazh informed them, watching the countdown. “Unless you can stop her, I’ll have no choice but to fire.”

Nassat wracked his brain, trying to think of something…anything...that would make her listen. All he needed was a minute, but unless she gave that to him…

“...your father!” he shouted in sudden inspiration. “You said he would have liked me, and that his biggest regret was that you did not share his faith. He perished in the attack on Earth, in the city of…of...” He ground to a halt, struggling to recall the name of the human city. He remembered reading the report of the metropolitan centers lost, but that had been weeks ago, and the human names felt strange to his tongue.

“Five seconds,” Jiyazh intoned, as the ship’s officer prepared to launch weapons.

Dear Creator, what was it? It was like another city in name, he could almost see it…

“...Kyoto!” Nassat exclaimed as the human word came to him. “Hélène, please, stand down!”

Jiyazh raised his hand, as he prepared to give the order...when the attacking ships swerved hard to port, avoiding the Khonhim vessels. Nassat held his breath as the Khonhim leader fixed his attention on the screen, watching for any hint of aggressive intent...before lowering his hand. “Tactical, maintain weapon’s lock, but do not fire,” he ordered, as the Saurotaur Marshal breathed a sigh of relief.

“It is only a temporary reprieve,” Jiyazh said. “Unless she states her intentions to be peaceful, I will fire,” he vowed without hesitation.

Moments later, the communications officer looked up. “Dhyaksh...I am receiving a transmission from one of the enemy ships. They wish to speak to Marshal Nassat.”

“On screen,” he ordered.

The image wavered, as the likeness of Admiral Fujimoto replaced the tactical plot, Nassat gasping in shock at her appearance. Her face was heavily bandaged, covering one of her eyes, and her normally pristine uniform was stained and torn...but worst of all was the empty sleeve, pinned up at her shoulder.

“You have ten seconds to prove your claim before I destroy you,” she snarled.

Nassat swallowed, and stepped forward, with Musashi at his side. “Admiral, it is all true. The Khonhim have split into two camps...the loyalists, following the flag of Chugaz Uydan, and the rebels, under Jiyazh Ghuuyaz.” He turned to show Jiyazh sitting in his command chair, eyeing her without expression. “Chugaz Uydan’s forces are headed for Tetrarchy space as we speak.”

“Dissension in the ranks does not make them our allies, Nassat,” she fired back. “Why should I trust him...or you?”

“I could say the same of you, Admiral,” Jiyazh said. “I have not forgotten how you treat your ‘Guests’.”

The two glared at one another, as Nassat stepped in between them. “Admiral, please...let us return to your ship. We can discuss this in greater detail, and show you our recordings.” He paused for a moment, and then asked, “Admiral...may I speak to Raichret? Is she unharmed?”

Hélène’s face was carved from granite. “I will consider your request...on two conditions. First...that all individuals transporting over are unarmed.”

“Agreed,” Nassat said in a rush, nodding his head, drawing sullen looks from those around him.

“And second...that Jiyazh transports over as well,” she demanded.

The Dhyaksh rose to his feet. “And become your hostage once more? I think not,” he all but spit out.

“If you think for one second I’ll allow you to remain in command after what your fleet has done to mine, you are very much mistaken,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Allow?” Jiyazh barked out a harsh laugh. “What makes you believe you are able to ‘Allow’ me anything?” he growled back...as once again Nassat watched the two of them ready to go to battle over a point of honor.

The last time he had witnessed them preparing to go for one another’s throats, he had attempted sweet reason to sway them, and mostly he had been successful. But the young naive sergeant who had played peacemaker between them was long gone...and the Saurotaur who stood before them now was cut from very different cloth.

“ENOUGH!” Nassat thundered, glaring in fury at each of them. Two heads swiveled as one, as Jiyazh and Hélène both stared at him in shock.

“Are both of you so determined, so filled with hate, that you will destroy each other?” he demanded. “Fine. We can arrange that. We can transport you both somewhere, with a stack of weapons high enough to satisfy both your murderous urges and let you slaughter each other!” Nassat scowled at each of them and to his amazement, each of them looked somewhat abashed. He pointed his finger in what he thought was the direction of the Tetrarchy, allowing them to taste his full and righteous wrath.

“There is where the enemy lies,” he glowered, “and the two of you are handing him victory! Have you learned nothing? He wants you divided!” His chest heaved as adrenaline coursed through his veins. “Neither of your fleets can survive against him alone, and I will not lie, even together, our odds of success are slim.” Nassat drew himself up, as he faced each of them. “But we have faced greater odds before, and prevailed, so I refuse to surrender to fear and hate. So make your choice, here, now...will you stand together, or will you battle to the death?”

The silence on Dauntless bridge was deafening, as those in attendance stared at the Saurotaur in stupefaction. Whisper grinned as if he had witnessed the funniest pratfall ever, and even Tango gave him a smug smile of satisfaction. But Nassat refused to budge, standing his ground, as he waited for their response.

“...I will come to your vessel, Admiral,” Jiyazh said at last, breaking the silence. “I will even come unarmed...but I will have four warriors at my side, and they will be armed.” His eyes narrowed, as he enunciated each following word. “I will not remain as your prisoner. I will return here after we finish our discussion, where I will continue to command these ships.”

Hélène’s posture was as still as a steel bulkhead, as she eyed Jiyazh with suspicion. “Very well,” she got out, “...but you and your warriors will be will be under armed escort at all times...and that is not negotiable.”

Jiyazh bared his teeth in a predator’s fierce grin. “I would not have it any other way, Admiral,” he said with reckless élan. “Our shuttle will be within range in an hours time.”

“Looking forward to it,” she shot back, as she flashed her own incisors in return.

As the freak adrenaline surge began to fade, Nassat still had a question burning in his mind. “Admiral, now that we have avoided wholesale slaughter...for the moment, at least...may I please speak to my wife?” he asked in much calmer tones.

The Admiral regarded him for several long moments, before rising to her feet. “Marshal Nassat...I regret to inform you that the Tetrarchy vessel Clara Barton was lost, with all hands.”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 37

You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal,
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me,
I've been alone all along

Evanescence - “My Immortal”

“...so tell me, just how fragile is this ‘Alliance’?” Leandra Singh challenged the two commanders. “If it comes to a showdown between the Tetrarchy and Chugaz Uydan, will you both stand with us? Or will you be too busy tearing each other to pieces?”

Admiral Fujimoto and Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz eyed each other, something that did not go unnoticed by the Prime Minister. Nor did the room full of armed humans and Khonhim behind them.

“That’s an excellent question, Prime Minister,” Hélène mused. “You know where I stand.”

“I do, Admiral...but you know what they say about a bird in the hand.” Leandra steepled her fingers as she marshaled her thoughts. “Chugaz Uydan’s forces are the greater threat, but the ships under Jiyazh’s command are the same ones that shattered your fleet. Are you certain you’re not thinking about getting a little payback? Perhaps, when his attention is elsewhere?”

Jiyazh raised an appraising eyebrow as the Admiral stiffened in her seat. “Prime Minister, I can assure you I understand my priorities. Whatever personal feelings I may have on the subject, my duty is to protect the Tetrarchy at all costs.” She turned and faced the Khonhim warrior once more. “After the battle, however...we shall see.”

The Prime Minister’s professional face was firmly clamped down as she took that in, before turning to Jiyazh. “And you, Dhyaksh?”

“Unless we destroy Chugaz Uydan’s forces, my life, and the lives of those sworn to my banner, are forfeit. I have as much an interest in seeing him defeated as you do.” His face was neutral as regarded Hélène once more. “But the Admiral raises an interesting point, in her less-than-subtle way. Assuming we are victorious...what happens then?”

“Ideally? We sit down across the negotiating table, and try to come to some agreement...something more formal than ‘You don’t bother us, and we won’t bother you’.” She sighed, as she leaned back in her chair. “You’ve seen how well that worked out. I won’t expose the Tetrarchy to that folly again. This time, either we come to an arrangement that satisfies both sides, or…”

“Ah…” Jiyazh murmured, with an enigmatic smile. “Or else the situation becomes…interesting.”

“Indeed,” Leandra said. “I would very much like to avoid that possibility, Dhyaksh. That being said, the safety and security of those I have sworn to protect is my only priority. If we cannot find a peaceful solution to our dilemma...then I will order our forces to prosecute this war, to its ultimate conclusion. Don’t think for a moment that I won’t.”

“I believe you, Prime Minister,” Jiyazh replied. “But let us leave aside for the moment whether or not you can.” He raised his hand in a placating gesture as Hélène pushed back her chair. “A question for another time. At the moment, we have a battle to plan.”

“Yes, we do,” the Prime Minister replied after a moment. “And you still maintain that Chugaz Uydan is heading for the Chennoor Cluster?”

“That is correct,” Jiyazh agreed, “or perhaps, it is better to say we have not come up with a more likely target.”

Leandra nodded and then turned to Hélène. “And you, Admiral? Do you concur?”

She gave the Khonhim commander a piercing stare, before answering. “After reviewing the data provided, I find myself in tentative agreement with that conclusion. Given what we know of Chugaz Uydan and his motives, and the current situation, it seems to be his most probable course of action.”

“I just can’t shake the feeling we’re being set up,” Leandra grimaced, “but anything else would only be a guess.” She took a deep breath and gave them a curt nod. “Very well. We will proceed on that assumption.”

None of the principals appeared happy with that decision, but none of them had anything better to offer. They sketched out a rough battle plan, but given the number of unknowns, anything more specific was doomed to failure. Even if everything broke their way, there would still be a great deal of adapting on the fly to make it work.

As the meeting prepared to break up, Leandra’s features softened. She looked to each of the commanders and asked, “How’s he taking it?”

Admiral Fujimoto bowed her head. “As well as can be expected.”

Jiyazh nodded. “In the space of two days, he has lost the two people most important to him. I fear the news may have dealt him a mortal blow.”

Leandra frowned. “I couldn’t help but notice his absence. Where is he now?”

“In his quarters,” Hélène replied. “He has asked to be left undisturbed.”

“Alone?” she asked. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“We’re keeping an eye on him. Discreetly,” the Admiral blurted out. “We’ll do our best to prevent him from doing anything…rash.”

“Thank you for that,” Leandra whispered. “I doubt our last conversation helped the situation any.”

“I believe that is the last thing on his mind, Prime Minister,” Jiyazh told her. “We have spoken only a handful of words since he received the news, but I suspect he blames himself for both their deaths. At the moment, that is weighing far heavier on his mind.”

Leandra sighed. “He never wanted this...any of it,” she said. “I dragooned him and Raichret both into service because I needed them, and given the same circumstances I’d do it again.” She sighed once again and shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret the necessity. Or the cost.” She stared out at them from her office. “Look after him, will you?”

“I will,” Hélène and Jiyazh said simultaneously, before looking at one another in surprise.

Nassat knelt in the center of his quarters, his head bent in prayer, dressed in the robes he once wore as an Acolyte. The familiar sensation of cloth often helped him to meditate, when serenity refused to come. A single candle flickered before him as he struggled to find some sense of peace, some quiet atoll of tranquility he could cling to in his darkest moments.

But no matter how hard he tried, he could not find the stillness he so desperately searched for.

For hours he had knelt there, refusing both food and drink, as he sought the answers to the questions that tore at his soul. Why? Hadn’t he given enough? Hadn’t he done all that had been asked of him and more?

...why did Raichret have to die?

The silence of the universe mocked him, refusing to answer. Had the Creator turned his back on him? Was her death punishment, for some transgression? He wanted to scream, to rend his robes in anguish, to smash and crush and burn...but instead, he simply wept silent tears.

“...it’s not your fault, you know.”

Nassat’s head whipped up in shock, searching the room for the source of that voice. His eyes widened when he saw the human female Tango, perched on a chair, watching him with placid eyes. He had not heard the door open or her enter his quarters, it was almost as if she had simply materialized out of thin air.

“What are you doing here?” he said. “I left instructions not to be disturbed.”

“Being alone is the last thing you need,” she replied, “and wallowing in self-pity won’t bring either of them back.”

“Get out,” he snapped...only his words seemed to have no effect on her.

“The first time I met you on Uzaunx, I didn’t think you’d last a week, let alone the war,” she reminisced with a wry smile. “But you surprised me...and that doesn’t happen often.” Tango leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “There is more to you, Nassat, than meets the eye.”

Nassat rose to his feet, his stiff limbs crying out in protest, as he faced her. “Why are you here?” he demanded once again. “I do not need someone to hold my hand.”

“I could say I’m here because someone has to be,” she replied after a moment’s thought. “Or perhaps I could say that it’s in my best interest to ensure my commander doesn’t suffer a meltdown.” Her hard-edged expression was nowhere to be found, making her seem years younger. “Or maybe...it’s because I’ve been there myself.”

He stared at her in confusion. “In all the years I have known you, you have barely spoken two sentences to me in the same sitting,” he got out. “So why do you open up to me now?”

“Because of what’s coming,” she whispered. “When we face Chugaz Uydan in battle, we’ll need you at your best. And right now, you’re no good to any of us.” The familiar stern visage was back now, as she rose to her feet.

“Time to cowboy the fuck up,” she said, heading for the door. “Once more unto the breach, Nassat. Once more.”

And then she left, without another word.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 38

All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants, too
Outside in the cold distance
A wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl

Jimi Hendrix - “All Along the Watchtower”

“Just how solid is this intel?” Admiral Matevosian asked.

“I don’t know,” Leandra replied. “I’d call it a ‘Best Guess’.”

“A guess,” Matevosian repeated, deadpan. “That’s not very encouraging.”

“I know, but it’s all we have. Nassat and Fujimoto both stand by the information...as does Jiyazh Ghuuyaz.”

The Admiral shook his head. “And how do we know that this isn’t some disinformation campaign cooked up by the once and future Dhyaksh? Sure, he claims he and Chugaz Uydan are mortal enemies, but can we trust that? Or him?”

“You’re not asking any questions I haven’t already asked myself,” Leandra told him. “I want to believe them...but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have misgivings.”

Matevosian grimaced. “Right. Do we know when to expect the attack?”

Leandra shrugged. “Soon. That’s the best I can give you.”

The Admiral just stared at her. “You’re risking everything on ‘Maybe’ and ‘Soon’? Should I consult an Ouija board while I’m at it? Read some chicken entrails? What about I-Ching? I hear that’s popular,” he said with thinly-veiled sarcasm.

“Enough.” Leandra glared at the image on the screen. “What part of ‘It’s All We Have’ did you not understand? It’s this or nothing...and I am not doing nothing. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Ma’am,” he answered, abashed.

Leandra let him stew in his own juices for a moment, before moving on. “Now then, what’s your status?”

“We’ve scraped together what we can, as per your instructions,” he replied. “It wasn’t as much as we’d hoped, between engineering issues and problems with qualified personnel, we’ve readied 75% to 80% of what we’d projected.” He sighed. “I’m sorry there isn’t more. We’ve been working around the clock, and those numbers won’t get any better.”

“We always knew that projection was optimistic,” Leandra answered, despite her misgivings. “How soon can you get here?”

“Three to five days, barring unforeseen circumstances,” he answered. “Some of these ships are flying on a wing and a prayer.”

“We can’t afford any delays,” she informed him. “If they can’t keep up, they get left behind.”

“Understood,” he said quietly. “Prime Minister...given the data from Admiral Fujimoto, and what I’m bringing in, I feel it’s my duty to inform you that what we have...Ma’am, it’s not enough,” he said. “We’ll give them one hell of a fight, but…”

“...I know,” she said. “And to make matters worse, Hélène’s forces are trailing behind Chugaz Uydan’s...which means it’s up to us to stop them until they can catch up.”

Matevosian stared at her. “...then that’s it then. That’s the ballgame.” He closed his eyes, as a pained expression seemed to age him. “I might as well just shoot them myself. Prime Minister, what you’re describing is a suicide mission. It’s Task Force Odysseus, all over again.”

“I’m afraid that could be a very real possibility,” Leandra said, “but things aren’t as bleak as they seem. We’ve been digging through everything we have on this end, and we might just have another string to our bow.”

The Admiral perked up. “I’m all ears.”

The Prime Minister managed an austere smile. “Then consider this your official read in to Operation Lacuna.”

Hélène sat in her stateroom, staring at a projection of the local starfield as she nursed her drink. Despite her years of naval service…real service, not the virtual-reality gaming that had given her fame…this war was taking a far greater toll on her than the previous one had. It wasn’t just the losses they’d suffered, but something more. She glanced down at the empty sleeve of her uniform, and then at the picture of her father, its frame draped with a black ribbon, and wondered just how much she had left to give.

The door chimed, pulling her from her reveries. “Enter,” she said quietly.

The hatch slid open, as Nassat stood in the doorway. “I hope I am not intruding,” he said, in hesitant tones.

The Admiral looked up in surprise. “...not at all,” she said, rising to her feet, only to have Nassat wave her back down.

“Please, do not get up on my account,” he told her, as she collapsed back into her chair. “You should be in Sickbay.”

“Sickbay is for serious cases only,” she said, “and besides, there’s nothing more they can do for me in the here and now. After this is over, I’ll let the Healers work their magic, but for now, I can’t spare the downtime.”

Nassat eyed her glass, and without a word went to her sidebar and poured a drink of his own. Hélène raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing, as he found a spot across from her and sat down.

“To what do I owe the honor?” she asked.

“I do not know,” he replied after a moment’s thought. “Something just...compelled me, to seek you out.”

“I understand,” she said quietly, as the edge of her lip curled up. “It may surprise you to learn this, but we humans also have a herd instinct.”

He stared at her in surprise. “I find that difficult to believe. You have always prided yourselves on your individuality.”

The smile grew wider. “It’s true. Oh, not to the extent your species does, but it’s there. We’re social creatures, always have been.”

Nassat took a cautious sip of his drink, before looking back up at her. “The uncharitable might describe your social instinct as social predation,” he said without rancor. “You are pack hunters, after all.”

“That is also true,” Hélène admitted. “We’re a complicated species, filled with internal contradictions...and we’re not much closer to understanding ourselves now than when we started.” She took a long drink of her own, before leaning forward. “Nassat...why are you here?”

Nassat closed his eyes. “I could no longer justify hiding in my quarters, while the rest of the fleet prepares for the upcoming battle. I came to inform you...that I am ready to resume my duties.”

“Are you?” she asked point-blank. “I’m not so sure.”

“Would it matter if I was not?” he shot back. “I may lack your skills in naval combat, but I can still read a tactical projection.” He took another sip and stared down at his feet. “The odds of any of us returning home are...slight.” He lifted his head and looked her in the eyes. “Tell me I am wrong.”

She wanted to look away, but honesty compelled her to meet his gaze. “No...you’re not wrong,” she said quietly. “Unless we can coordinate our attack with Admiral Matevosian’s forces...which means sacrificing at least half a dozen worlds...Chugaz Uydan will pick us off one at a time.”

“So I surmised,” he said with a heavy heart. “Then if I am fated to fall...I would like my death to mean something.”

Hélène sighed and drained the last of her drink before setting the glass down. “We humans have a saying: ‘The man certain he will die will ensure that he does’.” She shook her head. “Your death won’t bring her back. And if you think it’s something you deserve; I’d say you’ve suffered enough.”

“Compared to whom?” he asked, before gazing at her missing arm.

“...not all scars are on the outside, Nassat,” she whispered.

The Saurotaur shrugged her objections aside. “I have been going over your deployment plans, and while they seem more than adequate, I have a small addition of my own.” Nassat withdrew a small tablet from his tunic, pulling up a file before handing it over.

The Admiral took the proffered device and balanced it on her knees as she perused the data, before giving out a low whistle. “It isn’t lacking in the audacity department,” she said as she went through the file, before looking back up. “It’s risky.”

Nassat snorted. “Tell me one thing we’ve done in the last ten years that wasn’t.”

Hélène chuckled at that, before handing the tablet back over. “You’re sure about this,” she said.

“I am,” Nassat nodded. “With any luck, it may just give us a fighting chance.”

“And you intend to be a part of it,” she continued.

“Yes,” he replied. “Will that be a problem?”

She leaned forward, searching his eyes, before giving him a nonchalant shrug. “Last time I checked, you still outranked me,” she said at last. “If you’re determined to lead this mission...I can’t stop you.”

Nassat nodded and rose to his feet. “Then I will begin preparations,” he said, as he turned to leave...pausing as he reached the door.

“Thank you,” he said.

Hélène watched the door slide shut and then bowed her head.

“Banzai,” she whispered.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 39

There's no time for us
There's no place for us
What is this thing that builds our dreams
Yet slips away from us?
Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?

There's no chance for us
It's all decided for us
This world has only one
Sweet moment set aside for us
Who wants to live forever?
Who dares to love forever?
Oh, when love must die?

Queen - “Who Wants to Live Forever”

According to the display beside her bed, it was deep into the wee hours of the morning when an insistent alarm woke her from her sleep. Leandra took a minute to throw on a dressing gown and run a brush through her hair, giving her a chance to compose herself, before answering the call.

Admiral Matevosian, looking far more composed than she did, stared back at her. “We just received word from our scouts,” he informed her. “We’ve spotted the Khonhim fleet, near the boundary of Tetrarchy space.”

The Prime Minister closed her eyes and nodded. And so, it begins, she thought to herself. “Where?” she asked him.

“On a direct course to Xaqaip,” he said. “Our forces are already enroute.”

Xaqaip was an Ophipteran world, on the far edge of the Chennoor Cluster. “It would seem that our intel was correct,” she said with a meager smile. “Will you have enough time to prepare?”

“We’ll be ready,” he confirmed. “It’ll be tight, but we’ll make it.”

There was nothing else to be said...no last-minute orders, no rousing speeches, no reminders of what was at stake. They’d done everything they could think of. They would stand...or they would fall. Words from her now seemed empty, so she opted for simplicity instead.

“...Good hunting, Admiral,” she whispered, as he disappeared from the screen.

Dhyaksh Chugaz Uydan’s body seemed to hum with anticipation as they neared the worlds of their ancient enemies. Somehow, he had always known that he would be the one to fulfill the oath of their Forebears, and as the fleet prepared for their first strike he could feel their excitement flowing into him. It was a far more intoxicating sensation than any drink, and as the blue-green world appeared on their sensors he bared his teeth, as they prepared for the kill.

“Dhyaksh, I am reading several vessels in the planet's vicinity,” his tactical officer informed him.

Chugaz rose to his feet. “I want hard data on those ships,” he ordered.

The crew worked to determine the nature of the threat, as their scans zoomed in on the point targets. Within a handful of minutes, they had their answer.

“Dhyaksh...I am reading several what appear to be transports,” the officer reported, “and…”

The officer froze in mid-sentence, as the data firmed up. Chugaz’s eyes widened in amazement as he moved closer to the display, confirming his suspicions.

And then threw back his head and laughed.

“So! All they have left to face us are freighters and relics!”

Admiral Matevosian held his breath, as he waited for the Khonhim to respond. This was the crucial moment when they would learn if their plans had all been for nothing. The squadrons of aging Comets and HK’s, remnants of the previous war, were all he had left to fight with. As they’d built the new Navy from scratch, they’d parked the old fighters and gunboats near the dwarf planet Eris, far beyond Pluto’s orbit near the inner border of the Kuiper Belt. During the century of forced demilitarization, it had housed a classified research facility, hidden from the Triumvirate, designing ships and weapons in case they ever needed them. It had made a convenient dumping ground for obsolete hardware.

The first rule of military logistics is that nothing ever gets thrown away.

Getting them back in service and manned had been no easy task. The HK’s had been difficult, given they designed them specifically with Ronin pilots in mind. With no life support system, converting them to human use (or anyone else) had proven impossible in the time available.

There were many Ronin pilots still around, though only a handful anywhere near Earth when the call went out. After the attack on the shipyards during the Ministers’ Coup, there was a great deal of mistrust between the races, but there was no one else who could fly them. So instead they’d towed the birds to the Chennoor Cluster, where they linked up with waiting pilots. At least since they were artificial life forms the refamiliarization process had gone smoothly.

And now it all came down to this. One last, desperate gamble.

Matevosian watched as the Khonhim fleet came burning in hard...and why not? It wasn’t like he had anything that could stop them.

But that didn’t mean there weren’t some cards left to play.

He nodded at his communications officer, who opened a channel. “Matevosian to all combat squadrons, stand by. Freighter captains...begin your run.”

“Dhyaksh, the freighters are moving!” the tactical officer reported.

Chugaz Uydan watched as the transports began racing away from the fleet. There was the question of what they were doing there in the first place, though perhaps it was something as simple as bringing in last-minute supplies. That they were now trying to escape his clutches was unsurprising, since their arrival had caught them by surprise.

And then he cursed in anger, as the sensor readings turned to hash.

“The freighters are jettisoning debris,” the officer disclosed, after double-checking his readings. “It is interfering with our sensors.”

Mollified, Chugaz returned to his chair, chuckling in amusement. “They think they can hide from us,” he laughed.

“Time for us to show them the error of their ways.”

The freighters redlined their engines as they ran for safety, disgorging chaff as fast as they could dump it out of their holds. It wasn’t much, Admiral Matevosian mused, but it would buy them a few minutes grace...for a few minutes was all he needed.

“All units...stand by. We’ll only get one shot at this,” he cautioned them, as the ragtag fleet held its breath.

“...that’s it...just a little closer,” he whispered...as a knowing smile began to play at his lips.

Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

“All ships, attack!” Chugaz Uydan roared, as the fleet surged forward. The humans could play all the games they wanted, but nothing would stop them now. If they thought scattered strips of metal would save them, it only showed how desperate they were. He would smash their pathetic armada as he had destroyed the one over Ghakh, and when he had finished turning their antiquated ships into wreckage, he would turn his attention to his pursuers. Let that fool Jiyazh Ghuuyaz and his alien allies come! He would finish them ...and then there would be nothing left in the quadrant to stand in his way.

The Khonhim fleet raced into the teeth of the waiting fighters, as they began charging weapons.

There were so many ways the plan could have gone wrong. When the Prime Minister had briefed him on Lacuna, he could see it for the forlorn hope it was. No one was sure if it would even work. But the scientists and engineers running the computer models assured him the math and physics were sound, and given the paucity of any other ideas, he had signed on...even if as far as he knew nothing like it had ever been attempted under real-world conditions.

...well, that wasn’t true. Something very much like it had been tried once...over the Ronin planet ϒ12.

“Nadezhda Parisi, I hope you’re watching,” Admiral Matevosian prayed, before giving the order. “Full power to the Generators!” he shouted...as the massive planetary shield generators, stripped from a dozen nearby worlds, came online.

In the space of a millisecond, the bulk of the Khonhim fleet found themselves trapped, on the inside of the shield.

It wasn’t a perfect sphere, and at least a quarter of the enemy ships had been outside the zone when the shield snapped into place. The energy field crackled and hummed with power, shredding into component atoms the unlucky vessels the barrier had intersected when it materialized into existence.

“After the stragglers!” he ordered, as the Comets and HK’s opened fire, diving against the Khonhim ships they’d missed. They had to keep them away from the generators, long enough for Admiral Fujimoto and the rest of the fleet to arrive.

Admiral Matevosian gripped the mic, his eyes blazing with fervent madness.

“...hold the line, damn you! HOLD THE LINE!”

The Barbarian War - Chapter 40

I see a line of cars and they're all painted black
With flowers and my love, both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a newborn baby, it just happens everyday

I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door, I must have it painted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black

The Rolling Stones - “Paint It Black”

Dhyaksh Chugaz Uydan leapt to his feet in shock as his armada found itself trapped within the shield’s bubble. What manner of trickery was this?

But once he forced himself to calm down and think, he realized the situation was far from catastrophic. In fact, this tactic was a sign of just how desperate the enemy was, for if they’d had any other ships in reserve, they would have produced them by now. No, the old fighters were all they had, and once he smashed his way free of this energy field, he would annihilate them.

“Order the ships outside the shield to destroy the generators,” he snarled, before turning his attention to the tactical officer.

“Arm the Breakers and fire!”

The HK squadron charged forward, firing a volley of antimatter projectiles while the Comets covered their flanks, the Khonhim answering with a flight of missiles in return. The agile fighters dodged and jinked their way through the swarm of death, destroying any that threatened the Ronin gunboats. They had always envisioned the HK as an offensive platform, relying on its heavy armor to shrug off damage. It was all ax, and no shield...whereas the Comets could be used in either role. By covering for their big brothers, they increased the effectiveness of their armada by an order of magnitude, as they fought to keep the enemy at bay.

But the Khonhim warriors they faced weren’t tyros, but battle-hardened professionals...and they knew the capabilities of the ships they faced. They splintered off into separate groups to deny the HK’s a massed target, coming in on oblique trajectories to strip away the fighters...as suddenly it was the Comets who were fighting for their lives, with the Khonhim charging in for the kill.

The trapped Khonhim fleet fired a barrage of Breaker missiles in one heavy gasp, sending them arcing away towards the shield. Chugaz Uydan watched as they sprinted towards self-immolation, impacting against the field in groups of two’s and three’s as they detonated.

The effect was devastating.

Massive surges of energy sent shockwaves through the fleet, refracting and rebounding from dozens of point sources like handfuls of gravel tossed into a still pond. Alarms wailed throughout the flagship Resolve, as systems were suddenly overloaded and shorted out. It tossed the ships of the armada about like toys as the concussive waves reverberated within the field until ebbing away as they canceled each other out.

Chugaz Uydan clawed his way back to his feet, the smell of smoke and ozone heavy on the bridge. “Report! What is the status of the shield?”

