“My dearest, don’t wait up for me. A matter of most importance plagues my mind - bureaucrats.”— Grand General Varick, from personal messages to his wife on July 25th, 2429.
I open the doors to my quarters on Caedes. A spacious living room spans in front of me, with a couple sofas in the middle, a massive coffee table between them, and a large, dull gray rug covers the floors beneath the sofas and the table. Oceanspire lily, our national flower, dictates the smell in the air. The scent reminds me that of a salty sea breeze on a cool afternoon. It has petals of deep blue tipped in green, Hewshian colors. It grows on half the bushes which line up the right wall of my living room, where bookcases span from floor to ceiling, leaving just a portion of the wall clear of anything for the holoscreen.
I turn left and head towards the far wall, stopping briefly to admire the 3D map of our empire. It spans three star systems, with four hospitable planets in total. I pull a bottle of cognac from the cabinet on which the map originates and pour myself two fingers’ worth. It disappears in an instant.
Hewshia Nexus, our capital world, is one of the smallest on the display. Only Guiltkin is slightly smaller, both in size and population. I allow myself a smile as I recall Hewshia’s cool evening breezes and the bird’s songs. People yelling and pushing in the markets, trying to get to one place or another. Kids being kids, away from all worries of life, enjoying the perfect weather conditions any human could ever want. I look at the hologram of the planet as it slowly turns in tempo with the actual planet. Water covers around sixty percent of the surface, and no desert in sight. Snow is present only on the northern continent and southern isles. In sharp contrast to Marcoria, red rocks and sands cover a good third of its surface. No snow at all.
I put the glass down hard and make sure my armor is clean and presentable, symbolically dusting the shoulders and upper arms to make sure there’s nothing on it. With a sigh, I turn from the cabinet and walk past a door leading to my bedroom, and walk to the second door, which leads to the conference room. The room is only about a tenth of the living room, with a holoprojector in the middle, and nothing else. Apart from a shimmering light from the holo, there are no other sources. I stand there for a moment, gathering my thoughts. The Conclave, our governmental body, will be unhappy by my delay, but words are about all they’ll be able to throw my way today. Regardless, I want to make sure our conversation remains private, as yelling and bickering are what I expect from them. I close my eyes and take three deep breaths before accepting the communication.
“Varick,” Archon Brian Enon appears before me. His fat cheeks remind me of a bulldog, and I wince as I imagine spit landing on me. Thank gods for the holoprojectors. He is not a tall man, about a head lower than I am, but his mass makes up for height. “Do you mind explaining why you ceased hostilities?”
“He ceased,” Archon Azure Yorhal’s silky voice commands our attention, “And you, my dear, start.” A light smile on his lips as he lingers on Brian. “I’m sure Grand General got his reasons. Let us not be hasty at dismissing them.” Only his colorful wardrobe of turquoise, green, and gold rivals his velvet voice. Blue hair up to his shoulders, sharp facial features, high cheekbones, and eyes almost the color of a Sapphire. Are they natural? Enhanced? I know not for sure, but they are mesmerizing. Azure is about a decade younger than I am, but his sharp tongue bridges that gap. He eyes me, offering a full smile.
“But it is curious.” Azure continues, his finger drumming on the armrest of his throne. “Perhaps a dilemma plagues your heart, Grand General?”
“That’s an understatement,” I respond without smiling. A couple of other Conclave members join in a quick succession.
“Ah!” Catching my confused glance, Azure leans in closer and almost whispers, “Don’t be alarmed, dear friend. This is a rather short notice gathering, and three of the beloved Archons could not make it.”
I nod as I scan the empty thrones. One of three men is missing, and two of the three women. The seventh member, our Elder, sits in the middle. At seventy-eight, he looks almost like death itself. Long white hair falls down his shoulders, his stature similar to mine, but he is a good thirty-forty pounds lighter than I.
“I can only imagine one man who would tell you so quickly about the sharp change in my strategy,” I began, clasping my hands behind my back. “But more on that later. Fear of a trap led me to change my approach in this battle. Marcorian Conglomerate’s fleets are gone. Fraxes broke their promise and failed to join, as did the pirates. More importantly, Marcorians are not responding to our hails, and they fled to the safety of the planet, as if daring us to attack them so close to their planetary defenses.”
Brian’s eyes burn a hole in me, but he bites his tongue for now, for which I’m thankful.
“Did Tarfahtan reach out to you?” I inquire about the Marcorian leader and High Priest. The weight of a thousand suns lifts from my shoulders as I feel my heart slowing down its rhythm. These burdens are no longer my own to carry.
