“Send information to their admiral designating the transponder code of my shuttle,” the admiral ordered the com officer. “I’m sure they’ll want to take custody of me as soon as possible. Everyone else, to your designated escape pods.”
The admiral pulled up another holo, connecting to the ship’s chief engineer. “Power everything down but the emergency systems, Engineer. Then get your people off.”
The officer gave a head motion of acceptance, though his expression betrayed how he felt about the whole idea.
As long as he obeys, thought the admiral. Nobody had to be happy about this. Tradition stated that Ca’cadasan warriors didn’t surrender. That tradition had been violated several times in this war. And they had been lied to and deceived by their Emperor and his appointed heads of the military. The wind had been punched out of them, they were cowed, and there was very little dissent.
Minutes later the admiral’s shuttle, filled with evacuating crew, left the hangar to join the general exodus from all the ships. Shuttles, pinnaces, escape pods, all gathered and moved away from the battleship as per the instructions from the humans. Then it was a waiting game, and the admiral hoped the humans would act with honor, now that all of his people were sitting helplessly in the fragile defenseless containers. If they didn’t, and decided to kill all of the Ca’cadasans, there was nothing he could do about it.
* * *
“Get him back,” screamed the Emperor, pounding his fists on the table. “Get him back, right now.”
“The wormhole has collapsed on the other end, Supreme Lord,” said high ranking com officer that handled communications during meetings.
“Then reopen it.”
“That is not possible, Supreme Lord,” said the stammering com officer. The male was frightened. A quick way to die was to say no to this young male, even when saying yes was physically impossible.
“I want that admiral executed,” yelled the Emperor, turning his attention away from the com officer, to that male’s obvious relief. “Immediately.”
“Supreme Lord,” said the Chief of Staff for the Fleet, keeping his tone low and patient. “The humans have won that battle. There is no way we can access that officer.”
“You told me that we would destroy that human force, Supreme Admiral,” growled the young male, pointing a pair of index fingers at the officer. “Why didn’t that happen?”
“I told you that we had a good chance of success, Supreme Lord,” said Kelgarasse after gulping down his rising panic. “There are no guarantees in war. The enemy has their own plans, which run counter to ours.”
The Emperor looked like he was about to fall over with rage. The admiral was sure that if the young fool was able to, he would have ordered the execution of all the humans who had thwarted his plans. That would only have been possible if the Ca’cadasan fleet had been able to invade and take the human Empire. Unfortunately for him, the humans were the invaders here.
The other high rankers in the chamber looked on, some with barely hidden smirks on their faces. His fall would only aid in their rise, and the Supreme Admiral looked hopelessly for people to come to his defense. And seeing none.
“I want the order going out for the arrest and immediate execution of that admiral,” said the Emperor, looking at every face in the room. “Yes, I know we can’t get our hands on him now, but one day he may again fall into our hands, when we have beaten the humans. Then, I want my order to be carried out.”
There were motions of acknowledgment around the table, officers agreeing to save their lives, with no belief that the order would ever be carried out.
“Now,” he said, looking over at the Chief of the Secret Police. “I want you to track down any family members the admiral may have had. They are to be executed, in the most painful means possible.”
“He had no immediate family, Supreme Lord.”
“Then go after his cousins.. Nephews. Any relation to the smallest degree.”
The Chief gave a head motion of acceptance, if not agreement. The rest of the room appeared to be decidedly uncomfortable. It was tradition that the line of a failure was to be wiped out, in order to prevent that genotype from propagating. Successes were encouraged to have many offspring, while failures were not to pass on their predilection to fail to future generations. It was not tradition to wipe out the rest of the extended family not in the direct line of the failing officer. With the current mood of the Emperor, no one felt like disagreeing with him.
“When can we set up the next ambush?” asked the Emperor, his thoughts already moving on to the next chance to hurt the humans.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to try this again, Supreme Lord,” said the admiral. “There is no guarantee that the humans are going to fall for it again.”
“If we set it up in another Maurid system, I’m sure they will respond,” said General Fresstas, the Chief of Staff of the Imperial Army. “They seem to feel obligated to save their allies.”
“What about the Maurid home world?” asked the Emperor, a thoughtful expression on his face. “The damned filthy beasts seem to revere that planet. If we threatened it, all of those in human hands are sure to squawk to their new masters, demanding that they intervene. And from what we know of those weak creatures, they will comply.”
The other males look at their leader with doubtful expressions. None of them would call the humans weak. That they thought along different paths than Ca’cadasans was a given. That their form of government was anathema to that of the Ca’cadasan Empire was also a given.
“See to it, Admiral. And I want you,” he continued, looking over at the Chief, “to start a program of extermination on any world where the Maurids have a considerable population. I want those vermin purged from my Empire.”
“You want us to exterminate the species?” asked the Chief, a shocked expression on his face.
“Keep a couple of thousand of them around if you must,” growled the Emperor. “But they are to be kept in the tightest of confinement. Much like we did with the humans we kept after destroying their home world.”
