by Kal Spriggs
Naevius’s smile was truly vicious now, “And if they split up, I’ll cut them into dogmeat.”
Lucius nodded, “This can work... this can definitely work.”
They watched as the computer worked through a dozen different combinations of the tactic.
“We need more ships.” Doko’s voice was dull. Lucius could tell that the other man was frustrated that their idea still wouldn't work, not without more ships.
Lucius nodded slowly, “Not many more, but we need to be able to hit the Chxor simultaneously. And we need some very fancy flying.” He paused a moment in thought, “If we insert Marines before we stage our attack, we can get the populace involved. If they can seize the planetary defenses, it will make things a lot easier.”
“We can do it, I’m sure of it!” Burbeg said. “When do we launch our attack?”
“This is going to be very tight. We’re definitely going to need some help,” Doko said dubiously.
Colonel Proscia frowned, “I’ve got a lot of personnel out and about. If I’m going to be inserting troops covertly, I’m going to need time to prepare them. That means I need some of the excess duties clamped down on.”
“What do you suggest?” Nix asked, “I’ve got a few teams I can help out with. Some of them, especially Lieutenant Kelly’s team, will want to be in on the insert.”
Colonel Proscia nodded, “Glad to have her. But I was thinking of things like the Chxor prisoners we’ve got and the handful of pirates we didn’t space.”
“We didn’t space those pirates because they’ve proven useful.” Lucius said. “But I agree the time has come to deal with them and with the Chxor. I think I have a solution that will free up your Marines.”
“The planetary defenses are going to be heavily defended on the ground,” Colonel Proscia said. “Casualties in the assault will be heavy, especially on the civilians helping our teams.”
Lucius nodded, “The alternative is that the Chxor use those planetary defense centers against our ships. We’ll insert as many people as we can, but we aren’t going to have enough Marines to take all of the centers.”
William Proscia nodded, “I understand, sir. From what my Marines who used to live under Chxor rule say... we’ll have lots of volunteers amongst the populace.”
“Yes, I have little doubt of that,” Lucius grimaced. “Get me an outline of what you want, and what your plan of attack is for the centers. We can firm up the details with the information from the scouting expedition.” Lucius stroked his chin for a moment, “As for more ships, I think our best option is putting out a general notice. There’s mercenary and pirate groups that would sell their mothers for a piece of the Dreyfus fleet.”
“They’d also cut our throats for a chance at the whole thing,” Anthony Doko said.
Lucius nodded, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I’m afraid.”
***
CHAPTER V
January 12, 2403 Earth Standard Time
Zeta Tau System
Unclaimed Space
Lucius stepped into the prison bay with a brisk pace, hands clasped behind him. He looked left and right with a studious, thoughtful gaze. He wore his normal uniform, and the black leather boots shone with bright polish, his silver buttons and epaulets gleamed in the monochromatic lighting. The two Marines behind him were a stark contrast, clad in full body armor, rifles at the low ready, as they waited for any hostile move. Their faces, behind their masks, were contorted with worry.
The fifty-three Chxor in the long, high-ceilinged room turned to face their captors with bland, emotionless faces. The startling similarity of appearance between the two races made the situation surreal. Bland, gray-skinned faces, rubbery flesh, and wax-like features, made a caricature of a human face. Their faces looked like someone knew exactly how things should measure, what features should go where, but had no idea how the whole fit together. Bowl-cut tan hair and pale yellow eyes, faces hairless and misshapen, and box-like ears rounded out the Chxor’s head. That conglomeration sat almost flush with broad, powerful shoulders, far wider than any Humans. To a Human, the Chxor were ugly, identical, and repulsive.
Chxor, naturally, didn’t care what humans looked like.
The Chxor prisoners stared at the leader of their captors. What thoughts lurked behind their pale yellow eyes were unknown.
Lucius strode forward and the Chxor parted around him until he reached the one he sought. He stopped before this one, and cocked his head slightly, “You are Kral, the commander of these others?”
