War Against the White Knights

by Tim C. Taylor

  “I agree,” said Aureanus. “Both strategies carry risk. We cannot quantify that risk without more intelligence.”

  “The only way to acquire intelligence is to send a reconnaissance party to Olympus-Ultra,” said Pedro, who attended senior commander conferences now that several colonies of his people had allied with the Legion. “From our position in the Klin-Tula system, ‘A’ Fleet’s fastest scouts are still thirteen years away from Olympus-Ultra. Not only will a scouting mission cause an unacceptable delay, but our reconnaissance will be spotted and our intention broadcast to the enemy. Let us not waste our time speculating on the makeup of the enemy besiegers. The defensive shield around the Imperial citadel on Athena has so far resisted the constant enemy attempts to cut through. I do not understand the nature of this shield, but whatever makes it resistant to harm also means it is impervious to all forms of sensors or communication other than the instantaneous comm links through entangled chbits, meaning the Emperor cannot see out of his shield any more than we can see in. Outside the shield may wait the largest warfleet the galaxy has ever seen, or it may be that the Emperor is bottled up by a single robot programmed to probe the shield to encourage him to keep it switched on. The true picture is unknowable.”

  “Well spoken, my friends,” said Kreippil, blinking furiously at Graz, the Littorane equivalent of a filthy stare. But we do have a critical piece of intelligence about the situation in Olympus-Ultra. Whatever we face, our side in this holy war will be backed by the gods. The signs and portents are there for all but the blindest to see. Has the Legion not overcome every challenge we have yet faced?”

  “I hardly think–” began Graz.

  “Your very presence before me is evidence that I speak the truth,” Kreippil insisted. “If any but the Legion had attempted to evict the New Empire from your world, even your famously hardy people would be nothing but radioactive dust. The Legion under the leadership of General McEwan and Admiral Indiya continues to outthink the enemy…”

  The Littorane admiral turned to Arun and nodded.

  This was Arun’s moment to make the rousing speech, to explain the long-laid plan so secret that he hadn’t even mentioned it to the Emperor. But his words wouldn’t come out.

  He felt a slap of irritation as Indiya’s freakish mind-talk connected with his brain. Don’t hesitate Arun, this is your cue. Speak now, like we agreed.

  Instead of speaking to the assembly of commanders, Arun’s mind turned inward. A diagram took shape in Arun’s head, as if a miniaturized tactical planning team were painting their suggestions onto the inside of his skull. Whatever the Jotuns had put in his head when he was a kid was working wonders at winning the war, but he worried that it was starting to take him over. Often he would wake from troubled sleep with a revised plan of campaign ready-formulated in his head, as if planted there by some outside agency. When he worked his ideas through the AIs in the planning room, he would invariably recognize the three-dimensional war maps they generated, because he had already dreamed those same maps.

  Sometimes, as now, the maps and battle plans that pushed into his mind were more abstract. He was seeing a tactical plan with the Human Legion as a central body preparing to make a frontal assault on the forces besieging the Emperor. But on the metaphorical left flank, instead of their advance being anchored by strong defenses, the Legion was threatened by security lapses. Whether through spies or surveillance devices that remained undetectable to the best Legion brains, the enemy was anticipating Legion plans far too often. Even supply convoys in deep space were being intercepted, something no one could explain.

  Arun, this is your chance, Indiya urged, but he couldn’t free his mind from this stupid diagram, which lurked in his skull like an ambush predator, daring him to speak before leaping at him with its poisonous doubts.

  And those misgivings extended beyond the obvious security lapses. In this abstract tactical plan, the Night Hummers were heavily involved in providing advice and guidance to many of his commanders in the field. This overt participation was atypical of the Hummers and he didn’t fully understand what his subconscious was trying to tell him, but he knew there was meaning here somewhere. Experience had proven such insights to be trustworthy, which was more than he could say about the Hummers.

