by Solea Razvan
The Occupied Territories, Maramanakama.
Ahmaianos and Tubarin had left the kava shop about half an hour ago; the others had done the same, with the majority going their separate ways.
Kalynka had been with the two initially, but had left the group about two blocks back and had gone a separate route towards home, or rather had gone back to that puddle she had been staring earlier.
Why? She did not know why; all she knew was that there was something in that reflection, something she had seen, but had not yet understood what it was.
Ahmaianos and Tubarin were unaware of this, as they walked down the city streets, trying to ignore the putrid smell of sewage and ash, and just how difficult it was to breathe, now that the rain had stopped and the ash cloud from the volcano could rise again in the drying air.
“It’s funny when you think about it.” Tubarin said as he was about to warn Ahmaianos that he was about to step in some stray dog droppings, but before he had the chance to say it, Ahmaianos side stepped it, but much to Tubarin surprise he apparently did that without noticing it.
Though that was not much of a surprise, since they being rebels and one’s with plenty of battle experience, they had a more heighten sense of their surroundings, that to regular civvies it made them look like they had the mythical sixth sense. But still, he thought it was odd just the way he avoided it.
“What’s funny?” Ahmaianos asked.
“The fact that even the ‘corporation’ needs paperwork.”
“Well everyone needs a way to keep a record of their doings; I doubt there’s any normal person out there who can manage their affairs without paperwork.”
“Can you imagine Ahmaianos, how a normal day for a secretary in the ‘corporation’ could go?”
“Excuse me sir, did you want the sabotage operations records in triple duplicate and the convoy ambush operations spiraled and stamped, or was it the other way around?” Tubarin joked as he in a very hushed tone imitated a secretary talking on a comm crystal to their boss.
“That’s not funny!” Ahmaianos said although he found it hard not to laugh.
But like all other moments of cheerfulness and happiness, it only lasted for a moment before reality veered its ugly head once more.
“Do you think what we’re doing is evil, do you think we’re the baddies?” Ahmaianos asked, after the laughing died down. They had reached their destination which was a seemingly everyday motel from the outside, but it doubled as a towngirl house on the second and third floor.
“I know what I am, and I know that we’re not saints, but as for being the baddies? Well, even I don’t have an answer to that.” Tubarin said as reached into his pocket and produced a small farview from it, and after pressing a few icons, he handed it over to Ahmaianos.
He took it and saw that on its screen, there was an old news article, one he regretted reading sometime ago, and even now still made him sick to the stomach.
It was an article about the Glarahim Massacre.
Glarahim was a small village on the planet Darbarashina of the 7th Maran system. Detached units from the third, twentieth and 303rd armies, had finished their frontline tour of duty and where given a month’s time away from the hot zones of the Maran Insurgency.
Suddenly, on the 4th day of Baliupus, a group of 100 soldiers, who were on a maneuver exercise, took a detour to Glarahim.
The villagers there though nothing of it, since it was not uncommon for Imperial soldiers to come to their village for country grown fruits and vegetables, and the spring fruit harvest festival was being held that very same week, so they all assumed that the soldiers where there to buy from them, as they had been doing every year for a long time now.
And so upon seeing the columns of chariots, spider-wolf jeeps and trucks, stopping in their village and soldiers exiting they took it as just another Blagaday, in which you would finish working and prepare for your weekend that came the next day.
When suddenly, and without warning, the soldiers rounded up the villagers in the main market.
This was scary and out of nowhere, but it had not been completely unexpected, for there had been inspections for hidden weapons conducted in the village before, that had gone like this, most of them where done more gently and with a lot more tact and diplomacy, but others had been more rough, so they did not pay it much mind, until it was too late.
At about half past noon, when most of the village was assembled in the main square, the soldiers suddenly opened fire on the crowd, those who survived the initial volley tried to run away, but where pursued by the Imperials and where cut down from behind.
The villagers that were still in their houses, tried to barricade themselves inside, only for the soldiers to set fire to their homes.
As they got out of their burning houses, they ran straight into the Imperial’s swords and spears.
For two days, the village was a hellhole of death and destruction, by the time the 2nd Pegasus squad of the 799 flight corps had done a aerial reconnaissance and had landed in the village, they had found almost 800 dead, ditches filled with bodies and soldiers firing arrows and piercing the piles of corpses with spears and swords, in order to search for survivors.
The only reason there were any survivors at all, was because of Lieutenant Hugh Thompson of the 2nd Pegasus corps, he landed in the village and had felt that something was wrong.
