“Braxa,” I said, kicking him in the side. “Look at me, Braxa.”
I kept the rifle aimed on him. He flopped his head to one side and looked up at me. I had no idea if he saw me or not, but I didn’t care.
I thought I had something to say, but in the moment when I tried speaking nothing came to me. Instead I watched in silence as Braxa’s head fell back, his eyes closed, and he stopped breathing.
I laughed.
Stepping back, I lowered my rifle. Braxa didn’t move. I continued laughing.
After all of that fighting, all of that posturing and planning and propaganda it had come down to this. There was a single gunfight between him and myself. All of it was over in no more than ten minutes.
My rifle clattered to the ground where I dropped it as I continued to back away from Braxa’s corpse. I didn’t know what he had expected to happen between us. Maybe all of the years of his family power had made him believe that I would have waited there in deference, listening to his speech and then through the power of his words I would turn myself over to him.
I sat down at a console and looked over the computer readings. My body was still amped expecting to be in a fight. I was both satisfied and unsatisfied. Part of me wanted to have a long drawn out fight with Braxa where I ultimately triumphed, but that didn’t happen. The result was still the same though: General Braxa dead.
In the moment there was no way to know if humans would be left alone or if another Braxa would take up the cause. I keyed in the coordinates of our rendezvous with the Terran Fleet that I’d been given if everything went well.
It had in a sense.
Epilogue
The Hive looked the same as it always had in that a lone member spoke to me over the view screen. I wasn’t sure what I had expected but after the recent events it felt like something would be different with The Hive. It wasn’t. The mannerisms were the same. The speaking patterns were the same. For all intents and purposes The Hive spoke to me as if we were old acquaintances trying to catch up and nothing serious had happened between us.
“It’s big news around the galaxy that you’re an Admiral now,” said The Hive.
I looked down at my ceremonial uniform. As a member of the Admiral Board I was informed that I had to greet foreign dignitaries with formal dress.
“I doubt that,” I said. “The going ons in the Vantagax Republic should overshadow anything.”
“You’re right,” said The Hive. “The Braxa’s have lost their two most powerful members, and the Vantagax Republic has seen one of its most powerful families tumble. There is a power vacuum never before encountered within the Vantagax borders. You being made an Admiral are small potatoes.”
By all accounts, the Vantagax were fighting a civil war in all but name. What was left of the Braxa fortune was being carved up by the most powerful families and power was being consolidated. After all the Vantagax had put me through, even if it was just the Braxas, I felt good knowing all of the problems I had caused for them. Payback was a bitch.
“What’s the Confederacy going to do?” I said, but I knew already. Our intelligence reports told us that they were instigators, trying to drag on the fighting as long as possible. Their goal was to weaken the Vantagax Republic in preparation for an invasion.
Even though I knew I wanted to find out what The Hive would say. It’d been acting chummy throughout our conversation, and I desired to find out how far that extended past the surface.
“The Confederacy wants to keep the Vantagax off kilter,” said The Hive. “For what I don’t know.”
I knew that wasn’t true. The Hive was better at electronic espionage than any entity I knew about. If I knew something they would know ten times more.
It grew tiresome playing diplomatic games. I sighed and scratched my cheek. Less than a year into being an Admiral and I already hated it. If I could have stepped down I would have, but I felt a sense of duty to the remaining human population. Their upwelling of support had propelled me to the Chairmanship of the Admiral Board. I couldn’t ignore that now.
“I’m sorry,” I said, tapping my finger on the console, “but I need to know if you’re going to give the Terran Fleet access to your controlled worlds and stations.”
The Hive member waggled its antennae. Its mandibles open and closed slowly. It stared into the camera and didn’t say anything for thirty seconds.
“No,” it said at last.
I threw my hands up in the air in disgust and spun away from the camera. Screw diplomacy. I didn’t need it much longer.
“Why not?” I said, still not looking at the camera.
I heard one mandible clack then The Hive said, “Terrans are too inflammatory, and right now you’re on the wrong side. The Vantagax Republic might be in turmoil, and the Confederacy may be concentrating on them, but both have a long memory. I’ll become the next target if I help you, especially if Terrans start to become more powerful. Neither will like that.”
I curled my lip in disgust: the same bullshit.
“All we need is one more resupply,” I said, turning back to the camera and trying to put on a mask of stern civility, “The Confederacy won’t let us enter their space because they ‘want to find out all the facts’ about the Braxa incident, and the Vantagax won’t help us for obvious reasons. We’ve exhausted almost all avenues with the independent stations and planets. You’re the last large entity that has the supplies and ability to help us.”
The Hive member cocked its head to the side like a dog. I’d never seen that before.
“Only one more?” said The Hive. “Why?”
I smiled. The Hive must know. After I joined the Admiral Board it was decided our place wasn’t in known space. We wouldn’t get a fair shake, so we’d been collecting enough supplies to last the Terran Fleet for decades without having to restock. That wouldn’t have gone unnoticed, and I would put money on The Hive already knowing what our plan was, but, like me I guessed, it wanted to see how chummy we still were.