The chief gave a head motion of acceptance, seemingly in agreement, though his expression still showed doubt.
“You all have your orders,” yelled the Emperor, stalking from the room. “Now get to it,” he screamed over his shoulder as he stomped down the hall away from the chamber.
“What the hell are we going to do?” asked one of the lower ranking admirals.
“What we are told to do, if we want to keep our heads on our shoulders,” said the Supreme Admiral Kelgarasse. “I wonder what the hell he is going to do next.”
“Probably plan his victory parade on the human home world, along with his speech.”
The males all laughed at that, the deep from the gut roar of Ca’cadasans in good humor. They weren’t feeling all that jovial at the moment, but anything to release the tension was welcome.
* * *
JULY 5TH, 1004. KALLFER.
General Cornelius Walborski stood at the edge of the landing field, watching the large assault shuttle set down on the tarmac. As soon as it touched down the rear hatch swung open and a double line of Marines in heavy battle armor shuffled out pealing off and forming a perimeter further out. Fifty in all, a complete platoon, they secured the area, while more shuttles came in to disgorge their loads.
“General,” said a Marine with captain’s bars on his helmet, rendering a salute. “We are here to secure this area and take charge of the Caca prisoners.”
“They’re not prisoners yet, Captain. We’ve accepted the surrender of a few, but most are refusing to lay down their weapons.”
“We’ll see about that, sir. Do we have your permission to root them out of their redoubts?”
“You do indeed. But my men, and our Maurid allies, have already bled enough.”
“Understood. Then when my colonel gets down here to take charge, we’ll move on the Cacas.”
Cornelius nodded, then looked back at the men h
e had led into combat. He had started with a full company, a hundred and eighty-four men, plus himself. There were thirty-two still on their feet, with another fourteen wounded who were already on their way to the wormhole portal. One hundred and thirty-eight of them would never breath again. Many of their bodies would never be recovered, blasted into nothing by weapons too powerful for mere physical forms to stand up to.
“You have a com request coming in from the flagship, General,” said the captain, holding out a small globe to the Ranger.
“I’ll talk with the admiral,” he said, taking the globe and activating it. The holo appeared over the top of the device, and Cornelius opened his mouth to speak, stopping as he caught the angry glare of his friend and monarch.
* * *
JULY 10TH, 1004.
“Thank you for coming, Emperor Sean,” said the Maurid known to the humans as Striped Wolf, looking at the image of the human in the holo. “If not for you and your brave warriors, this world would have been stripped of life, a billion of my people dead.”
“I am happy we could be of service,” said Sean, bowing his head slightly to the creature who was not a subject of his, but an honored ally. “What was the butchers bill for your folk?”
“We’re estimating about forty million, between the executions and the fighting. Remember this, Emperor Sean. While we mourn all, those who died in the fighting will be remembered as having died well. Those executed will not be. That is why I must ask you a favor, if it is in your power to grant it.”
“Name it, and if it’s possible, it will be done.”
“We need weapons on the other worlds that we occupy. If we have the means to fight, we will not allow the masters, I mean former masters, to round us up for execution. We can fight and kill unarmored Cacas with our natural weapons. Those in armor are another thing altogether.”
“I’ll see what we can do,” said Sean, nodding. “You realize that it won’t be easy to supply all of the worlds. We will have to smuggle ships close to those systems and get a wormhole down to the surface.”
“I don’t expect miracles, sir. But every weapon you can get to us will be appreciated. And time is of the essence, of course.”
“We’ll do what we can. Now, I have to ask you to do something for us.”
“I can guess what you are going to ask,” said Striped Wolf, growling low in his throat.
He looked over at the huge stockade that the humans had constructed to hold many of the Cacas awaiting transport off the planet to a place where the entire population didn’t want to rip their entrails out. Tens of thousands of those Maurids stood outside the stockade, at the hundred meter line that marked the deadline. A hundred Imperial Marines, including a dozen of the enormous Phlistarans, there for intimidation purposes, stood in front of the fence, weapons held easily in their gauntleted hands. A couple of hundred Maurids had learned what it meant to cross that line. Stunners didn’t kill, but they left the lean quadruped aliens with terrific headaches for quite some time, and the indignity of being dragged away to the short term lockup nearby was enough to dissuade most of them from trying to approach the stockade.
“My people want their vengeance, Emperor Sean. I can talk until my lower jaw falls off from overuse, and they will never relinquish their fierce need for violent closure.”
“You know the laws of my people,” said Sean, shaking his head. “Those Cacas are prisoners of war, and will be treated as such until we have sorted out their roles in the occupation. The leaders will be held in the station we are constructing above your world, and will be brought back down to the planet for trial. Those found guilty of atrocities will be publicly executed in front of witnesses from your people.”
“Using your methods,” spit the Maurid, his eyes narrowing. “We have our own way of treating with criminals.”
