by Yakov Merkin
“Status report,” she demanded when she arrived at the command center.
“The unidentified ships have not changed course. They will enter the system in two minutes. Srei Felitzvah, their signatures don’t match any known Galactic Alliance configuration,” the officer sitting at the sensor control panel said.
That was strange. It could mean one of two things: that these ships were truly alien, from an area of space outside the Alliance, or the Galactic Alliance had developed some new ship with which to attack Felinar. Both were unlikely. The little that was known of the intelligent species outside the Alliance indicated that they would not trespass in Alliance space, and her spies would have—or at least should have—sent notice if the Alliance was developing new warships. What made even less sense was the number of intruding ships. According to the tactical screen, there were a mere fifty-one ships approaching. Far too few to hope to have any chance against the eight hundred ship strong Royal Felinaris Navy, which was still on full alert since the attack on Selban. The Alliance would expect the fleet to be at its full strength. But why would a force of ships enter their space without notice if they did not pose a threat?
“They’ve come out of hyperspace. Shall I attempt to open a channel?” the officer asked, turning to face Nayasar.
“At once,” Nayasar replied.
Before the officer could even open a channel, she stopped. “They’re contacting us, Srei Felitzvah.”
Even stranger. “Open channel,” Nayasar ordered as she tried to prepare for the confrontation. Should she be outright hostile, or let them say their piece first?
The display screen opposite her activated and all of Nayasar’s planned statements fell out of her mind. On the screen was a creature like none she had ever seen, a species from beyond Alliance space. At first glance, it—he, her gut told her—had a reptilian look about him, his large head covered in small, overlapping dark blue scales, but his large eyes, so deep a brown they were almost black, gave the stranger a more mammalian appearance. She tried to read his face, to try and guess his intentions, but she could glean nothing from his impassive expression, or his mouth that somewhat resembled that of a Tehlman or Nihluran, only surrounded with a substance harder than flesh instead of lips and with a row of sharp-looking teeth behind them .
“I am Executor Darkclaw,” he began, “commander of the Tyrannodon Armada, second to the all-powerful High Lord.” Nayasar did not immediately reply. The creature, the Tyrannodon, she assumed, spoke more like a machine than a person, not a hint of emotion in his voice. When she did not immediately reply, he continued. “It has come to my attention that we have a common foe, the Galactic Alliance. I have come to you personally with an offer of alliance. We each have some thing the other lacks, and, combined, nothing will prevent us from achieving our common goal.” He paused. “Now, I would assume that you would prefer to meet in person, as seems to be the custom. Provide me with the coordinates of your preferred meeting place and time and I will be there.”
Nayasar felt her heart leap. This was almost too good to be true, as if the Omnipresent was directly answering her prayers. However, she would be cautious. There could be no repeat of Selban. After a few moments of thought, she determined where the meeting would take place, and her terms. She was about to jump directly into the details, this Executor Darkclaw having been so quick to the point himself, but remembered herself.
“I am Grand Admiral Nayasar Khariah, commander in chief of the Royal Felinaris Navy. I will gladly meet with you, Executor. At the close of this conversation, I will transmit the coordinates to your ship. But first, I must make a few things known. You are to come alone, save for an honor guard if you feel it is necessary—which it is not. You will be protected under parley, even if we do not come to an agreement. Your landing craft must approach the planet alone, in one hour. We will provide a fighter escort. Do you agree to my terms?”
The Tyrannodon was silent for a moment, then spoke. “Your terms are agreeable.”
Nayasar nodded, approached the communication console, then manually inputted the coordinates and transmitted it herself.
“Coordinates received, Grand Admiral,” Darkclaw said simply. “I will be there in one hour.” Immediately after he finished speaking, the transmission was ended.
“Send word to Admiral Kharitzon,” Nayasar ordered. “Inform him of the location and time of the meeting. Tell him to meet me at the shuraf enclosure. And send a report to the king. These Tyrannodons will need an audience with him this afternoon.” She would have Felivas at her side for this, however it went.
