Chapter 9, part 3
Commodore
The Trader Emergency Coalition
8 years ago, galactic position 305, 835, planet christened "Liberty"
aboard TDN Aegia
"Damn it man, I said no!"
Kol arched an eyebrow.
"Don't give me that look! I don't give a rat's ass about your rank! I let it go before, but by the stars in Olympi I won't let it this time!"
Kol sighed. "They are a threat to me, Judman. Surely you can see that. What else can I do with them?"
Judman massaged his temples. "What about their behavior now? These past weeks? Have any of them raised so much as a finger to you? No! They haven't called command or they would have blown up this ship by now, so I say let sleeping dogs lie! They seem in awe of you, why would you harm your most fervent supporters?"
"But they are a security risk!" Kol insisted.
"To who? You? What security risk? That you're a Marksman? Star's light in heaven, the whole fleet knows that by now! Are you going to torture the entire fleet?"
Kol gave another exasperated sigh. "You're right, of course. You always are, damn you."
Judman sighed also, in relief, privately thanking the stars Kol knew when to back down. But he had to make sure.
"So you'll leave them alone?"
"Yes, yes!" Kol waved his arm as if pushing the matter away. "Fine I'll...what did you say? Let sleeping dogs lie?"
Judman nodded. "It's an old Earth saying."
"Earth," Kol whistled softly, his eyes glazing over, "now wouldn't that be something to discover..."
"I surely hope you're not one of those star-crossed fools who think they'll stumble across it by soaring randomly through the galaxies," Judman said wryly, "everyone knows our ancient homeland is lost to the stars forever."
"Perhaps," said Kol thoughtfully, his eyes far away, "one day someone will find it."
Judman shrugged. "Either we will or we won't. That's the way of the universe. But surely you didn't call me here to shout at me and discuss ancient fairy tales?"
"Earth isn't a fairy tale, Judman," Kol said, frowning, "but no, that isn't what I called you here for. Take a seat."
Judman sat.
"First of all," Kol said with a twinkle in his eye, "I'd like to congratulate you, Major Judman, on your newest shiny little toy."
Judman raised an eyebrow in confusion.
Kol grinned. "Judman, I am proud to present to you, beamed straight from Command this morning, the Red Diamond of Outstanding Initiative medal."
Judman's eyes popped. Kol laughed again.
"I know, right? Like babysitting me gives you the right to the Red Diamond. Well, go on, take it. If you keep drooling like that some flies will come around and have a pool party on your lap."
"This is...incredible," wheezed Judman, "this is so...so..."
"Unlooked for? Undeserved? Unwan...not wanted?"
Judman grinned. "You work on that spelling, I'll work on polishing my new medal. Hand it over!"
"Haha, calm down, its right here. Seriously, Judman, you deserve it. It's been an honor learning from you."
"It's been an honor? Son, don't make me laugh. You have a lot more to go through before anyone can consider you done with my teachings. You can find your way around without sinking, I'll grant you that, but you have a long way to go before anyone calls you commander, Commodore."
Kol stopped laughing. "That reminds me, command dropped off an order along with your medal."
Judman leaned forward. "And what's the order?"
"I...we are to take Garuma, the desert planet beneath us."
Judman nodded slowly. "The Vasari can't have ship factories down there, not after these weeks of no activity. If all they have are the remnants of the last battle that managed to escape, we could capture it quite easily."
Kol nodded his head in agreement. "That's what command was thinking as well. After we take Garuma, we have orders to 'stabilize' the planet in preparation for colonization. A colony ship will be coming up by Hiske in a week, along with a small fleet to compliment ours, and command wants Garuma, and possibly any others we can squeeze from the Vasari, ready for colonization by then."
"Stabilize," Judman snorted, "kill all the Vasari living on it is what they mean. Whatever. With your permission, Commodore, I have orders to send out to the rest of the fleet."
Kol waved a hand and Judman departed. He owed that man so much. It was his tireless efforts, very nearly day and night since Kol's promotion, that had turned Kol into the reasonably competent leader he was now. He should have gotten a higher medal, if there was one. Rising to his feet with a creak of his muscles and a small sigh, Kol dimmed the lights of his private apartments and headed down the hallway. Humanity had been near desperation only a few months ago, with hundreds of worlds under Vasari control, but they were fighting back. Hell's fire, they were fighting back.
