“No. We did a good enough job of that ourselves.”
“Which is why you became the consummate warriors. I wondered what had happened prior to our coming along?”
“We had made peace with ourselves, and lost the desire to become warriors.”
“And then we came along and changed that,” said the admiral, eyes narrowing. “Our mistake, turning your minds back to war and then letting you escape.”
“Yes. Well, I for one am happy you couldn’t locate our refugee ships. Though I really wish you had changed your minds about us by the time you had relocated us.”
“We may not be the quickest of species, or the brightest, but we live a long time, and we don’t forget. Or forgive.”
The Emperor stared at the alien for a moment, wondering if there actually would be peace between them and the humans. If they didn’t forgive or forget the humans killing an heir, would they do either to the species that destroyed their Empire. He dismissed that thought, for the moment, since now he came to one of his most important questions.
“How did this Faith evolve into believing that living worlds and their life forms were sacred?”
“It came from our occupation,” said the admiral, giving a very human head nod. “The invaders killed everything on the surface that they didn’t find a use for. Animals, plants, the very things we needed to survive. We might have been carnivores, but there were many useful plant species that provided things we needed, as well as provender for our animals.”
“And how did you get rid of them? These invaders?”
“They kept many of us as slaves, something that no freedom loving Cacada had ever had to deal with to that point in our history. Eventually they treated us like all masters treat slaves. They ignored us, and we stole from them. Weapons, equipment, information. Until the time was right and we rose up to slaughter every single one of them on our world. After they were dead we appropriated their star faring technology and proceeded to restore our ravaged world. Or at least as well as we could.
“You have heard how we have only wiped out two species. Yours was to be the third. The masters were the first. As you are better than us at war, so we were better than they were. Insectoids, they were not built to move fast in what we considered normal gravity. They were mighty as long as they were the only ones with aircraft and control of the orbitals. When we were able to reach their orbital constructs with weapons, and duel with them in the sky, they became nothing more than prey. Several decades of building spaceships, destroying any of the few craft of theirs that came our way, and we were able to carry the fight to them. Subspace was the limit of their tech, and they hadn’t spread far, so we only had to strike at a dozen worlds to destroy them, obliterating their species from the Universe. We only destroyed their home world, wiping their genotypical heritage from the universe. The other worlds we cleansed of insectoids, and rehabilitated them to support our own colonies.”
“And then your species felt the need to conquer, so that you wouldn’t find yourself slaves to another race?”
The admiral sat silent for a moment, thinking. “I think so. We were afraid that some other all conquering species would come along.” The admiral put his face in a hand while he opened the other three palms up. “Fear. That’s what it all comes down to, doesn’t it? We wouldn’t admit that to ourselves. As conquerors we had the ball in our court. Other species would fear us, and we would be able to build a defense in depth of our home world. Anyone coming at us would have to push through multiple systems and dozens of light years. Eventually that became thousands of systems, thousands of light years.”
“While you comforted yourselves with the idea that you were actually doing this for the good of the Galaxy?”
“Yes. Yes,” said the admiral after a moment’s hesitation for thought. “That makes sense. We didn’t want our world again conquered. The last event had almost destroyed our world. Many of the life forms we had depended on, even when we had developed advanced tech for the time, were gone. The megafauna our young males depended on to prove themselves through the danger of the hunt, that was gone. We were able to breed up some of the smaller beasts to produce food animals. I think that was part of it as well. A substitute for the hunt. We would sublimate our natural instincts while safeguarding the Galaxy. Protecting other species from stronger races that could wipe them out.”
And at the same time becoming the conquerors, thought Sean, actually turning other intelligent species into not just slaves, but food animals. Becoming what you fear the most while told yourselves you were different, because you weren’t committing genocide. Until you ran into a species that angered you enough that you overstepped those bonds. Like that other species. Like the human species.
“But back to the question of the religion,” said the admiral, dismissing the other questions from his mind, something his species seemed to be good at. “We had always revered the life of our world. Even as we expanded our population, we practiced the conservation needed to preserve the forms that no longer directly benefitted us. The ones we used to prove our strength in the trials to achieve the status of warrior. And then, the aliens came and destroyed most of them. Because of that we developed a religious belief that the diversity of life was sacred. Not individual animals. That would be going too far for a species that was of obligate carnivore stock. But the diversity, the multitude of differences spread across the Galaxy. That was to be enjoyed and protected, as the gods themselves intended. So the worlds themselves, the harbors of life, became sacred. And to the common believer, they remain so.”
But not to the intelligencia, thought the Emperor. They no longer believe in gods, but they are shackled in their behaviors by the beliefs of the majority. They have to continue to cater to those religious sensibilities, no matter how they feel.
“Your people have started using a weapon that causes stars to go beyond nova, but not quite supernova. We’re calling it a sub-supernova. It destroys the ships in the inner system, but also sterilizes all of the planets.”