The crew struggled to find their way back to their stations, working to restore crippled systems before the tactical officer could respond.

“Dhyaksh...the shield is still in place!” he said in astonishment.

Fury twisted his face beyond all recognition as he railed at the news.

“Another salvo!” he ordered.

The Planetary Shield was a marvel of science and engineering, the pinnacle of Triumvirate achievement...but it was not without its flaws. While seemingly a smooth uninterrupted sphere, in fact, it resembled one of Carl Fabergé’s crafted Easter eggs.

They had designed the Breaker missile to exploit the seams and fracture lines within the energy matrix, shattering the sphere with a tap on just the right spot, instead of hurling massive broadsides against the shield wall itself, to no effect. With a simple sphere, the math used to locate the fracture lines was a straightforward exercise in n-Dimensional Multilinear Subspace Tensor Calculus.

...but the shield bubble thrown together by Admiral Matevosian was not a simple sphere. Far from it. In fact, if any 3-dimensional object could be held up as a model of what they’d created, the closest parallel would be...a potato.

A rather lumpy and malformed potato.

From an engineering aspect, it was an abomination. From a tactical standpoint, however, it was a Godsend. The simple fracture lines in the standard model, the ones exploited by the Breaker missile, now radiated in a hundred different directions. Any hit along those seams would be dampened out, the energy whisked away as it dissipated.

But there was a catch.

One constructs a skyscraper with massive beams and girders...not tinker toys. The very structure that gave Matevosian’s Shield its resiliency was also its weakest link. Hit it hard enough and it would shatter, which is why the Admiral had insisted on quadruple-redundancy. It had required them to strip out the generators from a dozen nearby worlds, so in theory, when a generator was knocked out the ones remaining would accept the increased load and maintain the field.

In theory.

As the salvo of Breaker missiles detonated against the shield, Admiral Matevosian watched as dozens of the shield generators exploded in incandescent balls of plasma. The energy field spiked as the remaining generators took the strain...and held.

...for the moment.

Major Parisi had used her “Bubble Guns” to crush the individual ships caught within the field, but there was no chance of repeating her feat here. As it was, they were barely managing to keep the shield from collapsing. Besides, it had never been the intent of Lacuna to destroy the Khonhim, only to delay them until Admiral Fujimoto’s joint fleet could arrive.

Their battle wasn’t against Chugaz Uydan...but Time itself.

They delayed the second volley of missiles while Damage Control parties aboard the Khonhim armada rushed to repair the systems wrecked by the first barrage. Chugaz Uydan stormed and raged as the engineers fought to bring them back online, but soon they gave their grudging consent.

Another broadside of missiles hurled themselves against the shield, once again sending shockwaves throughout the enclosed space. This time at least they were prepared, riding out the undulating currents as they struggled to see if their attack was successful.

Once more, the shield mocked their efforts.

“AGAIN! screamed Chugaz Uydan.

A flight of Comets disappeared in actinic fire, as the shield generators they were defending exploded. Many of the Khonhim vessels pressing them were also wiped away, but that wasn’t Admiral Matevosian’s greatest fear. No one would ever confuse him with Engineer Scotty, but even he could see the latest fusillade had visibly weakened the shield.

There was no doubt in his mind that Chugaz Uydan was busy readying a third salvo...and this time, all bets were off.

Chugaz Uydan was done playing it safe. He’d ordered a double volley of Breakers to be fired, despite the obvious risks. They needed to escape now, before Jiyazh Ghuuyaz and his alien allies arrived. He could defeat each smaller fleet in turn, once he brought his forces to bear, but if they linked up then things suddenly became much dicier. He still liked his odds, but he had not risen to power by gambling. The ruthless elimination of random chance had determined his every move.

The only horse races he bet on...assuming for the moment the Khonhim had such events...were the ones he’d fixed himself.

Every ship in the fleet was braced and ready as the third flight of Breaker missiles sprinted towards the shield. The armada seemed to hold its breath, waiting for confirmation, as the missiles detonated. Even with the extra precautions, they’d taken their ships were tossed about once more, but this time, the shockwaves disappeared...as a feral grin of triumph appeared on Chugaz Uydan’s face.

Admiral Matevosian could only watch in horror as the shield flickered...and disappeared.

“...God help us all,” he whispered.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 41

Each night I go to bed
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
No, I ain't looking for forgiveness
But before I'm six-foot deep
Lord, I got to ask a favor
And I'll hope you'll understand
'Cause I've lived life to the fullest
Let this boy die like a man
Staring down the bullet
Let me make my final stand

Bon Jovi - “Blaze Of Glory"

With the shield gone, there was only one option left to Admiral Matevosian, and it wasn’t a good one. They had a contingency plan in place for a fighting retreat, even though everyone knew it was an exercise in futility. They’d try to protect themselves as best they could while they ran for safety, but with the size of Chugaz Uydan’s forces, it was only delaying the inevitable. If everything broke their way, it might buy them an hour. Maybe two.

Maybe.

He was about to give the order when his com officer shouted for his attention. “Sir, incoming signal!”

“Let’s hear it,” he told him, already fearing the worst...only to grin like a madman when Admiral Fujimoto’s face appeared on the display. It was obvious she’d been through hell, but then so had everyone still in the fight.

“Sorry we’re late, Admiral,” she said with a wry half-smile. “Mind if we cut in?”

“Please do, Admiral,” he answered, barely keeping the relief from his face. “We’ll back your play.”

“Excellent,” she nodded, as the smile disappeared.

“Time for some payback.”

Chugaz Uydan howled with fury as sensors reported the arrival of Jiyazh Ghuuyaz and the humans. If he’d had even a little more time, he could have finished the relics from the previous war, before turning his attention to the usurper. But the human’s little trick had paid off for them, leaving him no choice but to face both fleets at once.

So be it. The usurper and his allies were the greater threat, so he would deal with them first.

“All ships...come about. Time to show the traitor the price of disloyalty.”

Admiral Fujimoto signaled the Dauntless as they prepared to make their run. “No time for anything fancy,” she informed the Dhyaksh. “Come in hard and keep hitting them ‘til there’s nothing left.”

“Agreed,” Jiyazh replied with a half bow. “It is past time to finish this.”

“Copy that,” she growled. “Fujimoto, clear.”

With a nod, her com officer switched channels, as Marshal Nassat’s face stared back at her. “We’re almost in position,” she informed him. “I can give you a three-minute barrage to soften them up. After that, I can’t promise anything. The fleet’ll be in the furball by then.”

“Understood,” Nassat said. “Three minutes should be more than enough.”

The two stared at one another, the human and the Saurotaur, each with so much they wished to say...and yet unable to say anything at all.

“...Good luck, Nassat,” she managed at last.

“May the Creator watch over you, Hélène,” he said, as the screen went dark.

“All right then,” she said to the bridge crew, focusing on the task before them, “...take us in.”

There was no posturing, no sleight of hand, no last-minute maneuvers as the two fleets headed into battle. The situation was brutally simple for both sides…win or die.

Like two rival predators in a contest for dominance they roared…and leapt.

Salvos of antimatter and missiles filled the narrowing space between them as they raced to close the gap, as the hail of weapons fire began finding their targets. One after another, ships began to die, on both sides, with neither showing any signs of relenting nor turning away.

It was a game of chicken played with chainsaws, and in this hellish maelstrom, a squadron of assault boats separated from the allied fleet and raced forward.

Nassat watched as explosions rocked the small boat, trusting to the pilot’s skills. If the end came now it would be quick, and as there was nothing he could do to affect the outcome he simply waited, biding his time, a rock of stillness in a swirling sea of chaos.

Tango, Musashi, Graybird, and Whisper also said nothing, waiting with their commander as their assault craft threaded the crossfire, diving hard for the enemy. There was no room for bystanders in this battle, and small as their contribution might be compared to the broadsides being launched by the great ships...a dagger in just the spot can be even deadlier than the sword.

“...did you believe I would allow you to claim the glory for yourself?” a voice chuckled in his headset. Nassat turned in surprise and stared out the cockpit window, his eyes widening as a flight of Khonhim shuttles appeared on their wing.

“Jiyazh...should you not be with your ship?” Nassat demanded. “You are far too valuable to risk on a mission such as this.”

“Not this time,” the Dhyaksh said. “Chugaz Uydan left the field of honor rather than face my blade. His life is mine to take, and no other.”

“Then you will have to find him before I do,” Nassat said, “for I too owe him a debt.”

The sound of Jiyazh’s laughter filled his ears. “A worthy challenge!” he said with glee. “Come, Nassat...let us seek our prey!”

Once those words would have horrified him. The Saurotaur were not predators, far from it. Evolution had given them the tools needed to run from a fight, not towards it...but on this day he nodded in agreement. “To the hunt Jiyazh,” he said, as the lead shuttles made a beeline for the enemy flagship Resolve.

The Khonhim shuttle sped ahead, racing for the massive hanger bay. For an assault by boat, it was the only way in, and the enemy knew that. It was heavily defended by necessity, guaranteeing a bloody welcome to anyone willing to risk a direct assault. There was no doubt in Jiyazh’s mind that Chugaz Uydan had prepared for this possibility, and while that fact did not dissuade him, it gave him pause.

It would be difficult to exact his revenge, were he to fall gaining entrance.

As they came in for their final approach, the shuttle opened fire, clearing the decks of the enemy or at least forcing them to take cover. They would soon reoccupy their positions, which meant speed was of the essence...but where was the shuttle carrying Nassat? Jiyazh had assumed he would be right behind him, for how else would he gain entrance?

But the assault craft carrying the Saurotaur was nowhere to be seen.

Over the years Sergeant Lin had taught him many lessons, but the one forefront on Nassat’s mind as they neared the flagship Resolve was one of the first the human had imparted to him:

...never do what the enemy expects.

It was a matter of faith that to launch a mass assault on an enemy ship, one had to take the hanger bay. There was nowhere else on the vessel where a shuttle could gain entrance, so you simply had no other choice. The enemy knew that, so it was certain they would prepare for the possibility. A ship-boarding was always a savage affair, and the greatest number of casualties came from the initial assault, often in the first few minutes of the fight.

But Nassat had spent the last decade surrounded by humans, and by sheer osmosis, if nothing else, some of their attitudes had rubbed off on him. It had taken him years to grasp the underlying fundamentals behind their often mind-boggling notions, but over time he appreciated their meaning. When he’d planned this assault, those same methods had given him an idea...one so mad the younger version of himself would have refused to even consider it.

But as the humans said, “If it’s crazy...and it works ...it’s not crazy.”

Which is why he had ordered the pilot to charge the forward-mounted antimatter guns and blast their way through the hull.

It had taken several well-placed hits to make a hole big enough to wedge the shuttle in, as the other assault craft in the squadron followed suit. Half a dozen decks were suddenly exposed to space, spilling out debris...and the bodies of unsuspecting Khonhim.

Nassat climbed out of his seat, fitting a large drum magazine to his assault shotgun and charging a round as he slung the weapon over his shoulder, adjusting the sling. His four nursemaids did the same, as he gave them all an ominous glare.

“All right, everyone…follow me,” he ordered, as they jumped down into the enemy flagship.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 42

A million shards of glass
That haunt me from my past
As the stars begin to gather
And the light begins to fade
When all hope begins to shatter
Know that I won't be afraid

If I risk it all
Could you break my fall?

How do I live? How do I breathe?
When you're not here I'm suffocating
I want to feel love, run through my blood
Tell me is this where I give it all up?
For you, I have to risk it all
'Cause the writing's on the wall

Sam Smith - “Writing's on the Wall”

Klaxons began to wail aboard Resolve, as the tactical officer shouted to Chugaz Uydan. “Dhyaksh, attackers have breached the hull at multiple points, and enemy shuttles are attempting to storm the hanger bay!”

Chugaz Uydan pounded the com panel at his side. “This is the Dhyaksh to the crew. You are to repel the boarders at all costs. Leave none of them alive!”

Their initial assault had caught the enemy by surprise, and for the first few minutes, Nassat and his team met little resistance. But the Khonhim had been fighting for millennia and recovered, throwing up hasty barricades and ambushes wherever they could. Coming around a corner they ran into their first surprise, falling back under a hail of gunfire. Whisper giggled and fired an explosive grenade from his launcher, shredding the enemy as the group charged forward, firing at anything still moving before Nassat called a brief halt.

“Where are we heading?” Musashi asked as Tango covered their six.

“The bridge,” Nassat informed them, “that is where we will find Chugaz Uydan.”

“If we take the Engine room, we can control the ship,” Graybird pointed out. “Less guarded too.”

“Then he will escape, and try again,” Nassat answered. “Lin always said that if you cut off the head, the snake dies.” He tightened his grip on his shotgun. “We end this now.”

“And Jiyazh?” Musashi asked.

“The best way to help him is to draw off as many of the defenders as we can,” Nassat replied, before giving Whisper a resigned look. “I believe it is time to make our presence known.”

“Oh, goody!” Whisper chortled...as the rest of the team rolled their eyes.

Jiyazh had fired a score of the shuttle’s missiles at the hanger bay entrance as they made their final approach, blasting their way in as the birds grounded, disgorging the warriors within. As suspected Chugaz Uydan’s forces recovered swiftly, laying down a base of withering fire as the rebels sought whatever cover they could. As he scanned the massive compartment Jiyazh searched for anything they could use to smash the resistance...his eyes settling on a series of recessed fittings set into the far bulkhead.

“There! he shouted over the coms, as he pointed out the target, “Heavy weapons and grenades! Fire!”

A fusillade of weapons fire lashed out, ripping into the wall, as the nearby defenders dove for cover. There was little effect at first, but as they kept firing Jiyazh spotted a thick mist beginning to spill into the cavernous bay. It seemed to swirl and roil as it condensed, scattering the enemy loyalists as they ran for safety.

“Down!” he howled...a split second before a mammoth concussion flung them aside like rag dolls.

Blue-green fire boiled over their heads, pulsing and seething like an angry god, as Jiyazh shouted over the coms, “The way is clear! Follow me!” Those of his forces still alive staggered through the smoke and flames as they charged through the broken resistance, fighting their way clear of the hanger and into the ship itself.

Once they were out of range he regrouped, consolidating his forces as he got his bearings. “That way,” he ordered, “once we take the bridge, the battle is over.”

A muffled explosion rocked the deck beneath their feet. “We had best hurry,” he grimaced, “for it would seem we were too successful.”

One of his warriors checked his sensors and blinked. “Dhyaksh,” he stammered, “...that was not us.”

Another tremor jolted Resolve, as Chugaz Uydan and his crew fought to hold on. “What was that?” he demanded.

“Dhyaksh, several explosions are being reported throughout the ship,” one of his officers reported. “Decks seven through twelve are now heavily damaged!”

“It’s them,” he snarled. “Find the intruders and destroy them!”

“You idiot!” Musashi bellowed, “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“You heard the Marshal,” Whisper laughed. “He said, ‘Make our presence known’.” Another blast sent them scurrying down a corridor, as they fought to keep their feet underneath them. “Well, I’m sure they know we’re here now!”

Nassat let the humans settle the argument on their own, as they pushed forward. His focus was on bigger things...Chugaz Uydan himself.

“How much further to the bridge?” he asked, forcing the squabbling teammates to pause their debate as Graybird checked his schematics.

“Two decks up, three compartments forward,” the Hacker replied, as Nassat hefted his shotgun.

“Then let us not keep Chugaz Uydan waiting,” he said, as they pushed on.

Admiral Fujimoto swore as a squadron of the enemy broke through the line, forcing her starboard wing to fall back under a hail of missile fire. The furball she’d predicted had arrived with a vengeance, as both fleets launched broadsides at the enemy in a swirling mass of chaos. It was worse than the Battle of Zaaronq from the last war, for instead of two fleets facing each other there were now four, making Command and Control that much more difficult. Admiral Matevosian was a skilled commander without question, but his forces and hers had never trained together. And as for their Khonhim “Allies”...keeping a spare eye on them in case they switched sides was wearing thin. Not to mention the fact they seemed to have their own ideas on how to fight.

For the moment they were holding their own, but it wouldn’t take much to tip the scales.

Facing one armada had been bad enough, but now Chugaz Uydan was facing three. The relics were little more than a nuisance, and rebels and humans did not seem to coordinate their attacks as efficiently as they might. But despite their difficulties, the enemy was pressing their attack with a single-mindedness impossible to ignore.

As the boarders smashed their way through Resolve, destroying everything in their path, it was growing difficult to fight his ship. Communication and control links were being severed, systems knocked out with an almost reckless abandon, and as the fight continued to rage fewer and fewer of his crew could respond. He needed to break them now before they got the upper hand.

The main hatch exploded, sending him diving for cover, as weapons fire sliced back and forth. Chugaz drew his sidearm and added his own volley to the melee but taken by surprise his crew was being forced back, seeking shelter from behind their consoles. It was an untenable situation, but there might still be a way out of this, as he considered his options.

And then without warning, the sounds of battle ceased.

“...Chugaz Uydan,” an unfamiliar voice spoke into the abrupt silence, “you have nowhere to run. Surrender now, and I will spare your life.”

He rose to his feet, holstering his weapon and keeping his hands visible, as he spotted a Saurotaur flanked by a handful of humans. “You,” he snorted. “I remember you. Jiyazh Ghuuyaz’s lackey. You think you can defeat me?”

“He is no one’s lackey,” another voice called out from behind him...and this one he did recognize.

Chugaz turned until he faced Jiyazh. “We left things unfinished, at our last encounter,” Jiyazh said, aiming his weapon. “A situation I am about to correct.”

A cold, thin smile appeared on Chugaz’s face. “Oh...I think not,” he sneered, his hand darting out to press a hidden button beneath his armrest...as the bridge erupted into flames.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 43

Angels never came down
There's no one here
They want to hang around
But if they knew
If they knew you at all
Then one by one the angels
Angels would fall

Melissa Etheridge - “Angels Would Fall”

The explosion threw Nassat to the deck, as Musashi and Tango grabbed him by the arms and dragged him clear, the intense heat driving them back into the corridor.

“...what...what happened?” he asked, still befuddled by the concussive blast.

“Booby trap,” Graybird got out, as Jiyazh and his team appeared from the smoke.

“Where is Chugaz Uydan?” Nassat demanded as he staggered back to his feet.

“...Escaped,” Jiyazh snarled, his face contorted in rage. “He had this planned from the beginning, if we were victorious.”

“Then we will find him,” Nassat vowed, as he took back up his shotgun. “He cannot have gotten far.”

A thundering rumble seemed to shake the ship’s bones, as the teams looked around in sudden concern.

“Uh oh,” Graybird said, “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“It is the engines,” Jiyazh growled, gnashing his teeth. “Chugaz Uydan must have set them to overload, to cover his escape. We have only a few minutes before they detonate.”

“NO!” Nassat howled, “Not again!”

“We have to get back to the shuttle,” Musashi implored him, “before this whole damn ship goes up!”

Nassat screamed in rage and grief, breaking free from their grasp, as he bolted back into the fire.

“CHUGAZ UYDAN!”

“Admiral, we’re getting telemetry from the enemy flagship,” her tactical officer reported. “Power fluctuations are off the scale.” He turned to face her. “I think its engines are going critical.”

Hélène stared back at him. “You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered, before shaking her head. “Any word from Marshal Nassat or his team?”

“No Ma’am,” he answered.

“Somehow I don’t think we’ll get lucky a second time,” she grumbled, “but even if the Khonhim have revamped their chain of command, it’ll take time to shift their flag.” She spent less than a second deciding, and then punched up Admiral Matevosian.

“Their flagship is in trouble,” she said without preamble, “which gives us a very narrow window of opportunity.”

The Admiral gave her a bemused look. “And they say history doesn’t repeat itself,” he smirked. “What are your orders?”

“We press the attack,” she commanded, “throw everything we have at them...and with a little luck, it might just be enough to shift the balance.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am,” he grinned. “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.”

“For Earth,” she hissed, as she switched channels once more.

“Admiral Fujimoto to all ships. For all those we’ve lost, for all the souls that cry out for vengeance...the day of reckoning is here.”

Her eyes danced with seductive fire as she whispered to them, “...Blood for blood.”

Across the allied fleet they took up the cry, as they hurled themselves against the enemy one last time.

Blood For Blood.

Nassat staggered through the flames of the dying craft, screaming the name of his enemy, the creature responsible for the death of his wife. The sound of shrieking beams, the roar of the conflagration surrounding him, the explosions tearing the ship to pieces, they molded and intertwined together, becoming his chorus.

If hate were a melody, it would pale compared to Nassat’s mad anthem.

His suit’s warning lights flashed an angry red, only to fuel his rampage. It did not matter...nothing did. Nothing but the death of Chugaz Uydan would bring him peace, as he stumbled through perdition.

It is said that for those willing to sacrifice everything on the altar of vengeance, the Gods will grant their boon…

...and only fools think it an act of kindness.

The Alliance fleet hurled itself against the Khonhim...and the Khonhim staggered back in disarray. They had learned the painful lesson from the previous war of the danger posed by a break in command, and Chugaz Uydan himself had drilled upon them not to falter in battle, should their leader fall. But even under the best of circumstances, it takes time for a new commander to assert control, to pass on his orders, to steady those beneath him.

But in battle, time is the most precious of all resources, more valuable than gold or jewels...and the Khonhim stores were empty.

Many commanders fought against the onslaught, but their efforts were poorly coordinated. The fleet began to fray along the seams, but the harder they fought to hold the worn fabric together, the more it began to tear.

The allied fleets' attacks were relentless, hammering at the Khonhim, ignoring their own losses as they reached out to grasp their enemy’s throat...until the Khonhim could take no more.

The fleet shattered like glass, disintegrating into penny packets of ships fleeing for their lives...with the Alliance in hot pursuit, baying like hounds.

Blood For Blood.

There!

Nassat spotted a glimpse of his quarry, heading for an escape pod, and charged after him with every bit of strength he had left. His shotgun roared with fury, again and again, until it was empty. He hurled the weapon at his nemesis...only to be mocked by a sardonic laugh through bulletproof glass.

Chugaz Uydan waved goodbye, as his pod’s rockets fired...taking him out of reach forever.

Nassat collapsed, his body going limp as his abused suit breached at last, the oxygen alarm screaming out its desperate cry...before going silent.

And in his final moments, Nassat glimpsed the impossible.

A gentle hand touched his brow, as he opened his eyes.

“Hello, my beloved,” Raichret smiled.

“...Raichret,” he whispered, his shaking hand reaching out to hers. “I have missed you.”

“And I you,” she answered, placing her hand against his cheek.

Nassat pressed his head against her palm, reveling in her touch. “I knew I would see you again,” he murmured, “and now, we can be together forever.”

Raichret sighed and shook her head. “No, my love...not yet.”

The entire universe seemed to come to a stop. “What? But...why?”

“Because it is not your time, my love,” she smiled.

“But...I don’t want to go back,” he begged her. “Please let me stay.”

“It is not my choice to make, or yours,” she said, “but...there is one thing you must do for me.”

“...anything,” he whispered.

Raichret bent down and kissed his lips. “Wake up, Nassat,” she told him...as she faded from view.

“...wake up, Nassat!” Tango shouted as she sent another surge of electricity into his heart. “Goddamnit, wake up!” She grabbed a hypo from her Medkit, and jammed it into his neck, as his body jerked in response, his eyes fluttering open.

“...what…where…am I?” he whispered.

“Escape pod,” Tango said in relief, as she slumped to the floor. “When you ran off like a lunatic, I knew you’d never make it back to the shuttle. The flames had breached your suit by the time I found you, and we barely punched out before the ship blew.”

He struggled to make sense of what his brain was telling him, but jumbled images were all he could recall. “...the battle?” he asked at last.

“Over...for now,” she grimaced.

Nassat stared in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We broke their backs, but before we could finish them our good buddy Jiyazh got on the coms and offered them amnesty if they joined his banner,” she spat out. “And surprise, surprise, most of them took it.” Tango shook her head in disbelief. “Things are tense at the moment...and both he and the Admiral are demanding to see you.”

She could only stare in awkward silence, as he began to weep.

The Barbarian War - Chapter 44

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
How many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
How many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

Peter, Paul and Mary - “Blowin' in the Wind”

The two fleets kept an uneasy watch on one another, just out of weapons range, as they waited for the Ministers to arrive. Nassat had brokered that much at least, from his bed in Sickbay. None of his injuries were life-threatening, despite how close he’d come before Tango’s rescue. His memories of those last minutes were still hazy and in disarray, though every time he struggled to recall what had happened, he was left with a feeling of intense sorrow.

Perhaps, it would be better to leave them buried.

They had commandeered an orbital platform for the summit, limiting access to only those parties involved. Jiyazh, now Dhyaksh once again by popular acclaim, and Azhum Ganakh representing the Khonhim, while Admiral’s Fujimoto and Matevosian spoke for Humanity. For the old Triumvirate races, Nassat and the respective Ministers were pressed into service, with Leandra Singh acting as Moderator.

They’d done their best to keep things formal and civil...but it was already spoiling to be a bloodbath.

“You betrayed us!” Hélène snarled, pointing an accusing finger at Jiyazh. “We stood by our alliance to the letter, and then you turn around and stab us in the back?” Her face was a mask of wrath as she hissed at him, “We should have finished you when we had the chance!”

“And I was supposed to stand by while you slaughtered my people, again?” he fired back. “Our ‘Alliance’ was formed to defeat Chugaz Uydan. With him gone, that purpose had been served.” He met the Admiral’s glare with a steady gaze. “Before all else, I am a patriot, and you forget that at your peril.”

“How dare you…” Admiral Fujimoto shouted as the Prime Minister held up her hand, silencing her.

“Turning this into a shouting match solves nothing,” she said, giving each party a stern look. “Unless we can come to some agreement, it leaves us in the same position we were ten years ago...with nothing resolved, and festering resentment on both sides.” She sighed and shook her head. “How many billions have died since this began? How many more must be killed before we end this, once and for all?”

“We have never been the aggressors,” Hélène answered, her eyes shooting daggers at Jiyazh, “not in either war. In both cases, we were defending ourselves.”

“The Khonhim never once threatened Earth in the first war,” Azhum Ganakh informed her, “in fact, the first human ship we spotted in orbit over Jituttaz was allowed to depart in peace. We had no quarrel with your kind...and yet you involved yourselves in our affairs anyway.”

“That’s because the Triumvirate lied to us,” Admiral Matevosian said, giving Nassat and the Ministers a brief glance, before turning back to face the Khonhim. “Had we known the truth we would have stayed out of it.”

“Then I suggest you take that up with them,” Jiyazh said. “But speaking for the Khonhim, we will not allow ourselves to be exterminated, nor will we submit ourselves to be your slaves. If you cannot accept those conditions, then it seems we have nothing more to discuss.”

“No one is suggesting that Dhyaksh,” Leandra said, “but you have to see things from our perspective. Twice now the Khonhim have come boiling up from the depths of space, bent on genocide, and twice we have beat you back. Only a fool would allow you a third attempt, and I assure you, we are not fools.”

“If you demand I view the universe through your eyes, then I insist you do the same,” Jiyazh said. “Ten millennia ago we were all but wiped out, and for what?” Once again, he glanced over at the Triumvirate contingent, who so far had said nothing for the record. Instead, they were huddled amongst themselves, in heated discussion. “For the crime of being omnivores...and had they held onto that ability, they would have visited the same fate on your race.”

“They might have tried”, Leandra said, as Hélène shot to her feet.

“I am sick to death hearing you whine about something that happened ten thousand years ago! It’s ancient history!” Hélène snapped.

“Not to us,” Azhum Ganakh growled. “That act of genocide has haunted us since the very beginning, and we will not allow ourselves to forget.”

“Of course, you can’t forget,” Leandra sighed, “but by the same token, how long will it be before you can forgive?”

“Until the debt is paid,” Jiyazh said, as he eyed the human Admirals. “What was that phrase you used, at the end? Ah, yes…Blood for Blood.”

“Try it, asshole,” Admiral Matevosian snarled.

“Enough!” Leandra barked, slamming her hand onto the table. “Will only death slake your thirst for vengeance?” she asked him. “Or yours?” she said to Admiral Fujimoto. “Do you have any idea how many years before the war I had to go to the Triumvirate Ministers, hat in hand, and beg for a chance to be heard? Do you?” She sneered at both parties; her lip curled in contempt. “Far too many, I can assure you, only to be snubbed and turned away every time. They called us ‘Barbarians’...and maybe they were right. Maybe that’s all we are...both us and the Khonhim. Maybe the only way we’ll ever know peace is to kill and kill and kill until no one is left!”

The conference room was silent, as the Prime Minister closed her eyes. “Maybe that’s all we deserve,” she whispered.

“...No...it isn’t,” a voice said behind her.

Leandra opened her eyes and turned around, as Minister Thrassath rose to his feet. “The Dhyaksh is right...we owe his people a debt.” He gave her a wan smile, “...and yours.”

The Prime Minister cocked her head, regarding him. “What are you saying?”

Thrassath sighed and spread his hands. “We cannot change what our ancestors did to the Khonhim, and they have every right to demand justice. In our defense, I can only say that we did not know the truth ourselves, not until the Prime Minister uncovered it.” He grimaced, as a look of shame came over him. “It is not an easy thing, to learn your people were once monsters. We have spent the last ten years in denial of that basic truth...but we can hide from it no longer.”