Minutes later, he lifted up with his squad and upon surveying the area; had discovered the last remaining villagers on a desperate run for a makeshift bomb shelter.
As they reached the shelter, so did the soldiers that were on their tails and before they could open fire, Thompson landed his squad between the survivors and the infantry troops.
Thompson and the infantry commander then had a brief exchange, which was little more than two killing machines trying to intimidate each other.
Thompson had the upper hand and managed to make Captain Cameron Calley back down, despite his protests.
“What’s going on here Captain?”
“Just following orders.”
“Orders? Whose orders, these people are unarmed civilians!”
“I said I was just following, and this is none of your damn business flyboy!”
The captain said and from his snake like face extended a pair of fangs to try and intimidate the lieutenant.
But Thompson, from eye witness accounts just extended the six fanged mandibles of his jaw, lowered his crested forehead, until his eyes had a predatory angle to them and while pointing his fire spear at them replied with.
“I’m also following orders Captain, are you gonna try to get in the way of them?” and after that, he ordered one of his squad mates to prepare an emergency transport harness, while the others where on ‘security’ detail.
“As I was saying, are you gonna get in the way of my orders?” he asked once more, but no reply came from the infantry captain.
Cavalry had a lot more fire power than infantry, and even if they had chariots with them, they were no match for one Pegasus, let alone a whole squadron of them.
And so, the survivors where saved from the Imperial foot soldiers.
Thomas and his crew did a few more surveillance rounds around the village, where they spotted a few more stragglers, picked them up and evacuated them to the Army Base Calacnia.
He then reported the incident to his superiors, and the news quickly reached Lieutenant Colonel Aasnes Bakerman, the planet’s military commander, who immediately gave an order to ‘stop the killing’ and halted and or cancelled every ongoing military operation on the planet.
Great Cather knows what might have happened if he didn’t.
When word of the incident reached the public and of the attempts to cover it up, it left chaos in its path.
Some praised Lieutenant Thomas for saving lives, other Imperials criticized his actions, amongst them several high ranking nobles and members of the government denounced him as a ‘traitor’ for preventing the brave Imperial soldiers from ‘doing t
heir patriotic duty’ and accusing the civilians of striking first or in fact being ‘insurgents’.
But one thing was certain, the massacre changed everything, those who though themselves good questioned their allegiance, other who considered themselves evil started doubting that too.
Who was right? Who was wrong? Who could even know? And to the dead, would it even matter?
No, probably not, but what did matter was justice and for those involved to be punished, unfortunately thus far that was something that had yet to happen.
Out of the 100 soldiers who participated in the massacre, only the four most senior officers, including Captain Cameron where arrested and prosecuted, but the defense managed to get them released, on the grounds that there was confusion and from past incidents, it was documented and proven that often harmless looking civilians had concealed weapons on them, a lot of times there where suicide bombers, some of them where young children, that where encouraged by their own parents!
That, combined with the fact that the Captain was part of one of the High Noble Houses of the Empire and had a lot of friends in high places, made it possible for them to be acquitted of all charges six months ago.
This had caused outrage, not just within the Maran nation and the Empire, but throughout the whole Galaxy as well!
Some say it was even a catalyst for the Volunian-Imperial Conflict that was going on at the moment, but one thing was certain, and that it was Glarahim that made Ahmaianos plan the column ambush they had carried out two weeks ago, in which they had first met Nobody.
Yes sir, Glarahim had truly changed everything!
“They’ve been coming here for the past five weeks, every Blagaday to celebrate their acquittal.”
“Every Blagaday you say?” Ahmaianos asked as he felt anger boiling up inside him.
“They party all day, and after getting roaring drunk, they exit the place at about half an hour from now.” Tubarin said as he stopped in front of a civilian chariot, one that he hotwired and parked right in front of the towngirl house, he got into the driver’s seat and Ahmaianos did the same in the passengers eat.
“Like I said, I don’t know the answer to whether or not we’re evil, but I do know that we’re no saints.” Tubarin said as he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out two pieces of fabric, before handing one to Ahmaianos, he unfolded it and discovered it was a black balaclava mask with three holes in it, two for the eyes and one for the mouth.
“And I also know that the Imperials are no saints either.” Tubarin added as he pulled out pair of one handed crossbows and one big two handed one, from a bag in the backseat.
