“We in the Church have our sources,” said the Over-prelate, raising his four hands as if to ward off a blow. “Rest assured we would not use this information to harm the Empire or the war effort. But the question remains. Can we even win this war? Or is it already lost, and lives are now traded for time before we reach the forgone conclusion.”
The rest of the group stood and stared at the priest, or looked down silently at the floor.
“Then we have lost,” said Norrasta, bowing his own great head.
“We have not lost,” yelled the low admiral. “They have only penetrated a tenth of the way from the frontier. There is still much space, and many systems, for them to take. We could come up with something to stop them in their tracks. Something of much more use that these damned system killers.”
“Our only chance lies in their getting tired of fighting and settling for a peace,” said Llallaras, challenging the lower ranking admiral with a stare. “And I don’t see much chance of us signing a peace with the young fool we have leading us. If the elder Jresstratta was still alive, there might be a chance of a settled peace. The old Emperor might have been selfless enough to give up his position in order to save the empire. Not so this one. He hasn’t the wisdom. Maybe with some years that we don’t have. But now? Not a chance.”
“The little piece of offal will never gain that much wisdom,” said Nazzarash. “He couldn’t even wait for full adulthood to remove his father from power.”
“We don’t have proof that he had his father killed,” said Llallaras, scowling. “If we had that proof, the assembly would remove him from power, even at the risk of civil war. But all indications are that the admiral acted on his own, disgusted at the direction the emperor was leading the fleet in.”
“Then why wasn’t his family punished along with him,” hissed Nazzarash, slamming a fist on the table. “Instead, they were given riches by the new emperor. The sons were given promotions within the fleet. Not the sign of an angry son seeking revenge for his sire, now is it?”
“Do you have proof of this?” asked Norrasta.
“I can prove that the admiral’s family has waxed richer since the assassination, and that the sons were promoted,” said the general. “I cannot prove that the orders came from the emperor. We would need such to make a case to the council and the people.” Nazzarash looked over at the priest. “Perhaps this wonderful intelligence gathering service of the Church can find that evidence.”
Perhaps we can, thought the Over-prelate, bowing his head and saying a quick prayer for the empire.
“I will see what we can do. But don’t expect miracles.”
“I thought the miracle business was what you priests were in,” said Llallaras, scowling. “We could sure use one about now. But I would prefer you bring us victory against the enemy.”
Chapter Four
A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything. Friedrich Nietzsche
APRIL 27TH, 1004. CA’CADASAN HOME SYSTEM.
Over-prelate Norrasta stood in front of the congregation, looking out over the faces of the gathered flock. Adult males and juveniles made up the congregation. Females and young rarely attended. Females because the words of the sermons mostly went over their heads. The very young because they stayed with the females. The one who attended were the warriors and workers of the capital city, the true believers, bringing along those progeny who were old enough to begin their training.
The huge Cathedral resonated with the music of a great wind powered keyboard, mostly the deep basses that Ca’cadasans preferred, intricately woven into tones that tugged at the heartstrings and reinforced the religious feelings of those bathed in the sound. Many of the males added their voices to the music, low groans that matched the tone heavy music. Some had very good voices, some not so pleasing. The important thing to the Over-prelate was that they tried to add their own sounds.
Norrasta allowed the music to roll over the one hundred and fifty by seventy-five meter chamber. It was packed, even more so than normally. Services normally gave the illusion of the faith being as popular as it had always been. It was an illusion in that the Cathedral had cut back on the number of holy day services, forcing the faithful to attend others and fill them up. The Over-prelate doubted that many of the absent had lost their faith. Instead, he thought they found the actual organized aspects of the Church less relevant to their lives. They still held their faith, but in the increasingly oppressive atmosphere of the Empire, most found themselves more comfortable praying at home and at family shrines.
The music reached a crescendo, dying immediately to leave the chamber resonating for a moment with the echoes of the tones. Norrasta waited for a moment, recognizing that every eye was on him. The faithful had heard the news that something important was to be spoken this day. The news hadn’t told them what, but the rumors had been rife.
“My brothers,” said Norrasta, quelling the butterflies in his stomach, his hearts beating quickly. He was accustomed to holding services and talking to large crowds, but not about the subject he was about to broach. What he was about to say could land him in hot water with the Emperor. A rational male wouldn’t do what he was about to, but he felt called by his faith to do so. If it martyred him, so be it.
“There was a crime committed recently. Not something as simple as a male stealing coins for his family. Nor an act of violence against someone who offered none in return. Nor even someone lying to the officials of the government. No, though those are serious, and could bring severe punishment from the authorities and approbation from their fellows, they are minor infraction in the eyes of the Gods.”
The Over-prelate took a moment to compose his thoughts, letting his words sink in for a moment. Already he could tell that the people were on the edge of their seats, awaiting the pronouncement of the crime, the sin, that the clergyman had yet to articulate.
