by Mills, Shae
The Warlord turned to his officers and, finally, he spoke. His voice was low and ominous, and they had to strain to hear. “Tonight,” he began slowly, “you will embark on the most important mission of your life. Its success or failure rides on your shoulders. I know you all personally, and we have worked together flawlessly for decades. As a result, I know your loyalties intimately. And it is because of this knowledge that you stand before me now and hear my words.”
Korba paused as he looked at each man individually. “The mission you lead tonight is directed at Iceanea and against the Lord God Emperor himself.” Korba stopped as he watched a stunned silence sweep over his men.
Fremma felt his guts turn. So, it was finally about to happen, the great Warlord’s wrath unleashed in the name of revenge for Chelan’s suffering. Fremma smiled. Ticees would finally be brought to his knees, rendered prostrate and savaged as he had done to Korba’s mate–his Lady. It was just, it was appropriate, and in Fremma’s mind, it was long overdue.
Korba’s eyes bit into his officers as he looked for signs of defiance or insurrection, but he detected nothing. “Your first mission before I issue further orders will occur right here and now. The nine men that I separated out are our friends, our fellow strategists, and fine officers. I know them all well and personally. They are loyal to me, and they have followed my words and commands without question throughout my career. But their true allegiance is to the Emperor, and they therefore forfeit their lives for this mission. I hereby look for volunteers to carry out their executions,” and Korba watched them closely, his words meant to weed out the uncertain. But the Warlord smiled to himself as thirty-six hands rose.
Korba selected three men. “They are heavily armed. Be careful. Kill them swiftly and return here immediately.”
The men nodded and left the Command Center promptly. Korba turned to Fremma and Tarn. “I do not have similar fates in store for the two of you. But if you have any second thoughts, air them now, and you will simply be removed from RIBUS 7.”
Both men remained very still, and then they both nodded simultaneously. Tarn cleared his throat. “May I ask what has brought you to this decision, my Lord?”
Korba nodded to him. “It is simply time, my friend. We have served under the Ticeenean regime long enough. The Empire is Iceanean, and it is time it was run by Iceaneans. Along with Ticees’ removal will come a restructuring of the Breeding program, a restructuring that is long overdue. Also, with the new Empire will come the swift eradication of ROPE. There will be no more costly delays in ridding the galaxy of their parasitic predation. And in the end, all of Iceanea will be united, the Southern people no longer cast into the darkness of their own planet. Ticees had claimed to unite the galaxy while his own world suffers injustice and terrible rifts. The people of the South are our people, too, and they will be treated as such.”
Korba paused, and his lip quirked. “Those are my reasons, but the catalyst to my decision lies in my chambers.”
Tarn’s eyes opened wide in puzzlement, and Korba nodded his permission. Tarn glanced at Fremma and then entered Korba’s chambers silently. A moment later he returned, his shock apparent. He began to speak, but Korba interrupted him. “Later,” he said, and Tarn fell silent.
The Command doors opened and the three officers returned. One of the men stepped forward. “They are dead, my Lord. We await your further orders.”
Korba nodded. “This will now be repeated down and throughout the ranks.” Korba pressed a button, and the entire wall of screens jumped to life. “You will find your names here and the officers under you. The men that are highlighted are to be eliminated, in my view. If any of you see any discrepancy between my choices and what would be yours, speak up.”
There was silence as the officers scanned the lists, but none of them spoke. “Very well,” whispered Korba. “In each of your personal Command Centers I have transferred identical lists that cover the command chain right down to the lowest-ranking warriors. You will follow the procedures you have just seen here and, after the executions, you will say nothing to the remaining men of the mission. You will simply direct them to the main assembly hall. You will oversee each level of gleaning, and when all is complete, you will also go to the main hall. If there are any problems, you will report to Tarn on the Bridge or Fremma at his personal Command Center. All progress reports will be relayed to me promptly and directly. You have exactly one hour,” he commanded sternly. “So work fast and work efficiently. All the executions must occur simultaneously to avoid chaos.”