“And the ones inside that townhouse are the most damned of them all!” Ahmaianos added and looked at Tubarin and gave a nod of understandment, Tubarin replied with one as well and both men placed the mask over their faces and started waiting until the unholy ones would come out.
They waited for what seemed like an eternity, until finally the door opened and the damned walked out.
Ear system 378th, Balisha, Heavy Fleet Flagship.
23:09 Imperial Fleet Standard time, Caliupus 28th Imperial year 1894, Federal year 3937, and Republican year 949.
“Balisha!..........Kriffing Balisha!.............!!” Tarkan exclaimed over the comm system, and it was a good thing that the comms where recorded and preserved, not only for the mages, but also for future generations, so that they may witness history in the making. For Tarkan, the once master sergeant of his old division which he now commanded, the act of losing his calm and swearing for lack of a better term ‘like a sailor’ was something that happened once in a lifetime!
But his reaction was understandable, for the name Balisha was a near ‘curse in itself’ for the sentients of the Imperial navy.
For many years ago, when Admiral Yemen first obtained his aforementioned rank, he devised a strategy that would be the bane of any military force that would fight the Volunians.
He would gather all of his supplies, energy crystals, ammunition and fuel into a secret base which only he and a select few knew about. This gave them a great advantage in terms of operational flexibility.
From then on, to Yemen’s fleet not matter what happened to their territory, they would still have the means to carry out their war.
And as Metternich had learned from the history books he liked to read in his pastime and the research he did on the warp train, there had been times when a large part of their planets had been successfully occupied by ground forces, and even the mighty fortress world Galiana had been besieged, but because of this strategy, often whole campaigns had to be abandoned and the same with any sieges of Galiana.
Yemen would always apply the same cold, calculated and ruthless strategy:
Withdraw his fleet from the invading one, wait until his opponents would either: disperse their forces, leave their supply bases vulnerable, or reach their logistical limit and then strike with great fury!
Sometimes, he would divide his fleet and make it seem vulnerable and trick the enemy into following him into the unsettled territories, where they currently were, the enemy would run out of supplies and be weakened, while Yemen could use his hidden base to support his forces and counterattack with a fresh fleet.
This way, the strategy of withdrawal’s only flaw, that being the problem of supplies, was solved by Balisha.
That was what made Tarkan swear, Valyria eyes to well, bug out! Metternich’s eyes to blaze even redder, Georgaian to find no bright side in their situation and Butz, well, he seemed to be taking it in stride, as just another day at the job and nothing more.
“Yes, kriffing Balisha! And we have to do something fast, before we become krifed ourselves!” Metternich thought to himself, as he looked at the pulsar screen and at the 3d map displayed on it, he realized that his forces where deploying themselves at their own accord.
Georgaian had positioned his fleet at the entrance that they had just opened fire and melted shut mere moments ago, Tarkan’s Left wing fleet was now taking position all around the edges of walls of the meteor in order to, no doubt, find and block any other entrances like the ones they just uncovered.
Valyria’s Center Fleet that he was part of, was taking position along the narrow cave they had just entered.
As he saw this unfold before his eyes, he once more remembered Adrian’s words.
“This time I’m glad they are the best there is.”
“Get every single thing that can fly of the Carriers and spacebound! Send ships to that supply base down there, to get as much munitions as they can, and tell Tarkan and Georgaian to prepare fire ships, and for our group to do the same!” Metternich ordered, realizing that this ‘comedy’ needed some crazed fool to project the image of someone who was fearless and seemed at home in this kind of insane situation, he would have liked it to be done by someone other than himself, but that’s life, he supposed.
“Fire ships sir?!”
“Do you think it’s a wrong choice Valyria?”
“No sir, the situation definitely calls for fire ships, but the space we are in is rather small for that, and the enemy supplies do not have any kind of defenses inside this meteor, if we use to many fire ships we could unintentionally cause a chain reaction that can kill us all!”
“I’m aware of that Valyria” “Especially now that you’ve just told me” “But when the situation becomes even more desperate we need all the options we can get.” he replied and Valyria didn’t fail to realize that he used the words ‘when’ and not ‘if’ ,in describing how things could go.
But she said nothing; she only nodded, turned back to her station and fulfilled Metternich’s orders.
As for the aforementioned Commodore First class, he sat back in his seat, also for the purpose of overseeing the battlefield and commanding his forces, but also for the purpose of avoiding the soiling of his drawers.