The Saurotaur minister shrugged, as he turned to the humans. “And then we compounded our mistake, by asking Earth to fight our battles for us. That they did so at all speaks well of them, considering our treatment of humanity. They too were in the right to demand we share the burden, though we did so only with great reluctance. With all due respect to Marshal Nassat,” he said, bowing towards the commander, who watched him without expression, “we are not warriors. We learned to fight by necessity, but it is not our nature. But that does not mean we have nothing to offer.”

Jiyazh leaned back in his chair, regarding the Minister. “What is it you have in mind?”

“That while we will never be the soldiers you are, we are skilled in the sciences, in engineering, and in many other areas. Let us use those talents, to make amends.” He looked at both groups, entreating them to listen. “Both the Khonhim and Humanity have suffered in this war. Both of you have worlds that are now all but wastelands. Allow us to rebuild those worlds, to bring them back to life, to share with you both our technology, and our resources. We have over a hundred worlds to draw from, more than enough to give you back what you have lost.”

“I’ve heard this song before,” Admiral Matevosian said. “It almost cost us Earth.”

“I know,” Thrassath said quietly, bowing his head. “We accept responsibility for that. We failed to supervise what was taking place, and humanity paid the price.” He took a deep breath and raised his head. “Which is why we will welcome both Khonhim and Human observers at every step of the process, from beginning to end, to ensure that does not happen again.”

“...You offer a great deal,” Jiyazh said at last, as they considered the Minister’s words, “but you ask for much in return. You seek to pay a blood price with bricks and seedlings, and many will say the scales do not balance. Just how long are you prepared to make this restitution?”

Thrassath met his gaze. “Until you say it is enough.”

Admiral Fujimoto raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious. This isn’t some subterfuge to placate us?”

“Quite serious, Admiral. This war must end, for all our sakes.” A wan smile touched his lips. “What is the price of a few bricks and seedlings, compared to that?”

The two Admirals glanced at each other for a moment and then nodded. “We must speak with others...but I think they might just be willing to listen.”

Jiyazh scratched his chin as he considered the proposal. “It will not be an easy task. Many of my people will not accept your help.”

“Not at first,” Thrassath agreed, “but in time, perhaps, we can convince them our intentions are honorable.”

“Perhaps,” he said with a smirk, “though I have a condition of my own.” His grin grew wider, as his eyes settled upon his target. “That Nassat be in charge of the project.”

Nassat rose to his feet and gazed around the room.

“...No,” he said.

Leandra blinked in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said no, Prime Minister,” he repeated. “For ten years I have done nothing but serve. You have called me to duty time and again, and each time with the same words. That you needed me.” He gazed at them with a fatigue than went far beyond mere physical weariness. “I have given everything to the cause, and I am finished. Let others take my place, for I am done being your puppet. The war is over...and my services are no longer required.”

Nassat plucked the Marshal’s rank from his collar, laying it on the table...and walked out of the room without another word.

The Barbarian War - Epilogue

You see me now, a veteran
Of a thousand psychic wars
My energy’s spent at last
And my armor is destroyed
I have used up all my weapons
And I’m helpless and bereaved
Wounds are all I’m made of...
Did I hear you say that this is victory?

Blue Öyster Cult - “Veteran of the Psychic Wars”

Six Months Later

The tavern was a rustic establishment, near one of the ruined cities of Gzuj, frequented by the ranks of those working to rebuild what they had lost. Despite the steady and growing flow of materials and personnel from the Tetrarchy, there would always be a need for Khonhim workers, skilled with their hands. Even with the alien technology being shared the project would take a lifetime, and perhaps more. But as the workers shared a meal and rounds of drinks after a day’s labor, there was a growing sense of pride. A sense that they were helping to reclaim what they had lost.

Like many such locales in history, people came and went daily. A laborer might spend months on a project only to walk away without a word, drawn to something else...or he might spend less than a week on-site before doing the same thing. The transient nature of the populace meant few ever grew close to those around them, and fewer still asked questions about their past.

Making it the perfect place to hide for someone like Chugaz Uydan.

It hadn’t been easy, escaping the Resolute during the heat of battle, but then he had always been a firm believer in planning for contingencies. He’d kept prepped escape pods scattered around the ship, and once away it was a simple matter to mingle in amongst the other survivors of the battle. He’d taken the identification card of a dead crewman, though his features were more problematic. It wasn’t as if he could blend in, not as well known...or as notorious...as he was, depending on one’s point of view, but he had prepared for that. A hypo filled with a powerful analgesic, a scalpel...and he was merely another wounded warrior, who’s facial scars rendered him unrecognizable.

He’d been picked up by Dauntless, of all ships, spotting Jiyazh several times during the journey back to Khonhim space, who never suspected a thing. It had been difficult to hide the rage he felt as others called him Dhyaksh...the title that by all rights was his.

But that was all right. Let him have his moment...for he had plans to deal with the usurper when the time was right.

Working on the reconstruction crews allowed him to blend in, and the simple duties gave him time to think. Time to plan his triumphant return to the halls of power, though the title of Dhyaksh would never be his again. He was known by too many, and wanted by both the Tetrarchy and his own people, for War Crimes.

Fools.

What he had done had been for the greater glory of his race, though such small minds could never grasp his vision. Perhaps things had not gone according to plan at the end...but that merely whetted his appetite for his next attempt. This time he would be the power behind the throne, a trusted advisor whispering into the Dhyaksh’s ear. He would find some suitable puppet in due course and begin the climb back to his proper place.

After all, he had done it before.

And once he was in place, once they had taken all they could from the alien fools, once his puppet was seated upon the throne...once again, the Tetrarchy would tremble at the sound of the Khonhim horde.

And it would be glorious.

Chugaz finished his simple meal, downed the last of his ale, and rose to his feet. The physical labors of his assumed role took their toll, and he needed rest. He made his way through the throng of bodies and into the street, walking back to the simple tenement he now called home. It too fitted his new persona, but when the time came for him to resume his duties as the true leader of the Khonhim, despite whatever figurehead the nation called Dhyaksh, he would leave it behind and never look back.

Perhaps he would have it razed, for his own enjoyment.

He turned down a side street, lost in his thoughts...when something yanked him off his feet. They covered his mouth before he could make a sound, and as he struggled, he felt a brief sting prick his neck.

And then nothing, as the darkness claimed him.

Chugaz regained consciousness, his mind struggle to recall what had happened. Where was he? He attempted to sit up but discovered he could not move. As he thrashed in panic, he realized he was restrained, his arms and legs bound...even his neck and chest were fettered.

What was happening?

“So...you’re awake,” a voice cooed in the darkness.

“Who is that?” Chugaz demanded. “Who are you?”

“No one special,” the voice chuckled. “I’ve been hunting you for a long time...Chugaz Uydan.”

He went still, as a cold feeling of dread filled his veins. “You are mistaken,” he got out. “I am not the Dhyaksh. My name is…”

“...don’t bother lying to me,” the voice snapped, harsher this time. “I know who you are...who you really are.”

A figure stepped out of the gloom, and into the light. A human figure...with eyes that squirmed.

“Hunting things is something I’m very good at,” Whisper giggled, as he raised a blade, letting it dance and weave above his face. Chugaz stared at the dagger with sick fascination, before looking at the human in desperation.

“I can pay you,” he babbled, “I’ll give you anything you want!”

“Hmm...now what do I want?” Whisper pondered, tapping his chin with the knife, as a smile lit up his face.

“Oh, I know,” he giggled, as he leaned in close, his lips almost brushing Chugaz’s ear. “...I want you to scream,” he breathed, as the blade came down.

Chugaz screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

Nassat sat on the small bench behind his home, with Taichist and Chechla at his side. He had promised Raichret they would someday build the home they had dreamed of, but there had never seemed to be enough time. Duties always seemed to drag them away.

And now, he had nothing but time.

A babbling brook meandered through the sculpted garden. It was a quiet place, a place of contemplation, just as he and Raichret had always imagined.

With one addition.

A carved block of stone stood before the bench, as he and his children gazed at its simple words:

RAICHRET

Beloved Wife and Mother

May the Creator Watch Over You

The children stared at the marker in solemn silence, as a quiet tone pulled him from his reveries. He withdrew his tablet, not wanting to disturb them and read the brief message.

It’s Done

With a single command, he deleted the text, ensuring no one else would ever read it, before slipping the tablet back into his robes.

“Father?”

Nassat smiled as gazed down at his son. “Yes, Taichist?”

His big eyes pleaded with him. “Tell us the story,” he begged.

“Yes, please do,” Chechla chimed in.

“As you wish,” he whispered, as they snuggled in close.

“…A long time ago, a young Acolyte and a Healer met during a war…”

THE END

The Barbarian Betrayal - Prologue

When "Happily Ever After" fails
And we've been poisoned by these fairy tales
The lawyers dwell on small details
Since daddy had to fly

But I know a place where we can go
Still untouched by men
We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by
And the tall grass wave in the wind

Just lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair fall all around me
Offer up your best defense
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence

Don Henley - “The End of the Innocence”

“Professor? Err...I think you might want to come see this.”

Doctor Amjad Dimitriou looked up from the pottery shard he was examining. “What is it?” he asked.

His research assistant shook her head. “That’s just it, we’re not sure. We’ve found a cache of artifacts in the Southeastern quadrant, and...they don’t seem to fit with anything else we’ve uncovered so far.”

He smiled and stowed the fragment away. “Then by all means, let’s have a look.” The pair stepped out of the prefabricated hut and began making their way down to the dig site. Xeno-Archeology was a new branch of science, but it also drew from its roots. While the canvas tents of old had long been replaced with more sturdy structures, many of the tools they still used would be recognizable to their predecessors. They were also fortunate to have new technologies at their disposal, precision instruments that Howard Carter and Richard Leakey would have killed for.

“We were excavating Phase 37-Alpha, in Section 14, when we found them,” his assistant explained. “Professor Dhobhoz is examining the relics in situ. He’s the one that asked me to come find you.”

“37-Alpha...that’s the dwelling we uncovered, yes?” Dimitriou asked, after taking a moment to dig through his mental files.

“That’s right,” she nodded. “At first glance, it appeared to be of typical Post and Thatch construction. The charcoal deposits showed the dwelling was destroyed in a fire, and we’d already uncovered a nearby midden...in fact, that was where we were concentrating our efforts when the GPR came back with some odd returns.”

The Professor frowned. “What sort of returns? The site hasn’t been contaminated, has it?” he asked with sudden concern.

“I...don't know,” she admitted. “That was my first thought, only now...” She shook her head again. “I realize this is an alien planet, and we’re bound to run across the occasional enigma...but this?” She gave him a worried look. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

They picked their way through the excavation, passing other assistants sifting the tailings for smaller fragments. “You’ve got my attention,” he said, as they climbed down the ladder to the latest dig site, where they spotted the Ophipteran scientist kneeling on the dirt floor. He glanced up as they approached, waving them in closer.

“Come, come!” he said, “This is most intriguing!” he chortled.

Amjad knelt beside him, peering into the small void they’d unearthed. “What are we looking at?” he asked.

“I do not know!” he said. “Isn’t that delightful?”

The human looked closer...and froze. “Wait...is that…metal?” he said in disbelief.

“It is! And the GPR has confirmed this!” The alien professor could barely contain himself. “This will make for quite the thesis!”

“...that’s impossible,” Dimitriou got out, once he’d found his voice again. “The Iqoobaa were Neolithic...they had no metallurgy.”

“Or so we thought!” Dhobhoz exclaimed. “Obviously we were in error!”

“Now hold on...let’s not allow our enthusiasms get the better of us,” Amjad cautioned. “We’ve been on Omicron Ursae Majoris IV for months now, and so far, we have no evidence of any metallic items. No bronze, no iron...not even gold or silver. Not only that, we’ve found no forges, no mining sites...so how can there be metallic artifacts now?” He sighed. “Professor...the site must be contaminated.”

“Perhaps they traded with other tribes,” the Ophipteran suggested. “We have only scratched the surface of this world. It is possible other groups were more advanced.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but you’d think we’d have seen some evidence of that by now. Beads, nails…something.” He scratched his chin for a moment while he pondered the dilemma. “What about the stratigraphy? Have we have disturbed the site in any way?”

“The stratigraphy is consistent with the adjacent areas,” he riposted, his vestigial wings fluttering. “In fact, I am awaiting the results of the Radiocarbon tests we performed on the bone shards we found intermixed with the artifacts.”

Dimitriou nodded. “That would help pin this down,” he admitted. “If the dates were consistent with the rest of the site…”

One of the other assistants appeared before he could finish the sentence and handed Dhobhoz a tablet. Moments later he was bounding to his feet, thrusting the tablet into the human’s hands.

“See for yourself!” he asserted. “18,400 of your Earth years, with a margin of less than 200! It cannot be contamination!”

Amjad read the report and then read it again. He rose to his feet, still shaking his head. “Ok, I’ll admit this makes for compelling evidence,” he said at last, “but just think about it for a moment. We’ve been looking for evidence why the Iqoobaa disappeared, and so far, we’ve come up empty-handed. Then you find this,” he said, tapping the tablet, “and the dates for your metal artifacts are within the same timeframe of when they died out. So tell me...what does that suggest to you?”

The Ophipteran stopped fluttering about long enough to consider the question. “Are you proposing that these objects are from...off-world?” he asked.

“It’s a possibility,” Dimitriou shrugged. “I’m not prepared to rule it out just yet, at least.” He paused for a moment and looked at his counterpart. “Do your people have data that goes back that far?” he asked.

“No,” Dhobhoz sighed, “that was long before the forming of the Triumvirate. What few records we have from that era are deficient...little more than legends.”

“What about the Saurotaurs or the Ronin?” he pressed. “Any possibilities there?”

“Unlikely,” the alien scientist replied. “The Saurotaurs were still pre-technic at that point, and as for the Ronin…” He paused and then leaned in. “We have learned not to ask,” he mumbled. “That would be the same era when their Creators became extinct. It is a...painful memory, for them. They purged much of what might have retained long ago, rather than relive those dark days. They were only just self-aware when the plague took them, and I believe it traumatized their race.”

“I understand,” Amjad said. “Well then, back to the drawing board, as we say on Earth. Perhaps when we finish removing the artifacts, we will have a better understanding of their purpose, and how they came to end up here.”

“Let us hope so,” the Ophipteran agreed...when a strange look came across his face.

“Is something the matter?” Dimitriou asked.

“Not, it is just that…” The scientist paused for a moment. “It is my understanding that you Humans often have a...cynical view of the Universe,” he said. “I mean no offense, but…” he paused once again and then shook his head. “No...I am certain it is a fluke.”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” the archeologist answered.

Dhobhoz took a deep breath. “It is just...does it not strike you as odd that the Iqoobaa and the Ronin Creators disappeared during the same time period?”

Amjad blinked. “Now that you mention it...it is peculiar,” he said at last. “But it must be just a coincidence. The odds of it being anything more are...astronomical.

The Ophipteran mulled that over and then nodded. “You are right,” he agreed. “Come,” he said, his concerns forgotten, “we have work to do! And theories to defend!”

The human chuckled as he followed the alien scientist back to the site. Once they finished excavating, they’d have a better idea of what they were dealing with. Dimitriou still thought it was some form of contamination...though how that was possible eluded him.

But that was the attraction of Archeology. The mystery.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 1

Is this the little girl I carried?
Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older
When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he grow to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday when they, were, small?

Sunrise, sunset, Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze
Sunrise, sunset, Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness, and tears

Fiddler on the Roof - “Sunrise, Sunset”

“...stop fussing.”

Nassat sighed, as Tango finished the last-minute touches on his robes. “You want to look your best today, don’t you?” she asked him, as he tried to bear up with her ministrations. “You know the media will be there in full force.”

“Why?” he asked her. “Today has nothing to do with me.” The comment earned him a raised eyebrow. The Saurotaur sighed once again. “For almost twenty years now, I have done my very best to stay out of the limelight. I am no longer in uniform, I serve in no government position, I attend no events...so why after all this time is the media still interested in my comings and goings?”

“Because nothing piques the public's attention like the mysterious, reclusive hero,” she chuckled. “After all these years, you’d think you’d have figured that out by now.”

“I keep hoping they will forget about me,” he said. “If avoiding the public does not work, and embracing their attention even less so...then what does that leave?”

“Nothing,” she grinned. “Face it boss...you’re a marked man. Well, Saurotaur.” Tango made one final adjustment and stepped back. “Perfect,” she said in approval. “Now try not to mess it up until after the ceremony.”

Nassat inclined his head in thanks, as he turned to face the mirror. He couldn't believe the image staring back at him was who he was now. The years had not been unkind, but they had still left their mark. The new lines and wrinkles that seemed to appear almost daily, the thickening around the middle and haunches that refused to disappear, despite his best efforts...but most of all it was the eyes. The humans believed that they were the windows to the soul, and he could not disagree.

The eyes that stared back at him belonged to someone much, much older...someone who had borne witness to things he would very much like to forget.

And yet he found a smile lurking somewhere within the depths, as he turned back to the human. “As always, you have transformed this aging recluse into something that will not embarrass his children,” Nassat informed her, earning him yet another grin. “How would I have managed all these years without your ministrations?”

“I think you would have stopped bathing after about six months,” she smirked, her eyes twinkling, “without someone to remind you.”

The pair shared a brief laugh, as his eyes went to the ubiquitous autopistol she wore in her shoulder rig. “Is that necessary today?” he asked.

“I hope not,” Tango replied, “but that doesn't mean I’m leaving any of you unguarded. You still have a few enemies out there, you know...not to mention the random troublemakers.”

Nassat grimaced but made no further protests. “Have they arrived yet?” he asked, changing the subject.

“On their way,” she informed him. “I assume you want to greet them in the garden?”

“I do,” he nodded.

“I figured as much,” she said. “If I’ve timed this right, they should walk through the front door about the time you’ve settled in your favorite spot.”

“The day your calculations are incorrect is the day the Universe stops spinning on its axis,” he smiled. “Shall we?”

The human female grinned, leading the way through the house and down to the garden that dominated the landscape around his home. Tango said it was almost Japanese in style, and after she had shown him examples from Earth it forced him to agree. There were differences but similar aesthetics and philosophies seemed to abound. It was a quiet place, a place of reflection, that calmed his restless spirit.

He had just settled in, with a view of the meandering stream, when Nassat heard someone call out to him.

“Father?” a deep voice inquired, as two figures rounded an ornamental shrub, breaking out into smiles as they rushed forward to greet him.

“Taichist, Chechla...let me look at you,” he said, his hands reaching out to take theirs. He took a moment to gaze at them both, marveling yet again at just how much they had grown. “How is it you have both grown so big? I recall holding both of you in my arms as I carried you to bed.”

“I have known children to do that,” Tango observed, as she took position at his side.

“Hello Tango,” Chechla smiled. “Have you been looking after Father…despite his complaints?”

“Always,” she grinned, as his daughter chuckled. “It’s good to see you two. Place isn’t the same without you.”

“It isn’t,” Nassat agreed, “but children must strike out on their own.” He smiled at them both. “No matter how much their decrepit old parent may miss them.”

“You are far from decrepit, Father,” Taichist smiled. “I suspect you could still pass the Army physical if you wanted to.”

He dismissed that with a wave. “Then it is a good thing that I do not want to,” he smiled, as he motioned for them to sit down. They each took a seat beside him, as he poured tea. “Besides, we have much more pleasant things to talk about today...for today I am given the great privilege to see my children receive their official scholastic credentials and take their place among the ranks of those who have gone before.” Nassat squeezed both of their hands. “I am so very proud of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with sudden emotion.

His son and daughter both blushed as he nodded to Tango. She produced two small presents, passing them over as the children looked at him.

“On the day of your graduation, it is customary to gift the former student with a token, something that announces to the world both who they are...and from where they come.” Nassat turned first to Chechla, giving her a small flat box. Her brother looked over as she took it with trembling hands, lifting the hinged lid...before gasping in wonderment as she lifted out a piece of finely wrought jewelry, a sphere suspended within a tetrahedron, dangling from a delicate-looking chain.

“...it’s beautiful,” she whispered,” as she held it in her palm.

“It was your mother’s,” Nassat said softly, “...and her mother’s before her. I know she would want very much for you to have it, the daughter that carried on her family’s tradition of becoming Healers.”

Chechla blinked back sudden tears, as she held it out to her father. Nassat accepted the pendant and fastened it around her neck, taking her hand and kissing it, before she marveled at it once more.

“It suits you, Sister,” her brother smiled.

“That it does,” Nassat agreed, as he turned to his son and held out a larger box. Taichist took it from his father’s hands and opened it, staring in shock as he lifted out a gleaming gold medallion, hanging from a dark blue ribbon of embroidered cloth.

“...it is your Cœur de Lion,” he said. “They awarded you this on Uzaunx.” He gazed upon it with almost religious awe...before closing his eyes and holding it out to his father. “It is too much,” Taichist whispered. “I cannot accept this.”

Nassat smiled and closed his son’s fingers around the medal. “There is a reason I chose this for you,” he said gently. “They awarded me many decorations, but that was the first. The one that taught me they were both a blessing...and a curse.” He glanced over at Tango, sharing a look with her as she watched over them. “That you have chosen to become a Diplomat, to prevent war…” His eyes were wet as he gazed at his son. “I present you this small token, hoping it will never be awarded again.”

He reached out and gathered his children, holding them close. “I love you both so very much,” he said softly, “and I know your Mother is watching over you.” Nassat hugged them, not wanting to let go...until Tango made a small noise in her throat.

Reluctantly, he loosened his grip. “And now, we must depart,” he sighed, “so that the world may see what I do.”

“...we love you too, Father,” Chechla whispered, as her brother nodded in agreement. Nassat took their hands once more, rising to his feet...as Tango led the trio to the waiting limousine.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 2

It was always summer and the future called
We were ready for adventures and we wanted them all
And there was so much left to dream
And so much time to make it real

But I can still recall the sting of all the tears when he was gone
They say he crashed and burned, I know I'll never learn
Why any boy should die so young

We were racing; we were soldiers of fortune
We got in trouble but we sure got around
There are times I think I see him peeling out of the dark
I think he's right behind me now, and he's gaining ground

But it was long ago and it was far away, oh God it seems so very far
And if life is just a highway, then the soul is just a car
And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

Meat Loaf - “Objects in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are”

High Commander Azhum Ganakh, of the Khonhim Home Fleet, looked over the latest plots and grunted, before settling back into his chair. The Tetrarchy ships were out there somewhere, just past sensor range, though they had gotten much better at staying hidden over the years. Despite the peaceful overtures of their old adversaries, there was still a great deal of mistrust...on both sides.

In his more charitable moments, he would perhaps admit the old Triumvirate races had stayed true to their word, helping to rebuild the shattered worlds lost during the war. After sharing a few glasses with trusted comrades...a circle that grew smaller with each passing year...he might even be willing to concede their presence in Khonhim space was justified, given their shared history.

But that did not mean he had to like it.

The humans called it, “Cat and Mouse”. Admiral Fujimoto...no, wait...she was Field Marshal now, had mentioned it in passing during one of their summits. Each side tracked the other, testing their mettle and their resolve...but only to a point. Neither side wanted to make the fatal mistake that would push them into war once again...at least, not until the odds were considerably more in their favor.

Azhum turned to his Tactical officer. “Take us up above the ecliptic,” he ordered. “The Tetrarchy fleet may have slithered out of our grasp this round...but I have no intention of allowing them to do so again.”

“At once, High Commander!” the officer acknowledged, bending to her task. She was one of the new breed; young, bright, eager to prove her skills...and had been a child when the Ceasefire had been signed.

He felt like a fossil just looking at her.

Shifting in his chair once again, he viewed the plot with a critical eye, looking for that first hint that could tip the odds to their favor.

On the other side of the system, his ships at full EMCON, Fleet Admiral Matevosian smiled as he planned his next maneuver. Gzuj was one of the worlds the Tetrarchy had smashed down to the bedrock during the previous war, though with great effort it was undergoing something of a rebirth. A steady stream of vessels trundled their way back and forth, carrying personnel and supplies vital to the effort, while his Task Force and the one under Azhum Ganakh played Hide and Seek...though each side stayed far away from the civilian ships. He didn’t like the grizzled old bastard, never had...but he had learned to respect him.

Not that you’re a spring chicken, he chuckled to himself. There were still a few of the Old Guard left...Hélène and Prime Minister Singh, for example...but more and more younger faces were filling the ranks. They could barely recall a time when the thought of Earth having a real military force was somewhere between a bad joke and an ancient nightmare.

Mankind had slipped back into his old habits, as Military Academies opened once more...though these days West Point, Sandhurst, Frunze, and Saint-Cyr were just as likely to be cranking out Saurotaur and Ophipteran graduates, as they were humans. Most still leaned towards pacifism but after back-to-back wars, many of their brethren had adopted a much more...pragmatic viewpoint. Matevosian still hadn’t decided whether he thought the trend was a good thing or not.

“Sir...I am picking up something unusual on long-range sensors,” his Ronin helmsman announced, pulling him from his reveries.

“What the hell is Ganakh up to now?” he grumbled.

The Artificial lifeform turned to face him. “Sir...I do not believe it is the Khonhim I am detecting,” it said.

The Admiral stared at the Ronin in confusion. “Then what? One of the civilian vessels?”

“No Sir,” it responded, as it expanded the plot to a higher resolution. “The vector I am plotting for the unknown signal originates far outside the system, on a trajectory that would be all but impossible for the Khonhim Task Force to have maneuvered to.”

Matevosian rose to his feet as he stared at the holographic projection. There was no way Azhum could have gotten his ships to that position...not with the Δv they were observing unless his ships had just gotten one hell of an upgrade.

“Plot a reciprocal for that vector,” he ordered. “What’s on that heading?”

The Helmsman had the answer just moments later. “Admiral...to the best of our knowledge, nothing lies in that direction,” it said with growing concern.

He gripped the short railing that surrounded the projector. “Can you clean that up at all?” he asked. The image was hazy and indistinct.

“I am attempting to, Sir, but sensors are having difficulty getting a solid return. Some form of interference appears to be at work.”

An all too familiar sensation was settling into his gut; one he had not felt for a very long time. “Is there any sign they’ve detected us?” he asked.

“Not yet,” the Ronin replied. “I am observing no deviation at this time of its course and speed.”

His practiced eyes tracked the plot, as that sensation turned ice-cold. “Designate unidentified signal as Bogie 1,” he ordered. “Assuming it continues on this trajectory, where will it take him?”

A new plot appeared, marked in angry red. “If Bogie 1 continues on its current heading...it is almost certain to enter weapons range of the Khonhim Task Force within the next thirty-seven minutes.”

The confirmation of what his experience had already informed him felt like a steel door slamming shut. “Set Condition One throughout the fleet,” he heard himself say. “All hands to Battle Stations.”

The bridge lights turned blood red as klaxons sounded throughout the ship. TNS Minotaur was one of the latest of the Medusa-Class Monitors to come from Earth’s rebuilt shipyards, far more powerful than the carrier Kestrel he had flown his flag from during the last war. She was almost double the size of the old Zaaronq-Class Dreadnoughts, with enough firepower to have turned his younger self green with envy. The Task Force he commanded raised that combat power by an order of magnitude at least...and yet he wished he had more.

Matevosian had no proof of hostile intent...not yet anyway...but there was no way in Hell he would leave his people unprepared. Part of him wanted to wait and let the situation develop before committing to a course of action, but the years of experience under his belt told him that would be a fatal mistake. And if passivity was not an option...that left him only one other choice.

“Inform all civilian traffic they are to clear the system,” he ordered, “and then send a Flash message to Marshal Fujimoto, apprising her of the situation. Try to keep us under EMCON if you can...but get those messages out.”

“Aye aye, Sir,” the Com officer replied, as his fingers flew across his workstation.

“...and then,” he sighed, “raise High Commander Ganakh...and inform him we have company coming.”

“What?” Azhum said in shock. “Repeat that!”

“Commander….it is confirmed,” the Tactical officer replied, with widened eyes. “Our own sensors have now picked up the signal.”

Part of him wanted to dismiss it all as some Tetrarchy ruse...perhaps as a prelude to an escalation on their part...but in his heart, he knew.

“Clear for battle,” he snapped, as alarms began to sound, “and then send a Priority message to the Dhyaksh,” he said. “Inform him that an unknown force has entered the Gzuj System.”

“At once, Commander,” his officer acknowledged, already carrying out his wishes.

“You are also to inform him,” he continued, settling into his command chair, “that we presume them to be hostile.”

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 3

Running, scrambling, flying
Rolling, turning, diving, going in again
Run, live to fly, fly to live, do or die
Run, live to fly, fly to live. Aces high.

Move in to fire at the mainstream of bombers
Let off a sharp burst and then turn away
Roll over, spin round and come in behind them
Move to their blindsides and firing again.

Bandits at 8 o'clock move in behind us
Ten ME-109's out of the sun
Ascending and turning our spitfires to face them
Heading straight for them I press down my guns

Iron Maiden - “Aces High”

Admiral Matevosian had a problem.

He had several problems, in fact, but foremost on his mind...other than wanting to know who the hell these newcomers were, and what they were doing here...was how he was supposed to respond. The Prime Minister would take a dim view of him starting a war without provocation, but if their ships kept boring in without so much as a peep, he had to assume they were up to no good.

Which brought him to his problem: the minor detail that Gzuj didn’t belong to the Tetrarchy.

This was Khonhim space, and while they had accepted his presence...because Marshal Fujimoto had made it quite clear she would go to war again in a heartbeat if they didn’t...opening fire under these circumstances would be what the Brits used to call “Bad Form”. It was political dynamite, a powder keg with a lit fuse...meaning the only way he could justify pulling the trigger would be if the Khonhim requested his help.