The officer, who looked about as stunned as Nayasar felt, took a moment to close her mouth before affirming. Nayasar left the room, and once she felt certain that no one was close enough to hear, allowed herself a small cry of joy. Filled with new energy, she practically ran to the shuraf enclosure. She waved to the day guard, who knew her on sight, and kept walking, arriving at the decorative iron gate just as it slid open. Once inside, the familiar earthy smell filling the air, she slowed to a walk; no need to even risk startling someone.
It was a few minutes walk to the pavilion where her shuraf, Tofermier—bright claw in Felinari—was dozing in the hot afternoon sun. The pavilion was equipped with a cooling system should she require it, but Nayasar had found that the shurafil, which was Felinari for partner, enjoyed the heat, despite their fur. Tofermier’s ears perked up as Nayasar approached, and she stretched, stood, and walked over to her. Tofermier was of average size for a shuraf, six feet tall, twelve long, not including her tail. The shuraf in many ways resembled the Felinaris, which lent more proof to those who believed that the two species shared a common ancestor, diverging at the point where the Felinaris became bipedal. While the shuraf had never become fully sentient, they still possessed an intelligence far greater than any other known animal, and once they were paired with a rider, nearly always high-ranking officers or soldiers in the few active cavalry divisions, the pair quickly learned to understand one another.
Tofermier rubbed her head against Nayasar, who would have been knocked over if she hadn’t been used to the greeting. “We’ve got a big day today,” Nayasar said, patting her on the side of her head. “We may finally have a chance to avenge our lost.” Tofermier made a low rumbling sound—she was just as eager as Nayasar.
Nayasar beckoned over an attendant, an army trainee, either there for disciplinary reasons or as part of training for the cavalry forces. “We’ll be needing full equipment and weaponry,” she said.
“Of course, Srei Felitzvah,” the attendant said with a vigorous nod, her eyes wide, and she turned and ran to fetch an arming crew. Completely outfitting a shuraf in combat gear was no simple task, particularly because of the pains taken to keep the cavalry useful in modern warfare. When fully equipped, a shuraf/rider team was as heavily armed and maneuverable as a light tank, with the advantage of being able to navigate rougher terrain, though they remained more lightly armored. Despite all the work, they unfortunately did tend to be used primarily for ceremonial purposes.
An arming crew arrived a few minutes later, in an average sized cargo duster, bearing Tofermier’s armor and weapons. As Nayasar was watching the arming crew put everything into place, Felivas arrived.
“What’s this I hear about aliens offering to help us fight the Galactic Alliance?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“It’s true,” she replied. “We’re to meet their leader at Selban in forty-five minutes.”
“It’s almost too good to be true,” he said. “Why Selban?” he asked a moment later.
“To be honest, I didn’t have a location in mind, so when I was asked, I chose what came to my mind first. But it is fitting, I think. These Tyrannodons will see why we want to fight the Galactic Alliance, and, in the event that things do not go well, we will be far from a populated area.”
“Alright. Still, it’s an odd place to hold a diplomatic meeting.”
“Well, when we agree on terms,” And we will,
no matter what, “we will have to travel to the capital so the alliance can be approved and officialized by the government proper,” she said. Not to mention that the Tyrannodon executor, Darkclaw—a strange name for a strange being—did not seem to be one who would take offense at an unorthodox meeting place. There was something odd about him.
Felivas nodded. “I had best get Khoshekh ready. Where will we be leaving from?”
“The rear gate. It will save us some time. Our escorts should be there by the time we arrive,”
Felivas saluted, then left at a fast walk. Nayasar waited a few more minutes until Tofermier was fully equipped, then accepted her helmet, a pistol and rifle from the arming crew, and looked over her shuraf before mounting up. The armor was, as all things in the military, made of pure felinite, and had been polished to a bright sheen, matching Tofermier’s long claws, which had a unique shine to them as well. Nayasar climbed on, secured her visored helmet and weapons, and instructed Tofermier to walk to the rear gate, increasing her speed slightly as they moved, to warm her up.
