by Aer-ki Jyr
Hamob wanted to refuse, but he knew he had few options here. When Mak’to’ran had talked to them before he had transferred to the Star Force vessel, but if this Era’tran had a say he would have handled things differently. Unfortunately he didn’t, so he and Virokor alone took a drop pod over into the Star Force command ship where they found a completely empty hangar bay save for one tiny Human.
Hamob and Virokor walked down the boarding ramp into the hangar, which was small compared to the size the V’kit’no’sat normally used, but they could easily fit 500 Era’tran in here if needed. Taking a cue from Mak’to’ran’s reports, he ordered the drop pod to leave as a sign that they were here to talk in private, absent recordings, which is why he figured the Human was here alone.
“Ready to give up?” Kip-022 asked mockingly in V’kit’no’sat.
“Am I to assume this chamber is secure?”
“Just us and no recordings. So speak freely.”
“Mak’to’ran sent me to speak for him,” Hamob continued. “I know what he knows.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“That the Zak’de’ron are alive.”
“He wasn’t supposed to tell people that,” Kip pointed out.
“Only a handful know. Even Virokor was not told until recently,” the Era’tran said, gesturing to the angry Hjar’at beside him who was grinding his stub claws into the hangar floor repetitively.
“Well you’re not happy,” Kip said, standing about 30 meters away from the pair, which was painfully close given their larger size.
“I was led into a fight without knowledge as to why,” the Hjar’at said snippily. “Had I known you were the ones who betrayed the Zak’de’ron and alerted us to their existence, I never would have led the attack against you. We both have our survival at stake and it is wasteful for us to be fighting each other.”
“Now you figure this out? What took so long?”
“The empire has not been told of the Zak’de’ron. Without that knowledge, you appeared to be the greatest threat to us.”
“Mak’to’ran has told me to negotiate an end to the war,” Hamob interjected. “We are under attack across the galaxy and cannot continue to fight you effectively while defending our own territory.”
“How bad are you getting hit?”
“You already knew?” Virokor asked.
Kip nodded. “The races attacking you are in league with us for one purpose and one purpose alone. We want you out of the Rim, and per the terms of the deal Mak’to’ran struck with us, if you cannot conquer Star Force now you will cede control over the entire Rim…”
“You are responsible for this?” Virokor said, aghast. He’d suspected there might be a connection beyond mere opportunism, but to hear the Human so blithely admit it was beyond infuriating.
“They came to us, because we were the first ones to legitimately stand against your dominance of the galaxy. They’ve been staying away because they knew they could not fight you individually. You left the door wide open for them, so we offered a little organization and a promise. They’ve done the rest, which you know better than we do. We don’t have any effective communication with them, so for all we know they reneged on the deal. I’m glad to hear they didn’t.”
“What promise did you give them?” Hamob asked darkly.
“That when we got dominion over the Rim, we would protect them from you. We can’t do that when we don’t have ships out there, but we can promise retribution against you with our Uriti if you strike them after we’ve negotiated a firm border between Rim and Core.”
“You knew we’d be coming?” Virokor asked, not used to such arrogance from Zen’zat, who this Human was, regardless of his self-appointed title.
“As you said, you have the Zak’de’ron to worry about and there is no guarantee you can defeat us and the Rim Consortium if we all attack at the same time. It’s possible we could, given enough time, rid the galaxy of you. That is not a fight I want to take on given the layered defenses you have throughout your empire, but it is possible. At the minimum we can shrink your territory considerably, but we both have much to gain from an amicable agreement to ignore one another as we deal with other threats.”
“This was your plan from the beginning?” Hamob asked.
“Pretty much.”
“Then we have been played for fools,” Virokor said, but he wasn’t looking at Kip. He was glaring at Hamob. “We didn’t even know these races were out here.”
“You made two major mistakes,” Kip said before the Era’tran could respond…at least vocally. He had no idea what side discussions the two were having telepathically. “The first was deciding to kill all of us simply because our being born violated a rule. I mean seriously, what the hell is that? Killing us because we didn’t have permission to be born? You’re the ones that left the Zen’zat behind. If anything it was your fault, but still, killing people just because they were born. Big mistake.”
“Your second one was, once you decided to eradicate us you never finished the job. If you had sent this many ships initially we could not have survived. You underestimated us and continued to do so every step of the way. You expected us to crumble when you took our capitol first, then smashed every other world we had painstakingly built up. But we kept expanding and building new worlds and you never finished the job. Now we utterly hate you. We have a mutual enemy in the Zak’de’ron, but we will never be allies. That ship has sailed. What you’ve done we will never forgive, but that doesn’t mean we can’t both prepare for the Zak’de’ron separately, in our own ways, and stop wasting resources in this stupid war.”
Virokor walked towards Kip a few steps, with the helmet-less, armored Archon not budging, but before the Hjar’at could step on him the larger warrior took a knee and eventually sat flat on the floor so he could bring his head level with the trailblazer’s and only two meters away.