Korba backed away from the men and moved to the console. “No one, from this moment on, enters this Command Center for any reason.” He looked at Tarn and Fremma. “Absolutely no one. To do so will mean their prompt elimination with no questions asked. Now, does anyone here have any questions? This will be your last chance to ask.”
But there were none. These officers were the best in the Empire, and they were loyal beyond a doubt. They nodded to him and left. Korba turned to Tarn and Fremma. “Almost everyone I have brought on board is loyal. The men and women we are eliminating are here only because they are part of existing regiments. Overall, their numbers are few. But still, you will have to watch for trouble areas, especially when we get down to the hordes of warriors. Arm yourselves heavily. Over the weeks I have sorted through the security forces with Lazen, and only the best remain. Use them.”
Tarn and Fremma nodded. Fremma looked to Korba. “May we succeed, my Lord.”
Korba nodded, and the two men turned and left. He watched the Command doors close, and then he took a moment to calm himself and to reflect on his plans. His mind skillfully worked over every detail once again, precision tuning every component to the finest degree. There could be no mistakes.
Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming need to go to Chelan, to validate his very existence. He entered his darkened chambers and looked down at the sleeping beauty, her soft, white skin radiating innocence and purity. She was all that was good about the Empire, and she slept soundly, oblivious to the carnage that surrounded her. Her peaceful slumber was her protection from his brutal reality.
Korba leaned over and kissed her cheek tenderly. She was his angel, and she deserved the best, and he would do everything in his power to give her exactly that. Korba smiled down at her and touched her once again, hoping that it would not be for the last time. He took a deep breath, inhaling her sweet scent and fortifying his soul. Then he returned to the Command Center.
Methodically, he began flicking through the ship’s scanners, the halls uncharacteristically quiet, the rooms tainted with the sight of blood and the signature of death. The minutes passed, and soon the coded messages began to filter in. So far, all was well.
Then the hour was up, and Korba let his head fall back. Over twenty thousand of his warriors lay dead by his own word. But with their deaths would come a healthier Empire, and their lives had not been given in vain. Korba grieved for them. They would be remembered, and their memories would live long in the hearts of all those who remained.
Korba paused and then stood. It was time to address the assembly and organize the masses. He checked his weaponry and took one last look toward his chambers. “Sleep well, pretty woman,” he whispered, and he left.
*****
Security was maximal about the Warlord, and he moved quickly to the podium at the front of the hall. Tarn and Fremma joined him, both visibly agitated as they watched the hundreds of thousands before them.
But Korba was the eye of the hurricane, and his speech was short and to the point. The Ticeenean Empire was to fall, and it was to do so with as little damage to Iceanea as possible. All of Ticees’ officers, regardless of apparent allegiance, were to be executed. No bad apples could remain. All major cities were to be hit and searched for subversives, but that was not a priority. The Imperial fortress was, and Korba wanted all those within it eradicated.
Korba impressed upon all those before him that Ticees would react quickly, and that losses o
n both sides would be high. But most important, the Emperor would do everything in his power to bring RIBUS 7 crashing down to the surface, so it was imperative that they work quickly and effectively. Nothing could be taken for granted, and simply no one could fail in his or her mission. Their ultimate goal was the death of Ticees himself.
Korba had allowed the din to die down, and when it was silent, he made clear their final option. “I know that all of you before me are with me and the new Empire. But I also know the trauma that is about to befall you, your friends, your families, and your own world. I hereby give you the option, each and every one of you, of declining now to participate in the carnage. I give you my word that if you decide to withdraw, no action will be levied against you now or ever. Upon the establishment of the new Empire, you will be welcome into the civilian population to pursue your own lives and families.”