  Nor were the Hummers his only concern; there was also Del-Marie Sandure, the man who would once have been here at the planning conference as a matter of course: Arun’s mouthpiece, tying the alliance together into a single purpose. But Del had been on that Amilxi ship. The simplest explanation was that Arun had seen a clone or an identical twin, but he couldn’t risk accepting that – it was too convenient, too desirable – but he wasn’t ready to accept the implication of more exotic explanations either. Winning this war was difficult enough without having to contemplate the laws of nature being broken in some new and unlooked for fashion. What if that version of Del he’d seen on the Bonaventure had come from the future? He’d confided these suspicions only to Indiya, who had worried him even more with her insistence that if time travel were practical, then FTL travel would be too. Each was the flip-side of the other.

  No one could defend against a hostile warfleet equipped with FTL drives. No wonder his battleplanner mind was trying to warn him that his flanks and rear were not secure.

  Arun! Indiya warned. Oh, I see. Your mind is locking again. Here, let me help.

  Arun was paralyzed. It wasn’t fear or uncertainty, and he was used to making difficult strategic decisions; the battleplanner AI imprinted in his mind was glitching again. He had the sense of brass gears that should turn smoothly now locked and smoking.

  Indiya worked her freakish mind-magic: oiling, loosening, freeing, replacing choking fumes with sweet-scented lubricants… all in the confines of his mind. This was the reason that he and Indiya were both based on Vengeance of Saesh over the protests of all the other senior commanders that co-locating the two leaders was too risky. To function properly, Arun needed her.

  Arun stuttered but still couldn’t speak.

  Elsewhere in our little human empire the enemy’s forces are rolling us back, Indiya said in his mind. The supply routes to our fleet will be cut. We won’t get another chance at this. We attack or we run. Your choice. Make it!

  “The security lapses,” Arun gasped. “I have an update.” The other commanders looked at him with interest, but not the horror or concern that he feared. The incident in his head had only lasted a moment in the real world, the briefest of hesitations on his part.

  “Some of the resupply convoys that never made it to the front line were not ambushed, they were diverted while in transit.”

  Everyone stared at Arun.

  “On my orders.”

  The reactions of the various commanders would give a xenobiologist enough material to work on for a lifetime. Graz drew her head in until only her eye turrets were showing. Aureanus flicked his wing cases, as if about to leap into the air to escape this shock, while Commander Stonegaze gave a bass Jotun growl.

  “Piece by piece over many years we have assembled a huge warfleet in secret and hidden it in deep space. Diverted ships, troops, and materiel are led via staging posts to this ‘Z’ Fleet. Other than a few FTL communicators, the fleet operates under a strict comms blackout. Commanders, ‘Z’ Fleet is already in transit to Olympus-Ultra. If we set off now, ‘A’ Fleet will arrive there simultaneously, catching our opponents in a pincer movement.”

  Arun hesitated just long enough to get a boost of encouragement from a glance at Xin. She looked as if she believed in him.

  “The best of us are in that hidden fleet. The White Knights despised us. We were all of us the unwanted, the untouchable lowest of the low. We of Earth were so reviled that our name came to be a symbol of the outcast. Whatever our biology we are all here the humans of this empire.”

  Arun hesitated. Del did this so much better because he spoke of a truth deeper than simple facts. The facts were that the Human Legion was an alliance of more than simply t
he downtrodden. It included races such as the Littoranes and Jotuns, races held in high regard by the White Knights, as much as any client race could be. But that was the point: they were still clients, subservient to a master race, and that was the bond that united all the Legion. That was the bond Arun relied on now as he pressed on.

  “To be Human was once a badge of shame, but our enemies miscalculated. Thrown together at the bottom of the barrel, we found each other and discovered strength in our diversity. Littoranes are skilled shipbuilders filled with religious fervor and a deep understanding of nature. Nimble Gliesans are natural pilots for our X-Boats. Our doughty Tallermans offer strength, resilience and patience – qualities evolved to enable them to endure their homeworld’s long winters. The secret people of Khallini are the greatest cyber warriors, as the Jotuns are Master tacticians in the physical plane. To be human is to be strong – strong enough to win our freedom. The word ‘human’ has grown from being a term of contempt to become a rallying cry for the dispossessed, inspiring terror in the hearts of those who oppose us.”