“I am not one to repeat mistakes. You have killed many of my race, and those of my brothers, but you have done so in defense of yourself, which is honorable. You also warned us of the Zak’de’ron, and that act alone absolves you of any and all actions previously. We never should have attacked you after that revelation. I never would have led the invasion had I known. And while I greatly wish to beat some respect into you, I apologize for my actions. I was in the wrong. We were in the wrong. The Zak’de’ron will destroy the V’kit’no’sat if they are able. If we cannot survive their revenge, then nothing else matters.”
“Respect is earned, not demanded,” Kip corrected him, then looked at the Era’tran. “And what about you?”
“I speak for Mak’to’ran. He has overthrown the V’kit’no’sat leadership, disbanded the Elder Council…which I assume you know the function of…and has taken personal command over the empire. He cannot leave Itaru, though he wished to speak with you personally. He also knows you will not travel to Itaru, so I am here to speak for him, and he never wanted this resumed war. Those that did are now removed from power. He wishes to end this conflict so we can both prepare for the future, and he also wished me to inform you that the Hadarak are growing bolder in response to the Harthur and our ability to more easily kill the smaller of their kind.”
“Interesting, but not our concern right now,” Kip said, looking back at the big Hjar’at head directly in front of him. “Have you stood down all your attacks?”
“The orders have went out. There may be some delay in them getting to all our fleets. I have told them to defend the worlds we currently possess and evacuate those under assault.”
“It’s a start,” Kip said evenly. “We will want those worlds back.”
“And we will want this Rim Consortium,” Hamob responded, “to stop its attacks and return the territory they have taken.”
“No,” Kip said, pointing to his right in the general direction of the Devastation Zone. “Out there is a dead region of space where you destroyed thousands of our planets. The fact that we have moved rimward and built new worlds does not re
place what you have destroyed. The lives you have taken cannot be returned. We are not just going to give you back the worlds you lost. You will pay a price for what you’ve done. A price in territory.”
“How much?” Virokor asked, masking his reflexive anger.
“Enough for a buffer zone between us. You don’t have many systems this far out, and those under attack by the Consortium I am assuming are those closest to the Rim?”
“They are.”
“Some of those worlds used to belong to the Consortium races, or so they say. They are taking them back and I’m not going to tell them they can’t. If we can agree to a border, then we can send it to them and they will have to respect it. If they do not, you’re free to attack them. If they won’t respect the new border we’re not going to avenge them.”
“Do you have a recommendation?” Hamob asked.
“Some, but I won’t be making the final calls. The Director will. But before we start drawing lines, we need your prisoners released. Now.”
“If you promise not to attack the planets we took from you, you can have them before we negotiate a border.”
“That I can agree to,” Kip confirmed. “And when we get them back we’ll give you our prisoners.”
Virokor frowned heavily. “You have some of our people?”
“Not many, but yes. We have some prisoners. Do you want them back, or will you just kill them for their failure? If so we’ll keep them.”
“They will not be killed,” Virokor said angrily. “We are not so arrogant to assume victory in every battle.”
“I heard some of you are. And you obviously don’t have a problem killing people for rules violations.”
“Mak’to’ran has already lifted the death mark on you,” Hamob pointed out.
“Yet you’re still out here killing us. Not much difference.”
“You will have your prisoners back,” Virokor promised. “We will cease all attacks on you and return most territory taken.”
“Most?”
“Do you truly want the Ziviri back after they betrayed you?”
Kip’s face scrunched up in an odd look. “Not sure about that one. What do you want with them?”
“To add them to the V’kit’no’sat empire.”
“As a member or slave race?”
“I will not make that determination, but we need to increase our strength before the Zak’de’ron strike. The Ziviri hold promise, and they do not want to be part of Star Force.”
“Some do, most don’t,” Kip corrected him. “Do you want them or their worlds?”
“Their race, though maintaining a link to you would be best if we are to maintain a stable border. It may be better to retain their territory given its closeness to yours.”
“Theirs is our territory.”
“Not most of it right now, and if we establish an Urrtren link to you we will have to guard it. Better to have a reason for ships to be nearby than to have patrols alone.”
“Why not just take them with you and not bother on the communication part?”
“When the Zak’de’ron choose to strike, they will most likely disable communications to blind us and you. The faster we can spread information the harder it will be for them to block it. We will need every advantage we can get. Despite our war with you, I have no doubt you know who is the greater threat to your existence.”
Kip turned to face the Era’tran. “Does Mak’to’ran think the same?”
“He wants a resolution, and I am empowered to negotiate on his behalf. He will honor whatever agreement we strike.”
“And the rest of the V’kit’no’sat?”
“The Oso’lon and J’gar have split from the empire, but they will remain visibly a part of it and interconnected with our economy so not to invite the Zak’de’ron to return sooner. But they will not take orders from Mak’to’ran. The rest of the empire will. The Oso’lon wanted this war with you, but they cannot fight it alone. They and the J’gar are retreating into separate regions of the empire where they will colonize new worlds in close proximity and prepare for the war to come. You will be left alone because they do not have the power to strike at you. The rest of the empire will follow Mak’to’ran to their deaths. He is the only link keeping them together. Our negotiations will not be undermined.”