As expected, Tel-Chaz, our Elder, sits quietly, letting others speak. For now. No smile on his lips. He directs his eyes my way, but looks past me, as if trying to pierce the veil of reality itself.
“Well,” Azure shifts in his seat for comfort, crossing his arms, “this certainly exceeds expectations.” His eyes wander over to the women’s section, idling on Sinclair, as though auditing her. She wears all black, from her dress, to shoes, to jewelry, which is plenty around her neck and wrists.
“Déjà vu,” Azure gifts a playful wink to Sinclair as she meets his eyes. “It seems almost like yesterday we had this conversation, but many moons already passed. There were whispers of caution within the walls of this very citadel. Gods… I wish they had a loudspeaker. But let bygones be bygones, am I right, Brian?” Azure turns to his right, gently brushing his hand against Brian’s. “It’s not like the council of Blood always prevails, and reason discarded. But I digress.” His eyes now linger on me, glimmering, “If we may, more details about the situation, Grand General.”
“Two cruisers, three destroyers, and two DPPs are all which is challenging us.” I release the hilt and cross my arms across my chest. A smirk passes over my face as Azure’s words finally catch up to me. Half a year ago, he and I allied in dissuading the Conclave from attacking Marcoria. Today, he is making sure everyone remembers his stance.
Considering the looks I am receiving from the other members, I can only assume they are testing me. They want to know where I stand. If I too will wash my hands clean. But do that, and they’ll perceive me as a threat, and will spin my decision not to attack as insubordination or treason all together. Words are my enemy now. More formidable than even Marcorians.
Brian’s gaze eats me up, watching me with distaste. His pale grey eyes follow my every motion with caution, as if expecting I’ll strike at him. I clear my throat, but it’s too dry, and a cough comes out. “Currently, we do not know the whereabouts of the Marcorians. The plan was for Fraxon, pirates, and us to attack in tandem and take them by surprise. That is the only way for us to win our freedom. I fear one of two things transpired. Technical difficulties on their part…”
“Or Marcorians are already striking at Fraxon,” Brian cuts in
“These speculations are all so terribly terrific,” Azure draws attention back to himself. His voice sounds as if we are discussing a party, not war. “Any facts? Anything concrete at all?”
Silence eats at me. I hate silence, hate this inaction. There are no facts. Not yet. And I fear facts may emerge too late, but I can’t tell that to them. I’d rather die a thousand times on the battlefield than talk to these oligarchs. But I am not the only one uncomfortable. They are all calculating, deliberating, and trying to come up with plausible scenarios. Azure and Sinclair likely are thinking of their planets, which they governed on behalf of the Hewshian Empire. Brian likely is still thinking of ways to get rid of me, and install Horus.
“The fact is,” Sinclair Shena steps in, and I turn to face her. “If the public finds out that a whole Marcorian fleet is missing, there will be panic. Riots maybe.” She takes a long, hard look at me, her thin lips pressed tightly together. “This information cannot get out past the citadel walls.”
“What a marvelous idea, my dear,” Azure leans forward as if to get a better look at her. “Say, if the Marcorian fleet shows up here, what do we tell our brave people then?” He falls back on the backrest of his throne, finger resumes its drumming. “We have…” He pauses, letting his words sink in, “serious things to consider.”
I watch as Sinclair shakes her head, annoyed. But refrains from speaking, knowing all too well there’s no arguing with him. Alcohol kicked in, and I am already regretting drinking it at all. It eased up my mind, but my eyes are becoming even heavier. I’m now on the twenty-ninth hour without sleep. All the thoughts mingling together into one uncohesive dream. I pinch my leg to stay alert.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Even if they attack us, Grand General,” Tel-Chaz’s coarse voice sent shivers down my spine, helping me to stay focused. “Your fleet is not yet ready to warp jump to defend, is that correct?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Then our options are few,” Brian continued calculatedly. “If we can’t defend, then there’s only one other option.”
“I will not attack!” I spat. “If I do, that puts my fleet in a position for a potential trap.”
“Calm yourself, Varick,” Brian spoke, belittling me by calling me by my name already twice, rather than rank. “You will do as you are told.”
“Brian,” Azure puts his hand on the armrest of Brian’s throne, his voice soft, “I applaud your bravado. Perhaps you’d like to lead the fleet from the frontline?”
Sinclair clears her throat, and I turn to face her. But she is throwing her gaze towards the men’s section of the Conclave. “Azure, perhaps you and your theatrics should get a room. Help us, or please, don’t interrupt.” She offers him a hardened gaze, which he meets with a smile.