  Lieutenant-General Graz rubbed the rocky plates of her hide together, making a deep grinding rumble that indicated the Tallerman’s irritation. “Your talk of humans as a rallying cry is all very well, General McEwan, but I notice you make no specific mention of the humans of Earth. What is your role? There are nine Legion commanders in this conference and three are descendants of Homo sapiens. Is this a sign that if we defeat the White Knights, you humans will set yourselves up as new tyrants?”

  “We of Earth are the glue that binds the alliance together,” Arun replied.

  “How very convenient for the Night Hummers,” countered the Tallerman commander. She swiveled her dome-like head through 360 degrees, assessing the reaction of the other commanders. A favorite saying of the Tallermans was that before you step forward, first look behind.

  “The Night Hummers set you on this path that led to the Human Legion,” said Graz. “Have we allowed our noble talk of symbols and freedom to deafen us to the truth: that we are obediently following Hummer orders? General McEwan, did the Night Hummers suggest this secret fleet?”

  Admiral Kreippil’s tail shivered. Arun had never seen the Littorane so angry.

  “Lieutenant-General Graz,” said Kreippil, “rein back your caution before it strays into open dissent. Not only was the secret fleet not a Night Hummer idea, but Hummers were removed from ships before they were diverted from their original course. Communication with ‘Z’ Fleet is strictly limited to encrypted chbits. We have taken every precaution to ensure the Hummers do not know of the fleet.”

  “Oh,” said Graz, “so you were one of the favored few who knew of this scheme.”

  “For a hundred generations we have known of a hidden warfleet that would deliver us from our captivity,” thundered Kreippil, his gills flapping in time with his tail swishes. “There are still some on my homeworld who believe the Hummers speak for the gods, but those of us who serve with the Legion learned beyond doubt that, in spite of their base form, it is General McEwan and the venerated Admiral Indiya who channel the will of the gods. You and I might die in our next battle, General Graz, but our cause cannot fail. Do you doubt our divine sanction?”

  “Your foresight makes you a powerful ally,” said Graz, who could prove a formidable diplomat, belying her appearance as an inanimate slab of rock. “But have you forgotten that the Hummers evolved to peer into the future? You say you knew of this ‘Z’ Fleet for a hundred generations. Who is to say the Hummers did not foresee this a hundred generations before that?”

  “That is a risk, I do not deny,” said Arun. “But we have taken every precaution to achieve secrecy. Even the White Knight Emperor has no idea of ‘Z’ Fleet’s existence.”

  “You have chosen to strip essential forces from across our newly won territories,” said Pedro who held his antennae solemnly rigid. “Reinforced by their Hardit allies, the New Empire is threatening several systems. The Muranyi Accord advance at will from the old frontier and will shortly reach Legion systems. We do not have the means to defend ourselves. We will lose planets to invaders because of your secret fleet.”

  “Possibly, yes,” Arun admitted.

  “You have committed us to this pincer movement to capture the Emperor.”

  “I have. It is a commander-in-chief’s decision to make.”

  “And you made it without consulting us. I find that personally disappointing and hypocritical, given your past pronouncements on secrecy.”

  Arun had no defense against the accusations. Pedro’s comments cut him like the tip of a combat blade, poisoned by truth.

  “Nonetheless,” said Pedro, “your actions are optimal considering the context. I would do the same in your position. You have the full support of the Legion-aligned Troglodyte colonies that I represent.”

  “As I pledge the forces of Littoran,” said Kreippil. “We must never forget that war is risky, even holy war, yet this is our best chance and I place my confidence in General McEwan. Commanders, I have previously offered you the war chant of ‘Freedom can be won’. As we proceed to the final battle for control of the empire, I withdraw that chant. I give you a new battle cry in its place: Freedom shall be won!”

  Arun had heard this room echo with chanting before now as great victories were celebrated. The reaction to Kreippil’s new war cry was far more muted.