“Unlike those crimes, or even the more serious ones of cowardly murder, striking ones fellow down from the back without giving a chance to defend himself, this one was an affront to the Gods by our entire species. No, this was a crime against the commandments set down by our Gods to order our very society, our Empire. For the Gods have said, you will not destroy the diversity of life, for we have created them for a purpose that is beyond you, and they must be protected. This is not to say that we cannot kill, when it is necessary to protect ourselves and the Empire. But we are admonished to not wipe out the entire genotype of a planet, for living planets are sacred to the Gods.”
The people were now holding their collective breaths. Norrasta had heard the rumors floating around the city. That the military had taken to destroying living worlds in order to strike at the enemy. And not just any living worlds, but planets within the Empire, under the protection of the Emperor and his military. Males had found out things in the fleet deployed near the front, and as was bound to occur, the information flowed back to the home world with the redeployment of personnel and the transit of messengers. They were only rumors, believed by some and not others, but now he was about to let these people know that the rumors were fact.
“My people. Our leaders have sinned against the Gods. They have developed a weapon that kills entire systems. Not just the worlds that we can live on, though that is bad enough. But all the worlds in the system. Gas giants, cold worlds, all with the diverse life forms created by the divine according to their plan.”
People were mostly staring at him in silence, though he could hear some speech, low whispers. He could feel the anger building, and like a conductor he prepared to wave it into rage.
“Who are the males in the military who ordered such abominable sins? It all originated with one being, the one responsible for laying this sin of the people at the altar of the Gods. His name is Jressratta, the fifth of his name. The sin originated with this foolish leader, but the effects of his decision will resonate across the Empire. It will affect the Empire. It will affect all of us. The judgment of the Gods
will fall on all. We will all suffer.”
Norrasta noted that several males in dark, obscuring clothes rose from the seats near the rear of the chamber and scampered out. The word of his sermon would fly to the throne. He had no doubt that the Emperor would go into a fit of rage. This one seemed incapable of any other kind of reaction. The police would be coming for him. Since he had no intention of letting himself be taken, he needed to finish the sermon and disappear into the city.
“The Gods will punish us all. Some think the advance of the humans into our space, the first such invasion in our history, is a result of the Gods turning their backs on us. I cannot say if that is so, but there is some connection between the trials and tribulations we suffer through and the actions of our leaders. Until those leaders are brought to account for their actions, we will continue to suffer. The Gods will not directly strike at the Emperor. That is not their way. It is for us to bring our leaders to task, starting with the young murderer who sits the throne.”
Moments later the doors to the Cathedral were flung open and a score of armed police stormed into the chamber. The Over-prelate was already gone, out through the clergy entrance to the chamber, down into the depths of the Cathedral, then into the tunnels that ran throughout the underworld of the city.
* * *
“I don’t know, Striped Wolf,” said the Count Brigadier General Cornelius Walborski, looking across the table at the sleek, muscular alien who was his primary contact with the Maurid people. “Your plan seems kind of risky to me. I don’t want to see any more of your people killed than is necessary.”
“And how many are necessary, my friend?” asked Mrrarraras, also known as Striped Wolf because of his fur markings, orange with deeper red stripes. “We want to throw off the chains of our masters. We are willing to shed however much of our blood as this takes, as long as our species survives.”
“But you risk discovery by the, masters,” said Cornelius, the last word leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “If they think you are in revolt, they might clamp down on your people. We aren’t close to any of your worlds, so relief becomes a problem.”
“We only fight on worlds you have already isolated, General,” said Mrrarraras, shaking his head in the human manner.
The Maurid was a very intelligent member of an intelligent species. Maybe not quite as smart as post-augmentation humans, the breed that had resulted from the Great Improvement of the early Empire. The species was easily as intelligent as the pre-augmentation humans, though their IQ bell curve was not as steep on either end. They lacked the super-geniuses that graced every human generation, but also the complete idiots that plagued the Empire, especially in the nobility as far as Cornelius was concerned.
“It is unlikely that word will get back to the Caca Emperor from those worlds. What do you think will happen? The Cacas will discover telepathy among their brain dead males, and communicate with their leaders in another system?”
“Stranger things have happened,” said Cornelius with a chuckle.
“Yes, your new com witches,” said the Maurid with a smile. “A singular find, and one that the big bastards don’t have. I think it safe enough that we fight beside you on those planets you have isolated. We ask for this honor. Please do not deny us.”
“That isn’t up to me,” said the Ranger officer, shaking his head. “Sean will have to give that order.”
“I have not had much contact with your leader,” said the Maurid. “Perhaps you could convey to him our desire to achieve honor in battle. If we die in battle it is a positive reflection on our people. Please allow us to fight beside you.”
Cornelius looked at the Maurid for a moment. He recalled how he had at one time thought the Maurids were a disgusting species, one he had wanted to wipe out. Since then he had discovered just how honorable the creatures were. They had committed atrocities under the orders of their masters, but from what he had seen, he wouldn’t have doubted that they tried their hardest to subvert those commands when able.
