> All around me are familiar faces
> Worn out places, worn out faces
> Bright and early for their daily races
> Going nowhere, going nowhere
> Their tears are filling up their glasses
> No expression, no expression
> Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow
> No tomorrow, no tomorrow
Gary Jules - “Mad World”
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At first the Task Force was merely overdue. No one knew for sure if Uzaunx was even the enemy’s next target, or when an attack might come, and their mission profile had included complete radio silence. But when the images came streaming in from the planet with pleas for help, before going offline, there was no longer any doubt as to its fate.
They hoped a few survivors might have escaped, but as days passed with no word that hope soon died. When the reality of what had happened sank in...all hell broke loose.
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“We must send an Envoy to the enemy,” Σ 121 Sub Δ announced, catching the humans by surprise. “If we throw ourselves at their mercy, perhaps they will listen.”
“Minister...that’s a bad idea,” Marshal Antuma cautioned him. “Even if your Envoy isn’t simply killed out of hand, what could you offer them they can’t take by force? You’ll appear even more weak in their eyes than you do already.”
That brought the Ministers skidding to a halt, as Leandra nodded in agreement.
“But...we must do something!” Lassoarth said in desperation. Uzaunx was the second Saurotaur world attacked, and seeing her people suffering yet again had all but broken her.
Admiral Fujimoto rose to her feet. “Ministers, we humans have a saying: ‘Fish, or cut bait.’” The looked at her in confusion, as herbivores and artificial life the concept of fishing held no meaning for them. “It means you have to choose...either fight this war, or surrender. The time for half measures is long past, assuming it ever existed at all.”
“But our attack failed,” Qomzoixaa whispered. “What hope is there in fighting now?”
Leandra turned to her fellow Ministers. “Yes, we lost the battle, and as long as we’re being honest with ourselves, we lost it because we attacked before we were ready.” Lassoarth and Qomzoixaa suddenly had difficulty meeting her gaze, and who knew where the Ronin Minister was looking?
“But one battle is not a war,” she continued, “and this war is far from over. The Admiral’s question still stands...fight, or surrender? Knowing that either choice means death for your…our...citizens.”
“...can we still win?” Lassoarth asked in a small voice.
“Yes Minister,” the Marshal replied, “I believe we can. It won’t be easy, and it may come to pass that any ‘Victory’ we’re able to pull out of this war may well be a Pyrrhic one.” He paused for a moment, to let that sink in. “Knowing that, do you have the will to keep fighting?”
“And if we surrender?” Σ 121 Sub Δ asked. “What will become of us then?”
The military commanders shared a look, as Fujimoto brought up the images from Uzaunx. Lassoarth looked away, as tears filled her eyes.
“That, Minister...over and over again,” the Admiral replied. “That’s the best you can hope for, if you surrender.”
The silence that followed seemed to stretch out, until Qomzoixaa rose to his feet. “The only choice we have, is no choice at all,” he said at last. Leandra gazed at each of them before facing Marshal Antuma.
“I believe we’re all in agreement,” Leandra said at last, speaking for the group. “We fight.”
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News of the disaster at Uzaunx spread through the Triumvirate like wildfire. Many of its citizens gave up, surrendering to what they believed was the inevitable. Others joined demonstrations against the government, the first ever in their lengthy memory, demanding answers…and hope. Leandra found herself promoted to spokesperson, standing before the growing crowds and pleading for calm. She knew what they needed to hear at that moment, and while she was no Churchill she had ready access to all his speeches, and the speeches of others as well. Other men and women who had been in the same position in Earth’s long bloody history, and she freely cribbed from every one of them. She had never thought of herself as a great orator, but as she mounted the steps she spoke with passion, exhorting them to not give up, to continue the fight, to come together as a people. Individuals who had sneered at the upstart humans now were moved by her words, as the Triumvirate began to face the cold realities they had so long avoided. The demonstrations grew smaller, even as the crowds turning up for her weekly addresses seemed to increase in equal proportions.
It was a start...but was it enough? Leandra wondered that more and more, as the days and weeks dragged on.
The answer came...as it so often does...from the unlikeliest of sources.
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Raichret had come to the capitol to continue her studies as a Healer, just as her parents and grandparents had before her, but she had drifted into the role. Triumvirate medical science had progressed to where a Healer was all but superfluous, reduced to monitoring the machines that actually diagnosed and treated their patients. She would read the pronouncements the computer spat out as if they were her own, but despite her own innate talents, she was little more than a technician. What should have been a calling was mere drudgery, and as she reported to the Hospital each day she wondered why she even bothered.
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Then war broke out.
The shock had almost shattered her. Things like war weren’t supposed to exist in the Triumvirate, and only the humans still found combat to be something other than abhorrent. She’d watched her fellow Saurotaurs led away, drafted to fight, a role they were so unsuited for, though in the privacy of her own thoughts she thanked the Creator they had not chosen her. Let others fight if they must, for they had trained her to preserve life, not take it.