“Already have reservations, darling. I’ll clean up this mess, and then I’m gone, I promise.” He returns to the warmth of his backrest. “We pursue Marcorians back to their planet, and their fleets may reemerge… A poor idea indeed.” Azure concludes thoughtfully.
“Agreed,” Sinclair turns to face me. “Perhaps it’s all just a rouse, and they are hiding behind the planet, or one of their three moons. If that’s the case, they’ll crush us from both sides and wipe us out in hours, maybe even minutes. Grand General is right to be cautious.”
Brian shakes his head, annoyed that even Sinclair takes my side.
Azure lets out a laugh. A chilling laugh that rings in the ears long after he is done. “I love this new side to you, my dear Sinclair. First she agrees.” He strokes his blue beard, “then she advises caution. My heart warms at the thought. Perhaps your father’s fate is not your own.”
I open my mouth to speak, to stop this before it escalates.
Too late, Sinclair is already speaking. “Is that a threat?” She challenged Azure.
“Hardly. An observation,” Azure said. “A caution, really. I don’t take my feeble heart could survive another demise of the Shena family.”
“Enough,” Tel-Chaz says, and hits his staff against the marble floor. “Grand General looks embarrassed to be here. Rightly so. We decide here,” He points his bony finger at each Archon, “but our decisions might spell death for our men there.” His finger turns my way.
“Thoughts on Fraxon, Grand General?” Sinclair takes the floor, lifting her hand to silence others who wanted to speak.
“As always, a pleasure to be included.” I smile at her. “Fraxon’s absence is most troubling. It is one thing if they have technical issues; it is another if they threw us to the wolves, hoping to use us as cannon fodder. But their fleet is smaller, as we know. Without us, they stand no chance against the might of our enemy.” I pause, knowing the next words will not be light. “The last possibility is that Fraxon and Marcoria are now in league against us.”
“Evidence?” Azure raises his brow.
“Both are missing. Perhaps joining fleets together,” Sinclair answers before I get a chance. “But that is not fact, merely a speculation.”
Azure does his best to suppress a coming laugh, “Speculation indeed. But we must act on what we have, not what we wish we had.” He tilts his head, as if studying something, “The courteous thing to do is contact Poltr directly and see what the Emperor of Fraxon says himself.”
“That will alarm them into thinking we are unto them.” Brian adds, and I nod in agreement.
“I said it was a courteous thing, not a smart thing.” Azure offers him a sly smile. “In either case, someone respected and tactful would need to contact him. Someone less than that, and we might fight against them regardless of their current intentions.” His gaze lingers on Brian. “Or,” He turns to Tel-Chaz, “we can remain silent and hope for the best.”
I can only imagine that was a polite jab at our Elder for staying silent on his stance all this time. Azure tries to hide his irritation, but I catch it. It’s fleeting, and he recovers from it fast.
“How many died already, while they argue?” A voice whispers in my ear.
Not now, I think, clenching my jaw. You are the last thing I need. Go away.
“Ten thousand? Twenty, perhaps? Ships?” It continues to ramble on.
I close my eyes. Teeth grinding against each other. Hands eating into the metal of the holo-projector. “If Fraxonnians attack us, we could always detonate the bombs we installed on their planets during their civil war. They won’t do much damage, but they won’t know that we have no more. The public backlash should give them plenty to worry about, and hopefully will buy us some time.”
I raise my head. Azure catches my glance, and his eyes sparkle with excitement. “Harsh, Grand General. Harsh,” he waddles his finger at me, “but understandable. I’d stay that course of action.”
A sharp bang against the marble diverts my attention. Azure’s mouth hangs open; he says nothing more. The Elder has hit his staff against the floor. His tired eyes still linger on me, but he doesn’t address me yet.
“Get me Tarfahtan.” Tel-Chaz broke the silence. And I hear hurried footsteps. “He and I have much to discuss.” His eyes stop on mine. “Do not engage unless fired upon. Tarfahtan is an enemy now regardless of what might have happened to our allies. A conversation with him may yet yield some results.” And they are gone. Leaving me in silence, and even the voice inside my head says nothing. I strike the holoprojector with my fist, denting it slightly. I think I’d have broken my fist if it wasn’t for the armor.
“Why listen to bureaucrats just to arrive at the same conclusion?” I whisper at the ceiling. “Takes a hundred times longer, but results the same.” I walk out of the conference room and out of my quarters altogether. Not slowing my pace until I reach the bridge.
