Wrath of an Angry God: A Military Space Opera

by Michaels, Gibson

  Seated informally, Tzal made his report of his defeat at the Battle of Slithin, followed by his second one at Yegraia. Tzal felt distinctly uncomfortable discussing the details of his two defeats right in front of this human, but one did not question the supreme-master, even if he considered you a personal friend. Tzal knew that those who ascended to the supreme-mastery relinquished the luxury of having friendships, as meeting the responsibilities of governing the empire was Drix’ only true master now.

  “That sounds like the three asteroid-battleships that I authorized construction on, about seven cycles ago,” said Hal. “It sounds like I must have changed the design specs to convert them from missile platforms to all energy weapons platforms, to meet the new requirements of the Raknii war. That would explain the time savings in getting them completed this soon.”

  “YOU authorized construction of those monsters?” asked Tzal, incredulously.

  “Yes… well, in a way yes, and in another way, no. It’s complicated,” replied Hal.

  It was then that Tzal first realized… this alien wasn’t using a translator. He spoke and understood the Raknii language.

  * * * *

  “No, you did not fail, my friend,” said Drix. “You succeeded marvelously, in the incredibly difficult role that Dol has tasked you with.”

  “But I was beaten again… not just once, but twice!” Tzal wailed. “Even at Minnos, I failed to hold the planet. Defeat is not tolerated in our culture.”

  “It was not always so,” replied Drix. “Is there dishonor in being defeated during dominance combat with a superior male of our race?”

  “No, but it’s not the same. These aliens are not males of our race!”

  “Why should that matter?” asked Hal. “Dominance combat is dominance combat. Once superiority has been established, why should mere differences in species affect the result? Dominance is dominance.”

  “Because aliens are different,” argued Tzal. “We are not the same! You humans have no standing… no place in Raknii traditions.”

  “They defeated you three times,” said Drix softly. “Has that feat not earned them standing in your eyes?”

  “I…” Tzal dared not contradict his supreme-master, but Dol, how he so much wanted to tear the throat out of this smug alien — if he could, that is. Even as an acknowledged combat-master, Tzal couldn’t be sure what he might be able to actually do to this gigantic human, or, even lacking fangs and claws, what that human might be able to do to him.

  Humans had already defeated him too many times for him to begin underestimating them now. There was just too much unknown about these alien creatures. Was it possible that, individually, they could be as fearsome in personal combat as their warships were in open space? Tzal knew he’d never hope to find out for sure against this particular human, whom his new supreme-master has had inexplicably adopted. What possible value did Drix see in the opinions of aliens, anyway?

  “Our people and Hal’s people are both predators,” Drix continued. “I have discovered that fact alone gives us far more in common than our physical and cultural differences might indicate.”

  “What happens in dominance combat when neither combatant can, or will submit to the other?” Hal suddenly asked.

  Tzal looked to Drix, who remained infuriatingly silent, implying the question was all Tzal’s to field. Tzal detested the idea of being drawn into actually conversing with an alien, as it brought him uncomfortably close to an implication of equality, and if he’d been beaten by an equal, then that equal was no longer an equal, but a superior… and that was somewhere Tzal definitely didn’t want to go.

  Finally, as it was apparent Drix wished him to answer, Tzal grudgingly murmured, “They will fight to the death.”

  “In the current struggle between your race and mine, which race has consistently came and stayed, and which has consistently been forced to withdraw?” Hal asked.

  Tzal was surprised to discover himself growling deep in his throat, and even deeper in his soul. He did not want to answer that question, and looked toward Drix imploringly.

  Drix merely shook his head and said, “The universe is unforgiving, my friend. Truth does not change in accordance with our desires, or our ability to admit to that which we might fervently wish were otherwise. It remains what it is, regardless. Answer.”

  “I see where this creature is leading this conversation. Do you truly wish to hear me speak such blasphemy?” Tzal asked.