The Vasari
8 years ago, galactic position 411, 814, planet code named OREGION
Flankx Sizkermahdi hissed into his goblet of shleme blood. Expansion was going well, and these terrans provided an infinite source of amusement, but preparations for the next Exodus should really have begun months ago. No Fleet Admiral Commander had ever tried to wait out the Darkness, to see how long they could hold off the next Exodus jump, and Flankx did not intend to become the first. He looked over to the faint bloodstain that outlined a Vasari's torso on the wall. Not after risking so much.
A knock on the door startled Flankx, making him spill a bit of the shleme blood on his arm. He hissed in anger and waved his hand towards the door, unlocking it and allowing whoever was foolish enough to anger him in. Then his eyes widened in surprise. It was Aeb'nir, his personal spy in Num'pol's division. A division that had been decimated, with no survivors.
"Sit," Flankx hissed softly, and Aeb'nir promptly fell to the floor, prostrating himself.
"I beg humble forgiveness, Fleet Admiral Commander," he whimpered.
Flankx's lip curled in disgust. Groveling dog. "Rise, and tell me how you alone survived the greatest loss to the Vasari since the end of the great Empire."
"Oh Fleet Commander," Aeb'nir said again, raising himself only to stay on bended knees, "I and the other officers were ordered onto the evacuation pods when the Platinum was boarded. We all shot off, but I saw some being shot down, and I think I am the only survivor."
Flankx's eyebrows rose. "Captured? The Platinum was not destroyed? Are you sure of this?"
"Perfectly, Fleet Admiral," Aeb'nir said shakily, handing a large photo sheet displaying a human, "this human boarded our ship, and fought his way to the command center. I can only believe that Num'pol was killed. He stayed back to give time for our escape."
One human?" Flankx's voice rose dangerously. "One human? And you fled? I should have you fed alive to the rankoras! And then what is not ripped to shreds blasted into space, so the Darkness can consume it!"
Aeb'nir quivered visibly. "Please Admiral Commander! Give me a chance to explain!"
Flankx threw his goblet of shleme blood at him. "Give me one good reason why I should not carve you into this wall myself!"
Aeb'nir looked over to the still-visible outline of the previous Admiral Commander's body on the wall, outlined in blood. That was not an empty threat.
Swallowing fearfully, Aeb'nir opened his mouth.
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Flankx tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. "Unimaginable speeds, you say? Dangerous little things, then. If you are not lying to me..."
"No, Admiral Commander!" Aeb'nir collapsed on the ground again. No Vasari could live with the shame of lying to a superior. Not unless they were planning a trick. "I beg you! Believe me!"
Flankx hissed at him. "Get up, you worthless shriveling piece of hecer meat! Here is what will happen. You will take control of Num'pol's 2nd division."
Aeb'nir looked up in surprise. "But Admiral Commander...there is no 2nd division. They have been decimated by the humans."
"You will construct another, fool!" Flankx hissed. "I have some new blueprints I want you to look at. Give them to the Do'alli, the shipbuilders, and they will construct your new fleet. Go. Do not make me repeat myself."
Aeb'nir fled from the room with the blueprints clutched tightly to his chest. Flankx sighed despite himself. If only that Vasari could keep the same neutral emotional block in his presence that he maintained with those he was sent to spy on. Although, if he ever acted with such impertinence to Flankx, his head would be rolling on the floor sooner than you could say davshich. Better he trembled. Soon the humans would tremble as well. They might have won a battle, but they have yet to win the war. Flanks clutched the picture of the human. Who was he? He had to find out.
"Dai'shtani!" He roared into his desk speaker. "Bring me the Da'Mani'k!"
The leader of the Mani'k would prove a challenge to this human. Any of the Mani'k would. They were assassins, trained from birth to obey none other than the Fleet Admiral Commander. Flankx smiled. And they moved faster than this human. Much faster.