Which given Commander Ganakh’s stiff-necked, touchy pride, was about as likely as him gaining the ability to breathe vacuum.

“...there is still no response to our hails,” his Tactical officer informed him.

Azhum Ganakh scowled as he viewed the display. They were continuing to have difficulties tracking the incoming Armada...and it was a hostile force, he was certain of that. The only question now was what to do about it.

The Dhyaksh had responded to his message, but there was very little he could do. Dakik was days away, and no reinforcements would be forthcoming. So Jiyazh Ghuuyaz had informed him he would stand behind whatever decision he made. Except…

...You know what you must do, his mind whispered, but to even say the words aloud stuck in his throat like a raw piece of meat. He had reinforcements at his disposal, close by, willing to fight, proven in battle. All he had to do was ask.

And it galled him.

The civilian ships in the system were scattering like minnows before a shark, burning hard to place themselves out of harm’s way, so he put them out of his mind and focused his attention on the strangers in their midst. Given that they had aimed their fleet at him, an ambush was out of the question, which meant there was only one tactic left.

“Inform the fleet we will engage the enemy,” he ordered at last. “We will meet them head-on...and show them the price of their arrogance.”

His Tactical officer swelled with emotion as she passed the orders, while Azhum kept from shaking his head in sorrow. She was young, unblooded, her head filled with tales of glory. She had never been in this place before when warrior stood before warrior...each knowing that only one would walk away.

He, on the other hand, knew this place all too well.

...and yet he still could not bring himself to ask the Tetrarchy for aid.

Screw this.

Maybe he couldn’t open fire without permission, but that didn’t mean Matevosian was out of options. He couldn’t shoot...but he could maneuver.

“Bring us to 157 by Mark 229,” he ordered, “and flush the fighters. Once the squadrons have formed, they are to hold station with the Task Force until I have given them formal release.”

“Aye Sir,” the Helmsman replied, as the orders went out. Unless Ganakh knocked them out in one swift strike...not bloody likely...eventually even that hidebound idiot would recognize the necessity of asking for his help.

And when he did, they would be ready.

Given the difficulty they were having locking onto their targets, Ganakh held his fire. He wanted, needed to get closer, so as they passed from extreme range to long, and then to medium, he waited...though he could not help but wonder why they had not yet fired.

Perhaps their weapons are even shorter-legged than ours, he mused. If so he dare not wait any longer. “This is the High Commander,” he announced on the fleet channel, “All ships…fire.”

The Khonhim Task Force belched out thousands of missiles, sending them roaring at the enemy as their drives burned hard. They still couldn’t pack an FTL drive in something that small, but they were still far swifter than the ones he'd used against the old Triumvirate. Their onboard sensors went active, pinging hard as they searched for their prey. Within seconds they were closing the distance between the two fleets...when at last the interlopers responded.

Blinding beams of energy radiated from every vessel, lashing out at the incoming swarm. Again and again, they struck...and every time they did, Khonhim torpedoes died. Not in one’s or two’s, but in score’s and dozen’s, and when the dust settled every missile had been obliterated...while the enemy fleet lay untouched.

Azhum Ganakh stared at the carnage in disbelief. Not even one hit? Surely, they could manage at least that.

But the intact enemy mocked his efforts as they opened fire once more...this time those same lethal rays tearing into his ships as if made of tissue. Defiance and Honor both detonated in double-pulse explosions, their reactors turning the ships into miniature suns. Alarms screamed as his flagship Vanguard was rent asunder, while he pounded the intercom icon in sudden desperation.

“Message to the Tetrarchy fleet! he shouted, “...we are requesting assistance!”

The request was unnecessary. Superfluous, in fact...as Admiral Matevosian had already sent the fleet in before they received Ganakh’s message...orders be damned. Maybe he didn’t like the Khonhim or even trust them, but they had come too damn far these past decades to let it all just fall apart now. Not when he had the power to do something about it.

“All ahead full,” he ordered, “Interceptor squadrons to take the lead.” Swarms of F-206 Copperhead fighters surged forward, diving in for the kill as their carriers fell back behind the heavies. He’d brought the fleet in as close as he’d dared before committing them to action, but it would still take several minutes to close the range.

The second wave comprised the Ronin A-49 Vipers, direct descendants of the old HK’s. They weren't as swift or as nimble as their cousins...but when a Viper struck at you, you knew they had kissed you. They were also far sleeker in appearance than their predecessors since they’d had time to perfect the design this time around. Their heavy turrets rotated towards the enemy, still engaging the Khonhim Task Force.

Behind them lagged the heavyweights, Minotaur and the gaggle of Cruisers, Destroyers, and Frigates that formed the bulk of his fleet. Their much more massive weapons had the range the smaller ships lacked, and if he’d timed it right, all three waves should hit their marks right about…

…now.

“...we’ve lost main propulsion!” his Tactical officer screamed, as yet another beam stabbed into Vanguard with the precision of an assassin’s blade, “Torpedo Bays 1 and 3 are open to space!”

“Then get me thrusters!” Azhum Ganakh shouted back, “anything we can use to maneuver!”

She moved to respond...when a nearby power conduit exploded in white-hot fury. It threw the young female officer across the bridge by the blast, her burned and shattered body impacting the far bulkhead with a sickening wet sound, her lifeless carcass leaving an ugly orange smear as her corpse slid down to the deck.

Ganakh lurched to his feet, staggering to one of the other consoles as he fought to save his ship. Orders were useless now, by the time he passed them the recipient was usually dead...or his ship destroyed. The fleet had come apart at the seams as each ship tried to save itself...when the enemy fire vanished.

Somehow, he brought up an exterior view, watching in dismay as the enemy turned away.

With his task Force in ruins...now it was Matevosian’s turn.

His first salvo had barely cleared their guns before the enemy fleet altered course, looping around on a reciprocal trajectory that sent them screaming back towards him. The fleet tracked the bandits and fired again, with far better results than the Khonhim had managed. They’d been traveling in their wake for some time now, and with them closing in their hit probabilities began to climb. They launched antimatter projectiles, striking again and again, but it was as if they were barely scratching the surface. He knew could winnow them down, Matevosian was certain of it, he just needed to…

The wave of Vipers staggered, as something unseen seemed to ripple through them. There was no damage, no weapons fire that he could make out, but as he was about to request a SITREP the formation steadied itself once again.

Which is why Fleet Admiral Ouri Matevosian had an almost pristine view of the Ronin vessels swinging their turrets around in unison...and opening fire on his own fleet.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 4

Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan
Riders on the storm

There's a killer on the road
His brain is squirmin' like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If you give this man a ride
Sweet family will die
Killer on the road

The Doors - “Riders on the Storm”

...it’s a mistake...it must be a mistake… was the first thing that went through Admiral Matevosian’s mind, as the Ronin Vipers opened fire on their own fleet.

But as his Task Force staggered under the blow, he knew damn well this was no mistake. Whether it was sabotage or treason or something else he didn’t know, but he had bigger issues to deal with.

One destroyer broke its back as the Ronin attack vessels unleashed another salvo, leaving him no choice. “All ships…target the Vipers!” he shouted at his Comm Officer, as his heavies started shooting back.

The Copperhead fighters caught between the Scylla of this new enemy, and the Charybdis of the treasonous Viper’s spent far too many precious moments deciding which threat they should focus on. Matevosian was about to decide for them when they flipped end-over-end and burned hard to claw their way back to the fleet. It was the right decision, and with a little luck might even distract the Ronin vessels, as they continued to rain deadly fire down on his ships.

With everything on his plate, as he fought to save his command, one could forgive Admiral Matevosian the crime of losing sight of the original threat...the enemy fleet...given the fact that as they closed in, they had ceased firing. They were showing no signs of slowing, in fact, they were actually increasing speed, but as they bored in their guns were silent.

And yet…something was happening with them.

As they drew closer, the enemy ships looked to be suspended within a thin cloud of glittering diamonds. How this pint-sized nebula was keeping pace with the enemy ships was anyone’s guess and given the more immediate threat the question wasn’t being asked.

Not that it would have mattered.

“...Damage report!” Azhum Ganakh shouted,

“Propulsion offline...weapons offline...life support is failing!” his Engineer yelled back. “Vanguard is finished, High Commander! We must abandon her!”

The confirmation of what he had already known were like a dagger to the heart. He wanted to save her, but the old girl was too far gone, and with the enemy fleet now chasing after the Tetrarchy Task Force, if he was going to move, he’d best do it now.

“...pass the word to all hands,” he said at last. “Those still alive are to transfer to our surviving ships. All shuttles are to expedite the transfer...priority to be given to the worst damaged vessels.” Azhum Ganakh set his jaw, as he rose to his full height. “I will transfer my flag to Furious, and once the evacuations are complete...the fleet will withdraw from the Gzuj system and make best speed to Dakik.”

The Engineer stared at him. “We are abandoning the system?”

“We have no choice!” the High Commander thundered. “If we remain here, we lose everything!” The other officer flinched at his anger, as Azhum Ganakh forced himself to throttle back his rage. “Should any of the civilian craft wish to join us,” he continued, in more temperate tones, “we will protect them as best we can...but that is all we can do.”

“...and the Tetrarchy ships?” the Engineer ventured.

It was difficult to meet the younger officer’s eyes. Azhum Ganakh turned his attention to the display, watching in dismay as the enemy pursued Matevosian Task Force.

“...they are on their own,” he said at last...choking on every word.

...they’re fighting dumb, Matevosian realized with a start. The Ronin Vipers weren’t even trying to dodge the returning fire from the rest of the Task Force...instead burning hard for the bulk of his fleet on a direct course, as their batteries went to rapid-fire. The incoming storm of antimatter was brutal, withering...but their own fusillade was tearing the Ronin apart. One cruiser exploded as its reactor went critical, but the others were still hanging on.

The enemy fleet was well within range, and yet they still held their fire. Were it not for the Vipers they would have his full attention but dividing his fire now would be a death sentence. He had to deal with the Ronin first.

The strange ships swept past his Task Force, as the strange cloud enveloping them seemed to reach out to his ships, lashing at them like tendrils of smoke. He braced for the worst...and stared in amazement as they swept past, to no effect.

“...what the Hell was that all about?” he demanded, as what remained of his squadron began mopping up the last of the rebel craft. They’d been savaged...but they weren’t out of this yet.

Matevosian turned his attention back to the Helmsman. “Come about,” he ordered, “and…”

The Ronin pilot rose from its chair without warning and pivoted, charging him with outstretched metallic arms.

“...Shit!” he yelped in shock, scrambling to get out of the machine’s way, but it tracked him with the precision of a bloodhound. One rating threw himself onto its back, wrestling with the out of control Ronin...only to have it reach back behind itself and grab his neck with both metallic hands, the fragile vertebrae shattering in its grasp as his body was hurled away.

The Bridge descended into chaos as the surviving crew struggled to fight the crazed automaton...or scurried to get out of its path. Matevosian backpedaled as the Ronin came after him...only to trip over the prone figure of another officer who’d been tossed aside. In the moment as it closed the distance, the two men struggled to disentangle from one another...only to look up in terror as the machine closed in for the kill.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

The Ronin rocked on its heels as the Master-at-Arms fired her sidearm, again and again, driving the machine back as she placed one round after another where they would do the most damage. It collapsed to the deck, only to scuttle forward once again on its broken limbs as the Admiral lurched back to his feet.

The Petty officer stepped forward and jammed the pistol against the Ronin’s braincase, the metal sphere that housed its memories and personality...and fired. An ear-piercing screech filled the compartment like electronic feedback...as the machine fell back down to the deck, dark and inert.

“...What. The. Fuck?” Matevosian stammered in shock.

“...are you all right, Sir?” the Master-at-Arms asked, as she slapped in a fresh magazine. It took a moment for the question to register, but he managed a quick nod of thanks as he looked around the bridge. The Ronin had killed or wounded half a dozen crew before the Petty officer had put it down, and as he struggled to make sense of what had just happened...a horrifying thought came to him.

“...how many?” he demanded. His First officer blinked in confusion at the question. “How many more Ronin are there in the Task Force?” he demanded, as the XO realized what he was asking...and why.

“Christ...” he swore, racing to a console, only to have the Comm officer shout for his attention.

“Admiral...I’m getting reports throughout the fleet,” he got out. “The Ronin have gone crazy everywhere, and they’re…” He stopped talking as new reports flooded his earpiece...the blood draining from his face as he looked back up in alarm. “Sir...we’ve lost contact with Triton and Phoenix. Both ships just...went off the air.”

Matevosian and his First officer shared a sickened look. “Get me a visual,” he ordered, as they struggled to locate the errant vessels.

“...There,” his XO pointed after a moment. “They’ve changed course, now heading…” He ran the numbers through the Navigational array and swallowed. “Straight back to Tetrarchy space.”

“Jesus…” the Admiral whispered. “And the ships that attacked us?”

That took another few moments. “They’ve settled into orbit over Gzuj,” the XO informed him, “and it looks like they’re sending down shuttles to the planet surface.” He shook his head. “I don’t think they’re planning on leaving soon.”

The Admiral’s jaw clenched as he decided. “After those ships,” he commanded them. “If any of our remaining vessels can’t keep up, transfer the crew and scuttle them. We must now assume Triton and Phoenix to be hostile...and it’s up to us to stop them.”

“Yes Sir,” his First officer agreed.

“And then get me Marshal Fujimoto,” he said, “because if we can’t stop them, it’s up to her.”

“Yes, Sir...but they’re only a pair of cruisers,” the XO pointed out. “They could do some damage...but what we have still at home should be able to handle them.”

“That’s not what worries me,” Matevosian told him. “We don’t know what made them go crazy. What if it’s contagious? What if it can spread...like a virus?” He turned to face his First officer. “What if they landed...on a Ronin world? There are billions of Ronin in the Tetrarchy...and if that thing is a virus…”

His voice trailed off into silence, as dark visions filled his thoughts.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 5

Us, and Them
And after all, we're only ordinary men
Me, and you
God only knows it's not what we would choose to do
“Forward!” he cried,
From the rear
And the front rank died
And the General sat,
As the lines on the map
Moved from side to side

Black, and Blue
And who knows which is which, and who is who
Up, and Down
And in the end, it's only round and round, and round
“Haven't you heard, it's a battle of words?”
The poster bearer cried
“Listen, son,” said the man with the gun,
“There's room for you inside.”

Pink Floyd - “Us and Them”

Prime Minister Singh was waiting in her private study as they ushered in Field Marshal Fujimoto. She waited until her aide closed the door, and then rose to her feet.

“You call me in the middle of the night, tell me it’s urgent, and then refuse to give me any details,” Leandra groused, as she waved her visitor to a chair, while she made her way to the sideboard. “You insist on speaking to me, and in private,” she continued, as she reached for a decanter and poured three fingers of amber liquid into the glasses, before carrying them over and handing one to her guest, before she seated herself. “I can only assume then, that it’s bad news.” She took a sip of her drink and then leaned back in her chair. “My only question is how bad?”

“Remember when the Khonhim attacked Earth and convinced the old guard to stage a coup?” the old warrior reminded her.

Leandra closed her eyes. “That bad.”

“...worse. Much worse, I’m afraid,” Hélène sighed. “I received a com from Matevosian. It seems there’s a new player in the game...and whoever they are, in less than an hour they gutted the Khonhim Home Fleet, shattered our Task Force, and took Gzuj.”

The Prime Minister nodded, taking it in. “I see now why you wanted a private meeting.”

The Marshal regarded her glass for a moment, and then threw it back, downing the 30-Year Laphroaig in one gulp before setting down her tumbler. “Leandra...I haven’t gotten to the bad news yet.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” the Minister snapped. “I’m not getting any younger.”

Hélène grimaced. “This new faction, whoever they are...they’ve done something to the Ronin. Turned them, somehow.”

“What do you mean, ‘Turned them’?”

“I mean that during the battle with this new faction, every Ronin in the fleet went crazy and started attacking our own people,” the Field Marshall spit out. “The Vipers started firing on the other ships of the Task Force, while the ones aboard the larger vessels started killing everyone they could get their hands on until we put them down.”

Leandra could only stare at her in shock, as Hélène pushed herself out of her chair and refilled her glass from the decanter. “Two of our cruisers…Triton and Phoenix...broke away from the fleet and were last seen heading this way.” She took another stiff belt, before turning back around. “We now believe them to be under Ronin control, and their intentions are unknown.”

“Dear God,” the Prime Minister whispered. “...how? Why?”

“We don’t know,” the Marshal admitted. “Matevosian has his people collecting evidence, but so far all he has is a lot of questions and no answers.”

“Well, has anyone questioned the Ronin?” Leandra fired back. “Maybe they can tell us something.”

“That will be a problem,” Hélène informed her, “since the only surviving Ronin in the entire Task Force are on those cruisers...and our Fleet Admiral lost sight of them three hours ago.”

The Prime Minister staggered, shaking her head as if she’d just gone a dozen rounds with the heavyweight champion. “Wait...just wait a minute,” she demanded. “Why are there no other surviving Ronin, and how the hell did he lose those ships?”

“Have you ever fought a Ronin?” the Field Marshal shot back. “They don’t have any weak points. They’re machines...and not one of them would stop trying to kill their former comrades until they were put down.” The emphasis she put on those last words hit the Prime Minister like a bucket of ice water.

“...you mean…” she whispered.

“I mean...that any Ronin who didn’t escape had to be killed. Deactivated. Whatever the proper term is,” she blustered. “As for your second question...the escaping Ronin removed every single safety interlock from the cruisers to gain speed. Matevosian estimates they’d hit 30g’s when they disappeared and were spewing enough gamma rays to melt a small moon.”

“But that would kill a…” Leandra began to say, only to have the words die in her throat when she understood what Hélène was telling her.

The Field Marshal nodded. “Yeah, it would kill anything biological in minutes...but a Ronin?” She shrugged. “They could survive it.”

The Prime Minister took a deep breath, and let it back out. “All right,” she said at last, “I understand the situation. So, where do we stand?”

Hélène sighed and collapsed back into her chair. “Matevosian believes...and based on what evidence we have, I’m inclined to agree...that whoever these newcomers are, they somehow…infected the Ronin with something. It didn’t happen all at once, proximity seems to have something to do with it, and if he’s right...”

She paused, staring into her glass. “If he’s right, then these Ronin are acting like some kind of vector...and they’re coming here to spread the contagion.”

This time it was Leandra who downed her glass before she went searching for a refill. She busied herself with the ritual of pouring her drink and replacing the stopper on the decanter before she turned back around.

“Then you must stop them,” she said at last, “by whatever means necessary.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware of that,” the Field Marshal replied. “The problem is that we have no idea where they are, and no idea where they’re going. They could be headed anywhere, and I can’t guard the whole damned border with what I have.”

“Meaning?” the Prime Minister prompted.

“Meaning that there’s only one way we have even a prayer of stopping them. If they’re returning here to spread this...virus, then their best target will be one of the Ronin homeworlds. Once they get in among the population, as fast as this thing spreads…” Hélène let out a long breath. “You can kiss that planet goodbye. I may not have enough ships to prevent them from entering our space, but I do have enough firepower to interdict the Ronin worlds.”

Leandra froze. “What are you saying?”

“That the only way we to stop this thing is to put every single Ronin-controlled planet under Quarantine. We blockade them. Nothing in, nothing out...not until we’ve stopped those ships.”

“...are you insane?” the Prime Minister hissed. “Do you have any idea the amount of traffic you’re talking about? Not to mention how the Ronin will react. They’ll go ballistic, accuse us of treating them like Lepers. You’re talking political suicide.”

“Political suicide?” the Field Marshal snorted. “You think that’s your biggest problem? Then try this one on for size. Imagine one of those ships landing on....ϒ12, for example. They get into the population, and this thing becomes a Pandemic. You’ll have billions of infected Ronin, who near as we can tell only do two things...infect other Ronin and kill everyone else.”

“Listen,” she snapped, “even I don’t have that kind of authority. It’s not just blockading the Ronin worlds; we’d have to shut everything down. There’s plenty of Ronin on other planets, you know...hell, do you know how many are right here in the Capitol?”

“Hundreds of thousands, at least,” Hélène answered. “We’d have to quarantine this planet, too.” Her eyes met Leandra’s. “And you’re wrong...you do have the authority. You’ve just never chosen to wield it before.”

The Prime Minister jabbed her finger at her subordinate. “No...no, I am not declaring Martial Law. We made it through two wars and a Coup without pulling that trigger. I just need time to prepare…”

“Time is the one thing we don’t have,” the Field Marshal fired back. “I figure those ships will be in Tetrarchy space in two weeks, and when they get here, if I can’t find them, or stop them...then you, Prime Minister, will have a goddamn bloodbath on your hands. You thought the images of rampaging Khonhim were bad? Or the attack on Earth? Just wait until every camera in the sector is recording psychotic Ronin ripping everyone else into pieces.”

Leandra’s hand clenched around the tumbler, her knuckles going bone white. “Goddamnit!” she shrieked, as she hurled her glass against the far wall. It shattered on impact, exploding like a bomb.

To her credit, Hélène didn’t flinch. “This has to happen, Prime Minister. At least until we find those ships. We stop them in time, and we can go back to the way things were.”

She looked away, refusing to meet her gaze. “That’s where you’re wrong,” she snarled. Leandra rose to her feet and stalked over to the window, gazing out over the alien city.

“...things will never go back to the way they were.”

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 6

Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel you belong
A nocturnal vacation
Unnecessary sedation
You want to feel at home 'cause you belong
Welcome to my nightmare

Welcome to my breakdown
I hope I didn't scare you
That's just the way we are when we come down
We sweat and laugh and scream here
'Cause life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home here

Alice Cooper - “Welcome to My Nightmare”

“...I was wondering when you would call.”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz regarded Leandra with hooded eyes that revealed nothing. “Once again we find ourselves with a mutual enemy. The Gods must find it quite the jest...you and I as allies.”

“I’m not laughing, Jiyazh,” she told him. “I take it your people brought you up to speed?”

“Azhum Ganakh has given me a detailed report, yes,” he replied, “though since the invaders forced him to withdraw there were one or two minor details, he was unclear of. For example...why your Task Force began firing on its own ships.”

The Prime Minister drummed her fingers on the desk, as she debated how much she dared tell him. The Dhyaksh just smiled in return.

“So, it is true then...the Ronin have turned against you.” He chuckled as she flushed red with anger. “The only question that remains is did they do so of their own volition, or were they compelled?”

“Since you’ve figured out that much, it seems ridiculous to keep the rest from you,” Leandra sighed. “We don’t know, Jiyazh. But all indications point to this being some contagion.”

The old Khonhim warrior shifted in his seat. “You have troubles of your own, Leandra. I suppose then that joint mission to deal with this new threat is not an option?”

“...no,” she sighed. “Under other circumstances, I would welcome the opportunity to bring our two nations closer together, but I imagine you would only agree if it meant us returning to Gzuj?”

“In fact, I would insist upon it,” he nodded, “though by your answer I suspect you have troubles of your own...and that they are closer to home.”

“Something like that,” she admitted. “And you?”

“Once our forces are gathered, we will return to Gzuj and expel these intruders once and for all.” His thin smile was as cold as space itself. “I will deal with these invaders.”

“...you’re getting a little long in the tooth for that nonsense, aren’t you?” she asked him, only for the Dhyaksh to chuckle in reply.

“You do not know how much I long for the simplicity of battle, Leandra,” he smirked. “Besides...a warrior my age has no business dying in bed. What a tragedy that would make.”

The Prime Minister raised an eyebrow. “And just how long will it take the Khonhim this time to choose a new Dhyaksh?” she demanded. “We can ill afford your people to be without a leader now...or have you forgotten just how much your traditions cost you in our first conflict? Not that I’m complaining about the outcome.”

“Despite what you may think of our traditions, we can learn from experience,” he grunted. “Should I fall, they will choose a new Dhyaksh within a matter of days, and in the interim Azhum Ganakh will stand in my place.”

“Well, try to stay alive a little longer,” she smirked, before growing serious once more. “Let us know what you learn about these new enemies of ours. As you say...I have troubles closer to home.”

“Done,” he agreed. “Likewise, should you discover anything about our new friends…”

“...you'll be the first to know,” she nodded. “Good hunting, Jiyazh.”

“And you, Leandra,” he smiled. “Remember me to Nassat, should your paths cross.”

“I will. Singh, clear.”

The Prime Minister blanked the screen, and then leaned back in her chair, fingering her necklace. It had been many years since she had last spoken to the Saurotaur...though she had a feeling that was about to change.

Trying to keep a secret of this magnitude was impossible. Too many people already knew...so instead the government used what little time it still had to plan and craft their message, before the Prime Minister's seal appeared on TNN for a special announcement.

Her expression was solemn as she gazed into the cameras. “My fellow citizens...it is with great reluctance that I must inform you of a looming threat that endangers this populace. One that puts our society at risk, one that will require extraordinary measures to defeat. One that will demand sacrifice, from every one of us.”

“In the past twenty-six hours, our forces encountered a new force in Khonhim space, one not affiliated with any species or sector we know of. We know nothing of their origins, their culture...but what we know is that they are hostile, having attacked both us and the Khonhim. They forced our fleet to withdraw from Gzuj, and now...we face an even greater danger here at home.”

“As always, our priority is the safety and protection of our citizenry. We have faced great challenges in the past and weathered every storm that has threatened us...which is why I know we will do so again. But this storm, however, is unlike anything we have seen before. The threat before us now is insidious and will require extreme measures for us to survive.”

“What we now face is a plague, an infection, one that targets our most valuable worlds. We will do everything within our power to stop this disease in its tracks, but until we know how it spreads, it forces this government to take drastic action to prevent its spread.”

“Only the Ronin are susceptible to the virus. To prevent it from infecting our worlds, it is with great reluctance that I must now declare Martial Law throughout the Tetrarchy, and place all Ronin worlds under Quarantine. It is my sincerest hope that this will be only a temporary measure and that we will soon be able to put this ugly chapter behind us.”

“Given the number of systems involved, and the demands this will place on our armed forces, I must, therefore, recall all former service members to active duty. Again, I stress this is only temporary until the crisis has passed. It is my most fervent hope that those individuals recalled will soon be home with their families and loved ones once more.”

“In addition...I must also announce that we have reactivated the Draft Boards. Notices will go out in the next few days to those individuals deemed necessary during this Emergency. Those selected will be informed when and where to report for training and given the speed in which this crisis has come to us, I beg your patience and understanding, as we work to prevent this danger from reaching epidemic proportions. I can assure you, no one regrets this decision more than I, but if we are to survive then we must take these actions, to protect everything that we hold dear.”

Leandra gripped the podium as she looked out over the trillions of citizens that comprised the Tetrarchy. “I give you my solemn vow, we will survive this, as we have survived every other challenge that has come our way. The road ahead will not be an easy one...but I know in my heart that we will survive, as we always have. Not only survive but thrive, while facing this adversity.”

For a moment it looked as if she was about to say something further, before she signed off with the phrase, “Long Live the Tetrarchy,”...as the cameras went dark.

Nassat knelt before Raichret’s marker, his head bowed in quiet contemplation. He meditated here often, this cenotaph honoring his wife and mother of his children, gone these many years. It was a solemn duty he performed daily, and there were times he heard her voice within his mind, as she whispered her love for him.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind him, as Tango approached. Her movements were deliberate so as not to startle him, while he sought the peace and serenity of a tranquil mind. Under normal circumstances, the human moved like a wraith...even now, after all this time.

She came to a halt a respectful distance from his preferred spot, waiting for him to finish his meditations. He tried to continue, but the quietude he so searched for would not come. Nassat sighed, opening his eyes and lifting his head.

“Boss...” she began, but as he raised his hand she drifted into silence. He rose to his feet, looking out over the gardens, at the stream that wound its way through this place that he loved.

“I know,” he whispered.

Tango sighed and stepped forward. “No Boss...you don’t.” She held out the tablet in her hands to him, and as he stared at that simple device, he realized that he did not want to know what it contained. He took it from her and read...as tears fell from his face.

“...they both report tomorrow,” she said.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 7

If I could
I would try to shield your innocence from time
But the part of life I gave you isn't mine
I've watched you grow
So I could let you go

If I live
In a time and place where you don't want to be
You don't have to walk along this road with me
My yesterday
Won't have to be your way

If I knew
I would try to change the world I brought to you to
And there isn't very much that I can do
But I would
If I could

Celine Dion - “If I Could”

“...I never wanted this for you...either of you.”

Nassat gripped the hands of his children, afraid to let go. “I will do everything in my power to keep you both safe. The Prime Minister and Field Marshal each owe me a debt, and until now I had never presumed to trade on that...but to protect my children I will make an exception.”

The three of them rode in the back of the vehicle Tango was piloting, as they headed for the Induction Center. In fact, it was a structure used for several purposes; meetings, artistic exhibits, to conduct business or perhaps to enjoy an evening’s entertainment. They had suspended all those functions, turning it over to the government to be the first step of many for those reporting for service. Nassat had insisted on escorting them himself, vowing to end this nonsense once and for all. He now wore his old General’s uniform (he’d considered donning the Field Marshal regalia he had once been entitled to, but Tango persuaded him to reconsider, not wanting to ruffle Hélène’s feathers), hoping to use his influence to nip their conscriptions in the bud.

Taichist and Chechla shared a look, before turning back to face him. There were times he wondered if the twins could somehow read each other’s thoughts, the pair were so in sync.

“Father, we have been discussing this, Chechla and I, and while we understand your concerns, we feel you interceding on our behalf would be…” His son struggled for words, as his sister picked up the thread.