The Maurids had already fought beside humans, mostly as scouts. What Mrrarraras was asking was that they join the humans in the front lines, directly striking at the Cacas. The Ranger preferred to use the aliens for what they were best at. Stealth fighters, scouts, hit and run specialists.
“One thing I will tell you, Mrrarraras. As valiant as you are, you are of more use to us for your intelligence gather abilities. We have plenty of warriors, and you have to admit that our heavy infantry is better at going toe to toe with the big bastards than any light infantry, yours or ours. So, if you want to be of service to us, keep giving us insights into the Caca command.”
The Maurid looked disappointed, but finally nodded.
“You day will come, my friend. Perhaps one day we will fight side by side.”
“I look forward to that day, Hunter,” said the Maurid, bringing a smile to the human’s face.
If that day comes¸ thought Cornelius as the alien left the office. He was beginning to doubt he would ever face an enemy across a battlefield again. He felt like he was wasting his time as a staff officer. He was best as the Hunter, moving stealthily through the terrain and killing Cacas silently. He might have given the Maurids the benefit of a doubt, seeing them now as good people. He still refused to extend that courtesy to the Cacas. As far as he was concerned, every one of those big bastards could die, and he wouldn’t shed a tear. If he was responsible for sending more of them to their afterlife with his own hands, so much the better.
* * *
“The Cacas seem to have just evaporated in front of us, your Majesty,” said Lenkowski, looking out of the holo. “We have overrun almost twenty minor systems and seen nothing but commercial vessels. With three exceptions.”
“They had those systems set as traps?”
“Indeed they did, your Majesty,” said Len in his slow, New Texas drawl. “We sent in warp fighters to scout out the system, just as you ordered.”
The staff had decided that was the best way to scout with the threat of the sub-supernova traps. The warp fighters could easy run out of the system ahead of the photon wave. They were slowed by the turbulence of space caused by the event, but even at just under two lights they were still in no danger. The warships waited far outside the system, the destroyers and transports well beyond the danger point, the tougher capital ships sitting a bit closer. It was hoped that the enemy wouldn’t waste a device on a couple of dozen small craft like the fighters, while the warp craft could pinpoint any other targets.
“Two of the systems stayed cold. But in one of them, the bastards set off the event with no chance of a return. Like he decided to set it off in frustration when we didn’t stick our heads on the chopping block.”
Shit, thought Sean. A living system, killed because some Caca was determined that he going to kill some humans, no matter what. And the warp fighters ran back out, so he didn’t even get them.
“How many aliens?” asked Sean.
Len didn’t have to ask him what he meant. “We’re estimating, from the long range views of the world, taking into account cities and transportation networks, over two billion.”
Sean slammed a fist down on his desk. The first few times he had done something like that security had run in to see what had happened. They had grown used to the Emperor’s displays of temper, and no one came in to bother him. Two billion, he thought, closing his eyes and clenching a fist. Just to demonstrate that they were willing to kill it.
“We were able to take out the ships in the other two systems, your Majesty,” said Len quickly, trying to get good news to his monarch to counter the bad. “A squadron of stealth/attack ships coasted in and took them out. In one system they started the process, then powered down when they realized we weren’t going to bite. We pinpointed their ships immediately. In the other we were able to spot a couple of them against the disc of the star. In both cases we were able to kill them and then liberate the systems.”
Through the clinical analysis of the situation,
Sean could imagine those ships going in. Coasting at point one five light, undetectable by anything but an active sensors system close up, they would have spent twenty-four hours heading in to kill those targets. If they were detected, there was always the danger the enemy would set off the sub-supernova, and there was no chance those ships would be able to get out in time. In fact, they would die in lass than an hour, burned up by the photon storm well before they could get out of the inner system.
“My compliments to those captains and crews,” said Sean, grateful that he had people willing to take on such missions.
“The other systems were clear,” continued Len after giving his Emperor a nod to acknowledge the compliment of the monarch. “Still, it took several days to make sure. Our heavy forces sat there, when they could have been driving in for the planet. After we cleared them, it took another two days to get into orbit around the inhabitable planet. Four days, your Majesty. It’s taking us four days to clear each system, plus the time to head back out and start for the next target.”
Sean nodded. He wasn’t willing to let a light force scout out those systems, which their intelligence had told them were industrial nodes that warranted defensive fleets. There was always a chance that the enemy had a hidden fleet, waiting to spring a conventional ambush. It hadn’t happened so far, but Sean had a gut feeling that it eventually would. Probably more than once.
“Can’t be helped, Len. I know it’s a small victory for the Cacas, even when they don’t catch us in a trap. I would rather they have small victories than crush us in a large one.”
Len nodded his understanding. Sean would have preferred to save all the aliens, and it bothered him that the Cacas had killed another two billion of their slaves. It wasn’t always up to him, and he had to comfort himself with the knowledge that his orders hadn’t caused those deaths. At times that wasn’t enough, and he had been having dreams of about aliens dying because of his orders. Which brought up something he was hesitant to tell his admiral, since it might make him even more cautious.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion. Page 7