by Aer-ki Jyr
“Psionic…plus a shitload of training,” Paul said between breaths, then he blocked a return punch with his left hand palm forward before stepping in and getting a good Archon punch with his right elbow into the drone’s chest.
“Is there any sign of Caretaker resistance?” No’vosha asked, though he also had links to the battlemap system, accessible by his hidden equipment woven into his robes and body tissue.
“Not a bit. We’ve got a good read…on the boundaries of their programming.”
“Have you not copied it from destroyed units?”
“Parts. How the…Temple itself reacts we can’t access. That programming…isn’t in the remote units.”
“I see. And accessing the facility that does have it would provoke an undesirable response.”
“We don’t know where it is…If there’s a master mainframe…somewhere, it’s damn well hidden. What did you want to ask?”
“Why are you letting me this close to you?”
“Before your powers…were unknown. Now that we have…Essence, I can approximate your threat. Don’t’ worry…I don’t actually trust you.”
“Good. I started to think you were becoming stupid.”
Paul laughed, then jumped into the air, flew for half a second as he brought his feet up and double kicked the drone back a good two meters before landing back on the mat gently. “I could take you easily.”
“I am beginning to understand why. But I do not think you can take the best the Vargemma have.”
“I’m not going to…agree or disagree with that.”
“How can you assimilate them if you will not kill them? They will be a threat to you.”
“We have some experience with that.”
“The V’kit’no’sat could not use Essence. How will you deal with this threat?”
“You…have an offer to make?”
“We can remove them from the Temple, then kill them for you.”
Paul ducked under a punch and twisted around, getting behind the drone and blowing it so hard with a Jumat blast that it moved nearly 4 meters and stopped just short of hitting No’vosha. The KoQ didn’t move, and the drone retreated as soon as the pressure relented, but from the look on Paul’s face the guest knew it had been on purpose…and very artistically done.
“I assume that is a no?”
“That’s a never. Why…do you guys have to be so bad?” he asked, reengaging the drone as it returned to him, never tiring or slowing. Nowadays the only opponents the Saiyans could truly train against were machines.
“It is simply pragmatism.”
“You’re lucky we don’t practice…it. Or we would have destroyed the Knights…of Quenar by now.”
“I know. That is why we can trust you. Your positions never waiver.”
“Then why ask?”
“I do not wish to see you needlessly lose personnel to stronger opponents. You have not had the luxury of Temple training. They have. You are not inferior, just deprived of the Founder knowledge. They can use this against you.”
“I like a challenge.”
“So I’ve learned. But can you afford it with the Hadarak gaining territory with every year that passes? The V’kit’no’sat cannot hold them even with your Ysalamir technology.”
“We are not going to become…the bad guys to stop the bad guys. If we do, we defeat ourselves.”
“Illogical. You must survive. If you do not, you have failed by default. Morals can be your luxury, but will you truly choose defeat when you can set them aside temporarily?”
“Pretty much, though…you should never count us out.”
“I do not believe you. You always have winning as your first priority.”
“It is.”
“Then why risk it to keep your enemies alive even when they pose such a great risk to you?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do is win.”
Paul stopped fighting for a moment, and when the drone swung for his head the blow didn’t land. It stopped three inches away as Paul pushed out spherically with his Jumat in all directions. He continued the flow, holding the punch where it was, then increased it slightly, driving the mechanical arm back.
He didn’t get it far, then his blue hair turned gold, as did his Jumat energy, and he lifted off the ground, floating half a meter up, as he increased the pressure on both the drone and No’vosha. It looked like intricate flames emanated from all over his body, but they didn’t burn. They felt like a fierce wind slapping into you, and he pushed the stubborn drone back a meter…then two…then three. It held up longer than No’vosha did, who stubbornly held his ground too long and got caught off guard before he could take a knee.
He was flung back through the air for twenty meters before he got his footing again, leaning into the flow that would not stop. Paul didn’t relent, increasing his outflow…a humongous waste of energy…and drove the drone back another meter. No’vosha had to drop to a knee to keep from being knocked down again, only to start sliding backward a few inches at a time.
Paul continued to escalate his outflow until he sent an extra burst out that knocked the Knight of Quenar down again and sent him sliding across the floor…then Paul stopped, signaling the drone to shut down where it was, but he still remained floating and glowing as the Jumat energy wrapped around his body like a blanket. No longer flowing out, but reinforcing him with a shield-like aura.
“The darkside gives quick, easy power. But the true power lies in the lightside. That is why Star Force has surpassed the Knights of Quenar…and why you will never be as powerful as us. Get a clue and ditch the darkside. You’ll have to if you want to try and catch up to us…”
9
May 26, 128551
Stricorva Nebula (Unexplored Frontier)
Gamma Temple
The naval victory in Gamma was complete. No more reinforcements were coming through the portals, as Paul had called them off. They were needed in other Temples, and even now his peers were out assaulting them. How many and where exactly they were he didn’t know. Communication was limited to couriers, for they had no access to the inter-Temple network, and it seemed the Vargemma did not either…at least not to the full capacity that the Founders had left for those who were ‘worthy’ to discover and use.