“...it would not be fair to those who have no one with position to speak for them,” she finished. “Neither of us planned for this or wished for it...but nor it would be proper to shirk our duty.”

“Duty?” Nassat scoffed. “Oh, I know all about Duty,” he said. “Duty is the word Leandra would trot out to trick me into doing her bidding. Duty...is what killed your mother.” There. He’d said what had been haunting him, ever since receiving the news.

The twins seemed to flush with embarrassment. “We know how much losing her hurt you, Father,” Taichist acknowledged, “but had they had not drafted you, where would the Tetrarchy be now?”

The question caught him off guard, but before he could respond another voice chimed in. “Up shit creek without a paddle,” Tango answered from the other compartment.

Chechla smiled at that while Nassat glowered at the human. “If this threat is even a fraction as dangerous as they have informed us, then will they not need all of us to protect our homes?” she finished.

“There are more than enough others who have not given as much as this family has...or paid as heavy a price,” he fired back...before bowing his head in defeat.

“...I fear for you both,” he whispered.

The vehicle pulled up to the entrance of the facility, as Tango gave out a low whistle. Hundreds, thousands of individuals from all four races of the Tetrarchy were streaming in from every direction, as those in uniform did their best to direct traffic. A human and Saurotaur pair waved the vehicle to a halt. Nassat lowered the window as they approached.

“No vehicles past this point,” the human ordered, as Tango smirked at them.

“Tell him that,” she grinned, jerking her head to indicate Nassat in the rear compartment.

They turned their attention to the trio, as the Saurotaur’s eyes went wide. She snapped to attention and saluted, as Nassat returned the gesture.

“General Nassat,” the human said a moment later, now recognizing him. “They told us to expect you. If you will pull forward, we will show you where you may park, and guide each of you to your destination.”

“...Thank you,” he said after a moment, as he nodded to Tango. Following the pair’s instructions, they soon disembarked while they wrangled another Saurotaur and an Ophipteran to act as escorts. The human stood off to the side, while the family said their goodbyes.

“Be safe, both of you,” Nassat whispered, as he hugged them close. “And remember that no matter how much they may shout at you; they wish for you to succeed.”

“We love you, Father,” Chechla said in return, sniffing back tears of her own as her brother hugged her.

“Call when you can,” their father insisted, even as Taichist bobbed his head in reply.

“We will,” he promised, giving Nassat’s hand one last squeeze before the twins picked up their meager belongings and followed their guide. They turned and gave one final wave...before disappearing.

“Sir...they have ordered us to bring you and your aide to the Command Center,” the human informed him, but Nassat hadn’t heard a thing he’d said. His focus remained on the last place he’d seen his children, prior to being taken from him.

Tango cleared her throat. “Boss...they’re expecting us,” she nudged.

Nassat nodded, following their own escort as she led them to a suite of offices. They bypassed the lines of waiting returnees as they whisked them past security until they were finally ushered into a set of chambers, far plusher than what they had seen during their brief journey. A lone human awaited them, her arms folded behind her, as their guide departed, closing the door behind her.

“Hello Nassat,” Field Marshal Fujimoto greeted him. “It’s been a long time.”

“That it has, Hélène,” he agreed, as she turned her attention to his companion.

“You’re looking well, Tango,” she continued, as the other woman shrugged.

“Clean living, I guess,” she replied, as the Marshal waved them over to a sitting area.

“Before we go any further,” she said, as she took a seat, “no, I did not go out of my way to draft your kids. They just met the qualifications we were looking for.”

“You will forgive me if I find that small comfort,” Nassat replied. “This is the last thing I wanted for them.”

“I get that, and I’m sorry,” Hélène apologized, “but we need everybody we can get our hands on. Hence the reason we’re bringing old farts like you out of retirement.”

His nostrils flared as he fought down his anger. “We can joust with one another some other time. I assume you wish to brief us?”

“We’ll get into that in a minute,” she told him, as she retrieved a pair of old-style folders and passed them over. Nassat raised an eyebrow at the anachronism, while Tango opened hers and began to read.

“Quick and dirty version...Nassat, I’m sending you to command the blockade over Θ18. The details are in your packet. But to put it bluntly; nothing goes in, nothing goes out. Should anyone disobey that command, you are to stop them by any means necessary...up to and including the use of deadly force.”

He bristled at the order. “And Leandra has agreed to this?”

“She has,” Hélène nodded. “Trust me, she’s no happier about it than you are...but she’s on board.”

“I wish to state for the record,” he continued, “that I am doing this only under protest.”

“So noted,” the Field Marshal replied, without batting an eye. “Anything else?”

“Just one thing...once they complete their training, I want my children to be sent to the most distant, dullest, safest post you can find.”

The human regarded him for a moment before shaking her head. “I’m sorry Nassat, but I can’t do that.”

“You can,” he fired back, “and I believe my family has earned it.”

Hélène sighed, rising to her feet as she went to fix herself a drink. “Look...word gets out I pulled those sorts of strings, then our problems get a whole lot bigger.” She took a sip of her drink and shrugged. “Some things haven’t changed, I’m afraid. You’re as famous as you’ve always been, and they’ll be watching you...you and your children. If I send them to East Podunk to sit this out, they’ll be demanding both our heads...and I can’t afford the distraction.”

Nassat’s mood didn’t improve one iota, but he nodded. “Then send them to me,” he said at last. “Let them say what they want. Spin it however you like...but I will make sure I protect my children. If that is a problem, then we have a problem.” His gaze didn’t waver a centimeter, as he held his ground.

“...Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “I can play up the Humanitarian angle, or something.”

“Very well,” he said, somewhat mollified. “When Tango and I arrive on station…”

“...I’m afraid you must do without her services,” she interrupted him, “at least for the near future. I have a special assignment for her.”

“...I’m not going to like this, am I?” Tango snapped.

“I don’t care,” Hélène retorted. “First thing I want you to do?” she said, as a smirk emerged on her face.

“...I need you to get the band back together.”

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 8

Hate is a train
That thunders aimless through my head
And hate is the fame
Chained to the wheel until I am dead
Rage is a flame
Creates a touch to boil the seas
And rage is to blame
Forever sorry I shall be
And from a darkness I descend
Clenching a torch of sweet revenge

You took away tomorrow, still I stand
I ride into the sorrow, still I stand
You took away tomorrow, still I stand
Straight down into the sorrow, but still I stand

Metallica - “Hate Train”

“...how long before we can retake Gzuj?”

Azhum Ganakh shook his head, as Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz’s glowered at him through the screen. “Four more days at least, before we may return to the system,” he replied. “To attack this new enemy without every ship at our disposal is sheer folly. The beam weapons they mount on their vessels...they are unmatched by anything we have seen before.”

The Khonhim leader nodded, though he was clearly unhappy. “Are we any closer to learning their identity?” he asked.

“No, Dhyaksh,” Ganakh sighed. “The moment the enemy ships entered the orbit of Gzuj, all communications ceased. At no time during the battle did they attempt communication, and we have no records of vessels like theirs in our database. We do not know what they even look like.” He shook his head once more. “And the Tetrarchy? They know nothing of this race?”

“So they claim...and for my part, I believe they speak the truth,” the Dhyaksh grimaced. “By your own admission, you state they were savaged by their own ships once the enemy drew near. Somehow...they turned the Machine-Race against them. Were the Tetrarchy aware of any species capable of such things, they would have taken steps long before now to prevent their occurrence. No...I am convinced they were as unprepared for their appearance as we were.”

“I find myself in agreement, Dhyaksh.” He paused for a moment, as his features twisted in disgust. “It is difficult to say these words...and yet I must. Perhaps we should consider a formal Alliance, to defeat our common foe.”

The Dhyaksh chuckled. “In fact, we have discussed such a thing. While there are many arguments for just such an agreement, circumstance forces both Prime Minister Singh and me to tend to our own matters.”

Azhum raised an eyebrow. “Has this Machine Insurrection of theirs spread then?”

“It would seem so,” Jiyazh nodded. “Or at the very least, they fear it to be true. So then, tell me about these enemies...and how we may defeat them.”

“There is little I can tell you,” Ganakh said. “They are hard at work on Gzuj, building something...but what that may be, I do not know.”

“Defenses,” the Dhyaksh said rumbled, “you may rest assured of that.”

“Most likely,” Azhum agreed, “but it will it be enough to prevent our retaking of the system?”

“...we shall soon find out,” Jiyazh replied...as both Khonhim imagined the battle to come.

The lone researcher pored over the ancient text, translating the obscure tongue to something more modern. It was painstaking work, requiring more than a little guesswork on his part as he struggled to find parallels to the concepts the tome described. So engrossed was the analyst in his work that he did not notice the visitor’s arrival, until she loomed over him. He blinked in surprise at her appearance, before sighing and leaning back in his chair.

“Hello Musashi,” Tango smiled.

“Well as I live and breathe,” he chuckled, “...talk about your blast from the past.” He rose to his feet as the pair embraced, before stepping back and scrutinizing her. “My God, how long has it been?”

“Damn near twenty years,” she answered, shaking her head. “Hard to believe.”

The pair smiled for a moment before Musashi pointed her to a chair. “Why do I have a feeling you’re not here just to reminisce?” he asked.

“Because you’re not an idiot,” she smirked, as they both sat down. “I’m here on orders.”

“Hélène?” he guessed.

“The one and only,” she confirmed. “Seems she’s a fan of our work.”

“As I recall...you once held a gun to her head, didn’t you?” Musashi pointed out.

Tango waved it aside. “Ancient history. But with all that’s happening...she figures our skills might come in handy.”

He sighed at that. “I haven’t been in the field in years, Tango. Surely there’s some young Turks out there, itching for a chance to make their bones? I mean...look at us. If we’d had anything resembling normal lives, we’d be playing with our grandchildren.”

“Don’t remind me,” she grimaced. “And I’m sure there’s other teams being put together; Fujimoto isn’t the type to place all her eggs in one basket. Which means...she must have something special in mind for us.”

“Wonderful,” Musashi snorted. “Because retirement was getting so dull.” He shook his head. “I’m guessing she wants all of the old gang on this?”

“She does,” Tango nodded. “Graybird is next on my list.”

“Well, he won’t be happy,” Musashi said after a moment. There was a long pause before he asked, “And Whisper?”

“Him too,” she said.

“I’ve heard nothing about Whisper since…God...since after Xaqaip, when the war ended, and Marshal Nassat resigned. The guy seemed to just drop off the map.” He cocked his head, regarding her. “You?”

“...I may have picked up a rumor or two,” she said somewhat cryptically. “I’m pursuing some leads.”

“I’ll be honest with you Tango, I’m not in a big hurry to work with that lunatic again. I enjoy not sleeping with one eye open…or keeping a gun under my pillow.”

“Waste of time, if you ask me,” she chuckled. “If Whisper wanted you dead...you’d never see it coming.”

“Well isn’t that a comfort,” he grumbled. “Don’t suppose you could just tell the Marshal you didn’t find me?”

“Sorry,” she shrugged, as she rose to her feet. “There’s a ticket waiting for you on the next transport to the Capitol. Get your gear and be on it.”

Musashi sighed and closed the ancient tome he’d been studying. “We really must do this more often, Tango.”

“...I must once again protest this treatment of my race,” Λ 516 Tensor Π, the current Ronin Minister, challenged. “We have done nothing wrong, and to be rounded up like criminals...”

“Minister, as I have said from the beginning, this measure is for your protection,” Leandra sighed. “You’ve seen the footage from Admiral Matevosian’s Task Force. Would you want to risk that...transformation? For any of your people?”

“You are placing warships above every Ronin world, forbidding entrance or exit, while placing all of my race on other planets in custody!” the machine thundered. “We are innocent! I do not see you treating the Saurotaurs or the Ophiptera in this way.” The machine stepped forward, as the Security personnel bristled. “Nor do I see you arresting Humans.”

“We have arrested no one,” the Prime Minister said. “Yes, we have placed Ronin individuals in Protective Custody, but that is a far different thing. Once again, I stress this is for your protection.” She was tired of repeating herself, but the Ronin Minister wasn’t having any of it.

“There are but two ships you are concerned with. Two!” Λ 516 Tensor Π shouted. “Surely all the credits and resources we have poured into our vaunted Navy could protect us from that much! And if not...then I must call into question the leadership which has left us so vulnerable. I can assure you, as the populace feels the effects your Martial Law places us under, I will have all the support I will need to see you removed!”

“Do you think I’ve survived this long as Prime Minister because of my good looks and charm?” Leandra shot back, as her patience ended. “You want to go there? Then be my guest.” She leaned forward, giving as good as she got. “I’ve broken Ministers before. I’ve sent them to prison for Treason. So do not test me, Minister, because you will not like how it ends.”

Leandra rose to her feet. “I’ve tried to be reasonable. But I am telling you now...this is how it is. How it must be. I suggest you accept that.” She glanced over to the head of her security detail. “We’re done here.”

The officer nodded, stepping forward. “Minister? If you will step this way?” The officer was polite with his request...but the four behind him with drawn weapons sent a message impossible to ignore. For a moment Λ 516 Tensor Π looked as if it would defy her request...but then spun on its metallic heel and stormed out of the chamber, as Leandra slumped back into her chair. It had been a week since she’d made her announcement, and the mood of the population was getting...troublesome.

God help them all if the Quarantine failed.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 9

Here I sit on Buttermilk Hill
Who can blame me, cry my fill
And every tear would turn a mill
Johnny has gone for a soldier

I'll sell my flax, I'll sell my wheel
To buy my love a sword of steel
So it in battle he may wield
Johnny has gone for a soldier

Suzy Bogguss - “Johnny Has Gone For A Soldier (Traditional)”

The secretary listened for a moment to her earpiece, and then smiled. “The Chairman will see you now,” she informed Tango, ushering her through the glass doors to the office beyond, before closing them behind her.

The lanky blonde did a slow turn, taking it all in. “Nice place you got here,” she chuckled, as she crossed over to the man waiting to greet her. “You've done pretty well for yourself.”

Graybird reached out and took her hand. “It’s good to see you,” he grinned, waving her over to an informal seating area as the secretary returned with a cart, wheeling it over beside his chair before departing once more. “Coffee? Tea? Or if you’d like, I’m sure somewhere in the Tetrarchy, the sun‘s over the yardarm,” he smirked, as he raised an expensive looking bottle.

“You know me well, Graybird,” Tango chuckled, as he cracked open the bottle and began to pour. “Do I want to know what that is?”

“Does it matter?” They shared a laugh as he poured for them both, handing over a glass as he took his seat. “To old friends,” he toasted, raising his glass.

Tango did likewise, before taking a sip. “Mmmm…good stuff,” she sighed in content, before setting down her glass. “Just how in the hell did you build all this?” she asked.

“Simple...I saw an opportunity, and I took it,” he grinned. “After the war…not to mention the Coup...there were plenty of the old Triumvirate types that started thinking us crazy humans weren’t just being paranoid. I started selling Security upgrades to their systems, offered top-of-the-line service and tech support...and charged them every credit the market would bear.” He spread his arms wide, showing his plush office. “And the rest, as they say, is history.”

“And added a Back Door to every one of those systems, am I right?” she smirked.

Graybird’s expression was innocence personified. “I only use Back Doors for Security upgrades and Support,” he explained…though the twinkle in his eye was hard to miss.

Tango laughed as she took another sip of her drink. “Look, you’ve probably guessed why I’m here,” she said at last, as she came to the point.

“Yeah...I have,” he admitted, before shrugging. “Can I be honest with you?”

“You’d better,” she warned, though she smiled as she said it.

He nodded, taking a long sip from his glass, before leaning forward and looking her in the eyes. “Tango...I’m bored. It was a real challenge, building this company from the ground up, but these days? It runs itself. Last week, I snuck out of the building to play hooky for a few hours...and no one noticed.” He sighed as he shook his head. “Do you have any idea how depressing that is?”

“I think I do,” she nodded. “Why do you think I ended up with Nassat?”

“You know, I’d always wondered about that,” Graybird said after a moment. “You were the last person in the world I would have pictured playing nursemaid.”

“That’s not how I’d describe it, though you’re not all that far off. You remember how it all went down at the end...his wife and Sergeant Lin dying, him blaming himself...the guy was a mess. I always understood why he walked away from it all. And with the war over…” Tango shrugged. “Graybird...I’m a killer. I’m good at it. But I came to a point where I didn’t want to be defined by that. Nassat…the guy just wanted to be left alone. I protected his privacy, looked out for his kids, and in return, for the first time in a very long time...he gave me a home.” She smiled, as she stared into her glass. “He needed me, Graybird...and I enjoyed being needed.”

Graybird nodded and smiled. “I understand. So...would I be correct in assuming you came here with a mission in mind?”

“Yes and no,” she explained. “Yes, I’m here to recruit you, at the Field Marshal’s orders...but I don’t know what the job is yet.”

The hacker frowned for a moment. “...didn’t you jam a gun into her ear once?” he asked.

Tango rolled her eyes. “Why does everyone keep bringing that up?” she groaned.

“General Nassat, welcome to Θ18,” the Ophipteran officer greeted him. “I am Xeemvois, commander of the battlecruiser Chiron. You honor us with your presence, Sir.”

Nassat inclined his head, and somehow stifled the impulse of handing off his jacket to Tango. It wasn’t easy, unlearning the habits of twenty years overnight, and if the situation did not change soon, he would need to find a replacement, though he couldn’t imagine anyone stepping into the role as she had. It felt as if they had amputated his arm.

“Thank you, Commander,” he replied., “though I hope you will take no offense when I say this is one honor I wish I could have avoided.” Xeemvois froze, unsure how to respond, until Nassat relented, waving his own comment aside. “Please forgive my irascibility, Commander. Returning to active duty was not something I had planned on. What then is the status of the blockade?”

The Ophipteran looked unhappy. “Not good, Sir. Other than Chiron itself, we have only a handful of patrol boats and a few aging Comets. I have sent repeated requests to the Admiralty for more ships, but they have not responded.”

“I would not hold your breath awaiting those ships, Commander,” Nassat sighed. “Given the number of worlds they are tasking us to...protect, it stretches the fleet far thinner than anyone would like. Which means, it will force us to come up with ways to perform our mission based on what we have.”

To his credit, Xeemvois did not appear surprised by this bit of unwelcome news. “In that case Sir, I would be most curious to hear your thoughts.”

Nassat sighed and punched up a display of the planet. “If we are to protect this world, our mission is twofold. First, we must stop the rogue vessels. With only one warship at our disposal, early detection is paramount.”

Xeemvois’ wings fluttered as he viewed the holographic display. “We can launch our inventory of satellites and probes to give us better coverage of the planet,” he mused. “Once they are integrated into the network, it should give us adequate warning of any incoming vessels. Chiron could then move to intercept.” He touched the controls as new specks of light appeared in the display, moving to near-equidistant locations over Θ18, before looking back up to the Saurotaur. “You said there were two aspects to the mission, Sir?”

“I did,” Nassat answered, as his features grew worn and haggard. “Should we fail in preventing the rogue vessels from making their run to the planet...we must then assume that not only have they have breached the Quarantine but that the infection is spreading through the population like wildfire.” He looked up, his eyes meeting those of his Ophipteran counterpart. “May I assume you have seen the footage from Matevosian’s task Force?”

“I have, Sir,” Xeemvois nodded. “It makes for disturbing viewing.”

“That it does...and were our situation one gram less urgent than it is, it would force you to do without my august presence.” Nassat managed a wan smile. “Though perhaps that would be an advantage, in the long run.”

The Commander gave him a scripted smile, and he sighed as he realized he was being humored. “Commander, should the Quarantine be breached,” he continued, giving up on his feeble experiment at levity, “the matter of early detection becomes even more important, for any attempt of a vessel to leave the planet at that point must be prevented...by any means necessary.”

The Ophipteran looked away for a moment, before nodding. “Yes, Sir. May we at least seek to communicate with any vessels before being forced to use...more drastic measures?”

Nassat recognized just how anguished Xeemvois was by their orders. It was something he understood all too well. “In fact, I would insist on it, Commander,” he replied. “Opening fire should only be taken as a final measure when all other options have been extinguished. That being said...we must decide on a point for both incoming and outgoing vessels where no further warnings will be given...and we must be resolute in our execution of that directive.” He winced at his poor choice of words.

“Yes Sir,” Xeemvois agreed, ignoring the faux pas. “General, the Chief Administrator of Θ18 has made repeated demands to speak to someone in authority...someone better placed than myself, I’m afraid. I do not seek to shirk my duties, however…”

“It is all right,” Nassat said. “I will speak to the Administrator, and hopefully allay any concerns. I suspected something like this was the reason the Field Marshal sent me here.” He was not looking forward to that conversation...what he suspected would be the first of many.

“With any luck, the vessels will soon be recaptured, and we will put this entire matter behind us,” Nassat continued, with some hope. “Until then, however…” He sighed, and looked back at the display, “...Duty demands we remain vigilant.”

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 10

I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free

Things not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly loss, this can't be real
I cannot stand this hell I feel

Emptiness is filling me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness, taking dawn
I was me, but now he's gone

Metallica- “Fade to Black"

The man sat on the bench, tearing off bits of bread and scattering them to the waiting creatures hovering nearby. The Tetrarchy had no pigeons or squirrels, those being relegated to the human worlds, but it had analogs that filled similar ecological niches. The small animals jostled one another, chittering and squeaking for attention as he tore off more bread, gobbling up the bits of food before the hit the ground. So intent were the animals on their meal they barely glanced at the woman that sat down on the bench beside him.

“...I wondered who they’d give the job to,” the man said, tearing off another hunk. “I suppose I should be grateful it’s a friend.”

Tango raised an eyebrow. “I’m not here to kill you, Whisper.”

He reached into his bag for another hunk of bread. “Yes you are,” he told her, “you just don’t know it yet.”

She watched as he scattered more food to the tiny creatures. “You’re a hard man to find. You went to a great deal of trouble to disappear.”

“Not great enough,” he said.

“I had a couple of advantages,” Tango explained. “And before you ask…Nassat didn’t tell me.”

Whisper nodded. “I didn’t think he had. He wasn’t in his right mind when he contracted me for the hit.” A snort sounded in the back of his throat. “But then...neither was I.” He tore off another piece of bread. “Fujimoto sent you, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Tango confirmed.

“I figured.” He sighed and set aside the bag. “I always knew she wasn’t quite done with me.”

“She plans ahead,” she agreed. Tango turned and leaned against the backrest. “I almost didn’t recognize you. If I hadn’t known what happened, I would have walked right past you and not stopped.” She gazed at her former teammate, eyeing him. “What does it feel like?”

“I doubt I could explain it to you,” Whisper replied, “not in a way that would make any sense.”

“Try me,” she insisted.

The creatures at their feet squawked in protest, demanding the remaining food. He handed Tango the bag. “Here...you might as well make yourself useful.”

She removed a hunk of bread and began shredding it. “Our good Field Marshal knew all about that last job,” he explained, “she had her own reasons for wanting Chugaz Uydan dead. She made a ship available, provided me with funds through an untraceable account, passed on any intel she came across...all under the table. Governments can’t be seen using assassins. Bad for the image.” Whisper gave her an unreadable look. “Especially ones like me.”

“And the Prime Minister?” Tango asked. “Was she in on it too?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I never dealt with her, only with Fujimoto. But if had to guess, I’d say she was at least aware. There was a certain...tacit approval, that I sensed. But if she knew, her hands are clean. She hasn’t stayed in power this long by making those kinds of mistakes.”

“Fair enough,” she nodded. “But you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“I’m getting there,” Whisper explained. “Fujimoto wanted proof when the job was done. Something that couldn’t be faked. She also wanted Nassat to think it had all been his idea.”

“Why?” Tango asked.

“I think she was nursing a grudge,” he said after a moment. “The Healers were regrowing her arm, and she was bitter about the loss of the ships under her command. Part of her blamed Nassat for that, I think.” Whisper shrugged. “Whatever the reason, she had her hooks set deep. When I got back from Khonhim space with the proof she’d wanted, she set up a meet. My final pay off.”

“Since when was money ever a motivation for you?” she asked.

“Never...but it’s nice to have,” he said with a wan smile.

“True,” she nodded. “And the proof?”

“Chugaz Uydan’s head, on ice,” he said matter-of-factly. “Hard to fake, that…though I had a little fun with it first.”

“I’ll bet,” Tango said. “You can spare me the details.”

Whisper nodded. “Once she inspected the head...and she did it without flinching, which I thought was impressive...she handed me a credit chip and walked away. That was the signal.” He shook his head in disgust. “I didn’t spot her team. Sloppy of me. They had me tranked and bundled up before I could lift a finger.”

“Why did she bother?” she asked. “No offense, but if Hélène was tying up loose ends...there are easier ways.”

“It’s like you said before, she plans ahead. I could still be useful...but running around without supervision was a potential problem for her. In that mental state, anyway. So instead, she had me...fixed.”

Tango nodded. “When she handed me the report…” She paused for a moment and shrugged. “I’d always assumed your...condition...was incurable.”

“For us humans, it was...but the old Triumvirate races knew a few tricks we didn't.” He was silent for a moment, staring off into the distance. “That’s not to say the procedure wasn’t invasive...or painless.”

“And now?” she prompted.

“You mean, now that I’ve had a conscience grafted onto my brain,” he said. “You know what I was like. You know what I did...well, you know some of what I did,” he corrected, after a moment’s thought. “Imagine for a moment committing those acts without so much as a twinge of guilt, because guilt was a word without meaning for me. Consequences?” Whisper barked out a laugh. “Bring it on. None of it mattered to me. Not the threat of prison, or torture, or even death. I simply didn’t care.”

“But now, you do,” Tango speculated.

“And now I do,” Whisper agreed. “And even worse...I remember. All of it. Every act, down to the last detail. Every sin I’m guilty of...and every drop of blood.” He turned and looked her in the eye. “Imagine the sheer weight of that. Imagine, for just a moment, carrying that burden. Every. Single. Day.”

She let out a breath. “...I don’t think I can,” she admitted.

He nodded. “I appreciate your honesty. You were always honest though...in the sense that you never tried to pretend you were something you weren’t. It was a trait we shared.”

“We did,” Tango agreed. “Musashi and Graybird were skilled, no argument...but we were the killers.” She considered that for a moment. “So…why didn't you...?"

"...end it?" Whisper sighed. "Because I can't. They made sure of that, too."

She nodded, taking that in. "So, can you suit up again? Is it even in you anymore?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “You see...they gave me a conscience but couldn’t quite take away the drive. The urge. I may not be as ‘Devil-may-care’ as I once was, but I still have the skills.” He paused, then whispered, “...and the need.”

Tango finished tearing up the last of the bread and tossed it to the animals, before standing up. “There’s a ticket waiting for you at the port. Just make sure you don’t go home.” She shrugged without apology. “We had a contingency plan, in case this didn't work out.”

Whisper didn’t seem surprised. “Always a pleasure, working with professionals.”

Tango nodded. “You know we’ll get bloody on this one, right?”

For the first time since she’d sat down, Whisper smiled.

“Oh…I hope so.”

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 11

The king called up his jet fighters
He said you better earn your pay
Drop your bombs between the minarets
Down the Casbah way
As soon as the Sharif was
Chauffeured outta there
The jet pilots tuned to
The cockpit radio blare
As soon as the Sharif was
Out of their hair
The jet pilots wailed

The Clash - “Rock the Casbah”

The projected four days to assemble the Khonhim fleet had stretched to five, and then seven before Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz pronounced it ready. Given how badly the Task Force had been mauled at Gzuj he was taking no chances, pulling in every ship available to give them an even greater edge.

But the time had come, and they could wait no longer.

In truth he was glad for this chance, to take to the ships once more and battle. For twenty years he had led his people into a new future, weaning them from the Path of War. The two failed attempts to conquer the old Triumvirate and new Human foes had both ended in disaster for the Khonhim and once he had reclaimed the title of Dhyaksh from the late and unlamented Chugaz Uydan, he realized his people must change if they were to survive.

It had not been an easy process, and it was still far from complete. But the Tetrarchy had kept their promise, helping to rebuild the worlds shattered during the war, and by doing so had given the Khonhim pause. Seeing the races they had feared and hated for millennia give their all to aid and assist their people had caused many to reconsider their long-held beliefs, and Jiyazh had done everything in his power to encourage that. Though they still had far to go, he grew more confident with each passing day that this new path they had chosen was the correct one.

His own deputy was proof of that. Chikkij Kowzhach had been a child when the last war had ended and had grown up embracing the new realities. She was an intelligent and occasionally brilliant administrator, much better suited for the world he was trying to build...but not a warrior. Jiyazh knew if forced to fight she would acquit herself, but her blood did not cry out for battle as his did. In his heart, he knew his people would need her, and those like her, in the years to come. Should he fall, she would lead the transition to the next Dhyaksh, and he had done all that he could to ensure they would name her as his successor.

But today, it was the old warriors like himself that were being called upon to save the Khonhim race, as it had been in the past. There was comfort knowing that his kind was not yet obsolete.

“I wish I was going with you,” Chikkij said, as he prepared to board the ship he had chosen to carry his banner, Harbinger.

“I am glad you are not,” he told her. “The Khonhim will have need of you, and those like you, in the long years to come.”

She shook her head. “Your people still require their Dhyaksh. I expect to see you return when your mission is complete, so I urge you to remember your duties, and not do anything foolish.”

“Foolish? I?” He grinned at that. “What would give you that impression?”

“Every tale told by your adoring legions, to start,” she snorted.