The Chxor stared down at the small human for a moment of consideration. “I am Kral, I did command these others.”
“Walk with me.” Lucius spun on his heel and headed for the door he’d entered. The lone Chxor followed after a moment’s pause.
The Marines waited for the Chxor to pass, then backed from the room, eyes wary.
A dozen more Marines waited in the hallway beyond, they eyed the open door with narrow eyes and some of them had clenched jaws. The Marines had recruited heavily from the mutineers from the Chxor cruisers, Lucius knew.
Lucius strode past and calmly nodded to the sergeant who commanded the squad. “Carry on.”
Kral stepped up beside the smaller man as he continued his brisk walk down the hall. They walked without speaking for a long while. Lucius listened to the clop of his boots and the shuffle of the Chxor and thought. He gave the Chxor some time to think, as well, and to wonder what this might be about. Lucius finally broke the silence, “The leader of your force was a Chxor known as Kleigh.” Kral didn’t say anything and Lucius continued after a brief pause. “He’s a Logan, part of the dominant genetic line of the Chxor.”
Lucius turned a corner and stepped into an elevator. He held the door open as the Chxor stepped inside. The two trailing Marines also stepped aboard and moved to the back. “The Logans are dominant because they’re bureaucrats. They follow the strict rules of the Chxor Empire and rarely, if ever, violate those rules. As administrators they typically make excellent strategic decisions. Their long term plans are often extremely successful. That and their absolute obedience to the law has made them the dominant line. They purge the handful of transgressors, correct?”
Kral didn't need to consider the question, “Yes.”
“But the Logans are notoriously inept at tactical decisions.” One corner of Lucius’s mouth turned up in a grin, “Kleigh is a perfect example. He’s lost, to date, nine dreadnoughts and over thirty cruisers in the three times I’ve engaged him. Often those losses were at severe disadvantages in strength leading into the battles.”
“One might say that a proper Chxor does not understand the emotion-driven insanity that drives many humans,” Kral spoke in a dull monotone.
“Or one might say that Kleigh lacks any kind of ability in regard to application of resources beyond his limited knowledge base. Kleigh is a bureaucrat, not a tactician, and he should never have been given charge of a ship, much less a squadron,” Lucius responded.
There was a long moment of silence. “One might,” the Chxor admitted.
“There is another genetic line,” Lucius said as the elevator doors opened on another featureless corridor, “known as the Abaner.” He stepped forward, and Kral matched his strides “That line is remarkably… unmentioned by the other, more common lines. It has, however, been the force behind many of the successes for the Chxor. The researcher who reverse engineered the shadow space drive was an Abaner. The best Chxor admirals, with the most dramatic victories have often been Abaners.”
“But the Abaners are known for sometimes crossing the line of Chxor law.” Lucius stopped and turned. “Many Chxor, especially the Logan line, feel the Abaners are… tainted. Flawed, even. Therefore, victories gained by the Abaner are often poorly rewarded. Abaner receive the lowest reproduction quota of any Chxor genetic line.”
“That is so.” Kral’s voice was as emotionless as ever.
“I was interested, when I heard that on one cruiser,
the Chxor crew surrendered as a whole.” Lucius stopped outside a plain, unmarked door. “I was even more interested to discover that they were ordered to do so by their Captain. What might happen to any offspring of such a Captain?”
“His genetic line would be purged,” Kral spoke the words slowly. “Were he to have any offspring.”
“As a question, what would have happened should the ship fallen anyway?” Lucius said, studying the Chxor’s lumpy and ugly features.
“The same. Failure is a sign of inferiority.”
“Even if that failure lay with another… more senior, Chxor? Perhaps one of the dominant Logan genetic line?” Lucius asked.
“By a certain logic,” Kral said with the slightest trace of sarcasm, “especially then.”
“To the other Chxor, there would be no repercussions?” Lucius asked.
“No. For them, they would be outcasts, of course, for surrender to an inferior species. However, the alternative being death, logically, surrender is the optimal choice. That is why many Chxor officers chose to do so. Those that were allowed by their crews, at least.”