“And when you capture criminals that are not prisoners of war you are welcome to continue punishing them according to your traditions. But my forces will act according to our laws, and torture is not something I will condone. Understand?”
“And if we decide that you are not the people we want to ally with?” said the Maurid, the eyes above his narrow snout narrowing.
“That is your choice,” said the Emperor, his own eyes narrowing. “There will be no repercussions, but there will also be little in the way of aid. Not until we have finished the war and have the extra resources to give you.”
“That sounds a little like blackmail, Emperor Sean.” The Maurid looked out over the city, a ruin that would need a lot of work to rebuild. Until then, his people would be sheltering in whatever was available. And until they got their ranches and food production facilities back on line, hunger would live in the bellies of the people. They needed what the humans had to give. And basically the humans didn’t really need what the Maurids were able to provide now that they had completed their break with the Ca’cadasan Empire.
“Take it how you want, Striped Wolf. My Empire will act according to my will, and the will of Parliament. That does not mean that we will withhold food, and we will get your food production facilities up and running as soon as possible. But other facilities will have to wait, and that includes your housing.”
The Maurid, who had dealt with Cacas all of his life, including their Emperor old and new, realized that he was up against a will just as relentless as theirs. Only it was a will both just and compassionate.
“It will be as you say, Emperor Sean.”
The Maurid took another look toward the stockade, then to the field, where a line of Cacas was being marched out to waiting shuttles. This time his attention was on the Imperial Marines, in their heavy battle armor, more than a match one on one with a disarmed Caca.
“I would like to discuss one other thing, Emperor Sean. I would like to see my people integrated into your military structure. We can provide many land warriors. Most likely scouts.”
“We can do that. And we will also need a list of your people willing to serve on the fortress and dock we are building in orbit. This is your world, and I think it best if you have a hand in defending it.”
“Thank you.”
As he watched, a dozen Maurids ran at full speed toward the stockade. They all took three or four strides past the deadline, then fell over on their sides. Striped Wolf shook his head in the human manner. His people were as hard headed as they came.
“And I would like to organize our own police force,” he said, looking at the Emperor, who was also watching the scene through the holo. “I think a line of our own would be an asset in preventing more of that from happening.”
“I’ll get with our Fleet personnel and see about setting you up with equipment made for your people. It will be up to you to make sure that they don’t abuse that privilege. Now, I have to go. I’m not a dictator, like the leader of your former masters. It might seem like I have ultimate power, but fortunately, or unfortunately at times, that is not true. Be well, my friend. And enjoy your freedom.”
Such as it is, thought the Maurid as the holo faded. He hadn’t gotten everything he wanted, and he could already hear the dissenting opinions of some of the planetary leaders. Still, the humans had given them much, and he trusted them to keep their word, unlike the big bastards who had been the masters. Unfortunately, there were still almost ten billion of his people living under the thumb of the Ca’cadasan Empire. They had to be saved from their masters, then freed to help the Maurid people achieve their own destiny.
The humans would help, but the onus of the effort would fall to his own. It was time to organize a guerilla organization that could go through the wormholes the humans would deploy to Maurid worlds. They would be disadvantaged against an opponent that controlled space, and the humans would not be able to help on worlds that sat on the other side of the Caca home world. Still, they would be able to strike back at the masters, and as he had told the human Emperor, death as a warrior, in pursuit of achieving the goals of the race, was something to be sought.
Epi
logue
JULY 25TH, 1004. JEWEL.
“And we can produce generating platforms like these within the month,” said Admiral Chuntoa Chan, looking at the Emperor with a slight smile. “We can do to the Cacas what they wanted to do to us.” The admiral sat back, crossing her hands over her chest with a smug look on her face, sure that she had delivered good news to her monarch. She recoiled as she saw the expression on his face.
“Are you fucking mad, Admiral?” yelled Sean, leaning forward and pointing a finger at her. “You want to reproduce that abomination, and burden us with the same sins our enemies have committed.”
“It’s a weapon, your Majesty,” said Sondra McCullom, coming to the defense of an officer she was known to dislike. “Don’t we have an obligation to procure any weapons that might help us to win this war and save the lives of our citizens.”
“And would you suggest that we do more research into time travel? We might be able to save every life that has been lost. Hell, we could even go back and blast the Cacas into the stone age before they ever discovered Earth. And you, and me, and every other being that has existed since the beginning of our Empire would cease to exist. That would be a good thing, right?”
“No, sir. It wouldn’t. But this is…”
“This is criminal. And we don’t need it. The only use of this thing is to kill systems. We have to take the system first before we can deploy it. So why in the hell would we ever want to use it?”
“Because our enemy has it?” asked McCullom, confusion and the shame of being dressed down by her monarch in her expression.
“Not a good enough reason. And not what I want for the Fleet.”
“What do you want, your Majesty?” asked Chan, a slight note of frustration in her tone.
“I want us to be able to spot those projector units as soon as they move. Then I want to be able to kill them at a distance.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion. Page 33