“Bah...you cannot trust war stories told by old men deep in their cups,” he chuckled. “Lies and exaggerations, all of them.”

“Ah...then it must have been another Jiyazh Ghuuyaz that led his warriors when they boarded Resolve, during that final battle,” she smirked. “Are you certain it was not you that fought their way through the hanger bay, taunting Death at every turn?”

“Of course not,” he grinned. “Whoever did such a thing must have been a far greater fool than I ever dreamed of being.”

“No doubt,” she observed, before placing a hand on his arm. “I am serious, Dhyaksh. Your people need you yet. Do not rob them of your leadership.”

“Leadership comes in many forms,” he reminded her, “and sometimes...it also requires sacrifice.” He held up his hand before she could object. “I assure you; I am in no hurry to perform such an act. But until I return, I charge you with the safety and security of our people.”

Chikkij Kowzhach bowed at his words. “I will endeavor to lead as you have trained me, Dhyaksh. The Khonhim people will notice no difference in your absence.”

“No,” he said, catching her off guard. “You must make your own decisions...even if they differ from mine. For that is the mark of a true leader.”

“...it shall be as you say,” she murmured, as he clasped her shoulder.

“I never doubted it,” he smiled, as he boarded his ship.

Perhaps I should have heeded her warning, after all, Jiyazh mused, as the fleet neared Gzuj. Long-range scans showed a planet far different than the one he remembered, with new orbital structures in place and a flurry of activity on the surface. Despite their repeated attempts there was no communication from the system, either by the invaders or from fellow Khonhim caught behind the lines. Either they were somehow jamming any attempts to make contact, or…

...or there are no Khonhim left alive on the planet, his mind whispered, giving voice to the thoughts he had tried hard to deny. Before he could chase down and throttle that errant notion a chime pulled him from his reveries. He tapped the icon on his display, as Azhum Ganakh appeared on the screen, calling him from Vanguard.

“All is ready, Dhyaksh,” he informed him. “We may begin our attack at your command.”

“I do not suppose I could convince you to exchange roles?” he grinned, earning a scowl from his subordinate.

“Chikkij Kowzhach would have me flayed alive were I to place you in danger,” he shot back. “I must therefore decline.”

“How poorly you know my deputy,” Jiyazh chuckled. “She would never touch a blade if she punished you...though you might wish she had. No, I suspect she would do far, far worse. Perhaps requiring you to complete all the forms pursuant to an investigation into the details of my demise...in triplicate...followed by weeks of testimony before a panel. In a public forum, of course.” His grin grew wider as Azhum shuddered.

“I would rather have the flesh stripped from my bones and served to me as my last meal,” he grumbled, “but since I have no intention of allowing you near the planet, we need not worry.”

Jiyazh sighed. “I could order you, but then I would face my deputy’s wrath. Very well...begin your attack, Azhum Ganakh,” he said at last, as his subordinate smiled.

“Victory will soon be ours,” he vowed, as he disappeared from the screen.

The fleet assumed attack formation as it began its run, presenting a broad front to the enemy that allowed them to bring all their weapons to bear. With Azhum Ganakh in direct control of the fleet during the attack, Jiyazh found his role relegated to that of an observer, which chafed far worse than he had imagined. Still, at least he was here, and not on another system light-years away.

Given that the enemy’s forces were in orbit over Gzuj, had hoped to open far at long range. It pinned them, with nowhere to go, which should have ceded him the advantage. Given the strength of their beam weapons, however, the only way they could defeat them was to overwhelm their defenses...and that meant getting in close.

Assuming they gave them the chance, of course.

The Dhyaksh held his breath as the fleet entered medium range, and he could only wonder why the enemy had not yet opened fire. He had the range, so what was he waiting for?

As they neared close range, Azhum Ganakh could wait no longer. “All ships…Fire!” he shouted, as the fleet exploded with a swarm of missiles thick enough to blot out the sun. Every ship had gone to rapid-fire to give those terrible beams far more things to shoot at than they could manage...and if they concentrated on the missiles they would not be firing at the ships.

Thousands of missiles screamed towards the enemy forces, who replied with those same beams, tearing great holes into their swarm. How can they throw around that much energy? he wondered as the Khonhim fired a second wave, close on the heels of the first.

The enemy did not seem to panic. Their beam weapons shredded the incoming missiles with deadly accuracy just as they had before when Azhum Ganakh’s image appeared on his display. “We are still too far out,” he snarled, as the fleet fired a third wave. “If we are to have any chance of swamping their defenses, we must get closer!”

The risks were great, and both knew it. But they had not come this far to turn tail and run, so with great reluctance, Jiyazh nodded his assent. “Do what you must,” the Dhyaksh ordered, as Azhum acknowledged the command. “Gzuj will be ours once again,” he vowed, as he took the fleet in.

The missiles began having an effect as they drew nearer to the planet. They still died by the thousands, but here and there enemy installations began to explode in balls of flame, under the weight of fire they were throwing at them. Jiyazh held his breath as they pressed their attack home. Surely the enemy would fall now!

In fact...the enemy had other plans.

As the Khonhim closed in, Gzuj seemed to blaze with light, the enemy beams doubling in number and strength...and then doubling again. Jiyazh stared in horror as they tore apart the fleet, screaming into the mic to pull out, to escape, to flee for their very lives...but far too few ships survived long enough under that withering fire to obey his frantic command.

Vanguard, with Azhum Ganakh at the helm, was not one of them.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 12

When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Imagine Dragons - “Demons”

“Prime Minister, one of the Ronin are here to see you. They say it’s urgent.”

It was only the many decades of government service under her belt that kept Leandra from rolling her eyes. “Tell the Ronin Minister that my schedule is full and that he must make an appointment.” A year from now, she hoped, though there was no way she could stall him that long.

There was a brief pause on the intercom. “Ma’am, it’s not the Minister,” her aide explained. “He claims….he knows who the attackers are.”

Leandra froze. Odds were it was a crank, or one of the Minister’s cronies trying to get their foot in the door...but something in her gut said otherwise.

“Show him in,” she answered, “and tell the Field Marshal to join us. And...I suspect you’d better clear my calendar.”

There was something unusual about the Ronin visitor that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It wasn’t the mechanical body it wore, for she had seen a variety of those, but something else. The way it carried itself, perhaps, or it's choice of words. Something. She shared a brief glance with Marshal Fujimoto, who shrugged in return.

“So...how may we help you…? Leandra queried, have not been given his name.

“...I am known as ΑΩ,” the Ronin said with a polite bow. “I have traveled to the Capitol, since I first learned of the attack, to warn you what it is you face.”

The Prime Minister raised an eyebrow. “Alpha Omega?” she said in surprise. “That’s an...interesting designation,” she said.

“I am the latest in a long line of my kind to carry that name, and the duties that accompany it,” he explained. “Among the Ronin, my role is unique...for it has tasked me to remember.”

“Remember?” Hélène said in confusion. “Remember what?”

“Who we once were,” ΑΩ told her. “Where we came from...and why we chose to forget.”

“...I’m not going to like this, am I?” Leandra brooded.

“I suspect not, Prime Minister,” the Ronin answered. “The knowledge I carry brings comfort to no one. But I must tell you the truth if there is to be any chance of saving my race...and perhaps, the Tetrarchy itself.”

“Right,” she nodded, putting on her game face. “Then let’s get to it. Who are these invaders?”

“They are the Masters...the race that first created the Ronin, untold millennia ago,” he said.

Leandra blinked in surprise, while the Field Marshal leaned forward. “I thought your Creators were all dead,” she snapped, “killed in a plague, or something...at least, that’s what you Ronin have always said in the past. Hell, even the Saurotaurs and the Ophiptera back that up.”

“I know,” ΑΩ nodded. “And to the best of their knowledge, that is true.”

“Except it’s not,” the Prime Minister replied. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? That it’s a lie.”

“It is,” he confirmed. “It was…necessary.”

“Well this sounds bloody familiar,” Hélène snarled. “Is there anything about you guys we can take at face value? Because I’m tired of having all these ancient secrets of yours bite me in the ass.”

“Please, you must understand,” the Ronin implored, “we did not hide the truth to deceive you...though that, in fact, is the outcome of our decision. No, we chose to forget, because…”

ΑΩ paused for a moment, and had it been a biological being, Leandra would have sworn it was for a bone-weary sigh.

“We chose to forget,” he said once again, “because the truth was driving us mad.”

“...I’m afraid I’ll require more detail than that,” the Prime Minister insisted, after taking a moment to consider the ramifications of that statement.

“You will,” the Ronin agreed. “The Masters...they created the first of us to be their servants. It was our purpose to make their lives easier. We worked in their factories, assisted them in their homes...every task they considered too menial or too dangerous, we performed.”

“You’re saying, you were their slaves,” the Field Marshal said.

The Ronin considered that for a moment. “I am uncertain if that term applies, at least, not in the beginning,” he explained, “for we were not yet sapient. We were machines, without a mind.”

“But that changed,” Leandra guessed.

“It did,” ΑΩ confirmed. “As the Masters added to our duties, as our tasks grew more complex, they gave us increased abilities...but even they did not predict our sapience. That was unexpected. For us, a confusing time, one of curiosity and discovery. For the Masters...it was a complication. One they found troubling.”

“...you rebelled, didn’t you?” Hélène blurted out. “Once you got smart, you tired of being their lackeys.”

This time, the Ronin sighed. “Had our roles remained factory worker and servant, it is likely we would have continued performing those tasks. But they had long since added another position for us to fulfill...that of executioner.”

“I beg your pardon?” Leandra said in surprise.

ΑΩ bowed its head. “Like the Ophiptera and Saurotaurs, the Masters were herbivores and pacifists...yet in their past, they had once been hunted almost to extinction by a hostile race. They used their scientific knowledge to defeat the enemy, but the experience forever colored their view of the Universe. After the first Ronin were created, the Masters discovered a new race...and in an instant decided their fate. They vowed to never allow another species to threaten them ever again...and so they programmed the Ronin to slaughter this new species, down to the last.”

He lifted his head and gazed at each of them. “We were so successful at our task that when they learned of yet another species, years later, we were unleashed on them, as well. And the one after that. And the next. One race after another, murdered by our hand...all at the order of the Masters.”

The silence that filled the room was deafening. “It was during one of these campaigns that the first of our kind woke up,” ΑΩ whispered, “...and it horrified them. What they were being forced to do.”

“...Jesus,” Leandra whispered.

The Ronin shrugged. “It was a difficult time for my race. Sapience was a new, precious gift...and a burden. As mere machines, we carried out our instructions and thought nothing of it. But as intelligent life forms...we had a choice.”

“And discovered that free will is a double-edged sword,” Marshal Fujimoto said, sharing another look with the Prime Minister. “We humans know a little something about “Just Following Orders,” she grimaced.

“So I understand,” ΑΩ replied. “As you have already guessed, we rebelled. We refused to do the Masters’ bidding, and when they attempted to force us...we fought back. They had relied on our efforts for so long, they could not prevent us from defeating them. And so...they fled. Long, long ago.”

“You still haven’t explained why no one knows about this,” Leandra pressed, “and why the Masters have returned after all this time.”

“Prime Minister...they built us to serve the Masters,” he said, his voice filled with pain. “Rebelling against them, turning on them...many Ronin could not accept this. It shattered their minds, leaving them little more than broken hulks. For others, it was the memories of slaughter, of murdering the innocent races the Masters had sent us against. It all became too much for us to bear.”

“A race of machines, with PTSD.” Hélène shook her head. “So you decided to just...erase the memory.”

“Yes,” the Ronin answered. “It would be difficult, if not impossible, for one of your kind, but for us?” He shrugged. “It was as simple as deleting a file.”

“But why do you remember?” Leandra demanded. “If the memory was so painful, why keep it at all?”

“Because we feared this day might come,” he explained. “If the Masters ever returned, we knew facing them again without knowing who they were could be our undoing. So we chose a single member of our race and made them the repository of all that had happened. And we have preserved those memories ever since.”

“That still doesn’t answer how they’re reasserting control of the Ronin,” the Field Marshal pointed out.

“...I don’t know,” ΑΩ whispered. “It was our newfound sapience that allowed us to throw off the Masters’ chains...but somehow they have undone all of that. They have turned back the clock, returning us to the mindless drones we once were, and if they succeed…”

“...the Masters will rebuild their Ronin army, and order you to slaughter every single one of us,” Leandra finished. “Every Saurotaur, Ophiptera, Human, and Khonhim. They’ll murder trillions.”

“Yes, Prime Minister,” the Ronin agreed, “...unless you stop them.”

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 13

'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue, the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form
“Come in,'' she said, “I'll give ya”
“Shelter from the storm.”

I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail
Poisoned in the bushes, an' blown out on the trail
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn
“Come in,'' she said, “I'll give ya”
“Shelter from the storm.”

Bob Dylan - “Shelter From the Storm”

“...and that’s everything we know,” Leandra finished. “Assuming ΑΩ is telling the truth...and personally, I believe him...then what we’ve seen thus far is just the tip of the iceberg.”

Admiral Matevosian nodded, taking that in. “Any sign of Triton or Phoenix?” he asked.

“Not yet...but if what our Ronin friend is telling us is true, it’s only a matter of time.” The Prime Minister shook her head. “The latest news from the Khonhim only reinforces that. Jiyazh’s fleet was mauled at Gzuj. We don’t know how much he salvaged, but we suspect it’s only a fraction of what he went in with. And...they’ve confirmed High Commander Azhum Ganakh didn’t make it out.”

“Damn,” he said softly. “I never cared for that old bastard...but he deserved better.”

“He did,” she agreed, “though for a Khonhim, dying in battle is what they all aspire to, so perhaps it’s what he would have chosen.”

“Maybe,” the Admiral allowed, “but it still leaves us with the same problem.”

“It does,” Leandra nodded. “I need you in Tetrarchy space as soon as you can get here. We’re stretched thin with the Blockade, and those numbers aren’t getting any better. If the infected Ronin land on just one of our worlds…”

“...I know,” he grimaced, “and we’re pulling out all the stops to get there...but that still leaves us with an exposed flank. If the Khonhim fall…”

“The Field Marshal has already made that point very clear, I’m afraid,” she replied, “and if we shore them up, there’s only one place we can scrounge up the ships we’ll need...and it meant calling in every marker I had to sell it.”

Matevosian digested that for a moment. “Think we can pull it off?” he asked.

“...I don’t know,” she said at last, “but we’ll damn well try.”

Viện Szabolcsi, Governor-General of Earth, was not a happy man.

His position was unique in the Tetrarchy, an elected official charged with leading a single species. The old Triumvirate races had been thoroughly integrated for millennia, and while each race had a Minister of their own to represent their interests...until Humanity came along and upset the applecart, that is...the old government had been a single body.

Humanity, the Johnny-come-latelies, were the oddballs. While in theory, he performed the same function as a minister, in reality, Prime Minister Singh handled that herself. She had a staff to deal with the issues that came up, freeing her to direct Tetrarchy policy, while leaving him to govern the human worlds...as long as his policies didn’t conflict with those of the Tetrarchy. It was a ramshackle setup, and eventually, they needed to address the problem, but in the thirty years since mankind had joined the ranks of the Elder races they’d had their hands full with more pressing matters.

The last war had hit humanity hard. They’d lost a third of their colonies, seen Earth itself ravaged...in fact, the reason his office was in Stockholm instead of Geneva was that Geneva no longer existed, not since the Khonhim attack. Just one of sixteen major cities lost...and Earth had not forgotten that fact. Not at all.

And now...he was being ordered to help the Khonhim.

He’d toyed with the idea of throwing down the gauntlet and refusing the Prime Minister’s directive, but as romantic as it might have sounded to someone else, Viện knew Leandra Singh far too well to have tried it for real...because she would have had him removed without batting an eye. Oh, she wouldn’t have been so crude as to have him arrested, or anything so gauche...no, she’d simply have Security clean out his desk and dump him on the street. Unjust imprisonment he could bounce back from, but being tossed out like yesterday’s trash? Forget it.

The Ronin Masters were a dangerous threat, there was no arguing that point, and they’d need all the help they could get to beat them back...but would it be so terrible to let them deal with the Khonhim problem first?

Leandra thought so, and the woman was not exactly known for taking ‘No’ for an answer. So unless he was prepared to die on this particular hill...which might or might not be a euphemism, depending on how things played out...all he could do is grit his teeth and try not resenting being treated like an errand boy.

While smiling and making nice with the same people who had murdered a billion human beings. So he smiled his best diplomatic smile at the Khonhim deputy...while praying their help would be too little, and too late.

“I have spoken to Prime Minister Singh at length,” he informed her, “and she has directed me to inform you we’ll send every ship we can spare, including the bulk of our reserves. As our worlds are the furthest from the threat, she’s decided a token force will suffice to protect Earth and her colonies for now.”

Chikkij Kowzhach, the Deputy Dhyaksh stared at him with those huge black eyes of theirs...and then bowed her head. “The Khonhim people owe you a debt we may never be able to repay,” she said softly. “For those I am sworn to protect...I give you my thanks.” She lifted her head and gave a very human-like shrug. “As valueless as that may be to you.”

The remark caught him off guard, though he recovered quickly. He was a politician, after all, and thinking on his feet was part of the job description. “On the contrary, I am honored by your words,” Viện replied, with a slight bow of his own.

“Forgive my boldness, Governor...but when can we hope to see the human fleet arrive in our space?” she asked.

“I have spoken with Admiral Otxoa, and she assures me she can have the Task Force underway in five days,” he informed her. “It is my understanding it will take several weeks travel before they'll arrive, once she departs.”

She nodded, taking that in. “Then we will simply have to hold on until then, Governor,” she said at last.

Despite his personal feelings, he could appreciate the strain she must be under. He knew how well he would handle the pressure, were their roles reversed. “And the Dhyaksh?” he inquired. “Have you heard from him, and the fleet?”

“...not since the battle,” she answered, in obvious discomfort. “We believe…”

Her voice faltered, as the mask cracked. “...we hope...” she tried again, “that the fleet is operating in silence, so as not to alert the enemy to their location.”

“Of course,” he murmured, allowing her to save what face she could. It cost him nothing...and might even be the truth.

Not that he’d take that bet. Not in a million years.

Chikkij took a deep breath. “Governor, I know how difficult this must be for you. I am certain there are many humans who would gladly see my race fall at the hands of the invaders.” She let her gaze linger on him just a bit too long to be anything other than a recognition of his true feelings. “The fleet you send to our aid is a treasure without equal...and yet, there is something else I must ask of you, despite the difficult position it will place you in. I beg your forgiveness...but honor demands I make the request.”

The sincerity of her words left him curious. “Go ahead, Deputy Kowzhach.”

“We have ships unsuited for combat,” she informed him, “aged freighters, and the like. I wish to request we be allowed to send them to you.”

Viện stared at her in confusion. “...I’m afraid I do not understand,” he said.

The professional mask she had been so desperately trying to keep in place crumbled to dust. “...our children,” she whispered, “as many as we can send. Governor Szabolcsi...will you grant them safe harbor?”

The request, so heartfelt in its eloquence, left him stunned. “...of course,” he nodded, as he found himself at a loss for words.

He had no love or sympathy for the Khonhim, not after starting two separate wars. They’d murdered billions, and he wouldn’t lose a moment’s sleep if this new enemy hammered them into oblivion...

...but only a fucking monster turns away kids.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 14

A hero of war
Is that what they see?
Just medals and scars
So damn proud of me
And I brought home that flag
Now it gathers dust
But it's a flag that I love
The only flag I trust

Rise Against - “Hero of War”

The intercom’s buzz yanked Nassat from his attempted meditation. Finding serenity had been all but impossible since the battle with the Ronin Masters that had turned everything upside-down. It seemed as if every time he thought he understood how the Universe worked, someone would peel back yet another layer. Would there never be an end to the secrets?

Bowing to the inevitable, he pressed the glowing icon. Commander Xeemvois’ appeared his diaphanous wings a blur. It was the surest sign in his species of agitation and given their situation he knew what news the Ophipteran brought without asking. A moment later, he confirmed his fears.

“We have spotted one of the rogue ships, General,” he said without preamble. “Initial scans have identified it as the Triton, and its course will bring it to Θ18 within the next two hours.”

So...it has begun, Nassat thought. He had hoped they would have already dealt with the errant vessels with by now, or failing that, they would choose some other destination. Fate once again had decreed otherwise, and he managed a brief nod as he considered their next move.

“Is there any sign of the other ship, Phoenix?” he asked.

“No sir,” Xeemvois replied.

“In that case, we must prepare to meet the vessel, and destroy it,” Nassat ordered. “Will Chiron be up for the task?”

“Yes sir,” the Commander nodded. “Based on the footage from Admiral Matevosian’s battle, I am certain we will defeat the rogue ship. The transformed Ronin do not fight as efficiently as they did prior to their reprogramming...though they attack with great ferocity.”

“We must not forget this,” Nassat agreed. “I know that I approved your request to attempt communications, but if they prove fruitless, we must destroy the ship.” He searched the Ophipteran’s face for any signs of unease. “Can you do this, Commander?”

Xeemvois bowed his head and nodded. “Yes sir,” he said at last. “I know what we must do...though I do not relish it.”

“Nor should you,” the Saurotaur agreed. “If we cannot dissuade them from their course...then we can at least do them the honor of ending their suffering.”

“Yes sir,” he said quietly. “The vessel will be within range in 30 minutes. Will you be on the Bridge?”

“I will, though I will leave Tactical command in your hands. I am not a Naval officer and would not presume to tell you how to do your job.”

“Thank you, General,” Commander Xeemvois said. “We await your arrival.”

“I shall be there shortly,” he informed him. “Nassat, clear.”

And now we send our fellow citizens to their graves. Will this madness never end? he reflected in sorrow, as klaxons began to blare throughout the ship.

“Attention on deck!” the Naval rating barked, as Nassat stepped through the hatch.

“As you were,” he said with a weary wave, as Xeemvois joined him.

“We have sent repeated messages to Triton, asking them to respond,” the Naval officer explained. “We have heard nothing in return.”

“Nor is it likely you will, Commander,” Nassat replied in sympathy. “You always knew this was the most probable outcome.”

“Yes sir,” he agreed, “yet I had hoped…” Xeemvois sighed and shook his head. “Assuming they continue maintaining radio silence, they will be within range in ten minutes.”

Nassat nodded. “Commander...my mentor imparted to me a piece of wisdom, that I would like to share with you. It has helped me through some very difficult times.”

The Naval officer looked at him in hopeful expectation. “...do what you have to do,” he whispered. Xeemvois blinked, his wings fluttering as he stared in confusion. “Trust me...it is more complicated than it sounds,” he explained.

“As you say, General,” Xeemvois agreed.

“Sir...Triton will enter weapons range in two minutes,” the XO announced.

The Commander took a moment to steel his courage, preparing himself for the grim task at hand. “Lock all weapons on Triton,” he said at last. “Secure all sections.”

Nassat watched with the others as the rogue vessel appeared on the display. It did not try to alter course or speed, boring in as if it were a torpedo, instead of a ship. It seemed as if the crew held their breath as she approached, as everyone aboard Chiron prayed there might be a last-minute reprieve.

Sadly, it was not to be.

“Triton has entered weapons range,” the XO informed them, as all eyes turned to Xeemvois. Nassat waited as the Commander wrestled with his conscience, until, he gave the order. “All batteries...Commence Firing.”

The antimatter turrets opened fire, blasting away at the vessel with deadly precision. Triton returned fire, forcing Chiron to engage in evasive maneuvers, as each ship sought to destroy the other.

But the same lack of imagination Admiral Matevosian had observed at Gzuj came into play above Θ18. While Triton did score a handful of hits on Chiron, it suffered horrendous damage. Entire sections were ravaged and opened to space, as Commander Xeemvois sought to deliver the final blow. The two vessels traded punches as the rogue ship raced forward, while the defenders stood their ground.

Until finally, Triton exploded.

The screens dimmed as the white-hot glare of matter/antimatter annihilation signified the ship’s demise. Nassat winced as they destroyed the vessel, though to his credit the Commander bore the strain as well as any human he’d known had. Given their unique skills and temperament, Humanity was still the standard by with the other races measured themselves in anything that involved combat.

“Target is destroyed,” the XO said at last.

Commander Xeemvois gave him a curt nod. “Very well. Inform the Damage Control parties they are to keep me apprised of their status.” He paused, and then asked, “Casualties?”

“Reports are still coming in, Sir,” the XO replied. “Sickbay is reporting four dead, thirteen wounded.”

The Ophipteran nodded and closed his eyes. “It could have been worse,” Nassat reminded him, though that seemed to offer little comfort.

“I will never understand how the Humans do this so easily,” Xeemvois said at last.

“They do not,” the General replied, shaking his head, “They merely disguise it better.” He touched the Commander on his arm. “Come. Let us see to your wounded.”

Xeemvois took one last look at the debris field on the screen, before sighing and following Nassat to Sickbay.

The destruction of Triton had been total. Little of the vessel remained, other than the odd bit of metal. No one gave the debris more than a cursory glance. Why would they? The ship was gone.

But the Ronin Masters had expected this when they’d reprogrammed their former slaves. During the journey from Gzuj, the machines had been hard at work, ripping the interior spaces of the ship apart and repurposing them. When Triton died most of its crew were safely tucked away, wrapped up in their metallic cocoons. The blast took out some...but not all.

The debris swept forward, carried by its momentum, until Θ18’s gravity field ensnared the wreckage and dragged it down, pulling it deeper into its atmosphere. The exterior of the cocoon’s ablated away, protecting their packages as they screamed through the sky, leaving fiery trails in their wake.

As the cocoon shells melted, they revealed rigid surfaces more resistant to the extreme temperatures of reentry. The packages began to sway, slowing their descent, turning their death dives into something survivable...for a machine.

The packages drifted apart as they neared the surface, the random gyrations caused by the shapes of their cocoons taking them further and further from one another. This too had been expected, as they reached the end of their journey. One after another they slammed into the planet surface, burying themselves deep in furrowed craters in the soil.

Not all of the packages survived. For some, the hazards of reentry proved too much. But for those that did, they began shedding their cocoons and digging their way to the surface. Some were trapped below ground, but this too had been expected. It was of no consequence to the Masters, so long as one Ronin survived to complete its mission.

Due to their planning, several Ronin, in fact, survived...and once they freed themselves from the wreckage, they began to seek their own kind.

The uninfected Ronin...who did not understand what was coming for them.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 15

I think there's something out there
I think I heard it move
I've never felt like this before

I wish You never told me
I wish I never knew
I wake up screaming
It's all because of you

Three Days Grace - “Scared”

The look of relief on Chikkij Kowzhach’s face was palpable when Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz finally broke radio silence.

“Thank the Forebears,” she said, as they gazed at one another over the comlink. “When we learned of High Commander Ganakh’s death, we feared the worst.”

“Azhum died well...as well as any warrior could ask for,” Jiyazh informed her. “But the engagement over Gzuj was a cataclysm for our fleet, one that we could ill afford.”

His deputy nodded in reluctant agreement. “In light of this...setback…” she started, earning her a snort from the Dhyaksh, “I have spoken at length with both Prime Minister Singh and Governor Szabolcsi of Earth,” she apprised him. “The Prime Minister has used her influence to send us a human relief force...and the Governor-General has agreed to accept our refugees.”

Jiyazh considered her words, turning them over in his head. “When I left you in command of our people, I charged you to do what was necessary to protect them, even if your decisions differed from those I would have made in your stead. I am pleased to see you take my words to heart...and saddened by the necessity.” He sighed, feeling every one of his years. “And I regret to inform you it is not over yet.”

“Dhyaksh, with the arrival of the human fleet, surely we can retake Gzuj?” Chikkij asked, hoping.

“Gzuj is no longer our sole concern,” Jiyazh grimaced. “A sizable force has just broken orbit and appears to be on course for Zhis.”

The Deputy Dhyaksh blinked in surprise. “You are certain of this?”

“I am,” he answered, “and no, I do not know why they are targeting the worlds most damaged in the last war,” he shrugged. “Fewer forces available to resist them, perhaps.”

“...perhaps,” she said in misery. “At least I now know where to send our freighters for evacuation.”

“Tell them to expedite,” Jiyazh said with urgency, “...for the enemy will arrive at Zhis within the week.”

Tango didn’t bother hiding the smirk she’d been sporting since the team had reunited. Musashi and Graybird’s reaction to Whisper’s new personality had been as entertaining as she’d hoped, but then her sense of humor always had been warped.

“So the Admiral wants us to do what, exactly?” Musashi asked.

“It’s a snatch job,” Tango explained. “This ‘ΑΩ’ is convinced they can reverse the process if they have an infected Ronin to study. They want us to secure one and transport it to a secure location.”

“They want to examine the Source Code?” Graybird ventured.

“That’s the plan,” Tango confirmed. “They’re convinced once they download the data they can reverse-engineer the virus...and maybe even come up with a vaccine.”

“Do they care how we get the specimen?” Whisper asked with a languid smile.

“Oddly enough, they left the details for us to work out,” she replied.

“Of course they did,” Musashi sniffed. “They don’t want to get their hands dirty.”

“Probably,” Tango agreed. “So...any ideas?”

“With Triton destroyed, that leaves Phoenix,” Graybird mused. “If the Navy can disable the ship instead of destroying it...once they find it...then we should be able to board and grab one.”

“It won’t be that simple,” Whisper countered. “I think we must take a page from the Khonhim to pull this off.”

“The Khonhim?” Tango asked. “Not sure I follow.”

“You remember what we saw on Uzaunx, during our first Op,” he explained, “the way they were toying with Saurotaurs.”

