by S. J. Madill
"When you arrive in the system, announce that Kahala Hila is investigating a raid on Palani space. Do you have the identity of the vessel that escaped from here?"
"Yes, Mahasa."
"Very well. If that vessel is present, demand that it not leave the system. If it attempts to leave, disable or destroy it."
In the datasheet display, Upara nodded. "Understood, Mahasa. Though I doubt the Uta will react favourably to our presence."
"I tend to agree," said Zura. She shifted in her office chair. A few throbs from her knee told her that the medication was wearing off early. "Demand to speak to Qiviq. Don't ask if Qiviq is there; just demand to speak to it. Give every indication that I am present with you in person."
"Yes, Mahasa." Upara turned around. Behind her, the control room's windows showed the stars snap back to points of light. A grey-brown murk of a planet lurched into view.
Zura sat back in her chair, forcing herself to remain calm as Upara stepped away from the terminal. Upara knew what she was doing; she'd been doing it for centuries.
Zura wanted to be there, to be standing on the deck of a ship. Even if it was just a frigate, instead of a dreadnought. She didn't care. Even though there was nothing she could do in person that she couldn't do remotely — especially as a Mahasa — she felt her heartbeat rising. She kept watching the small window on the datasheet.
Just as Zura was about to speak, Upara returned to the terminal. "Mahasa, the subject vessel is present. It is already docked at the city's spaceport. Our requests for dialogue have been… declined." Upara raised an eyebrow, as bright flashes sparkled past the control room windows behind her. "The Uta appear to be shooting at us, Mahasa."
Uta technology consisted of whatever they'd been able to buy or steal. They'd only achieved spaceflight by capturing a Jaljal scout vessel and its unwary pilots. Planetary defence cannons were not something they often stole.
Zura leaned forward, her hands clasped together on the desktop. There was a time in every game when it was necessary to stop preparing, and go ahead and roll the dice. What happened after that was not entirely under the player's control. "Captain," she said. "I order you to open fire on the subject vessel. Destroy it on the landing pad. Then begin a timed bombardment. One shot per minute. Begin with the planet's defensive turrets."
"Yes, Mahasa."
"Broadcast to the Uta that the bombardment will continue until Qiviq's surrender is forthcoming."
"Yes, Mahasa."
Upara turned away from the screen, striding to the middle of the Kahala Hila's control room. She began giving orders, pointing at the crewmembers at their consoles. The windows flared bright blue as the frigate's main battery fired.
Zura picked up her teacup and took a sip. It was hard to tell, sometimes, if one was standing up to the bully in the schoolyard, or if one had become the bully themselves.
The Uta were one of two related species that had developed on their home planet; they had enslaved the other. Uta allegiance was to the clan, and prestige came from having the most slaves. Unless the slaves were Palani, the Pentarch didn't care what happened to them. Zura still hoped that the recent alliance with the humans would change that.
On the datasheet, she saw the image from the Kahala Hila flash as they fired again. The waiting was always the hardest part. In many cases, the waiting was worse than the combat.
Sliding her chair back from the desk, Zura stretched out her sore knee, bending her leg back and forth. She stood up, and began to walk around the office.
The more a soldier got promoted, the greater their average distance from weapons fire. This morning, she'd personally been in combat for the first time in months — though in truth it was more like an execution. Now she was sitting light years away from her flagship, watching through a datasheet as orders were given, weapons fired, and lives taken. Without being personally at risk, it seemed too easy. Too—
Twin chimes from the datasheet jolted Zura back from her thoughts. A secure channel request had been received. Perhaps Qiviq wished to share some bluster or threats.
Zura crossed the floor back to her desk, tapping the button on the datasheet as she sat down. No, she thought, definitely not Qiviq; the new channel was from the Palani homeworld.
A white Palani face came into view. She wore exquisite red robes, and a heavy chain of office.
"Honoured Pentarch Threnia," said Zura, giving a deferential nod of her head. "An interesting surprise."
Threnia smiled as she nodded in return, but it was the insincere smile of a lifelong politician. "Glory to you, Mahasa Varta," said Threnia. Her voice sounded breathy, like she'd been running. "You have ordered a bombardment of an Uta planet. Are you quite insane?"