  Drix looked at his friend sadly and replied, “Dol is truth, so how can genuine truth ever be blasphemy? The words and ideas you deny are not the concepts of our god, but precepts of the modern secular philosophy infesting our society. The old ways are in harmony with nature. Raknii became dominant here on Raku by the truths of nature.

  Raknii remained dominant throughout our expansion into space as well, until we foolishly abandoned the old ways of a natural predator and began hunting and killing just because something other than ourselves was there and moved within our cognizance. We ceased hunting because of actual hunger and began hunting for sheer sport. Was that not the true blasphemy against nature, and against Dol?

  “Dol made us predators, yes… but our natural instincts for hunting to live became perverted by modern secularism’s unnatural lusts for the shedding of blood for nothing more than glory and self-gratification,” Drix continued. “Is it any great wonder that Dol was angered by the way our race neglected his precepts and gloried in our misuse of the bounty of his creation?”

  Tzal’s muzzle began twitching, as it often did when he was under stress, and he subconsciously smoothed it down with his paw.

  “Do you truly believe it mere coincidence that within a sub-cycle of the deliverance of that dire prophecy, you yourself returned to announce your discovery of the existence of this human civilization, far beyond the frontiers of our empire?” Drix asked. “What need, other than the thrill of the hunt, did your ravaging of their world at Minnos really meet? Was it hunger, or lust? Was it truly necessary? What offense had these creatures given us, which justified our attempt to take their world from them?”

  With a strangled look, Tzal meekly replied, “Supreme-Master Drix, was it not you who personally gave that fateful command for my fleet to depart Golgathal and attack the humans at Minnos?”

  Drix looked at his friend with deep sympathy for what he was enduring, as he struggled to understand.

  “Was it? What if I had not?” Drix asked softly. “Knowing they were out there, would our people have simply left those far-off aliens alone, to pursue their own interests in peace? Had I refused to issue that order after the precepts of modern secularism clearly labeled them as prey, wouldn’t I have been branded as timid and craven for refusing to grant our warriors the order to hunt?

  “Think back,” said Drix. “What was the mood amongst our people then, when it was first discovered these new aliens were not merely more grazing plant-eaters, but were predators like ourselves? Did we perceive them as kindred spirits and honor these new predator brethren by avoiding imposition upon their hunting grounds? Or were we enflamed with unnatural passion, desiring to test our mettle against them, to prove our invincibility to the universe and ourselves?

  “Think back,” Drix continued. “Was it not Dol himself, who fanned the flames of our lust for the hunt, that made our attack on Minnos inevitable? If I had not issued that attack order, would I not have been replaced by another who would have been eager to do so? What difference then, whether it was I, or someone else, who issued that order? Would it not have eventually been given anyway?”

  Tzal shook his head and looked down, muzzle in paw as he tried desperately to follow Drix’ logic, as his friend and supreme-master tried to make him understand something important.

  “The prophecy makes it clear,” Drix continued. “We have allowed our natural hunting instincts to carry us far beyond our legitimate role of culling excess in the herds, so that both might thrive. We began slaughtering the herds to near extinction in an
unholy lust for glory, blood and recognition among ourselves. We lost the ability to discipline ourselves, and thus remain within our Dol-intended role in nature. Worse yet, we failed to recognize any difference between mindless herd-beasts and other intelligent species, whom Dol created to fulfill other purposes of his own.

  “In our arrogance,” Drix continued, “we boldly interfered with Dol’s mysterious plans for his universe, which he had the audacity to not bother sharing with us, or gaining our prior approval of. We even became so arrogant as to believe our wisdom superior to the old ways of our god, thus we no longer needed to revere, honor, worship or obey Dol any longer. In our own eyes, did we not come to see ourselves as greater than our god, dismissing him and discarding his wisdom and precepts like yesterday’s garbage?”

  Tzal grunted out a muted, strangled cry, as Drix disemboweled the basic precepts of the Raknii civilization he’d grown up in.