The expression on the admiral’s face showed his shock. “Surely not.”
“You killed several of my planets, Admiral. They were taken out by the fleet under your command. So why not go the next step and take out some of your own systems if it damages my fleet?”
“The worlds we took out had been terraformed to your type of life,” said the admiral in a defensive tone. “That was also against the beliefs of our religion, since according to the scriptures only the gods could make a living world. So we felt no guilt at killing those worlds.”
“Only one of them wasn’t terraformed,” said Sean, pointing a finger at the admiral.
“We didn’t know that. If I could take it back…”
“You’ve said you are not a believer, but now you’re saying that you feel guilty for violating the tenants of your scriptures.”
“What can I say,” said the big alien, shrugging both sets of shoulders. “Even when we outgrow our beliefs, they are the foundation of much of our thinking, ingrained in us from our early exposure to them. I guess you would call it indoctrination.”
“How would your people feel if the Emperor started sterilizing whole systems?” asked Sean, not sure how this was going to go over. Any answer might be construed as giving the enemy military intelligence. However, he was counting on the shock of the question, along with the evidence he was about to present, to cause the admiral to blurt out the information.
“That would never happen,” said the male, crossing both sets of arms over his chest. “The people would never stand for it, and the Emperor has to know it. Even that young fool you say is on the throne. There are enough advisors to lay down the law for him.”
Unless they are so afraid of him they don’t dare speak up, wanting to keep their heads on their necks, thought Sean, sending the command to send the images to the Great Admiral.
“This is one system we found that had been used as a test. That world in the center had been a living planet, wit
h slaves on the surface. Scoured clean by this new weapon, what we’re calling a sub-supernova device.”
The admiral narrowed his eyes, thinking. Sean was sure he knew where the first train of thought was going. If they had this weapon, perhaps they could defeat the humans. He quickly disabused the male of that notion.
“It’s an unwieldy weapon, requiring twelve projectors arranged in a pattern around a star. The projectors are superbattleships, each crewed by Ca’cadasan males who die when the star blows off its plasma. The only way it can be used is as an ambush weapon. Rest assured that any of them that enter one of my systems and head to the star will not make it. We will hit them with wormhole launched missiles before they get more than light minutes past the hyper barrier.”
The admiral’s eyes widened, and the Emperor was sure he had realized this was not a war winning weapon. It might cause some damage to the humans, but even more to his empire when the humans reacted.
The image changed to the long view, a light week out of the star and showing the flaring, much brighter than a nova, not quite a supernova. From the point of view of a living being the two phenomenon looked the same, since their eyes and brains had never evolved to distinguish the difference at those magnitudes.
“He caught one of my forces later with the weapon. We had just discovered it, and it was the bad luck of the crews of that force that we were just a bit late with the warning. I lost over thirty ships, fifteen of them capitals. Since then we have approached every system with caution, and not left the barrier until we could be sure none of those ships are waiting in orbit around the star. Of course, they can still hide them, then move them into position once we are deep into the system.”
The Empire had already, in theory, come up with ways to take out those ships before going in, only risking the few scouts needed to draw them out, but he wasn’t about to tell this male that.
“The believers would be horrified,” said the admiral in a low voice. “The young fool.”
“And what would they do with those horrified feelings?”
The admiral stared out of the holo at the Emperor, who could imagine the thoughts going through that big head.
“What are your plans for my people, your Majesty? What will be their fate if you win this war?”
“Many of my people would like to exterminate you,” said Sean, nodding his head. “I don’t want to do that. In fact, I will do everything in my power to prevent that. But you have to know that the more of my people are killed, the harder the task becomes.”
The admiral gave a very human like nod. He knew that Sean was not as powerful in his own realm as the Ca’cadasan Emperor was in his. While the military obeyed him, his word was not law, and if he started giving commands that didn’t make sense, the other powers in his government would remove him from the throne.
“There’s also the problem of your slaves. My people want to free them, then set them up as allied powers. The more of them that die as collateral damage in this war, the harder the feelings are going to be.”
“You also know that those slaves are going to want our blood,” said the Great Admiral.
“Of course. That’s another worry I have.”
“So what happens to us if you have your way?”
“Your people are disarmed, at least for a century or so, maybe more, until we can be sure you are going to contribute to the new order. And yes, I know that means you are going to be in dire straights on some of the slave worlds, which is why we are looking into moving you to your own planets. The ones we designate for your use only. It might take some doing, but we think we can shift populations to make it work. But not overnight.”
“Which means that millions of my people will die in retribution.”
“Probably. But it beats extermination of the species, doesn’t it? So, tell me what your people will think of this Emperor, and what will they do about it?”
The Great Admiral was silent, staring straight ahead, avoiding looking into the eyes of the human. Sean was sure he was going to refuse to answer, until he gave a head shake and looked into the eyes of the human.