The cavalry divisions were already waiting, as expected. Their commanding officer, mounted on a shuraf with off-white fur, rode to greet Nayasar.
“Captain Gildas, third cavalry division,” he introduced himself, saluting.
“I trust you know where we are headed, Captain,” Nayasar replied.
“I have been fully briefed, Srei Felitzvah. And if I may say so, am quite excited.”
“You may say so; we all might as well admit it.” She turned her head as Felivas approached, astride his own shuraf, whose dark brown fur so nearly matched his own.
Nayasar smiled at him for a moment as he stopped alongside her, then they moved to the head of the column, Captain Gildas just behind them. The gate opened wide enough for the party to pass through, and Nayasar urged Tofermier to a run, the rest of the group following suit as they raced to Selban. Hopefully the Tyrannodon would not be early.
#
Darkclaw opened a viewport and watched the surface of Felinar draw closer. The shuttle was mere minutes from touchdown, but he could not pick out by sight where the Felinaris had arranged to meet him. All he could see was an empty plain, pockmarked with deep canyons. As the shuttle drew closer, however, he saw that they were approaching a city… or what had been a city. The rubble had been cleared, and the landscape was starting to reclaim its edges as it remained uninhabited, but the city had been there. It had to be Selban, the city destroyed in the Galactic Alliance attack. An odd place to hold a meeting, but it could prove useful; the emotions of the Felinaris would be running high, which could make an agreement come more easily.
As the shuttle made its final approach, Darkclaw could see the Felinaris already assembled in what had been a street, and he could clearly make out the feline facial structure and features that was just one of the things that set them apart from the other species he had encountered this far. There were approximately sixty of them, all astride enormous feline beasts. Shurafil, they were called in the Felinaris language, wearing their bright silvery armor, which had taken on colors from their surroundings, demonstrating their passive camouflage capability. He had not expected them to arrive so early; according to his chronometer there were still over ten minutes until the appointed meeting time. Most likely it was a sort of posturing, meant to demonstrate reliability and capability. Or it could simply have been due to Felinaris hours being slightly shorter than the standard.
Darkclaw rose as soon as the shuttle touched down, and waited to debark until his honor guard, comprised of twelve Wraith soldiers, was ready as well. In truth, the Felinaris grand admiral had been correct when she had said he would not need protection here. The Felinaris had no reason to harm him, and they knew full well that if they did, they would only gain a new enemy. However, local protocol seemed to require dignitaries to travel with an honor guard, and there was no reason to act contrary.
The shuttle’s rear door opened, and Darkclaw stepped out into the bright Felinar sunlight as a hot breeze, carrying dust, blew past him and his formation of bodyguards, into the shuttle as they approached the group of mounted Felinaris.
Their leader, the grand admiral, dismounted as he approached, and walked to greet him. She was extremely short—even when taking into account the fact that her species gained a small amount of height due to their digitigrade build—not quite one and two-thirds meters tall, but she appeared to carry herself strongly enough to make her presence felt. The discrepancy was still quite stark, however; Darkclaw was more than one and a half times her height. A quick glance showed that she was short even among her own kind. An odd quality for one in such a high position, not to mention the fact that she was female; he could not understand the logic of appointing one, particularly one so small, to such a high position, but from what he had read about them it seemed to be common among the Felinaris.
“It is a pleasure to meet you in person, Executor,” she said, inclining her head slightly—apparently ignoring the fact that such a gesture looked odd when standing opposite someone as tall as Darkclaw.
Darkclaw did not immediately respond, unsure of what he was expected to say.
As he remained silent, the grand admiral continued. “Let’s get to the reason we’re here, shall we? What exactly are you proposing?”