  “Let’s do it,” said the Gliesan commander with a nervous twitch of his wings.

  “This is our best hope,” said Indiya. Arun had hoped for more enthusiasm from her, since she had been involved from the start. Even Xin looked thoughtful.

  Arun hadn’t entirely won over his commanders, but he could read the room well enough to know no one would back out of the alliance now. This was it… the next destination would be the White Knight homeworld.

  He shot a glance at Xin who winked back.

  It wasn’t until that moment that Arun fully realized that his life was about to change. The war that had consumed most of his life would soon be over. He couldn’t wait to walk away from it all and try out a civilian life with Xin, and – he felt a burst of deep satisfaction such that he’d never experienced – his daughter.

  —— PART III ——

  LINES

  OF

  CONTRAVALLATION

  HUMAN LEGION

  — INFOPEDIA —

  HISTORY OF THE LEGION

  – Civil Administration and Politics Part II

  Most of the worlds liberated by the Human Legion had been under the control of the White Knights for longer than Homo sapiens had been in existence. There was much the Legion found itself responsible for: healthcare, taxation, law and order, economic and industrial production geared to the needs of the Human Legion war machine… Liberty was a powerful concept to those who fought in its name, but the implementation of liberty was a perplexing challenge that often seemed impossible to achieve.

  Further, those in the Legion who freed worlds all followed the legal story that they did so in the name of the White Knight Emperor, temporarily administering the Imperial fiefdoms until such time as they could be returned to their lawful owner. And yet, underneath this legal fiction bitter rivalries soon emerged between the constituent races of the Human Legion, and other forms of division.

  What if this legal fiction became a reality? What if these worlds were freed from direct White Knight rule, not merely for the few centuries in which the Civil War was expected to be fought, but permanently? Whose worlds were these to be? The Human Legion was a military machine and an ideal, but ideals alone can’t run planets. Would this ‘liberty’ prove to be nothing more than a honeyed word for military dictatorship?

  The Legion’s answer to the question of who should control these worlds was tied up with another new problem: what to do with the Legion’s wounded and elderly? In addition, the war did not always go the Legion’s way, and so there were mass evacuations and migrations in a region where starship manufacture, propulsion, and
cryogenics could all be produced cheaply. Where to settle these people?

  The Human Legion’s answer, in what was soon termed the Human Autonomous Region, was to allocate worlds to specific species. This assignment was undisputed for planets that had birthed a species – such as the Littorane homeworld, which was reserved for Littoranes – but many worlds had been terraformed and then colonized, and control of these planets was hotly disputed. The Littoranes argued that their contribution to the war effort in shipbuilding and military personnel was greater, and their reward should be to expand their influence to new worlds. Look at the Hardits, they would say. Left to their own devices on low gravity moons and underground, the Hardits kept themselves to themselves, and most importantly, kept the peace. Allocate a world to one aquatic species, one underground species, and one land dweller: that was the Littorane recipe for peaceful coexistence within the Human Autonomous Region.

  Most races fought hard against the superficial allure of the Littorane idea, seeing within an expansion of Littorane power at the expense of their own. Most species by far were land dwellers.

  The axis of power within the Human Legion had always been the alliance of Littoranes with the humans whose ancestors had evolved on Earth. The question of world allocation was the first major cause of friction between these two, with the humans instinctively siding with the other land dwellers, while desiring to compromise with the Littoranes.

  The result was that worlds were typically allocated two or three primary land-dwelling species, with many, but not all, also allocated aquatic species and underground dwellers.

  Those who had survived a career in the Legion were offered land, money, and transportation to settle as reservist-colonists on allocated worlds. Those whose homeworlds were within the Human Autonomous Region (HAR), were offered settlement on the homeworld if they chose, often against the wishes of the civilian authorities. Many who settled on their homeworld regretted doing so, discovering that millennia of genetic modification and indoctrination had created an unbridgeable gulf that separated them from the inhabitants of their ancestral worlds.