"I have indeed ordered a bombardment, Honoured Pentarch," said Zura. "New Fraser was attacked by mercenary slavers. After we repelled their attack, their remaining ship retreated to a system in Uta space. I ordered Kahala Hila to investigate. They found the ship at an Uta world. The Uta opened fire on them."
"No," said Threnia, shaking her head and waving her hand. "Absolutely not, Mahasa. You cannot commit an act of aggression against the Uta. You must—"
"With respect, Honoured Pentarch, I would suggest raiding this colony was itself an act of aggression—"
"Stop it at once," persisted Threnia. "You've gone too far, Mahasa. You can't shoot at every problem. Those days are over."
"They fired on the Kahala Hila first, Honoured Pentarch."
"Of course they did," spat Threnia. "You invaded their territory and threatened them." Threnia was leaning on her desk, her hand against her forehead. "We'll have to apologise to the Uta, pay reparations…"
Zura slowly straightened up, her brow furrowed. Threnia seemed to know a lot about the situation already. Did she have an informant on Kahala Hila, as she suspected? Had Four-Thirteen told the Pentarch? Or was it something else? "Honoured Pentarch, we don't need to apologise for anything. Two ships full of mercenary slavers attacked this colony, and—"
"Mahasa," interrupted Threnia. She was looking straight into the camera, her one hand balled into a fist on her desk. "Listen to me. You're going to start a war, and we won't permit it. I am ordering you to stop the bombardment of Kinnihik at once, and withdraw the Kahala Hila. There will be an inquiry into the situation, and into the nature of your appointment as governor. I no longer have confidence that—"
"No."
She saw the look in Threnia's eyes. A flash of anger, as she expected. But there was something else. Was it fear? "Mahasa? Are you refusing to—"
"I said 'no', Honoured Pentarch. The bombardment will continue."
Two angry fists slammed down on Threnia's desk. "Absolutely not!" She paused to collect herself. "While I respect your years of service to our people, this must stop! I am relieving you of your command, Mahasa. The bombardment of innocent people must—"
"No," said Zura. She felt tension in her neck and shoulders. "You cannot relieve me of command by yourself. Only a majority of the Pentarch council can do so."
"Damn you," growled Threnia. She grabbed a datasheet from her desk and began stabbing at it with her fingers. "I regret this, Mahasa. To end your career in shame and humiliation… but you leave me no other choice."
"Of course," said Zura. "I will stand by until the other Pentarch are all assembled."
As Threnia continued to sputter and jab at her datasheet, Zura tapped a button to mute the communications channel. Closing her eyes, she leaned back in her chair.
Threnia had to have an informant. What was more, she was determined to overlook the raid on the colony. Perhaps the raid had nothing to do with the Uta. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that a bunch of human mercenaries had launched a slaving raid and then retreated to Kinnihik. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that the same Uta clan leader had been behind the grave-robbers on Tal Elinth, and the gas mining station on Larinul. All just a coincidence. A coincidence that would end her career, sending her into retirement to live her remaining c
enturies in shame.
Zura sighed. She never did like coincidences.
When she opened her eyes again, the display window with Pentarch Threnia had split into five parts. The giant Pentarch Balhammis had arrived in one window, and the wild-eyed Ivenna in another. Fennin had not yet arrived, nor had the First Pentarch: the child Eve-Anara. Zura sat for a moment and watched them. Their channels were still muted, but they were talking among themselves. Threnia was gesturing wildly, no doubt excitedly insisting that they act immediately. Ivenna was listening, as far as Zura could tell, but it was sometimes hard to be sure. As for Balhammis, he just sat quietly, only giving brief responses to things Threnia said. For the most part, the giant Pentarch was watching Zura, his face impassive.
In the other window, Zura could still watch the control room of the Kahala Hila. It had been firing repeatedly, every minute, like clockwork. Another weapon blast lit the screen momentarily. Zura tapped on the window, which would make a chime sound at the other end.
Captain Upara turned when she heard it, and came over to the terminal. "Yes, Mahasa?"