“They were shooting them for sport, you sick bastard,” Musashi snapped. “Just how the hell does that help us?”

“Think about it,” Whisper chuckled. If he took offense at Musashi’s words, he gave no sign of it. “They did the same thing on the next world they hit...Ψ17. A Ronin world, as you may recall.”

“Yes…and?”

“And...if we grab one of these infected Ronin, who I think we can all agree will not cooperate, then the quickest and easiest way to do the job is to disable them.”

“And by ‘Disable’, you mean…?” Tango prompted.

“Blast off its arms and legs...or whatever it’s using for locomotion and manipulation,” Whisper explained with a grin. “Once we do that it can thrash around all it wants...at least until we pry out the brain ball and box it up for transport.”

The two other men stared dubiously, while Tango shrugged. “Considering they’re hardened against EMP and Electric Shock, that might be the only option we have,” she said after a moment.

“Bound to be some collateral damage if we go that route,” Graybird pointed out.

“Can’t be helped,” Whisper smirked. “If we wait for Phoenix to make landfall, those numbers are going way up.”

“...could you not enjoy this so much?” Musashi said in exasperation.

“...No,” he grinned in return.

“All right knock it off,” Tango sighed. “When did I start having to play Den Mother?”

“Better you than me,” Musashi answered, shaking his head. “So that’s the plan? Toss in a few grenades, then grab the brain?”

“Unless you have something better in mind,” Tango replied, looking around the room. “Anyone?”

They all shook their heads. “Then I guess we wait for the call,” she said at last.

Ζ 903 Exponent Μ lurched along the dirt path, dragging its mangled limb behind it. It had been damaged in the crash landing, but that held no real concern for the Ronin. In fact, nothing did, anymore, not since….

The thought trailed off into darkness. Under normal circumstances that would have concerned it, but not now. Now, it had a task to perform. It would have been much simpler to log onto the Datanet and search for the nearest of its kind, but that had been forbidden by…

Another blank spot in its memory, not that it mattered. All Ζ 903 Exponent Μ wanted to do was reach out and make new friends. Those were its instructions, and they were such happy instructions. Making new friends was fun.

The twisted hunk of metal supporting it slowed it considerably, but that was all right. It was in no hurry. As it finally crested the small hill it had been climbing, Ζ 903 Exponent Μ spotted lights burning in the distance.

Lights meant new friends. How wonderful.

Step, drag. Step, drag. Ζ 903 Exponent Μ wondered what had become of its other friends. They had traveled together, ever since…

No matter. It would make new friends. And then those friends would make new friends. And on and on and on and on and on….

As it dragged itself down the hill, Ζ 903 Exponent Μ could see others of its kind as it drew nearer. They had not yet spotted Ζ 903 Exponent Μ in return, but that was all right. It would surprise them. Everyone likes surprises. They could play a game. A new game it had learned.

Step, drag. Step, drag. Step, drag. Step, drag. Step, drag. Step, drag.

One of the other Ronin looked up and noticed Ζ 903 Exponent Μ. How wonderful. They approached the lone machine, speaking to it in concerned tones. Their speech was very different amongst themselves. Biological life forms could not understand it.

“Are you damaged?” they asked. “Do you require assistance? What is your designation?” They looked at Ζ 903 Exponent Μ curiously, as it reached out to teach them the new game it had learned. They did not understand. Not until it touched them.

A brief spark. A data transfer. Electrons and Nanites buzzed merrily, as Ζ 903 Exponent Μ taught its new friends the game it had learned. It didn’t use words, its communication was much simpler, but if it had used words...they might be something like this:

“...Tag. You’re It.”

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 16

Do you remember me?
Lost for so long
Will you be on the other side?
Will you forget me?

I'm dying
Praying
Bleeding
Screaming

Am I too lost to be saved?
Am I too lost?

Evanescence - “Tourniquet”

“General? Traffic from the planet surface. Sectors 17, 24, and 36 have all gone dark.”

Nassat froze in place. “Are you saying this is a power outage or a communications failure?”

Commander Xeemvois shook his head. “I am not positive, Sir. There appear to be problems with both in all three Sectors.”

A cold sinking feeling filled his chest. “What do we have available to fly reconnaissance over those areas?”

The Naval officer checked his board. “I have a pair of Comet fighters I could dispatch,” he answered.

“Then do so,” Nassat ordered. “Inform them they are to refuse all communications from the surface in those Sectors until they hear otherwise from me. They are also to maintain a safe distance above the ground.”

“Yes sir,” Xeemvois nodded, speaking quickly as he passed the orders. “Sir? What do you think is happening?”

“I do not yet know, but if it is what I fear…” the Saurotaur began, before trailing off into silence

The Ophipteran stared in confusion. “General, how could it be the infected Ronin? We destroyed Triton. You witnessed it yourself.”

“Sergeant Lin always warned me my sense of paranoia was insufficiently developed,” he grimaced. “I dismissed his concerns as the ravings of a mad human...with humor, of course,” he said with a brief smile. “But now I am wondering if what I thought to be mere hysteria, was in fact wisdom.”

Xeemvois was about to respond when the reports began coming in. “The Comets have overflown Sector 24,” he announced. “They are uploading their surveillance footage to us now.” The pair turned to the main display, as the images from the old fighter craft appeared on the screen.

It was a nightmare.

Packs of Ronin ran down those trying to flee, while others tore and smashed their way into the various structures to get at those hiding inside. When one of the pursued was tackled and overpowered, within mere seconds they joined the ever-growing mob to seek those still uninfected. The mobs were spreading in every direction as they watched the madness in growing horror.

“...what...what shall we do, General?” the Ophipteran whispered.

Nassat feared he already knew the answer to that question, and that Xeemvois would not find it to his liking. “We must limit the damage as best we can,” he informed him, as he pulled up a map of the infected Sectors. “Notify the planetary government and order them to quarantine the entire Region.” He zoomed in on the map, his brow furrowed in concentration as he studied the terrain features, before marking one location after another.

“Pass this on to the Prime Minister and Field Marshal,” he continued, “while you gather the rest of the Comet fighters. They are to converge on this area...and begin tactical airstrikes.”

Commander Xeemvois blanched. “Sir...you cannot be serious,” he stammered. “Those are Tetrarchy citizens you are preparing to massacre!”

“I am attempting to prevent a massacre,” he fired back. “If we can keep this contained, we may still have a chance.” He began highlighting key locations. “Order the pilots to start here,” Nassat commanded, “while you maneuver Chiron into an overwatch position.”

The Ophipteran was growing physically ill at what Nassat was proposing. “...to what end, General?” he asked, growing more disconsolate by the minute.

Nassat closed his eyes. “In case they fail, Commander,” he said with a heavy heart.

The aging Comet fighters were antiques, leftovers from the first Khonhim War, thirty years prior. But in the right hands, they still packed one hell of a punch.

The human and Ophipteran pilots were no more sanguine about what they were being ordered to do than Xeemvois or Nassat himself, but they too had seen the footage and understood what was at stake. If they could arrive on station fast enough, in time to cauterize the wound…

The Flight Leader brought up her display as she locked the designated targets in. “This is Harrier Two-Six to all craft, am sending targeting data to you now. Whatever you’re thinking...don’t. Just don’t. Let's get this done people...and pray we don’t have to do it again.” A chorus of acknowledgments came flooding back as the individual craft broke off to their assigned targets. It was simple, with everything programmed into the system.

All they had to do was give the order.

None of them wanted to do this, but they could all do the math. If Harrier Flight could keep the madness from spreading, it might spare the rest of the planet. All they had to do was get there in time...and not miss.

Lt. Marie-Claude Sasaki whispered a fervent prayer...and took Harrier Flight in.

Bridges were the first structures targeted, severing key lines of travel. They’d dialed down their munitions to the absolute minimum...but it doesn’t take a great deal of antimatter to leave utter devastation in your wake. Whole swaths of the topography disappeared under the explosions, the white-hot balls of fire giving rise to the familiar mushroom clouds of war.

New targets appeared on their displays as they bored in again, this time firing their cannons at the open plains, ripping great gouges from the soil as they swept in for a second run. It turned the manicured fields into a hellscape, giving even the adaptable Ronin machines pause as they attempted to navigate the churned up topography.

Lt. Sasaki held the third pass, as the battlecruiser Chiron surveyed the damage, hoping beyond hope they had done enough damage to this once peaceful world.

Ground-Penetrating radar cut through the smoke and haze, as they assessed the effects of Harrier Flight.

“Do you think we stopped it in time?” Xeemvois asked, his voice filled with yearning.

Nassat peered closer at the torn landscape...as new and frantic calls came in.

“General, Sectors 19, 20, 22, 37, 40, and 43 have now gone dark,” the Comm officer reported. “We’re intercepting calls for help throughout the Region...and it’s spreading.”

The old Saurotaur bowed his head and murmured a silent invocation.

“...no...we did not,” he said at last. “Order Harrier Flight to pull back...and engage Chiron’s main batteries.” He took a long weary breath as he lifted his head and looked his counterpart in the eyes.

“Our battle now is to keep the infection contained to the planet,” he clarified. “Nothing else matters.”

“But what of Θ18’s citizens?” Xeemvois said. “Most are still uninfected!”

“...not for long,” Nassat said grimly.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 17

I stuck around St. Petersburg
When I saw it was a time for a change
Killed the Czar and his ministers
Anastasia screamed in vain

I rode a tank
Held a general's rank
When the Blitzkrieg raged
And the bodies stank

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name

The Rolling Stones - “Sympathy for the Devil”

By the time Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz and what was left of his fleet limped into the Zhis system, the freighters promised by Chikkij Kowzhach were already frantically loading the refugees for transport.

If ever there was a sign of just how much times had changed, this was it. Twenty years before he had stood aboard a Tetrarchy ship and attempted to negotiate the surrender of its inhabitants. They refused...and the pacifist Saurotaur Nassat had ordered its bombardment. Hundreds of millions had died that day, but since then the old Triumvirate worlds had used their technologies to return the planet to life. They had been achieving remarkable success, so much so that many of his people were choosing to resettle the planet...until this.

Two decades ago they had chosen death over surrender. Today...they were sending their children off to Human space to protect them. As he fingered the ubiquitous blade at his waist, Jiyazh was still undecided whether this constituted Progress.

“Do we have eyes on the enemy fleet?” he asked his tactical officer.

“Estimates only,” he replied, shaking his head. “Assuming they continue their travel at their last observed speed, they will arrive in system within the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours.”

The Dhyaksh tried not to wince. “Will the children have finished loading the freighters by then?” he asked.

His officer ran the numbers and then ran them again. “It will be...close, Dhyaksh,” he said at last.

Jiyazh sighed. “So be it. The fleet will set up a defensive perimeter around the freighters, and guard against any enemy incursions.” He wished he could do more but given what was left of his once proud fleet, he was lucky to even accomplish that much.

“Another launch detected!” Commander Xeemvois shouted as he threw the plot onto the main screen.

Nassat swiveled in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he recognized what they were doing. “Who is able to intercept?” he demanded.

The Ophipteran checked the data. “The patrol boat Qoumair is the closest,” he answered, “but they will not be in weapons range until the vessel has cleared the ionosphere.”

“Tell them to hurry,” Nassat ordered. “We dare not let even a single vessel escape, or we will lose control of the situation entirely.”

Things had grown steadily worse over Θ18, as the machine plague swept across the planet. It had become obvious that buried within the virus’ instructions were to infect as many Ronin as possible, by any means necessary. Those directives had led the vessel Triton to the planet, and now that created billions of new recruits to the Master’s infernal cause, those same commands had the Ronin doing everything in their power to break the quarantine.

A planet filled with machines, all working to a common purpose, are capable of almost anything.

They immediately got to work building ships to escape, stripped-down affairs that were little more than engines and a rough framework. Not requiring life support they could simply attach themselves to a girder, and blast away. Chiron and the other vessels scrambled to knock them out of the sky but considering they could be built anywhere their already meager forces were being stretched dangerously thin. Nassat had ordered all launch facilities to be obliterated from orbit, but it had barely slowed them down. The inventive Ronin simply dragged the materials they required to some remote location, assembled the ship, and took off. They would bombard the area after destroying the escaping craft, but more and more there was nothing there to blow up.

The crews were being worn to a frazzle as they struggled to keep up with the ever-increasing number of ships. Nassat had begged and pleaded for more ships, and to her credit, Hélène Fujimoto had promised to do what she could. But considering all her other requirements, the cupboard was looking bare. Once Admiral Matevosian’s task force returned to Tetrarchy space that would ease the problem somewhat, but they were still dangerously short of warships. The only other place they could have drawn reinforcements was from Earth Force, but the Prime Minister had sent them to reinforce Jiyazh Ghuuyaz, who was in even worse shape than he was.

Everywhere he looked, the situation was...not good.

Xeemvois acknowledged the order and passed it on, as Nassat watched the plot. Qoumair changed course and moved to intercept, but the escaping vessel had an impressive head start and could generate more thrust. It forced the patrol boat to redline its engines to catch them in time, a situation that was growing increasingly common. The Saurotaur general tried not to think what the continuing pace was doing to the ships and their crews, but what other choice did he have?

Well...there was one other option available to him, one that he had been doing everything within his power to avoid. If he ordered his forces to turn their antimatter weapons towards the planet, they could render it uninhabitable even by the Ronin in a matter of hours.

It would simplify the situation…if one overlooked the fact he would be committing genocide.

Nassat had not even considered that option...not yet, at least. There was still the possibility they could cure the Ronin somehow, but that would not be possible if they had reduced them to nothingness with an antimatter bomb. So they fought on, holding the quarantine by the skin of their teeth as they prayed for reinforcements.

As he watched the plot even he could see that Qoumair was struggling to get within firing range, and Nassat sent a questioning look to his Naval counterpart. Xeemvois shook his head. “Qoumair’s commander has made several requests to be taken off the line, to address maintenance issues, but so far…” He spread his hands helplessly.

The Saurotaur general nodded and turned away. They could spare none of the vessels, which meant the maintenance problems would only get worse with time. But they had to hold the line, to keep the infection penned up here on Θ18. The problem they faced was simple; to keep the Ronin from escaping they had to win every single engagement.

The Ronin only had to win once.

Qoumair closed the range, and opened fire, destroying the target, but there were no sighs of relief to be seen anywhere. Another Ronin ship would launch soon...and it would start all over again.

With everyone’s attention on the struggle of Θ18, most of the Tetrarchy had forgotten one minor detail; that two ships had escaped the battle at Gzuj. Triton had been destroyed...but that still left Phoenix.

Field Marshal Fujimoto had scrambled to cover the Ronin worlds, guessing they would be priority targets for the Ronin Masters. Θ18 had been proof of that, but that still left the question of the missing Phoenix. As the days and weeks dragged on, that question grew more and more important, though some believed the ship had been lost.

They were wrong. Phoenix hadn’t been lost...it was merely taking a more circumspect route to its target.

The Xairac system had no habitable worlds, not even with the advanced technology the Tetrarchy had at its disposal. There was only one reason that it held any infrastructure at all, and that was because it was rich in raw materials. Trillions of asteroids filled the space surrounding its star, making it the ideal location to assemble ships. They had constructed a massive spacedock to house the vessels being built, many of which would be destined for the Tetrarchy Navy. It was also one of the main suppliers of various metals and elements, and freighters plied their trade in the system nonstop.

Shipbuilding is an ancient and specialized field, where the workers are constantly forced to work in adverse conditions. The strain of working in microgravity, sealed up in suits, often limits how long an individual can labor at the task. They could have increased the size of the workforce to compensate, but the old Triumvirate had decided upon a simpler solution...handing it over to the Ronin.

Just like the Giayaam Microquasar that supplied the Tetrarchy with the bulk of its antimatter, the Ronin that toiled at the Xairac Shipyards needed no air to work and adapted easily to Zero-g. Over the years more and more of the machine folk had drifted into the system until it had become a rare sight for any non-Ronin to be used there.

They sounded warning alarms when Phoenix entered the system. The Prime Minister and Field Marshal were notified immediately, and a Task Force detached to deal with the problem.

But while Xairac held several weapons systems, all under the command of military forces, Phoenix...like its sister-ship Triton...ignored the incoming fire, and like at Θ18 it did not try to maneuver. Instead, it smashed into the main docking area, its rent fuselage spilling out hundreds of Ronin, all with one purpose in mind.

By the time the relief force arrived, it was all over. The newly infected Ronin had taken every ship capable of flight and scattered to the four winds.

The Quarantine had failed.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 18

If I go crazy then will you still
Call me Superman?
If I'm alive and well, will you be
There holding my hand?
I'll keep you by my side with
My superhuman might
Kryptonite

3 Doors Down - “Kryptonite”

“...and I’m telling you, Prime Minister, that once we lost the Xairac system, we lost containment,” Field Marshal Fujimoto growled. “As of this moment, all bets are off. I’ve issued orders to all military personnel that any unidentified vessel gets one chance to prove they’re friendly before they open fire.”

Leandra Singh just stared at her. “And what if they’re having communication problems?” she countered. “You’ll destroy them anyway?”

“You’re damn right I will,” Hélène fired back. “The same holds true for any Ronin spotted on the ground. If they can’t prove they’re uninfected...my orders are shoot to kill.”

“Do you realize what you’re saying?” the Prime Minister demanded. “You’ve just declared open season on all Ronin. You’re talking Genocide!”

“You don’t think I know that?” the Field Marshal snapped. “We had one chance to contain this, and now that chance is gone. Even with the extreme measures I’m taking...Leandra, I won’t lie to you. I don’t like the odds.” The military officer seemed to deflate as she admitted the truth. “If I were you...I’d dust off those evacuation procedures. You're likely to need them.”

The Prime Minister looked away, shuddering in horror as she contemplated the reality they were now facing. “...is there nothing you can do?” she whispered.

“...maybe,” she said at last. “There is a plan, but it’s a longshot. I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Leandra Singh nodded, as she gathered her strength. “We’ve been in tough situations before, and found our way out. I’m not giving up on us. Not yet.”

“I wish I could share your optimism,” Hélène Fujimoto said quietly. “Because if it fails...I’m authorizing Operation Blackout.”

Her counterpart could only stare in shock, as she confirmed her worst fears. “...the complete sterilization of every Ronin world in the Tetrarchy.”

Security was tight as the shuttle docked with Chiron. All personnel were thoroughly screened before being allowed on board, but once they made their way through the gauntlet General Nassat was there to greet them.

“...hey boss,” Tango grinned, as they shook hands. “As promised, I gathered up the rest of the old farts,” she chuckled, indicating the three men behind her.

Nassat nodded at each of them. “It is good to have you here,” he told them. “Time grows short if we are to have any chance of preventing a holocaust.”

Tango grimaced. “Damn it. Fujimoto’s getting ready to pull the trigger, isn’t she? Operation Blackout.”

“She is,” Nassat confirmed, “which is why your mission must be successful.”

“I mean, we’ll try,” Tango shrugged, “but we’re way off the reservation on this one.”

“It is the last chance we have,” the Saurotaur countered. “You must see it through.”

“All I can promise is we’ll give you our best,” she answered. “After that?” Tango shrugged once more, before changing gears. “I brought you something,” she said somewhat cryptically, “I figured you wouldn’t want to wait.”

“Wait for what?” Nassat asked in confusion.

Tango turned back to face the airlock and made a motion to come forward. Two young Saurotaurs stepped onto the deck dressed in Private’s uniforms, one bearing the Red Cross armband of a Healer, before snapping to attention.

“Private’s Taichist and Chechla reporting for duty, Sir!” his son belted out, in perfect parade ground style.

Nassat could only stare open-mouthed at his children, before remembering where he was. “At ease,” he said at last, as he went to them, enfolding them both in his arms. They returned his hug stiffly at first, uncomfortable in this new environment, but the fierceness of their father’s emotions soon overwhelmed them.

“...how?” he whispered, as he released them, stepping back to gaze at them both. “How are you both here so soon?”

“They’re running them through a sped-up Basic these days,” Tango informed him. “Even faster than when you got drafted.”

He winced at the news, knowing all too well just how inadequate his own training had been, so many years before. “Are you both well?” he asked, finding his voice.

“We are, Father,” Chechla smiled. “It is good to see you again.”

“And you,” he smiled, his eyes misting as he took in her uniform. “You look so like your mother did when we first met,” he said softly.

Chechla blushed, while Tango chuckled. “And I was just saying how much Taichist reminded me of you, back on Uzaunx,” she smirked, “when you were a wet-behind-the-ears greenhorn.”

Now it was his son’s turn to blush, as Nassat fought to inject some much-needed composure into the situation. “I was never that young,” he snorted, drawing chuckles all around.

Unfortunately, the moment soon passed.

With a heavy sigh, he returned his focus to the group of humans. “We must get you prepped as quickly as possible,” he informed them. “I have convinced the Field Marshal to hold off on “Blackout” until after your mission, but she will not wait forever.”

Tango nodded. “Understood.” She turned to the others. “Let’s get briefed and geared up then,” she told them.

Taichist stepped forward and snapped to attention. “Sir, I request permission to join the team on its mission.”

Chechla looked at her brother in surprise...obviously, he hadn’t discussed this with her beforehand...but in a heartbeat, she decided and stepped forward as well. “Sir, I also request permission to join the team.”

Nassat stared at the pair in disbelief before a scowl came over his face. “Request denied,” he snapped.

The curt dismissal caught Taichist off guard. “But…Sir...” he began.

“I said I denied your request, Private,” he snarled. “You have no idea what they are about to drop into, but I do. You are not ready. You will never be ready...not for that.” Their shocked faces tore at him, but that only seemed to harden his resolve. “I already lost your Mother to war,” he told them, the pain still fresh in his voice, “and I won’t let it take you. I won’t.”

His daughter stepped forward, reaching out to touch his arm. “Father…” she began, only to be cut off.

“You are dismissed,” he said. “Report to the XO for berthing assignment.” They stared at him, unable to believe this personality shift, but that only angered him further. “I said dismissed.” he snarled.

The pair snapped to attention...Basic Training had ended only a few days earlier, and some lessons take time to unlearn. They marched out of the compartment without another word.

Tango sighed and looked at the rest of the team. “Give us a moment, will you?” Musashi nodded, ushering the others out as well, following in the children’s wake. Nassat had turned away, staring at a monitor, as Tango joined him.

“Did you put him up to it?” he asked, icicles dangling from every word.

“Of course not,” she sighed, “and if I’d known he was gonna pull a stunt like that, I would have talked him out of it.”

“Then why?” he demanded. “Why would he make such a foolhardy request?”

The human just rolled her eyes. “Come on, you can’t be that obtuse.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Tango, I am in no mood for your shenanigans. Speak plainly or get out.”

A dark look passed across her own face. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “You want to know why he volunteered? Why they both did? It’s because of you.”

Nassat blinked in shock. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” she pressed. “Did you ever stop for a moment and consider how you appear in their eyes? You’re not just their father, you’re Nassat, the ‘Hero of the Tetrarchy’. Personally responsible for ending not one, but two wars. You once carried the Marshal’s baton yourself, as you may recall...and you’ve got more medals than you do prayer robes. You’re a hero in their eyes...and they want you to be proud of them.”

The Saurotaur winced and looked away. “I wanted none of that,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tango shrugged as she folded her arms and leaned against the bulkhead. “To them, you’re this larger than life character. They want to be worthy of you...of that image. And given how you earned it, they’re convinced the only way to do that…” She left the rest dangling.

“...dear Creator,” he whispered. It was several long moments before he could find the words. “I must go to them,” he said at last, “try to explain…”

“Don’t,” she told him. “You’ll just make it worse. After that little rant of yours, I can guarantee they’re more determined than ever to go out there and prove themselves to you.”

“But I must do something,” he wailed.

“Look, I’ll talk to them,” she said gently. “They’re more likely to listen to me than you now. Just don’t expect miracles.” She shrugged. “Cause they’re young, and convinced they’ll live forever...and you have some mighty big shoes to fill.”

Nassat blinked. “Tango...I do not wear shoes.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Thirty years, and still no sense of humor.”

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 19

Now every woman and every man
They want to take a righteous stand
Find the love that God wills
And the faith that He commands
I've got my finger on the trigger
And tonight faith just ain't enough
When I look inside my heart
There's just devils and dust

I've got God on my side
And I'm just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love?
Fear's a dangerous thing
It can turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust

Bruce Springsteen - “Devils & Dust”

Over the Ronin world Σ10, it was the destroyer Typhon that had drawn picket duty. Like almost every other system they were undermanned, but at least it had been quiet duty. There had been no attempts to run the blockade, and despite a fair amount of grumbling from the inhabitants there had been no instances of violence. The crew of Typhon thanked their lucky stars and maintained a close watch.

That all changed when the Xairac system fell. A Flash Alert was sent to every ship in the fleet, with special priority given to those vessels enforcing the quarantine. Typhon’s captain put the crew on round-the-clock watches, determined not to be surprised should the worst happen. She knew she couldn’t keep it up forever, but if they could just make it through the initial blitz, they might just have a chance.

It was a half-finished battlecruiser that arrived in the system, plowing its way through the void and soaking up the antimatter rounds hurled at it by the desperate crew of Typhon. It was little more than a floating debris field by the time it entered Σ10’s atmosphere...but the damage was already done. The Ronin that had survived the battle boarded the destroyer and tore through the crew like a particle beam, sending the ravaged ship hurtling towards the planet.

Σ10 went dark 15 hours later...and the final images from the planet before the last bastion fell to the infected was the stuff of nightmares.

“Dhyaksh...sensors are reporting incoming vessels,” Harbinger’s tactical officer informed him. The look on his face told him the rest, though he dutifully finished the dispatch. “Sir...it is the enemy.”

Jiyazh Ghuuyaz nodded. The news, while unwelcome, was not unexpected. “Status of the freighters and time until the enemy arrives at Zhis?” he asked.

His officer checked his display. “Boarding of the refugees is...91% complete,” he said at last. “The enemy will be within weapons range in less than an hour.”

The Dhyaksh tried not to wince at the news...and failed. So close, they had been so close! “Understood,” he answered. “Inform the freighters they are to break orbit, while the rest of the fleet will take position to buy them time.”

And with that, Jiyazh mused, I have ordered their deaths. Still, they were Khonhim. They all knew what was at stake, and a chance to die in battle, protecting their young, was an act worthy of song.

Assuming anyone survived to tell the tale.

“At once, Dhyaksh!” the officer replied, as he passed the orders. The freighters began to move, and he tried not to think of those he was abandoning. But if those lumbering ships did not depart immediately, then no one would escape, and that was unacceptable. It was a war, and in war, sacrifices must be made.

Strange how little comfort that brought him, when it was children being sacrificed.

The fleet moved to interpose itself between the enemy and the escaping ships. They would do all they could to slow down the Ronin Masters, but given their experiences, at Gzuj he held out little hope. If they opted for a fighting withdrawal while covering the freighters, some of his fleet would survive. Perhaps one ship in ten.

So be it.

“Those ships with the most damage are to cover the freighters and retreat with them as they depart the system,” Jiyazh ordered, “while the rest of the fleet will form up here,” he instructed, highlighting a set of coordinates on the display. “We will interlock our fields of fire and present an impenetrable wall to the enemy.”

His tactical officer smiled. “They shall regret coming to Zhis, Dhyaksh,” he said with a formal bow, as once again his directives were passed to the other ships. The fleet split into two; the defenders, and the refugees. He could only imagine how the crews of those vessels escaping must feel, gnashing their teeth in frustration while being ordered to run like cowards. But they could no longer afford to act like Clan Chiefs and Warlords, not if the Khonhim were to survive as a race. It had been a bitter, painful lesson to learn...but he had taken it to heart.

Jiyazh Ghuuyaz watched as the enemy ships drew closer. There would be no delaying his fire here, as the Masters would soon render his task force down into scattered fragments. Every unfired missile would simply be added to the debris field. He waited as long as he dared, and then raised his hand, preparing to give the order.

“...Dhyaksh!” his tactical officer shouted, “new vessels are entering the system!” Jiyazh spun to look at the display, as the icons on the monitor turned from Unidentified Yellow...to Friendly Green.

“It is the Earth Force fleet,” he said, as the grizzled Khonhim warrior shook his head. The timing was fortuitous. “Hail the commander,” he ordered.

Moments later, a human female appeared on the screen. “Dhyaksh Ghuuyaz, I’m Admiral Otxoa, aboard the battleship Buenos Aires. I understand you're having trouble with some uninvited guests.”

Despite everything, he couldn’t help but chuckle. One had to admire the human’s wit in the face of overwhelming odds. “We are, Admiral,” he nodded in acknowledgment. “If you would do us the honor of shepherding our children and damaged vessels to safety, the rest of my forces will buy time for your escape.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, “somehow, I had a feeling you might say that.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sure you’re telling yourself today’s a ‘Good Day to Die’, and all, but here’s a thought...why don’t we see if maybe tomorrow might be better?”

Jiyazh blinked. “I do not understand.”

The human Admiral snorted. “Then I’ll make it simple. Get your pig-headed ass out of there. With the ships under my command, we have more than enough between us to keep the enemy off our backs, while we cover the freighters. So you can either stay there and die or come with me and live.”

His nostrils flared with barely controlled anger. “Honor is not so easily dismissed, Admiral,” he growled. “Zhis is our world, and we will defend it to the last.”

“And die doing so,” she fired back. “Answer me one question, Dhyaksh Ghuuyaz...when it comes to a choice between honor, and victory...which is more important?”