“As I said earlier, we have a common enemy, the Galactic Alliance. My master, the High Lord, has bid me to conquer it. As I learned more about the Galactic Alliance and the state of affairs in this part of the galaxy, I learned of what was done to your kind. It seemed logical that you would have an interest in participating in our war as well.” Darkclaw stopped, then supposed that he should divulge the true reason he wished them to join his cause; the Felinaris would not likely believe that he had approached them purely for altruistic reasons. “Additionally, you have something which we lack, knowledge on the inner workings of the Galactic Alliance and their military, their strength, capabilities, and tactics. Our lack of information is the only thing slowing down my forces; remove that obstacle and the Galactic Alliance will have no hope of saving itself.”
“How large is your fleet?” the grand admiral asked. She was making an attempt to appear impassive, but failing. “I am sure you know that the Galactic Alliance can field up to eight thousand warships, not including the defense forces of the worlds that still possess them. As much as I want to fight them, I cannot commit to a war I am not certain we will win. Losing would mean the end of my people.”
“At present, I have two thousand three hundred warships under my command, a small number of which will be needed to hold the Zarian, Cytan and Reathan systems, which have already fallen. Additionally, within the month I will have at least another seven hundred ships ready for active duty.”
“If we can keep the Alliance on the defensive and off-balance, that could be enough, though if they manage to fully mobilize we could still run into trouble. If I may make a suggestion,” she continued, “though this may be premature, as we have not formally made any agreement yet, it would be wise to attempt to recruit the Snevans as well. They have been staunch allies of Felinar for a long time, and with their forces added to both of ours, the Alliance cannot hope to stand against us, even if they do fully mobilize in time.”
Her suggestion made sense, even if her manner of suggesting it, and the entire way she was driving the meeting was increasingly different from what Darkclaw had led himself to expect. He had considered the Snevan Dominance as well, but they were known to be somewhat volatile, and without a great deal of time to prepare, he risked offending them and earning a new enemy. However, if the Felinaris joined him and accompanied him to the negotiations, there would be little threat of such an offense leading to disaster.
“That would be beneficial to the war effort,” Darkclaw responded. “But first we must forge a pact between our peoples. If you have any further inquiries, ask now. I do not mean to spend a great deal of time here. I cannot allow the Galactic Alliance time to prepare itself.” While
he had expected the process to take longer, he would not stand while things that could easily be discussed at a later date were brought up now.
“Of course,” the grand admiral said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She, along with the other Felinaris, seemed to have a need for movement. She was silent for a moment, and bent her head slightly to one side; a motion whose purpose Darkclaw could not guess at, and said, “I hope you do not mind my asking, but I am curious to know why you have decided to attack the Galactic Alliance. Your species cannot be from this part of the galaxy, or I would have heard of you. What do you hope to gain from this and what do you plan once the war is over?”
The question caught Darkclaw unprepared. He knew, of course, the reason the High Lord had ordered him to conquer the Galactic Alliance, but he could not tell the Felinaris that the Tyrannodons, as the superior race, were meant to rule over all others. Why had he not prepared an answer to such a simple question? Had he truly thought that the Felinaris would have such an emotional response to his offer that they would not question his motives? For a moment, he thought that the High Lord had been right, that this was a mistake. Even if they could be placated now, the time would come where they would have to be subjugated as well, and that would not go over well. The true question was whether the potential benefits of the alliance now would be worth the trouble that was yet to come. However, it should be easy enough to earn their trust so that it would be a simple matter to eliminate the Felinaris should they resist, and he truly needed both their knowledge and warships.
“We have had to abandon our home planet,” he said, taking care to seed the lie with small truths. “The High Lord initially only sought for us to conquer a small system to live in, but as we learned about this Galactic Alliance, we discovered both that an attack on one would be responded to by all, and that the Alliance has done numerous things that make it unworthy to continue to rule itself, chief among them what was done in this very place.” He paused, gesturing at the ruins around them. “From there we secured a foothold in Alliance space, and I came here to speak with you.” Hopefully they would accept his tale. He would have to make sure to instruct his soldiers to abide by the story, once they began to work alongside the Felinaris.