He already had a stomach ache from his nerves and he dealt with them by taking his kava cup in his right arm and fil
ling it from a water bottle next to his seat, Butz would normally give him the evil eye for this breach of protocol, and he did, but it was considerably shorter than what he usually gave Metternich, since he was busy with the weapons console.
“Good to know that a massive enemy fleet besieging us takes priority over refreshment protocols.” Metternich thought to himself as he focused on the pulsar display and waited with trepidation for the battle to commence, while at the same time fighting of the prospect of soiling himself.
378th Central Command Carrier ship.
Captains Nagira, Furio, Ivan and Starstruck were all situated on the main launch deck, ready for their deployment orders. While waiting, they passed the time by going through the most important ritual a pilot must do before launch.
Namely passing between them a bottle of whisky.
“What are you all doing? Look at you! You’re all a disgrace to the uniform!” A young major, who looked and sounded like his parents, had bought him a commission, so they could say that their child is not some useless parasite, bellowed out at them.
His facial expression and voice sounded like the text book epitome of snobbism, so much so that for a moment the four Captains could have sworn the word was tattooed on his face, or rather facial tentacles, since he was a Shabenauchhi, a race that had a starfish head, combines with a serpentine body and a long thick tail instead of legs, along with eight tentacle like tendrils, each ending with a palm that featured and eye on it, and a mouth where the seven arms of the starfish head intersected on themselves.
“If you think we’re not suited for combat, feel free to take our place in the fight.” Nagira, who was a D’Arconus, whose species had a humanoid body, but where covered in scales and had a long elongated sharp toothed mouth, and a series of keratin feather like appendices coming from his head that curved backwards like slicked hair, said to the newcomer ,which made him visibly pale at that notion.
“That reminds me Nagira, you punched that general six months ago; how much time did you spend in the brig for that?” Ivan asked, he was a Piedas, his species had a spherical body/head with three legs, one massive eye on his face that took up most of the front of his body, his mouth was also very big spreading from the left to the right of his chest, he had two short arms with four fingers each, and from his head a tail-like appendage emerged, that was currently holding the liquor bottle, from which he was taking a sip, before was passing it to Furio.
“As I recall, he got about three weeks worth of brig time, but the doctor said that the general would have to wear a jaw cast for eight months and eat through a straw.” Furio said, as he took a sip from the bottle, he was an Erotas, one of the Empire’s more unique species, in the truest sense of the word.
Their bodies where humanoid in appearance, but their skin had a unique kind of changeable pigmentation, that made it look like it was separated into two parts by a half an inch thick black line.
That in itself, wouldn’t have been so peculiar, if not for the fact that the two half of the skin combined their color patterns, in such a way that they project the image of two passionate lovers, demonstrating to each other just how ‘passionate’ they could get and the image changed to other such ‘lovers’ and ‘positions’ at random intervals.
What made it somewhat fitting for their species, was the fact that they where one of the races in the Imperium with the highest kill rate in battle, the generals and admirals they produced where about the same as the rest of the Imperium, but on the level of an individual soldier, they fitted war like a glove.
The major looked like he was about to wet himself, or rather he would smell like it, since they eliminated waste trough their sweat pores.
He made up some excuse and departed, but not before making a threat that they would be ‘court-martialed’ for lack of discipline.
Something like that could weight on a soldiers mind, but the fact that the major shouted it from halfway across the hangar, made them ignore him completely.
“Tafing brat! Hell, tafing higher ranking officers in general!” Ataru the last member of the group said as he took a sip from the bottle. He was the most ‘bland’ looking of the group; he had a humanoid shape, pinkish-tanned skin, black hair and eyes, along with a handsome face. The others of the group where not sure if he really was humanoid, or was just in his second form, for they had not seen him change, though it was not uncommon for a great number of individuals across the Empire, to change to their second form and feel so comfortable in that state, that they never changed back into their first form.
It wasn’t such a big issue, at least not to the majority of the newer generation, and it was especially not an issue for the captains and other member of the Flight Corps. Ataru had proven to be dependable on the battlefield, loyal of it and fun in a tavern, all the necessary ingredients to overcome any prejudice found in any collective.
“Hear! Hear! It’s like they were never junior officers and never took a sip to calm their nerves before battle!” Nagira said to the others.
“Like you can even step foot on a battlefield sober, did you know that there are some senators and businessmen that are trying to ban alcohol back home?” Ataru said as he took another sip and passed it around.
“Let them come to the grinder, and then we’ll see how long they last until they pop a bottle!” Furio said as he received the bottle from Ataru, while the others nodded in agreement at that statement.