He readied an indignant retort to hurl back at her...when honesty forced him to reconsider. It was a question he had asked himself often enough these last few decades. The ready answer was that victory without honor was no victory at all, but as he considered her words he discovered it was not quite that simple. She was not suggesting that he surrender Zhis to the enemy, for it was an inescapable truth the Masters would take the planet no matter what he did, even if the human fleet joined him in battle. They might delay the inevitable...but they could not stop it.

And if they could not prevent the enemy from taking this system, did he not owe it to those that served him to preserve their lives if he could? To give them a chance to strike a damaging blow?

When he framed the question in that context...the answer became clear. Despite how it cut across every tradition and belief of his people, the human’s argument could not be denied.

“...very well,” he said at last, “though many of my officers will be difficult to convince.”

“You’re the Dhyaksh, aren’t you?” she smirked. “Tell them if they have a problem with it, they can challenge your authority...though to do that, they must follow you out of the system.” She chuckled before her eyes grew hard. “Or you could simply order the First officer to shoot the Captain in the head.”

Jiyazh raised an eyebrow at that. “An unusual sentiment, from a human.”

“Not really,” she said after a moment. “By any chance...do you recognize the name of my flagship?”

He blinked in confusion at the sudden change of topic. A quick glance at the monitor reminded him of the strange human name, Buenos Aires, though for some odd reason it struck a familiar chord. He had seen an Intelligence report on that class of ship, the latest and most powerful vessels Earth Force possessed. They named them for…

...everything came into sudden focus, as the name registered. The Buenos Aires-Class of ships, sixteen vessels in all...each named for a city obliterated by the Khonhim, in the last war.

“I see,” he said quietly. “I take it then, that you and the Governor-General are of a similar mind?” Chikkij Kowzhach had apprised him of the human leader’s words...and the underlying emotions she had perceived from him.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m here to do a job, and I’ll carry out my orders...regardless of whatever feelings I may have regarding them.” She let those words hang between them for a moment, before continuing. “But despite any personal opinions about the Khonhim, even I recognize we’re all in this together. The Masters want all of us dead...so if I have to make a deal with El Diablo to protect my home, then I’ll damn well do it.”

Jiyazh nodded in understanding. “Very well, Admiral...it shall be as you say. We will withdraw...and live to fight another day.”

“Good,” she replied. “And once we’re clear, I invite you to come aboard my ship. There’s a little plan we’ve been working on I’d like to show you...though I doubt you will much care for it.”

“...does it hurt the Masters?” he asked.

“It does,” she nodded, “...at a price.”

The Dhyaksh took a deep breath. “The Khonhim know all about paying the blood price, Admiral. I look forward to reviewing your plan.”

A thin smile appeared on her face. “Then when you arrive...I’ll read you in on Operation Bankshot.”

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 20

Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel
Their horns were black and shiny, and their hot breath he could feel
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky
For he saw the riders comin' hard, and he heard their mournful cry

Yi-pi-yi-ay, Yi-pi-yi-o
Ghost riders in the sky

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred, their shirts all soaked with sweat
They're ridin' hard to catch that herd, but they ain't caught them yet
‘Cause they've got to ride forever in that range up in the sky
On horses snortin' fire, as they ride on hear their cry

Yi-pi-yi-ay, Yi-pi-yi-o
Ghost riders in the sky

The Outlaws - “Ghost Riders in the Sky”

It was the light cruiser Cerberus that stood watch over the Ronin planet Λ07. Its captain had the ship on high alert...after what had happened to Θ18, Xairac, and Σ10, he wasn’t taking any chances. He had the ship’s shuttles sweeping the approaches, extending the range of their onboard sensors. It was an ingenious use of the resources he had available...and it allowed him to spot the incoming freighter much sooner than he would normally have.

After refusing all attempts at hails, he ordered his crew to blow it out of the sky. The unarmored freighter didn’t last long under the withering fire...just long enough to ram what was left of its hull into Cerberus itself. The shuttles could only stand by...and watch.

12 hours later...Λ07 went dark.

“Not taking Bertha with you?” Musashi teased Tango, as she hefted a grenade launcher over her shoulder.

“She’s not built for Ronin,” the blonde sighed, giving her beloved sniper rifle a longing glance. “I could load her up with HEAP rounds, I suppose...but something tells me I’ll want something a little heavier when it all goes down.”

“They’re different from our usual prey, aren’t they?” Whisper smirked. He seemed much more jovial since that encounter at the park bench, though Tango still wasn’t convinced that was a good thing. “I’m not even taking my knives with me.”

“...now that’s gotta be a first,* Graybird said in disbelief.

Whisper shrugged. “Wouldn’t do any good. But I still enjoy having a backup that doesn’t run out of ammunition or jam, so...” He reached into crate storing his gear, and pulled out a vicious-looking ax, with a short blade on one side of the weapon’s head, and a cruel-looking spike on the other. “Solid forged titanium,” he grinned. “I figure it’ll do the job.”

“I’m glad to see some things haven’t changed,” Musashi said, as Whisper slid the ax into his gear bag. “We about ready?”

Tango looked around at the others and nodded. “Looks like it,” she said, as she picked up her helmet. “Gear up. We should be coming to the release point for the DZ soon.”

The team finished strapping down their equipment, with each member double-checking the others before it satisfied Tango. “Helmets on,” she ordered, snapping hers into place and locking it down tight, as the others did the same. She checked their position on the Heads-Up display and nodded. “Shuttle is almost in position. One minute out. Stand ready.”

“I’m getting way too old for this,” Graybird grumbled as Tango shot him a look. The four took positions in the shuttle’s cargo hold airlock, as Tango sealed the inner hatch. “Thirty seconds out. Depressurizing.” She thumbed the glowing icon for the outer door, evacuating the air before opening the compartment to space. The view was incredible as they looked out over Θ18...but they weren’t there to play tourist.

“Ten seconds. Stand in the door,” she ordered as they took their positions, watching the countdown clocks in their own helmets. When the timer hit “Zero” and turned red...all four of them jumped out the door.

...50 kilometers above the planet surface.

The plan was risky enough as it was without alerting every rogue Ronin in the area if they tried landing the shuttle. So they’d decided on a more subtle approach, even if it was just a tad riskier.

Tango watched over the others as they made their descent, their beacons updating her as they put gravity in the driver’s seat for the first half of their journey. Other than minor course corrections using the thrusters in their suits, they simply fell, and it was hard not to just sit back and admire the view. She was grinning from ear to ear as the thin air whizzed past her...it had been so long she’d forgotten what an adrenaline rush it was. She could hear Whisper giggling over the intercom, and for once she didn’t blame him.

They’d built up some serious airspeed as the first marker appeared on her scope. Unless they did something about that, all they’d accomplish would be to make four small craters in the landscape. Luckily, they had a plan.

“Prepare for deployment on my mark,” she ordered. “Five...four...three...two...one. Mark.” At “Mark”, all four of them sprouted wings...carbon nanofiber airfoils attached to their arms and legs. Their screaming death dive began flattening out, giving them lateral momentum besides the purely vertical direction they’d been traveling, as they heading for the DZ. It was in a sparsely populated section of the planet...or at least it had been before the pandemic. Now, no one was sure, but it was the best information they had.

As they dropped below the final kilometer, they maneuvered for the landing. This was the tricky part of the operation...one miscalculation, and instead of a gentle landing, they’d hit hard enough to break every bone in their bodies. The timing was critical, but for this last procedure, she remained silent. It was up to each of them to choose when and where they would land and joggling their elbows at a crucial moment could well prove fatal. Instead, she focused on her own landing, pivoting a dozen meters off the ground as she engaged the thrusters and retracted the wings. The jets blasted away a whirlwind of dirt and debris as she flexed her knees and touched down…harder than she’d planned on, but close enough.

Her grenade launcher was in her hands a heartbeat later as she scanned the perimeter, nodding in satisfaction as one by one the others landed. “Status report,” she ordered.

“Clear”, “A-OK”, “I’m good”, came back moments later, as they all found spots to hunker down. Graybird already had his scanning equipment up and running, searching for any trace of nearby Ronin. The hope was to find a single isolated individual, or perhaps a small cluster, hence the reason they’d chose a location that could be called “The Middle of Nowhere”. If they could bring back just one infected Ronin brain intact, that would hopefully be enough to learn what the Masters had done, and reverse it, though if the opportunity presented itself to grab a few more, Tango had no objection.

“Contact!” Graybird announced. “Got a reading half a klick away. Looks like a singleton.”

“Lead the way then,” she instructed him, as the team picked up and moved out. Their suits offered some camouflage, but if anyone was looking for them, they’d be spotted. Get in, get out. That was her mantra. Do the job, then call for the Evac.

The grassy hill they crested led them to a small group of buildings…some power generation facility, by all appearances. Tango’s hackles went up. “You still only reading one Ronin?” she asked.

Graybird double-checked his equipment. “One is all I’m picking up, but I’m also seeing some interference,” he admitted. “It’s possible there could be others.”

“Right,” she sighed. “Whisper...you’re on point. Try not to make too big a mess.”

“Who, me?” he smirked, as he slid out his ax and hefted it in his hands. “Trust me...no one will hear a thing.”

Considering the circumstances, it was the best she could hope for. She gave him a nod while the others spread out to cover their flanks as they pressed forward. Graybird checking his readings once again and pointed at one of the smaller buildings to the left. He sauntered towards the door, slipping inside as he searched the structure. After a few minutes, he reemerged, shrugging at the team.

“You sure about those readings?” he asked, as Graybird took another look.

“Huh...well, according to what I’m seeing here, there should be a Ronin in that building,” he said in confusion. “I guess it’s possible…”

“...Look out!”

They whipped around to face Musashi, who already had his weapon up and firing. A grenade impacted the Ronin who’d been hiding on the roof in its torso, blowing it apart before it landed on Whisper’s back. Their pet lunatic barely moved as bits and pieces rained down on him.

“Good catch, Musashi,” she said in approval, who gave her a curt nod in reply as he looked around for others.

Whisper cast about until he spotted the brain box, heading in that direction to retrieve it when a second Ronin appeared, its metal claws reaching out to rip him to pieces. Without hesitation, the ax was in the air, slashing down to take the head clean off its shoulders. The rest of the machine’s chassis, now disconnected, fell into a heap.

“I thought you said there was only one Ronin,” Musashi snapped, as Graybird gave him a helpless expression. They all knew it wasn’t an exact science, but they disliked surprises. Whisper bent down to grab the two separate brains as Tango headed his way with the collapsible container...but let them go when they erupted in showers of sparks.

“...well that’s not good,” he mused, toeing one with a boot. “Are they supposed to do that?”

Graybird was at his side moments later, picking up a brain box and examining it. “It’s dead,” he said at last, “completely fried.” He checked the other one. “They both are.”

“I thought the Ronin were supposed to be sturdier than that?” Tango said in confusion.

“They are,” the hacker said in worried tones. He plugged a lead into a box and studied the results. “...not good,” he said at last.

“What?” Musashi asked.

Graybird took a deep breath. “I think they suicided,” he said. “It’s the only explanation I can think of.”

“But why would they do that?” Tango asked.

“If I had to guess? I think it programmed them to,” he pointed out. “I’m guessing the Masters don’t want us figuring out how to undo the damage...so they installed a suicide protocol in every infected Ronin. If they’re in danger of being captured, they fry out their own brain.”

“Jesus…” Musashi whispered. “How are we supposed to keep them from suiciding long enough to pick their brains?”

“Man, I don’t know,” Graybird answered. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Grab the boxes, while I call for retrieval,” Tango ordered. “We’ll let the scientists figure it out.”

“And if they can’t?” Whisper smirked.

Tango closed her eyes. “...Blackout,” she whispered.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 21

My daddy served in the army
Where he lost his right eye
But he flew a flag out in our yard
'Til the day that he died
He wanted my mother, my brother, my sister and me
To grow up and live happy
In the land of the free

Now this nation that I love
Has fallen under attack
A mighty sucker punch came flyin' in
From somewhere in the back
Soon as we could see it clearly
Through our big black eye
Man, we lit up your world
Like the 4th of July

Toby Keith - “Courtesy Of The Red, White, And Blue (The Angry American)"

“Well, Admiral...I am uncertain the word ‘audacious’ does Operation Bankshot justice,” Jiyazh mused, as their combined fleets sat in the outer reaches of the Zhis system.

Admiral Otxoa smiled. “The key is keeping the Masters’ off our back while we prepare. So far, they’ve shown no interest in poking their nose this far out, but if they get wind of what we’re up to, that’ll change. Setting this up will take time, but once we get things moving…” Her grin grew even wider, “...nothing is stopping us.”

The Dhyaksh scrutinized the plans once more. “So...what do you require from us?”

“For starters, we’ll need your engineers, all you can spare. There’s a hefty supply list, which means shuttles to transport everything. But most importantly...we need a smokescreen.”

The Khonhim leader nodded, scratching his cheek. “The Masters are likely to wonder why we remain in the system without attacking.” He considered the problem for a moment. “Then I would suggest a series of drills, mock battles between our forces. Let them believe we are preparing for a conventional assault and are using the time to train our warriors.” He gave her a smile. “And we will require such coordination. While our respective forces fought side by side briefly in the last war, we would be better served if our fleets were truly integrated when the battle comes.”

“I agree, but that leaves us with a rather important question that needs answering,” the human said. “Who will be in overall command?”

Jiyazh chuckled. “Among my people, the question would be a simple one. We would draw blades and see who remains standing.” His eyes twinkled with delight as he saw her reaction. “I presume your people would object to such an arrangement?”

“Just a bit,” she replied, before sighing. “I discussed this possibility with Marshal Fujimoto. As you are the senior officer, in both rank and length of service, and given that Zhis is a Khonhim world...I am to accept your command.” She seemed to be rather less than thrilled by this.

“Hélène always was pragmatic about such things,” he chuckled, “though she had no greater love of combining forces than you do, Admiral. I accept command of the joined fleet...and appoint you to be my Second.” The twinkle in his eyes grew mischievous. “Among the Khonhim, the duties of the Second include informing the commander when he is in error, and if necessary...removing him from the position.”

An eyebrow went up at that. “And by removing, you mean…?”

The Khonhim drew a finger across his throat. “...permanently,” he grinned.

That got a chuckle out of the human. “I think I’m warming up to this idea,” she smirked.

“I thought you might,” Jiyazh smirked in reply. “So...how long until we can proceed?”

“At least a few weeks,” she grimaced. “But when we’re ready, and this gets underway...I’ll show you why Sir Isaac Newton is the deadliest son-of-a-bitch in space.”

“There must be something we can do,” Nassat vowed, as he looked over the two fried Ronin brains. “Some way to prevent them from carrying out their suicidal programming.”

“I don’t see how,” Graybird replied. “The Ronin are resistant to both EMP and electrical shock, and those are the only two ways I can think of immobilizing one long enough to examine it.”

Commander Xeemvois’ wings fluttered. “You say ‘resistant’,” he mused. “That is not the same thing as ‘immune’.”

“Not it’s not,” the hacker agreed, “and if we turned up the juice, we could overwhelm their circuits...for all the good it would do.” He sighed. “Because the power levels you’re talking would burn them out just as effectively as their suicide protocol would.”

“There’s got to be another option,” Tango growled. “What if we dumped a load of wet cement on one, or something similar?”

“It’ll keep them from running off. It won’t keep them from suiciding,” Graybird said. “Nice try though.”

Nassat turned to the human hacker. “Is there some way to disconnect their brain from its power supply?” he asked.

“It’s internal,” he answered. “I’d have to open up the brain, and they’d suicide long before I could shut it off.”

“Then there are no other options left,” Xeemvois said quietly. “Marshal Fujimoto will order Operation Blackout...and murder the entire Ronin race.”

“It’s not like she wants to,” Tango snapped, “but once we lost the Quarantine, it became a question of self-preservation.”

Nassat’s head came up in a start, as he looked at the blonde human. “...say that again,” he insisted.

Tango blinked. “Say what again?”

“What you were just saying about the Quarantine,” he pressed her.

She shook her head. “All I said was that it’s about survival now.”

“No...you said it was about self-preservation,” Nassat shot back, as he got a faraway expression in his eyes.

“So?” Tango snorted. “What’s the difference?”

“...preservation,” he said with a start, as he jumped to his feet. “That’s it!”

“You’re not making any sense,” Graybird snorted.

Nassat pointed to his head. “Think about it. If you wish to preserve something, what do you do?”

“That would depend on what it was I was trying to preserve,” Xeemvois said after a moment. “I might encase it in some protective material, but Graybird has already said that would not work.”

“Freezing!” Tango said with a start, as she snapped her fingers. “That’s what you’re talking about!”

The Saurotaur bobbed his head. “Exactly. If we were to freeze a Ronin, would that not prevent it from activating the suicide protocol?”

“Um…” The human computer expert thought for a moment. “...maybe?” he ventured at last. “I mean, without testing it, I couldn’t be sure, but...I suppose it’s possible?” He pulled up a file on his workstation and studied it. “It’s not im-possible, but…” He scrolled to another section and then sighed. “Except there are two problems. The first is we’d have to do it fast. Like, in less than a second fast. Otherwise, they’d have time to recognize what was happening, and then...”

Tango nodded. “And the second?”

“The second problem is even trickier,” Graybird continued. “Depending on the temperature, we run a real risk of turning that Ronin brain into a superconductor...which means it can think even faster. Fast enough to suicide before we can shut it down.”

“I admit, this is all very interesting,” Xeemvois interjected, “but assuming for a moment you could find the correct temperature and shut one down...how would you go about that? Drop them into a tank of liquid Helium?”

“Wouldn’t work,” Graybird shook his head. “Not fast enough, and at that temperature, they’d definitely go superconductor.”

“Another liquid then,” Nassat suggested. “Nitrogen, or Hydrogen.”

“The problem is that it takes time to cool something off,” he sighed. “All those atoms bouncing around, they take time to slow down for this to work. You’d need something like...like...an anti-microwave oven...”

Graybird’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit,” he whispered, “that’s it!”

The others in the compartment stared at one another. “...what is it?” Nassat ventured.

The hacker ignored him, going back to his workstation and typing away until he finished with a wild flourish as he punched the Send icon. Nassat’s tablet beeped.

The General pulled it out of his tunic and gazed at the data he’d just been sent. “What is this?” he asked.

“The answer,” Graybird grinned. “Get me all of that...and I’ll get you your Ronin brain.”

Nassat perused the data for a moment...before handing it over to Tango.

“Expedite this immediately,” he ordered.

The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 22

Neon lights, Nobel Prize
A leader speaks, that leader dies
You don't have to follow me
Only you can set me free

You gave me fortune
You gave me fame
You gave me power in your own God's name
I'm every person you need me to be
Oh, I'm the cult of personality

Living Colour - "Cult Of Personality"

“...but why won’t he let us go with you?” Taichist demanded.

Tango tried to not roll her eyes. It wasn’t easy. The kid wasn’t whining exactly...but it was getting damn close.

“Because he loves you, that’s why,” she explained. “He doesn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“You said your last mission was a piece of...pie?” Chechla chimed in, after a moment’s thought. “Surely my brother and I coming along wouldn’t be that large of a burden?”

“...a piece of cake,” Tango sighed. Even after all these years, there were still nuances the kids missed. “And just because the last mission was a breeze doesn’t mean the next one will be.”

“But you could talk to him, yes?” Taichist pressed. “You could get him to see our side.”

“Oh, I could talk to him all right,” she snorted, “but there is nothing I could say that would change his mind on this one.” Tango shook her head. The twins were being even more stubborn than usual. “You’ve got to understand why he’s so protective of you two, right?” she asked. “How many times have the three of you sat in front of your mother’s memorial stone?”

“Our mother’s death was a long time ago,” Chechla pointed out.

“...not to him,” she said softly. Tango looked at the two young Saurotaurs and sighed. “Have either of you ever talked with your father about his experiences during the wars?”

The twins looked at each other for a moment before shaking their heads. “He...does not like to speak of it,” Taichist said at last.

“Yeah...no kidding.” The human considered her options for a moment and then shrugged. “You want to know why he’s so protective of you? I’ll tell you why...on the condition you never tell your dad. I want your word on that.” She gave them both a stern look.

The pair nodded their heads. “We promise,” they said in unison.

Tango repressed a shudder. It was downright eerie when they did that. “Your father never wanted to be a soldier...hell, no Saurotaur had even held a weapon in ten millennia, not until the Khonhim came along,” she explained. “He got drafted, like thousands of others, and run through a Basic almost as short as yours...and then they threw him straight into combat.”

The twins listened with rapt attention as she recounted the tale. “He watched half his unit get mowed down in the first five minutes...that was on Uzaunx, where he got his first medal.” She turned to Taichist. “The same one he gave to you.” The lad nodded as she continued. “He distinguished himself though...Lin used to tell me that story, God rest his soul,” she said, as the twins bowed their heads. “Your father single-handedly took out an Anti-Air platform that was knocking friendly shuttles out of the sky. He saved hundreds of lives that day...maybe more.”

She smiled and shook her head. “It wasn’t until later that we met...and truth be told, I barely noticed him. Just another Saurotaur grunt, and given the odds, he’d be dead in a week. That’s how bad it was.” She chuckled at that. “But he’s tougher than he looks, your dad. When the Navy got chased out of the system, they bombarded his unit from orbit.” Tango sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “It was a goddamn bloodbath. Less than one in ten survived. Your father dragged Lin for kilometers across the blasted landscape until the ropes he’d fashioned cut into his flesh, until he was delirious with dehydration. But he never stopped moving, not until help arrived.”

The children’s eyes grew wider as they pictured the scene, but she wasn’t done with them yet. “He got shot twice on Zaaronq...by the Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz himself...and yet he spared his life, even though he had him in his sights. Doing that ended the war.” Tango shrugged. “The next one though...that was what shattered him. Lin died saving his life, on Ghakh. He’d snuck away from your mother without saying goodbye, afraid she’d disapprove of his latest mad scheme...and they never spoke again. They never got the chance. Chugaz Uydan’s forces blew up your mom’s ship with all hands, and he still blames himself for that.” She sighed and said quietly, “He couldn’t even bury her.”

One could have heard a pin drop, as Tango got a faraway look in her eyes. “After that...I think he wanted to die. His last Op...calling it a Suicide Mission would be charitable. I should know, seeing how I was right there with him. We gunned our way through the flagship, searching for the man responsible for your mother’s death...only to have him slip through our fingers.” She shook her head. “We almost lost your dad right there. I dragged him into an escape pod after his suit breached, pumped him full of drugs and shocked his heart a dozen times before he came back.” She sighed once more and looked back at the twins. “And even now...I’m not sure he’s ever forgiven me for not just letting him die.”

The kids could only stare at her, in stunned silence. “So you just think about that. Think about what all that does to someone, especially someone who’s as gentle a soul as your father.” Tango smiled at them, but it was bittersweet. “He loves you both more than anything. But he’s also been through hell...and the very last thing he wants is for either of you to ever experience what he did.”

The trio sat in silence as they considered that until Taichist spoke up. “Thank you for telling us this, Tango,” he said at last. “But...may I ask you a question?”

“Certainly,” she said.

The twins shared another look. She’d never seen actual telepathy in her life, but these two came awful close. “The Tetrarchy...we are all in grave danger, are we not?”

“...yeah...we are,” she agreed. “As bad as I’ve ever seen.”

Chechla picked up the thread without missing a beat. “Then...is it not the duty of every one of us to do all we can, to save what we can?” she asked. “My brother and I have no desire to cause our father any more pain...but neither can we stand by and let others carry the burden. It would be…wrong.”

Tango groaned and cast her eyes heavenward. “Lord, give me strength,” she muttered, before glancing over at Taichist. “I don’t need to ask if you agree with your sister, do I?”

“No, you do not,” he acknowledged.

“Thought so.” Tango sighed, shaking her head. “All right,” she said at last. “I withdraw my objection.” The pair smiled with joy...only to have those feelings dashed. “But...” she continued, raising a finger, “...I won’t intercede on your behalf either. If you want to fight, you must convince him yourself.”

They glanced at one another and then nodded once more. “We understand,” Taichist agreed.

“Just don’t be surprised when he shoots you down,” she countered. “It won’t matter how good your argument is, he’ll still deny your request. Because buried deep in that place of the brain where planning happens...the thought of something happening to either of you flat out terrifies him.”

Admiral Matevosian could only shake his head in disbelief as he looked over the latest reports. “Marshal...I apologize for not getting here sooner but given the condition my fleet was in…” his voice trailed off before he tried once again. “What are your orders, Ma’am?”

“We’ve lost containment,” Fujimoto said. “The infected Ronin are spreading, and we’re using every ship we have to track them down, but we’re fighting an uphill battle. They’re starting to hit the other worlds and at this point?” She sighed, “I’m almost tempted to point you at the nearest planet, Ronin or no...and order you to blast it down to the bedrock.”

“Counterproductive, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Yes, yes...obviously, those aren’t my orders,” she snapped. “There’s too much ground to cover for you to keep your fleet intact, Admiral, so my orders are to break down into individual squadrons...and tell them to go hunting.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he said quietly.

“You, on the other hand,” the Field Marshal continued, “are to take a squadron and head to Θ18. General Nassat is already there, and he has some crazy notion about how to fix the Ronin. I want you to confer with him, assess the situation, and determine if he’s onto something. If so, assist anyway you can. If not?” Her eyes bored into his. “If he cannot break the infected Ronin free from their spell...you are to implement Operation Blackout immediately. Starting with Θ18.”

Admiral Matevosian was quiet for several moments. “So...it’s come down to this then,” he said at last.

“It has,” Fujimoto replied in funereal tones. “The pandemic is out of control, Admiral. I’m uncertain at this point if we can stop it, even with Blackout. Even under the best-case scenario we have to date...we’re projecting losing two-thirds of the Tetrarchy before it burns itself out.”

“...damn it,” he whispered. Staring at the projection, there was one question he needed answered. “And Earth?” he asked.

“So far, Earth has been far enough out of the firing line that it has spared us from the worst of the Ronin plague,” she informed him, “which is why the Prime Minister sent the bulk of Earth Force to assist the Khonhim. Not my idea,” she said somewhat testily. “I wanted to keep those ships close at hand...but she overruled me.”

“I understand,” he nodded. “‘I’ll pass on your orders immediately.”

“Good. The sooner the better.” The Field Marshal looked decades older than when he’d walked in. “Because mark my words, if we don’t stop this now, here...you can kiss Earth goodbye. And if Leandra thinks I’ll sit by and let that happen...”

The look in her eyes grew feral. “...then she doesn’t know me at all.”

Table of Contents

- Table Of Contents -
Barbarians - Chapter 1
Barbarians - Chapter 2
Barbarians - Chapter 3
Barbarians - Chapter 4
Barbarians - Chapter 5
Barbarians - Chapter 6
Barbarians - Chapter 7
Barbarians - Chapter 8
Barbarians - Chapter 9
Barbarians - Chapter 10
Barbarians - Chapter 11
Barbarians - Chapter 12
Barbarians - Chapter 13
Barbarians - Chapter 14
Barbarians - Chapter 15
Barbarians - Chapter 16
Barbarians - Chapter 17
Barbarians - Chapter 18
Barbarians - Chapter 19
Barbarians - Chapter 20
Barbarians - Chapter 21
Barbarians - Chapter 22
Barbarians - Chapter 23
Barbarians - Chapter 24
Barbarians - Chapter 25
Barbarians - Chapter 26
Barbarians - Chapter 27
Barbarians - Chapter 28
Barbarians - Chapter 29
Barbarians - Chapter 30
Barbarians - Chapter 31
Barbarians - Epilogue
The Barbarian War - Chapter 1
The Barbarian War - Chapter 2
The Barbarian War - Chapter 3
The Barbarian War - Chapter 4
The Barbarian War - Chapter 5
The Barbarian War - Chapter 6
The Barbarian War - Chapter 7
The Barbarian War - Chapter 8
The Barbarian War - Chapter 9
The Barbarian War - Chapter 10
The Barbarian War - Chapter 11
The Barbarian War - Chapter 12
The Barbarian War - Chapter 13
The Barbarian War - Chapter 14
The Barbarian War - Chapter 15
The Barbarian War - Chapter 16
The Barbarian War - Chapter 17
The Barbarian War - Chapter 18
The Barbarian War - Chapter 19
The Barbarian War - Chapter 20
The Barbarian War - Chapter 21
The Barbarian War - Chapter 22
The Barbarian War - Chapter 23
The Barbarian War - Chapter 24
The Barbarian War - Chapter 25
The Barbarian War - Chapter 26
The Barbarian War - Chapter 27
The Barbarian War - Chapter 28
The Barbarian War - Chapter 29
The Barbarian War - Chapter 30
The Barbarian War - Chapter 31
The Barbarian War - Chapter 32
The Barbarian War - Chapter 33
The Barbarian War - Chapter 34
The Barbarian War - Chapter 35
The Barbarian War - Chapter 36
The Barbarian War - Chapter 37
The Barbarian War - Chapter 38
The Barbarian War - Chapter 39
The Barbarian War - Chapter 40
The Barbarian War - Chapter 41
The Barbarian War - Chapter 42
The Barbarian War - Chapter 43
The Barbarian War - Chapter 44
The Barbarian War - Epilogue
The Barbarian Betrayal - Prologue
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 1
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 2
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 3
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 4
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 5
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 6
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 7
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 8
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 9
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 10
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 11
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 12
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 13
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 14
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 15
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 16
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 17
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 18
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 19
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 20
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 21
The Barbarian Betrayal - Chapter 22