There was some uneasiness amongst the masses, and Korba spoke again. “Those who wish to leave will do so now, and they will do so anonymously.” Korba lowered his hands, and the throngs of warriors knelt. Korba ordered their faces to the floor and their hoods drawn forward. “Now is the time to search your hearts and your souls. If the sacrifices I have asked of you are too great, you may leave now with no fear of retribution. You have my word on that as your Overlord.” Korba watched closely, his eyes scanning the mass of blackness, and a smile touched his lips. Not a single man or woman rose.
Korba’s voice boomed out over the hall. “Rise!” He hit a switch, and the entire end wall of the hall lit. “These are your orders and assignments, complete with take-off times, targets, and expected goals. Study them well, for there will be no one to clarify what is before you. The first contingent leaves RIBUS 7 in one hour, its departure to coincide with the destruction of all orbital communication systems linking the Empire with the rest of Iceanea and with us. There will be no communication between contingencies and RIBUS 7 for the first two hours for security reasons. After that time, I want regular reports from all sectors, and I want no details left out.” Korba hesitated. “And I want no mistakes!”
He watched the crowd carefully. “Coinciding with the fall of communications will come the destruction of the orbital defense system. Officers within the Palace walls will bring the system down the moment our ships leave this vessel. That by no means disables the reach of interplanetary ballistics from the numerous stations around the planet. Our men in each area will do everything in their power to render those systems inert at the same time. Since the artillery network is vast, total eradication is impossible. Those of you providing the first wave of strikes must be cognizant of this. RIBUS 7 will remain over the Palace, so that is where the concentration of our ground force is stationed. Those battlements will be obliterated instantly. Therefore, outlying posts, particularly those on the other side of the planet, will be your main enemy. Beware.”
“There is no time to revise plans or to issue new orders. If you fail in your particular mission, then the people who are to follow you will simply meet their deaths due to your negligence. These orders are precise, and they are irrevocable. Near morning, more officers will be located at strategic points throughout the Empire, and then and only then will fresh orders be given depending on the situation at hand. Those orders will be given directly by me, and they will be based on your frequent and deadly-accurate ground reports.”
Korba smiled slyly. “Thanks to the Telesians and the Lord God Emperor himself, RIBUS 7 and all her fighters have the most technologically advanced weaponry the galaxy has ever seen. It is with this new technology that we will forge a new and stronger Empire. Once we begin, we simply cannot stop. Success is our only option.”
A roar went through the throng. Korba took a deep breath, his heart pounding. “To the new Empire!” he shouted, and the crowd reciprocated, the battle cries threatening to bring down the walls of the hall itself.
Korba turned on his heel and returned to the Command Center, leaving a huge contingency of security outside the main entry. He sat down heavily and rubbed his brow. The wheel was in motion, and now there was no turning back.
He sat very still as his mind worked. He would remain in the Command Center during the entire scenario. His only feverish passion was to slit Ticees’ throat himself, but when he had left Iceanea so long ago he had sworn never to lay eyes on Ticees again, and he would not. The Emperor would be slain swiftly, never knowing the driving force behind Korba’s rationale, and never knowing of Chelan’s existence. Korba would not give him even a remote chance of justifying his death. Ticees would not be afforded the opportunity to fall to his knees feeling that he deserved his death for what he had done. He would simply die with the knowledge that his world was crumbling down around him, and that the carnage was at the hands of his once most trusted friend.
Korba smiled weakly. He was pleased with his decision to strike, for even if he failed, at least he would have died trying, and his beloved Chelan would die alongside him, oblivious to all and to everything that had happened. Korba looked down at his hands. He removed the glove from his right hand and looked at the mild deformation about his knuckles. Justice was about to be done. Now, all he could do was wait.
*****
The first hour passed, and Korba lit up the remote scanners. Exactly on cue, the underbelly of RIBUS 7 opened up, and over 500,000 heavily armed fighters were catapulted from the bowels of the battleship, sent hurtling down toward Iceanea’s atmosphere. As soon as they cleared the cruiser, Korba hit the command codes that would disable the planet’s communication lines and its aerial defenses, the codes only Ticees and his three Primary Warlords had access to. The ground crews would maintain the blackout and thwart any attempts by Ticees’ men to bring the systems back online. Almost immediately, there was a series of brilliant flashes, and Korba knew that all critical communications were down. Iceanea was now a battle-torn island.