That probably had something to do with the Essence requirements for the transmissions, but as it was Paul was blocked from even asking the Responders about it, for his skillset was ‘too low’ to be given the information. What intelligence they’d gained from the captured Vargemma naval assets all indicated that they relied on couriers for everything. The Temples were supposed to stand alone and not interconnect for basic needs, but Paul knew that wasn’t true given the background network that was supporting them.
There were layers upon layers to the Temple infrastructure, and it was clear the Vargemma hadn’t done as much poking around as they should have. They were playing by the rules and going about things the way the Founders had intended instead of following their curiosity where it led. Then again, when you lived with killing robots looking over your shoulder, curiosity might not have been your natural inclination.
If none of the Vargemma had worked out how to use the Temple’s communications network, and he wasn’t assuming some ultra secret group hadn’t, then they were effectively cut off from the rest of the Vargemma, for Paul had all the portals guarded. No Vargemma ships were getting out that way, not that they had that many left, and if they chose to jump through the walls into normal space they wouldn’t be coming back in and would have to take their chances in the spacelanes.
Virtually all of their military fleet was within Star Force custody. The few that weren’t had fled down to the surface to hide beneath city defense shields while the cargo ships were likewise taking cover. The skies above the Temple were relatively clear, except for Star Force ships. Paul had successfully obtained the High Ground, and other than the Caretaker ships, he was in full control of the naval equation, and h
ad been for a couple of weeks.
Now was the part where he started to take control of the surface, but with trillions of Vargemma that wasn’t going to occur quickly.
He started by destroying or blockading transit lines between the various races, then between the cities in each race. An old school siege was beginning to take place, though with the Caretakers providing resources it could never be completely effective. That said, the Vargemma were not used to being messed with here, so they hadn’t built their defenses up properly. The only threat that existed was the Caretakers…whom they would not fight…and the other Vargemma.
If the other Vargemma attacked them, they would do so quickly in order to kill them before the Caretakers intervened…which was suicide. So the only real threats were from sabotage and small scale operations that would go in and out under the Caretakers’ noses.
There were no natural disasters here. No asteroid impacts, falling moons, nova, or even major earthquakes. The most you’d get was a little rumble now and then as magma was being shifted through the underground rivers along the exterior of the crust just shy of the Temple’s armor plating.
The Vargemma had built accordingly, making everything weak and cheap and not well suited to disruption. So when he started interfering with their inter-city supply lines and kept their ships grounded, there was an immediately and significant disruption to their normal operations. And those operations were not foodstuff procurement, but weapons factories, shipyards, exclusive products that one region specialized in, etc. No one’s life was at stake, only the way of life of the Vargemma, and it was driving them crazy.
Everything about their society was based on their ownership of the Temples, and the siege pressure Paul was putting on them was not only interfering with their building new ships and weapons to resist his takeover, but to psychologically rub in the fact that they had lost control…and they could not handle it. He was monitoring their communications, seeing the chatter, the infighting, the proposals and arguments. Eventually one race that was not present in Alpha, known as the Bzo, contacted him asking what were the terms of surrender.
“Assimilation,” Paul responded deftly. “You will cease to be Vargemma and become part of Star Force.”
“What does that mean?” the Bzo asked, which looked like a mix of lizard and a cuddly stuffed animal with a side of Ewok mixed in. His words didn’t match his mouth movements, which meant the Vargemma were using a translation program rather than expecting Paul to understand their language. That was a sign of capitulation or respect, or just a way of sucking up.
“It means you have failed in your sovereign responsibility to do the right thing…hence your sovereignty is being revoked so you can’t hurt anyone else.”
“The Bzo have not hurt anyone. We did not send ships to attack your worlds. Those were other Vargemma.”
“When the Vargemma made their demands, they did not specify individual races. They spoke as if you are one civilization, and you certainly fought as one here.”
“You were invading our Temple, of course we defended it, but we did not attack your worlds and should not be held accountable for the actions of others.”
“How was the decision made?”
“To attack you?”
“To stop us from stopping the Hadarak purge.”
“We have known that there is no stopping them without the Founders returning to lead us. We are united in that fact. We differed on how to respond to your provoking the Hadarak. The Bzo did not wish an assault and refused to take part in one.”
“But you didn’t stop one.”
“It is not our responsibility to…”
“Yes…it…is…” Paul said, putting so much ice into his voice that the Bzo stopped mid word. “You sat here potentially reaping the benefits of their murdering my people and allowing the Hadarak to sweep across the galaxy unchallenged. They would kill everyone then retreat to the Core, leaving the Temples untouched so long as they couldn’t trace you back to them. The very Temples that were created to cradle the resistance to the Hadarak. Your sitting here and doing nothing makes you complicit, because you are all Vargemma. You cannot claim to be independent now.”