“Yes, repercussions for some brutalities are inevitable,” Lucius nodded. “Another fact that surprised me was that one cruiser had no such repercussions. One ship’s mutineers didn’t execute the Chxor who surrendered. That might mean that on one ship, there were no brutalities.”
“It would be illogical to treat those in one’s service in an inferior manner. Beatings, executions, and threats incite mutiny and treachery, rather than the opposite. It would be foolish in the extreme to expect brutality to bring loyalty, especially in races such as Humans.”
“So, you are an Abaner.” Lucius smiled, “I thought so.”
The Chxor shrugged. “I will yield no offspring. There will be no future for my genes. Therefore, my line doesn’t matter.”
Lucius opened the door and stepped out into a vast expanse of stars. They gleamed coldly in the vacuum above the moon and they were the only light in the domed chamber. A handful of tables clustered around a café. Some industrious refugees had assembled the place after arrival and Lucius had encouraged that kind of initiative where he could. A faint melody carried, just on the edge of hearing. The handful of people at the café watched the procession with interest.
Lucius moved over to take his normal seat, and waved for the Chxor to sit facing him.
The Marines remained to the alien’s rear.
Lucius stared at the alien for a long while. He nodded politely to the woman who set a cup of tea in front of him. They knew his preference by now and he sipped at it, then turned his eyes up to the dome, so transparent it seemed they stood in space. “As I understand it, Karis is a world shrouded in clouds. The Chxor never even knew that other stars existed, not until they were first visited by aliens?”
“Yes.”
“Yet they’d developed an advanced level of technology. Your population grew to the point that you established rigorous population control measures so you wouldn’t exceed the limits of Karis. This was after a brutal war between several factions over dwindling resources. You’d developed all the keys to space travel, but you’d never even known it was an option.”
Lucius stared at the stars as he spoke softly. “Humans, on the other hand… we’ve stared up at the stars since our creation. We gave them names and even evolved elaborate stories about them. Our drive to explore eventually led us there. It was our curiosity that brought us to Karis, and showed you the possibilities.”
“Yes, Humans did have an advantage.”
“How many centuries did the Chxor have fusion generators before my race had mastered the steam engine?” Lucius asked and turned his eyes on the Chxor. “Your race is old, your society is ancient, the Empire ruled Karis for millennia, after they exterminated their competition.” Lucius shook his head, “They eradicated every trace of their former foes.”
“Nostalgia is seen as a weakness and we had no need for trophies.”
“Among some civilizations --the better ones, I’ve found-- there is a tradition of clemency by the victors to the defeated.” Lucius sipped at his tea, eyes locked on the Chxor’s emotionless face.
“Chxor have not exterminated all humans on all worlds.” The Chxor didn’t meet Lucius’s eyes. “Not at first.” He bit out the admission.
“No, but within a few generations, the last of them are either rounded up, or simply gassed in their ghettos.” Lucius’s lips formed a hard line, “I’ve read the intercepted messages, the congratulations for efficiency. Fifty human worlds have fallen to the Chxor. Four alien races and another fifteen worlds in addition to that. Human losses have been in the billions. I’m not sure how the other races have fared, but I doubt you’ve shown much more leniency to them.”
“No... less with the Ghornath. What was done there has made the world uninhabitable.”
Lucius sighed, “Humans owe significant blame in that case, unfortunately.” He pushed his tea aside, “What has this gained the Chxor? Is your race better? Has your technology advanced? Have you learned new things?”
The prisoner spoke slowly, considering each word, “We have grown stronger. We are more numerous.”
“All Chxor?” Lucius asked, “I had heard that some lines had dwindled, while others grew far beyond the original allotments.”
The Chxor nodded slowly, “Yes.” His yellow eyes met Lucius’s. “Abaner, Wroth, and other lines. We are nearly extinct. The Logan are very successful.”