Korba then brought RIBUS 7’s armaments to bear on the coordinates of the training fields containing the greatest number of Ticeenean loyalists. More weapons were directed at all the major airfields that surrounded and fed the Palace defenses. With the touch of a button, Armageddon was unleashed on his home world. Pulses of blinding light left the underbelly of the ship and faded as they dispersed downward, followed by brilliant ground-based explosions. Annihilation was assured.
Korba then glanced at the scanners topside of the ship and watched an additional 100,000 ships dispatch. They were the fighters that would help protect RIBUS 7 directly if rogue aerospace missiles from Iceanea got through the atmospheric defenses. That would only happen if the ground forces were succumbing or if the direct lines of air-based defense were breaking down. The fighters would be used to obliterate the missiles if such a scenario occurred, but if they failed, Korba would not sit back. His eyes narrowed as he watched all of the RIBUS’s new state-of-the-art fire power come to bear on the heart of his home planet. All the weaponry was set for maximum penetration, maximum energy, maximum destruction. He prayed they would not have to be used, but he would destroy his world to cleanse it of Ticees if need be, or he would perish with RIBUS 7 while trying to do so.
He watched as an additional 500,000 fighters dispatched from the battle cruiser to fly to their designated areas throughout the planet. And then the last 500,000 launched, and the RIBUS became calm.
Now Korba could only wait for the data to come in. High-resolution scanners afforded him actual battle visuals, but he could not see what was going on in the critical areas within the fortress walls and in the underground corridors.
Korba’s fingers drummed on the console, and suddenly he stilled. There it was: the first unofficial sign that the Empire was in dire trouble. It was Ticees’ private distress signal released from a satellite location and directed at the incoming RIBUS 8.
Korba heard RIBUS 8’s immediate response and call to arms. Korba sucked in a deep breath. Everything from this point on had to work perfectly. Korba began to transmit battle plans directly to Dar, hoping that
he would replicate what had occurred on RIBUS 7. Korba watched his timing carefully, and he finished the transmission just as RIBUS 7 disappeared over the horizon along with the Imperial fortress and out of the long-distance interplanetary ballistic zone.
Korba had to keep the RIBUS over the fortress, and now the planet shielded him from Dar if the blonde-haired Warlord chose not to ally with him. But with Iceanea’s shielding came problems. Korba would not know Dar’s response to his communiqués, and the next time RIBUS 7 came around the horizon and in line with RIBUS 8’s approach, Korba might meet his friend in a fiery death.
Then there was also the possibility that Dar could not glean his crew as efficiently as Korba. Even if the Warlord supported Korba in his mission, it was possible that mutiny on board RIBUS 8 would disable her, rendering Korba without a secondary backup, and, even worse, she would be transformed into a raging enemy.
Korba would have his answer in just over two hours, just shortly after reports from the planet started flooding in on special communication links. If Dar succeeded and cooperated, then Korba could relay already-formulated battle plans directly to RIBUS 8, and all would be secure. If not, Korba would be fighting the Empire itself and one of its most powerful battle cruisers commanded by the best. That outlook would indeed be bleak.
Korba sat as calmly as he could and continued to monitor the ship’s systems and the planetary visuals. All the battles were fierce, as the best were pitted against the best, and losses on both sides were staggering. Korba winced as he thought of the thousands of good men on both sides being struck down. But it was necessary.
Korba sat up straight as the reports began arriving. Imperial losses were higher than expected, as many of Ticees’ men were turning on him, and Korba smiled. The eradication of Imperial officers was progressing but was far from complete. Then the smile left Korba’s face. Ticees and approximately five thousand of his best men had withdrawn deep into the tunnels beneath the Palace. Korba glared at the screen. That was where he would lose the majority of his men.