  “In our arrogance, did we not thus roar our defiance into the face of our god and challenge Dol himself to dominance combat, to prove his unfitness to rule over us any longer?” Drix asked poignantly.

  “Is it really any great wonder then, that Dol created other predators and granted them the power to humble and discipline us, as we were stubbornly unwilling or unable to humble or discipline ourselves? Was it not Dol himself who granted us the desires of our lusts and rewarded our perversion by entangling us in dominance combat with predators even more fearsome than ourselves? Is it truly any great wonder, that Dol prefers to see our arrogance and rebellion exterminated, rather than allow our perversity to continue ravaging nature to its eventual ruination?

  “Advise me,” whispered Drix. “None of us have fought more great battles against these humans than you have, Tzal. Are the joys of combat still sweet to our warriors who have faced these aliens, and survived the ordeal? What success have we yet enjoyed in this struggle for dominance between us? Were all of our new weapons enough to drive them from the field of battle, even once? What hope remains to us, that we will eventually prevail in our dominance combat against these humans?

  “Was it merely bad luck they have consistently beaten us time and again, or amongst the uncertainties of battle, were the setbacks you suffered so inexplicable that it sometimes seemed that you struggled not only against humans, but also against Dol himself?”

  “It did feel that way, sometimes,” Tzal admitted. “The twists of combat always seemed to turn unnaturally in their favor. I agonized over the haunting feeling that I was wrestling with demons, rather than mortals.”

  “None of us has more experience than you, in struggling fang and claw against them. From your incomparable experiences fighting against them, will we defeat these humans?” Drix asked. “Can we defeat them?”

  Tzal sat silently for a few moments, struggling between what he wished to be true, and what his instincts told him really was.

  “No,” Tzal answered finally. “As much as my being screams to deny it, I have seen no indication that the future might be significantly different from the past. As long as our god remains on the opposing side of this conflict, I see no concrete reason to hope for our inevitable victory.”

  “If we cannot defeat them, what then?” asked Drix of his friend. “The fate of our race has been given into my paws, so I seek your advice and wisdom. If we cannot defeat them, must this struggle be to the death? If we cannot defeat them, would it be better to swallow our pride and bare our throats in submission to these aliens? Or should we continue to choke on our insufferable Raknii pride so long that we asphyxiate ourselves — to where only our extinction remains behind as the inevitable legacy of our race… a smoldering ruin standing as dire warning to others of the foolishness of defying a god?

  “If we cannot defeat these humans, what choice should we make? Life in submission, or death. f that be our only choices, which path should our race take? Advise me.”

  Tzal sat silently in shame at his sudden realization that, in the excitement of his rapid rise in rank and the glory of leading Xior’s Great Hunt, he himself had succumbed to the turning of his heart from the old ways and the god of his youth. He remembered now how Dol had sustained him when he was friendless and lacked a sponsor amongst the power-brokers of his race. Yet somehow, Dol had always provided a way — like the turn he found himself assigned to train an unusual young warrior in the art of weaponless combat… a young warrior who later became his friend, and then later yet, became his supreme-master.

  In all the many cycles Tzal had known him, Drix was the most devout, yet unconventional Rak warrior he’d ever met — consistently defying social conventions through innovation and creative thought, yet always managing to avoid the backlash of the political pundits and naysayers to eventually succeeded at virtually everything he placed his paw to. Tzal had complete faith in Drix and knew of no one better suited to lead their race into its now frightening and uncertain future. Tzal was also quick enough on the uptake to recognize the direction that all of Drix’ pointed questions were steering him towards.

  They both use the same technique.Did Drix learn that trick for leading someone to discovering a certain logical progression of thought for themselves from this human, or did the human learn it from Drix?

  Tzal finally replied, “Where there is life, there is hope. The dead have no hope, for death itself is a closed universe to them. There is no greater purpose or achievement that one might strive to attain, than the salvation of our race, and its reconciliation to our god. If it truly be Dol’s will that we bare throat and belly in submission to these aliens — Dol’s will be done.”