“How’s Peacock?” Gerard whispers as he approaches.
My eyes burn into his. “Archon Azure Yorhal is in good health, if that is what you want to know. Show some respect to the members of the Conclave, Gerard. We don’t know who hears us.”
He nods, “as you command, Grand General. Any news?”
But I’m already walking past him. “Grand General Varick to the fleet,” I take to the communicator as precautions need to be taken. “Assume defensive posture around Caedes. Do not power down weapons,” I added, unconvinced about that last part. Having weapons powered on for no reason went against everything that is taught. The C.O.R.E., or Critical Operations Reactor Engine, could take on only so much strain. Having everything powered on… History would be different if some Admirals took that lesson to heart.
Waiting is a fool’s game. Yet here I am - a fool. Too many thoughts plague my mind and turn my insides out.
A flash catches my eye. In the distance, next to the planet, I watch as a fleet of orange and green color scheme ships emerge from behind the planet.
“Umaz!” I turn to face the man.
“They must have warped jumped.” He feverishly studies the radar. “The radar wouldn’t detect anything if they warp jumped so close to the planet.”
If that is true, Umaz is right. The planet would cover any tracks of warp activity if it happened next to it. The planet’s mass and pull would scramble any warp jump detection device. A dangerous maneuver, and I know only one admiral who is foolish enough to attempt it.
The Marcorian expeditionary fleet of seven cruisers and around twenty destroyers position themselves next to the DPP. They already activated their shields and weapons. They don’t outnumber us. But with the DPPs on their side…
“We have warp activity at our stern.” One of the officers calls out.
“They are hailing us,” Nesi- my communication officer - announces as well.
Turning, I sat back down. I exhale and start breathing a little easier. “Patch them through,” I command and fold my arms. Now they want to talk?
“Grand General Varick,” an older man with short, gray hair appears on my holo. His attire is orange-green as the ships, with a grand scorpion emblem on his torso. His rolled-up sleeves reveal the missing part of his left arm below the elbow. A red glowing cybernetic eye fills his left eye socket, and burn marks spread from it. His other hand is behind his back. He stands, a bastion, eyes consuming my soul. I shift, battling the urge to look away, avoid those eyes.
“Admiral Rhu’Kra, I presume,” I utter, and cleared my throat.
“Explain yourself.” He motions outside. “Where’s my third DPP?”
“Admiral Rhu’Kra, if it’s still unclear to you, let me be the first to extend you the courtesy of a formal declaration of war.” Getting up, I fold my arms across my chest and walk towards the holo. A PhantomShield activates as I press a button on the holo. “Tel-Chaz and Tarfahtan are now engaged in diplomacy. I suggest we wait on their decision.”
“That’s rich coming from you. I can’t believe I counted you among the honorable warriors.” Rhu’Kra spits at the floor, his brow tensing up. He raises his gaze, extending his arms to the side, “Undetuka, close my gates to the afterlife if these fools are not ash by day’s end!”
Marcorians and their gods… twelve they have. “To be fair, I offered for them to surrender.”
“And I will not extend that courtesy to you,” Rhu’Kra growls back. “You rendered that right null by showing up here in force,” he continues, his jaw tensing up with each word. “Surrender yourself to me alongside your cruisers, and I may yet let some of your men return home in one piece.” A vein on his temple pulses, “I knew that our kind attitude towards you would one day bite us in the ass. We should have treated you like the scum you are, slave! We all know how you act when there’s a force greater than yours - you surrender without a fight. So do that. Surrender.”
Pointless arguing with him. I could tell him that my ancestors are not I, or that he doesn’t have a greater force here, either. But that would only bring up more insults from him. Most of which would probably hit home. At the end of the day, he is right. Although nobody outside the Conclave will ever hear me say so. A staring contest ensues. I can see a thousand ways to end his life - I can only assume he sees the same. But it is out of our hands unless I want to be court-martialed. I should fire upon him. That would give me the advantage. My eyes never leave his and his mine. It is now a battle of wills rather than wits, and I’m not about to lose.
I felt like a kid; it almost makes me smile, but that wish is fleeting. Unless Tarfahtan agrees to our terms and surrenders, there is no way this could end peacefully. And even if he agreed, that left me with Rhu’Kra. Marcorians didn’t habitually falsely bring their gods into any fray. I contemplate if I should be worried about being shot in the back if we are to leave this conflict.
“Seems like diplomacy is over.” Rhu’Kra smiles and disconnects.
Talks failed. I can’t see another option.
“Then I’ll attack,” I whisper.