“I am not always proud of what my people have done, your Majesty. But they are my people. And as a people we have always been very obedient to authority. Not just because of what that authority could do to us or our families, though that, of course, is a part. Males are raised to know their place. The nobility has more power, but even they are subservient to the throne. And commoner males can rise in rank, eventually joining the nobility. But along the way they all know their place. The Emperor orders, and every Ca’cadasan male does their best to obey. To the death. Which of course is my shame.”
“Because you were captured? But another male surrendered while you were unconscious. In our society that would absolve you of blame.”
“But not in ours. The fleet was my responsibility as long as I still had life in my body. However, that is neither here nor there. You want to know how the people will react to orders that go against their beliefs. I’m not really sure, since it has never happened. What I would expect would be a revolt by the Church against the Throne. The Throne would have to strike back in order to maintain their power. And the believers would rally around the Church. Maybe not to the point of taking to the streets or disobeying orders in a overt manner. But covertly? Things would just not get done, small matters under the notice of officers. Some of the officers who were believers might join in. The war effort will be crippled.”
“And worst case scenario for the Emperor?”
“He is faced with a major uprising, civil war, and his head on a pike at the entrance to the palace. I can’t see it going that far, but that would be the worst case. And if the Empire is already smoldering, the Emperor would be well advised to not throw accelerant on the flames. The last Emperor would have known better. His son, who has never commanded more than a couple of servants in his life, and may think himself a great war leader who can never make a mistake, is another story.”
“Thank you, Great Admiral. I know it comes hard to give information to an enemy.”
“I don’t expect us to win this war, your Majesty. Maybe if we had made good decisions from the start, and you weren’t able to forge the alliance you have, we could have carried it off. But we didn’t, and you have forged an alliance. The wormholes had a lot to do with it, but your other technological innovations also caught us completely by surprise. No, I think we will lose, but not before there is a great deal more death and destruction. I just don’t want my species to be added into that destruction. If possible, I would like to see us go on. As your slaves if necessary. Though as your partners would be preferable.”
“I will do my best,” said Sean, dismissing the connection. He was haunted by the look in the Great Admiral’s eyes. A proud warrior who had been raised to think of his people as superior to all others, the masters by right. Humbled by another species who was superior in the one faculty that counted in technic civilization, intelligence.
The admiral had given him a great deal to think about. There was a possibility of a revolt within the Ca’cadasan Empire. Or at least there would be if the information was widely disseminated. He needed to know how far the information had spread, the reaction to it so far, and what he could do to fan the flames. Which meant they needed to contact their friends in the enemy camp. Normally that would take a month or two both ways for the question to reach into the enemy empire and the answer to come percolating back out. Now they had something else in place. It was dangerous, and he didn’t like using it outside of their normal schedule unless necessary. Many people could die if the pipeline was discovered. But many more could die down the road if he didn’t get the intelligence he needed.
Chapter Ten
Work out your own salvation. Do not depend on others. Buddha
APRIL 25TH, 1004. CA’CADASAN HOME SYSTEM.
“This is really important, Commander,” said Rear Admiral Bryce Suttler, his intent face looking out of the com holo. “I kn
ow it’s a risk, but the order comes from on high. So I guess you can say that we are not to question it.”
“I understand, sir,” said Commander Winefred Galland, the captain of the stealth/attack ship Kelsie. She had been on station since the raid of the Ca’cadasan home system, sitting dead and silent a couple of light days outside the system well above the plane of the ecliptic. “We’re receiving your transmission, now.”
The encrypted file took less than a second to come over the wormhole link. The commander was curious to find out what was in the file, but she would never know. Need to know governed this intelligence, and though she hoped that capture was of low probability, there was always the chance they would be interrogated by the Cacas. The Kelsie was merely a link on the com path, important, but with no input into the stream.
“We ready?” she asked her com officer, a young man who was manipulating the controls of his communications station.
“Lining up on the station,” said the young officer, looking down at a small screen with a doubtful expression on his face. He knew what they were doing was not smart, putting everyone at risk. “It’s gone,” he said in a hushed voice. “They should be getting it in three hours.”
“Then let’s move,” ordered the commander, looking over at her helmsman.
This was very much against the protocols that had been set up to keep the Cacas from realizing that anything was going on with their most loyal servants. The Maurids were risking much by selling out their lords. Possibly their very existence as a species. They felt they had much to gain on the deal. Like the freedom to make their own decisions as to how they were to advance as a race, something the Cacas had taken from them.
Maurids didn’t think like humans or Ca’cadasans. While they could be violent and vicious creatures, one reason the Cacas used them for security and intelligence, watching over lesser species, they were of a single mind when it came to their own people. A Maurid would not sell out their people. There was nothing anyone could offer them that trumped that loyalty. They were also extremely difficult to force information from. But they weren’t super beings, and enough torture or the proper chemicals would force them to talk.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion. Page 14