“Have you found any more sleeping Uriti?”
“We have not,” Hamob said. “Nor have we found the one the Zak’de’ron stole.”
“But you are still looking?”
“Of course.”
“Any that you find will be turned over to us,” Kip demanded. “You cannot control them anyway, and despite what the Chixzon used them for they have a pack mentality. They need to be kept together.”
“You are seeking to determine our sincerity?” Virokor asked.
“That, and I want the Uriti,” Kip admitted. “Before the Zak’de’ron find them.”
“Can they control them?” Hamob asked.
“I don’t know. But I doubt they would take one unless they had some idea about how to make it happen. For both our sakes, you need to keep looking and turn any found over to us.”
“I can agree to that, contingent on your assistance with the Hadarak threat.”
“We’re not using the Uriti to fight them.”
“I was referring to knowledge gathering only. We do not want them knowing the Uriti exist or it could provoke a much stronger reaction. The one you revealed the Uriti to was destroyed before it could inform the others. We want research assistance only.”
“So long as that ‘research’ isn’t barbaric, I can agree to that.”
“Then we have the beginning of an agreement,” Hamob noted.
“It seems we do.”
“How certain are you that the other races will honor the agreement?” Virokor asked.
“I honestly don’t know, but if some honor it and some don’t, you can mass your fleets against those that continue to fight and wipe them out. Their strength comes from simultaneous action. The rogues don’t really stand a chance.”
“I expected you to speak better of your allies,” Hamob probed.
“They are our associates only. If we ever grow large enough to expand near some of their borders, we’ll be invading them, for they are no better than you with regards to barbarism. The Rim Consortium is very limited in scope, and was created solely to get you out of the Rim.”
“Then you can work with those you despise?” Virokor suggested.
“If needed, but we won’t participate in their dishonorable practices. Nor yours.”
“We have done you wrong. I admit that. But in the end, we will need each other to survive the Zak’de’ron. They will not allow you to retain our knowledge. Not unless you serve them, and perhaps not even then.”
“Well you’re being remarkably friendly. A month ago you were trying to kill us.”
“Conquer. We only killed those who fought us, and that is coming to an end.”
“Only the useless civies didn’t fight, so it’s basically the same thing.”
“Nevertheless, the Zak’de’ron are our enemy and the Hjar’at will attempt to make amends for the dishonor we have participated in.”
“How so?”
“I do not know for certain, but we owe you a debt for warning us, and an even further debt for us repaying that favor with invasion.”
“We can discuss that later. Right now my highest priority is recovering the prisoners. Go set that in motion and we will continue this later.”
“As you wish,” Virokor said, standing up and walking back towards the hangar doors that began to crack open and reveal open space beyond. He used his armor to contact the drop pod and have it return, with it coming into view only seconds later, for it hadn’t gone far.
“Do you have a personal message for me to relay to Mak’to’ran?” Hamob asked as the spherical drop pod came through the atmospheric containment shield and set down just inside the ship.
“Tell him all the dam
age your empire is taking across the galaxy is punishment for him not overthrowing the V’kit’no’sat sooner.”
“This he already knows,” Hamob said with a sneer as he turned and began walking back to the extending boarding ramp. The Human might have a point, but he was glad to have a reprieve from his perpetual arrogance. He hadn’t once thanked the V’kit’no’sat for ending the war, and despite Virokor’s overdone shame, he wasn’t about to admit peerdom with these Humans. He’d hold his temper for negotiation’s sake, but the lack of respect was gnawing on him. He’d lived for millions of years, and as the Archon had said, respect was earned.
And Hamob had earned more of it than any Human could imagine.
8
September 6, 4915
Braum System (V’kit’no’sat-held territory)
Winage
Gardo Veer woke at the tone along with thousands of other Bsidd scrunched down into small egg-shaped beds the V’kit’no’sat had built for them. He was an old Gamma that stood twice Human height, but that made him look almost the same as the new Tridas variant. His joints hurt as he stood up, but not because of his age. He’d been painless and in the best shape of his 1700 year life when the Oso’lon had invaded, but since then his body had stagnated over 18 years of capture, though he was far from dead yet.
He and the others had work to do, and the tone meant it was time for them to wake and get to work…but that work was no substitute for the training that Star Force lived on, and such training was forbidden to the prisoners. Gardo didn’t see why the larger Oso’lon wanted to keep the Bsidd weak, for there was no way they were going to overpower them. One could lift a Bsidd off its feet with its telekinesis and literally rip their body apart with a mere thought. He’d seen it happen twice when some of the prisoners didn’t obey commands, and the second time the Oso’lon who did it got tail slapped by another one. Since then there had been no more summary executions, but some of the Bsidd had still died.
They were ones who had not attained self-sufficiency beforehand, or had only achieved it recently and lightly. Gardo’s strength, built up over more than a millennia was sustaining him, but he could feel the gradual loss in his body as he pried himself up and onto his mandibles with multiple sore spots in his joints.