"Any response from Qiviq?"
Upara shook her head. "Nothing specific, Mahasa. A lot of chatter over the public channels. Apparently, they are about to bathe in our blood, Mahasa. I suspect the sentiment is intended for Qiviq's internal audience."
"Agreed."
Upara lowered her voice and leaned in closer to the camera. "Also, Mahasa, I have received several channel requests from Pentarch Threnia. She is demanding that the bombardment stop. I respectfully reminded the Pentarch about the function of the chain of command."
Zura nodded. "I appreciate your devotion to protocol, Captain."
"Yes, Mahasa. As for Qiviq, we have very nearly run out of defensive turrets to destroy. What shall be next on the list?"
Zura didn't even have to think about it. "Slaver guard barracks." If there was one thing that slavers feared, it was their own slaves.
"Yes, Mahasa."
In the other communications window, Zura saw that the other Pentarchs had arrived. All five of them were talking amongst themselves. Even with the sound still turned off, she could still read some of them. Threnia was furious, gesturing wildly at the camera, her face flushed with blue. Fennin was clearly in agreement with her; he nodded every time she paused for breath, and his thin little smile never left his face. Ivenna was impossible to read, as always. Her eyes darted about like a bird's, never focusing on any one thing. They'd be narrowed and squinting for a moment, then wide as saucers, looking to the heavens as if the Divines were revealing their truths to her. For all Zura knew, the Divines were doing just that; certainly, Ivenna seemed to think so.
Balhammis' bulk filled his part of the display. Once or twice the giant had reached up to adjust the tiny eyeglasses perched on his nose, but he otherwise remained impassive. There was never any telling what he might be thinking.
Last to arrive had been the First Pentarch, Eve-Anara. She was a hybrid child herself, barely in her forties. Appointed to the role in a spasm of pro-human religious fervour, she was the peacemaker. Always seeking consensus, always trying to see the 'other side' to any issue, even when the 'other side' was obviously wrong.
With one delicate finger, Eve-Anara reached up and tapped at her camera. Zura's datasheet chimed.
She was sure she knew how this discussion was going to end. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Zura tapped a gloved finger on her datasheet. "Honoured Pentarch," she said, nodding.
The First Pentarch gave a bow in return. "Glory to you, Mahasa. Thank you for speaking to us."
"Of course."
"Mahasa, we are concerned about the bombardment you are conducting on the Uta planet."
Zura caught a glimpse of Threnia in her channel window. The red-robed Pentarch had a thinly-disguised look of triumph in her eyes. Fennin looked smug. They'd probably convinced one of the others to agree with them. Zura's fate was sealed.
"Mahasa," said Eve-Anara. "The Uta ambassador is threatening war with us, and our human allies are understandably upset. We need you to help us understand your reasoning."
"Very well," said Zura. "Three weeks ago, there was a grave-robbing incident on Tal Elinth, the first in my sector in months. That raid was at the direction of the Uta war-chief Qiviq. Then, there was an incident at the gas mining facility on Larinul. That was also at the direction of Qiviq. Today, the science station at Duara-Selo had an incident, followed by an armed attack on this colony by slavers. All these incidents have trails that led back to Qiviq and its clan. In addition, there has been the smuggling of human refugees into my sector, and the ongoing theft of colony supplies. All within the past several weeks, and all tied back to Qiviq.
"Can you prove any of this, Mahasa?"
Zura shrugged. "That depends, Honoured Pentarch. What would you accept as proof?"
The young hybrid Pentarch had learned politics quickly in her short life. Quickly, and well: when faced with a question you can't answer, answer a different question. "What we are concerned about, Mahasa, is that you may be seeing conspiracies where there are only coincidences."
Zura forced herself to remain calm, to not react. She knew what was coming next: the platitudes, the celebration of her service, followed by the insult.
"Mahasa, you have served the Palani people your entire life. For eight hundred years, you have led our forces, fought our battles, and won our wars. You have made impossible decisions for the good of the people, and have remained true even when previous Pentarchs have faltered. You are respected throughout Palani space and beyond." Eve-Anara paused, giving a pained little smile. That sort of smile that meant to suggest being cruel was difficult for them, that purely political decisions had involved 'careful consideration'.