“So why are these other lines loyal to a society that looks to make them as extinct as the humans they conquer?” The Chxor stared down at the tabletop. Lucius gave him a moment, but then he snapped, “Kral, I asked you a question. Answer me, why do some genetic lines allow their own destruction?”
“They control our reproduction.” Kral’s words were soft. “They control our continued existence. Only the Logan doctors know the secret anymore. Once we’ve reproduced, our offspring are hostage to our continued loyalty and are raised in the Empire schools, far away from those who might wish to… change things.”
“I thought so.” Lucius said. “Did you have any offspring, Kral?”
“One.” Kral’s voice was dead. “It will have been terminated.”
“I’m sorry, Kral,” Lucius said. He genuinely felt sadness, the loss of a child was something he didn't want to ever experience.
“It was one life against many. Logic said that he—“ Kral broke off, eyes closed for a moment, then spoke again. “Logically, I could not put the lives of my crew against my offspring.”
Lucius nodded, “I understand, Kral. I hope, if I am ever faced with such a situation, I can be as selfless.” Lucius turned his eyes up to the stars again. “One of the races you haven’t yet encountered is the Iodan. They never developed star travel on their own, but they’ve gained passage on many races’ vessels. I don’t know where they come from, but they’ve spread out to many worlds. They’re notoriously good with chemistry, chemical engineering, and biology.” Lucius returned his eyes to Kral. “I didn’t want to broach this before they confirmed it, but they’ve found the manipulated genes that make Chxor sterile. They know how to allow you to reproduce naturally.”
Kral stared at Lucius for a long moment, “We would have to do so without growth tanks and incubators?”
“Yes, you would have to reproduce as you did thousands of years ago, before the Empire.” Lucius shrugged, “It was good enough for your ancestors, apparently, seeing as you are here.”
Kral spoke slowly, “I was told this is inefficient and very… unsanitary.”
“Humans have developed incubators, but they’re designed for a different chemistry than the Chxor.” Lucius shrugged, “Most humans prefer it the natural way, anyway. And it’s not as if the Empire will loan us the equipment.”
Kral nodded, “That is most unlikely.” He sat in silence for a moment, “What price must we pay?”
Lucius shook his head, “You misunderstand me. This, I will do without pay
ment. It seems… evil to hold a race’s future as a price. I won’t do that. I will have the Iodans treat any Chxor who wish it with the retrovirus.” Lucius tapped a finger on the table, “What I brought you here to ask, Kral, is what future you wish for your people.”
“I am confused.” Kral spoke as if in a daze.
“I’m about to go to war, Kral. I have to feed sixteen thousand refugees and prepare warships and their crews at the same time. I’ve limited resources, and generosity that costs me nothing cannot hurt me. The Iodans figured out how to cure Chxor infertility as an interesting puzzle. They can produce the retrovirus with ease compared to Human or Chxor scientists.” Lucius shrugged, “There was no point to not give you that. I can’t spend the resources on three hundred prisoners. What I want to know is if you’d work with me, or if you’d prefer to be dropped on an unoccupied inhabitable world.”
“You would let us go? We know much of your resources, and I can guess what world you will attack,” Lucius definitely picked up a note of surprise. Kral's voice had gained inflections, almost as if he had dropped his guard somewhat and allowed his emotions some leeway.
“Yes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to leave you on an empty world, with the bare minimum you’ll need to survive. We barely have the resources for that, as it is. The world is cold and there’s little there to survive on, but it would be possible, with work, to expand, and grow. We'd give you all of the Chxor rations we have left, enough to keep you for several years.”
“The alternative is to work with you?” Kral said, his ugly face expressionless.
“Yes, that is the alternative. You would be given positions in our forces. I would need you to vouch for those who are trustworthy, and who are not.” Lucius spoke confidently.
“Were I strongly loyal to the Empire, it would be logical for me to lie and betray you in an opportune time,” Kral said, his voice wooden.
“Something Abaner are known for, as well, is their strict, almost religious tradition of honesty,” Lucius said.