“We could not stop them. And we cannot fight them without drawing the guardians’ response. What would you have had us do differently?”
“Anything prior to our arrival. But you have a partial point. You are not directly responsible for the deaths of my people, only linked to them. For that I offer you the chance to leave the Temple and establish colonies out in the galaxy of your own. Will that be acceptable?” Paul asked, knowing it would not be.
The Bzo looked horrified. “You mean to exile us?”
“If you want your sovereignty, that’s the only way you are getting it. This Temple is now ours, forfeited by the Vargemma for what they’ve done. If you wish to claim you are not part of them, you may leave. They will not be.”
“We cannot leave the Temple.”
“Then you will be assimilated along with the rest.”
“What other options do we have?” the Bzo asked in utter denial of the situation.
“Part of you leave, the rest stay.”
“The Bzo act as one. We cannot be split. You must give us another path forward.”
“What I am giving you is an ultimatum. You have lost. Deal with it,” Paul said, cutting the comm. It was clear, even without his telepathy in play, that this Bzo was bonkers. Was it a side effect of being cradled inside the Temple for millions of years, or was this a Vargemma deficiency?
Regardless, further talking now was not going to be helpful, so he would let the Bzo have some time to think about their own options going forward and maybe…maybe they’d start to come to grips with the situation.
They were not the only ones a few fries short of a happy meal, and as the days went on it got worse and worse. Many Vargemma races would not contact Star Force at all, holding onto some hope that the Caretakers would intervene or that Star Force’s insanely large fleet had no troop ships in it…which it did. Not enough to quickly take control of the Temple, but they had plenty of time so long as no more attack ships were leaving to damage the empire. Paul could be as patient as he wanted, but because he wasn’t instantly sending landing parties down some of the Vargemma thought he couldn’t.
And it got crazier from there. Eventually a few subfactions, or even single city leaders, started to contact him asking for terms. They wanted to keep themselves as intact as possible going forward and were trying to negotiate a settlement, hoping to retain their independence while their other Vargemma got absorbed into Star Force.
He was getting tired of shooting them down, but at least a few were starting to understand they didn’t have any options that left them their independence short of leaving the Temple…and that option was only available for those who had not attacked Star Force worlds. But to the Vargemma, leaving the Temple was worse than death. They viewed the outside world as an insult, and the spoiled brats were so brain dead he was starting to understand why they couldn’t get along with each other even when the Caretakers provided them everything they needed to live here safely away from the Hadarak.
A month into the ‘negotiations’ Paul had 18 Paladin colonies set up far away from the Vargemma cities and was starting on his master plan to absorb these psychopaths when the fighting started. Not against his fleet, because they didn’t have anything to fight with above the surface, but huge plumes of aerial transports were moving out and flying right past the blockades he’d set up.
Paul caught a lot of them, but they didn’t seem to care. They didn’t shoot back, just ran around his few interdictor ships and moved towards the other Vargemma cities and started attacking each other…and they didn’t hold anything back. As far as Paul could determine they were sending all their troops out and leaving themselves even more vulnerable to Star Force’s invasion army if he chose to send it down.
And the cities that came under attack apparently suspected it was coming,
because they were prepared and met them with lethal force instantly.
This was no stun war, and once the first fighting started between a few of the races nearly all the rest followed suit. Paul couldn’t believe what he was seeing. They were actually trying to settle old scores rather than repel Star Force, and apparently they were overlooking the Caretaker issue, or maybe they expected to die when they were assimilated and just no longer cared.
Actually they were coming up with way more ideas than that, and Paul was listening to as many as he could from the captured chatter, but after the fighting started they stopped talking altogether about Star Force as their comm protocols shifted and they went into full war mode…which made no sense. Why weren’t they already in full war mode when he invaded?
These Vargemma were showing additional levels of stupid as time progressed, but this was really something.
He watched over the following days as the Caretakers moved in to stop the fighting by killing those that were engaged, but the Vargemma didn’t stop…nor did they attack the Caretakers. They just let themselves die while trying to kill one more of their rivals before their time ran up, and did so in a suicidal acceptance of their impending doom that didn’t really exist.
Paul had made it clear he wasn’t here to kill any of them, and so far not a single person had died during the all-stun combat. So why were they going nuts?
“They cannot handle subjugation,” No’vosha said after Paul called him to a private war room to try and make some sense out of the mess. “You are seeing the breakdown of a civilization that was predicated on being the dominant force in the galaxy. Only the Founders are their superior, promised to return one day to lead them in combat against the Hadarak. We are breaking that certainty, so what do they have left? That which they could not access before because the Caretakers prevented it.”
“You’re saying they’d rather die than lose their holy destiny?”
“Exactly.”
Paul sighed. “That is not my experience with races. They usually lose some of their stupidity when reality slams them in the face unless there is a heavy hive mind present. Are you seeing any here?”