"Mahasa, we believe you are having trouble adjusting to peace. We no longer want to be bombarding our way out of our problems—"
"With respect, First Pentarch, no one told the slavers about our new era of peace. Two ships full of mercenaries came here this morning, intending to enslave or kill everyone in the colony."
"We don't deny that happened, Mahasa. We feel that a more measured response would be appropriate—"
Two chimes from her datapad momentarily drowned out the First Pentarch's words. In the other channel window, Captain Upara was signalling for her attention. "One moment, please," said Zura, abruptly muting the Pentarch's channel. "Yes, Upara?"
"Mahasa," said Upara, bowing. "It seems that Qiviq has had a change of heart. It now wishes to speak with you."
Zura looked back at the other channel window. The First Pentarch looked surprised and disappointed. Threnia was ranting about something, while Balhammis just sat with a vague smile on his face. "Upara, add Qiviq to the channel with the Pentarch. One way only. I want all the Pentarch and I to see and hear Qiviq, but for it to only see and hear me."
"Yes, Mahasa."
Zura tapped the datasheet again, reactivating the other channel window. "Honoured Pentarch," she said. "My apologies. In a moment, you will be able to see and hear the Uta war-chief Qiviq. It won't be aware of you."
"What? Absolutely not!" sputtered Threnia. "We don't have time for—"
Eve-Anara was holding up one hand. "Now, Threnia. Perhaps we should hear Qiviq's point of view—"
The channel window expanded as an additional image grew into it. The image shuddered into view, distorted by interference.
In front of a bare metal wall was a high-caste Uta. Two large black eyes, surrounded by half-rings of smaller eyes, glared out from a furred face of mottled grey and brown. Swollen mandibles twitched over its mouth, producing an excited stream of chirps and clicks amid a wailing squeal. The piercing sound was muted as the translator system began to speak.
Varta Executioner. My defences destroyed. My slaves rioting. My ruin laid. Your murdering end now.
Even through the partly-muted channel, Zura could hear Pentarch Threnia arguing, her voice so shrill it was almost a shriek. "What is this charad
e? The Uta is working with Varta!"
Zura ignored Threnia, instead focusing on the jittery-looking Uta. "Qiviq, I demand your unconditional surrender. Anything less, and the bombardment will continue."
A new series of clicks and shrieks came from the speaker, which Zura assumed were her own words being translated for the Uta. When it stopped, Qiviq became even more agitated, flaring its mandibles wide in a show of annoyance.
My surrender given, it said at last. Your murdering end.
"Did you order the grave-robbing raid on Tal Elinth?"
Qiviq paused a moment, as if thinking, then gave a single click. Yes.
"Did you order the theft at the mining facility on Larinul?"
Yes, said Qiviq, bobbing its head up and down, mandibles pink and angry. Human refugees sent. Your colony attacked. Varta Executioner, your murdering end now?
Zura raised an eyebrow. Qiviq was genuinely worried, if he was admitting to crimes before even being accused. Their slaves must be escaping. "Explain, Qiviq. Why?"
In a corner of the window showing the control room of the Kahala Hila, a flare of blue light marked the frigate firing again. After a moment, Qiviq's display window shuddered with interference. The Uta ducked, fur-covered arms shielding its head. Several of its smaller eyes pivoted upward. Precious resources received! My coffers full. Varta Executioner! Your murdering end now?
Out of the corner of her eye, Zura could see the Pentarch. Threnia looked hysterical, while the others appeared more curious. "Why, Qiviq?"
Your failure create.
"You want the colony to fail? Why, Qiviq?"
Qiviq stopped bouncing, instead twisting its body from side to side. No, Varta Executioner. Your failure create.
"What?" Zura's stomach felt like it had dropped inside her body. "Me? You wanted me to fail?"
Qiviq resumed bobbing its head up and down. Payment given. Varta failure create.
"Payment?"
Threnia payment given. Varta failure create. Your murdering end now?
Zura sat in silence, staring at the agitated Uta war-chief bouncing up and down on the screen.