  Drix smiled at his friend and said, “In that case, I think you’re ready for your most difficult assignment yet.”

  “My life is yours,” Tzal replied. “Command me.”

  “Prepare for your next ascension, my friend. I need you to go back to Slithin.”

  * * * *

  Chapter-23

  If some great catastrophe is not announced every morning, we feel a certain void. Nothing in the paper today, we sigh. — Lord John Emerich Edward Dalberg-Acton

  The Planetoid Discol, City of Waston

  September, 3868

  When not actively haunting the house like a malicious female revenant in search of blood, Noreen got her mind off how bad she felt by researching baby names.

  If I’m the one who has to go through all of this shit just to bring this kid into the world, I’m sure as hell going to be the one picking out a name for him.

  Noreen wasn’t totally selfish during this process, however, as she was very aware that her baby would someday inherit Diet’s title, and therefore needed a decidedly Germanic name. Noreen really wasn’t big on all that formality crap, though. She loved the name Diet, but honestly, she wasn’t really all that enamored with the long form Dietrich, nor with a lot of the really strange names she’d found in the inventory of Germanic naming conventions.

  Drugs eventually played a major role in Noreen’s ability to complete the birthing process —surprisingly without decapitating either Diet, or her obstetrician. She’d acquiesced to Hal and Diet’s joint request that the child’s middle name be given for Diet’s father and Hal’s creator. Thus it was that on September 28, 3868, 7-pound, 7-ounce, Hans Niklaus Guderian successfully maneuvered his way through the gauntlet of Noreen’s uncooperative birth canal and emerged onto the mortal vale.

  One of little Hans’ first major accomplishments in life was in the role of exorcist, as merely holding her blue-eyed, dark-haired baby miraculously banished the myriad of her mood-demons that had so vexed the entire household. Noreen was visibly radiant, deliriously happy and back to her old self.

  Thank God!

  * * * *

  The Trakaan Planet Troxia

  October, 3868

  Since completion of the formal surrender ceremony, where he signed the books containing the formal surrender documents, Raan huddled with Kalis and Thorn working out the details of a practical application of a surrender of this magnit
ude. Fraznal’s official role ended with Raan’s decision to submit to Kalis, but as a courtesy, they continued to include him in their subsequent discussions. It would have been cruel, not to have allowed him to see the fruits that his not insignificant labors to bring these two sides together had finally produced.

  Humanity simply didn’t have the resources to physically occupy almost 60 planets, so Kalis wasn’t of a mind to even try. Kalis and Thorn produced intricate policy documents, as air-tight as they could possibly make them, detailing exactly how the Raknii of all surrendered planets would be treated and their rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness honored. Raan would continue to function in his role as region-master, still having authority over all of those planets, now expanded to include Golgathal and the six other Region-7 Raknii planets the Allied Combined Fleets had captured earlier.

  Raan technically had no authority over Raknii planets designated as parts of Region-7, but Drix had implemented standing orders that no attacks on humanity be made without his personal approval, so Kalis wasn’t overly concerned with the idea of un-submitted Rak worlds continuing to go about their daily tasks or breaking the undeclared peace that had already prevailed for so long, in his rear. It was only the military side of Raan’s regular duties that would be curtailed, but not totally eliminated. Raan would redistribute his 30,000 old-style warships to station approximately 500 at each planet, both to maintain discipline, and act as a balm to the military traditions so ingrained within the Raknii people.

  Raan would personally accompany Eileen Thorn and her Confederate 3rd Fleet on a tour of all Region-6 worlds, so he could personally instruct their planet-masters to maximize their hypnotically induced subservience to the new order of things. Once the realization that their region-master had bared throat and belly in submission to the humans became real to them, neither expected an undue amount of problems, as the Raknii were also conditioned to accept a submissive role to the victors of dominance combat.