“We need to top off,” I said. “We have a minimum quota we need to meet.”
“I’ve heard rumor that you’re striking out on your own,” said The Hive.
“We can’t find safe harbor anywhere around here,” I said. “Why shouldn’t we go colonize?”
The Hive gave one, curt nod. “You have that right,” it said. “I hope that you’re not going back to the Sol System. While the Vantagax Republic might be in disarray it is still within their borders. They would not take kindly to seeing Terrans repopulating worlds they see as their own.”
I laughed. There had been a small faction that wanted to try and retake the Sol System, specifically Earth. The whole point of my fighting Braxa had been to get the Vantagax off our backs. Antagonizing them was counterintuitive to everything I’d worked for up to now. I was sure though that the Confederacy would be more than willing to funnel us arms and supplies if we did have aspirations: unofficially, of course.
“No,” I said. “We’re not going back there.” I leaned back in my chair. “We’re going to colonize new worlds. We’ve been reviewing data that was collected and have found potential candidates for colonial sites.”
The Hive’s antennae worked like mad. It must have been trying to work out where we were going. “Hopefully no place that is already claimed,” it said.
I looked off to the side of the view screen to a star chart. We’d already prepared a list of planets that were potential colonization sites. None had been visited by known races. None had probes orbiting them. None had claims on them.
“No,” I said. “We’ve thought this out.” I pushed myself away from the console a little bit. “We’ll never be accepted by the rest of the races. At best we’ll be pariahs. At worst someone else will pick up Braxa’s mantle and try to hunt us down. We can fight back and fight back but in the end all it does is prolong our demise.
“No. We have to go somewhere new. Without a corrupt Admiral Board holding us back we can start over. That was after al
l the point of the original colonial program before it was twisted by Kaur. Gain a foothold somewhere else. If one part was killed off others would survive. If we continue to travel as a fleet or try to establish settlements in known space we’ll be wiped out.”
I shook my head and said, “We have to go. It’s the only way we’ll be left alone.”
The Hive sat on screen. Its mandibles opened and closed while its antennae moved in small increments.
“Okay,” it said. “Perhaps in time you and your people can be accepted. I understand that now is not that time. We must all do what we feel is right for ourselves.”
I nodded and gave a small wave. The Hive didn’t move. I wasn’t sure what its form of goodbye was since it never said goodbye to itself. There must have been something since it dealt with the rest of the races, but right now I didn’t care enough to investigate.
I turned off the view screen with The Hive still staring at me. I gave a deep sigh and pushed myself away from the console. The collar on my uniform felt like a noose around my neck. Undoing the top button lessened the sensation, but I still felt constricted.
After standing from my chair I exited the room and went to the Admiral’s Bridge. The bridge crew nodded to me then continued their work. I had expressly forbid formality when I entered. It felt wrong.
“Admiral,” said Shaaban, sidling up to me and giving me a quick salute.
“Shaaban,” I said.
“Is The Hive going to give us access to any of its ports?” said Shaaban.
I shook my head. “Are there any free ports we haven’t been to?”
“No,” said Shaaban. “None that will let us dock. We could use agents, but I don’t think the return is worth the hassle.”
I moved to my chair and sat down. Shaaban followed and stood by my side. In the beginning if I’d been able to I would have taken it off the dais, but I had to admit after using it a few times it was nice having a bit of a view over the tops of other people’s heads.
“We’re just going to have to bite the bullet,” I said.
Shaaban raised an eyebrow.
“We have the supplies,” I said. “The last little bit was just extra insurance. It wasn’t required.” I looked over at Shaaban. Our gaze met. I felt like he knew what I meant but needed me to say it aloud.
“So we’re leaving?” said Shaaban.
“Yes,” I said. I wet my lips and took in a deep breath. Once we started there would be no turning back.
“Alert the fleet,” I said, turning to look at the large view screen that showed a feed of the Terran Fleet. “We’re leaving.”
“Should we contact Walsh and Okafor again?” said Shaaban.
“No,” I said. “We sent them messages. If they had wanted to contact us they could have.”
Shaaban nodded and turned his attention towards the crew. He barked out my orders, and not long after I felt the subtle rumble through the floor coming from the engines.
I watched the view screen. All of the other ships turned to follow. Exhilaration raced up and down my spine, and I gave a little shake to get rid of it so that I could sit still. My whole body was amped and ready for what we were about to do.
I had found my people and as much as I didn’t like the trappings of being in charge I couldn’t deny that I did like guiding them. It was under my direction that we traveled on this path. It was under my guidance that we now moved to our next step.
The thought of failure hadn’t entered my mind because since waking up I had succeeded. It hadn’t always gone to plan, but it had always come out in my favor.
Whatever may happen I knew this would be no different.
Author’s Note
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About the Author
Angus Monarch lives in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and overly friendly dog. When he’s not writing he’s working underneath fluorescent lights wishing he was writing. The Terran Shepherd is his second novel.
The Terran Shepherd (The Terran Series Book 2) Page 13