There were many anxious conversations amongst her family, as she begged them to come to the capital. It was far from where the fighting was taking place, and if there was any place they would protect, it would be here. But her family balked, assured by their local leaders that despite all that had happened, they would be safe. They finally calmed her fears, despite the long distance between them, and as she and her mother said their goodbyes she promised she would contact her again soon.
That chance would never come. Uzaunx fell two days later.
Raichret stopped going to class, stopped reporting for duty at the Hospital, stopped everything. Even eating had become far too much an effort, as she felt nothing but the agonizing loss of her family and her home. She lay in her sleeping chamber, staring at nothing, until her friends intervened. Raichret soon found herself as a patient in the very place she had once treated others, and bit by agonizing bit her fellow Healers brought her back to something resembling life.
But there was now a hollowness within her, one that would never heal.
Once she was discharged, to make room for new patients suffering from the same affliction, her Mentor encouraged her to seek others, that the familiar sensation of being amongst the herd was perhaps the best medicine of all for her. So Raichret would seek the crowd, be it social gatherings, entertainments, even occasions as mundane as shopping. But it was a mere placebo, nothing more...until one day when she happened upon a gathering waiting to hear the human Minister Singh speak. She had heard others mention her speeches, though she had not listened to them herself. There seemed to be no point.
Only as the Minister addressed the crowd, Raichret felt the stirrings of something she’d thought long dead. That perhaps all was not lost, that if they wanted to see their loved ones have the chance to survive, it was up to them. The humans would give all that they could...but they could not do it alone.
The word that danced on the tip of her tongue was all but impossible for her to say. Even as the tears streamed down her face, tears she had thought she could no longer cry, the word struggled to find purchase. Raichret railed against that word, the sheer cruelty of it, but as she stared at the crossroads before her, the word emerged triumphant at last. It was the barest of whispers, but for someone who had lost everything, it was victory.
The word…was Hope.
She stumbled away from the crowd, her mind reeling, but even as she wandered the streets she knew she could not go back to her former life. She needed more, something to give her life meaning.
Raichret needed to make a difference.
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The Triumvirate military was still new, still feeling its way, despite humanity’s guidance. There was no equivalent of the Pentagon or Ministry of Defense, and its various components were wedged wherever they could find available space. Humans were an almost ubiquitous presence anywhere uniforms were seen...and it was a very surprised child of Earth who stared in disbelief at the young female Saurotaur who appeared at his desk.
“I’m sorry…what did you just say?” Sergeant Vuković asked in astonishment.
“I wish to join those fighting the enemy,” Raichret said once again. “Is this the place to do that?”
“Let me get this straight...you’re volunteering?” the sergeant asked again, as he shook his head in amazement.
“Yes,” she replied. “Am I at the wrong location?”
“Beats the hell out of me,” Vuković shrugged. “To the best of my knowledge, no one’s ever done it before.” He paused for a moment, gazing at her. “Look, Miss…?”
“...Raichret. I am a Healer...I was a Healer...here in the capitol. Now I wish to fight.” She returned the human’s look with equanimity, despite never having been in proximity to one before.
“Raichret.” The human smiled at her, before leaning back in his chair. “Mind if I ask why you want to sign up?”
The question was difficult to answer. In the end, she opted for simplicity. “My family was on Uzaunx,” she said at last.
Sergeant Vuković nodded in sympathy. “You have my deepest condolences,” he said gently. “I didn’t realize revenge was part of your species’ psychological makeup.”
She blinked in surprise. “Vengeance?” Raichret tasted the strange word, before shaking her head. “No, it is not that.”
He looked at her curiously. “If you were human, that’s what it would be.”
“I am not human,” she pointed out. “No...it was something Minister Singh said, in a speech. That if we wished to survive, it was the duty of all of us to take part, that we could not let your race carry the entire load. That...touched something in me,” she said softly, as her hand went to her chest.
“I see,” Sergeant Vuković replied, as an odd expression crossed his face. “Wait just a moment.” He bent to his console and began typing, as she waited for him to complete whatever task it was he was engaged in. When he finished, the sergeant produced a tablet and stylus and held them out to her. “If you want to join the Army...then sign here.” He pointed at a space near the bottom.
Raichret didn’t bother reading the words, instead she scrawled her name where he’d indicated. She handed it back as he verified her signature, before handing over another form.
“Be at this location at 0800 tomorrow morning. Bring identification, a change of clothing, and whatever personal items you require for basic hygiene. They’ll take it from there.” He stood up from behind his desk, and extended his hand. “Welcome aboard, Recruit,” he said, still somewhat bemused.
She looked at his hand curiously, before recalling the human greeting. She took his hand in hers, feeling its soft warmth…not for a moment horrified she had touched a bloodthirsty predator. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“Trust me...in a week you’ll be cursing my name,” he chuckled.
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Recruit Raichret was the first Triumvirate citizen to volunteer for duty.
She was not the last.