Tarl stared into the void. He had walked away along the docks, down to the farthest extremities of the curving slips until the walkways ended and he was faced with the shimmering wall of the retention field. The stars blazed beyond, cold points of light in midnight black.
As she approached him, Anja dropped her normally stealthy gait and allowed her footsteps to herald her presence. He didn’t respond when she moved to stand beside him, but shifted his weight slightly as he acknowledged her presence. They stood there at the far railing for some time, Anja standing with folded arms and Tarl with his clawed hands gripping the cold metal.
Eventually he turned to regard her, breaking away from his contemplation of the sky. “We are some distance from the group, Anja Tam,” he rumbled. “I somehow doubt you walked this far just to look at the stars.”
“Did you?”, she asked, drawing a hiss of amusement from the old warfather.
“Ah,” he said, “probably not. If I can indulge in some candor between two old soldiers, I found myself contemplating the road ahead after David’s briefing. The things he said...”
Tarl trailed off and the two of them looked out to the stars for a few moments longer.
“I had heard of similar things in the past,” he continued. “Fanciful, wasteful speculation, or so I thought. What good is it to speak of harnessing a star or yoking a billion minds to a machine when the progress of one’s life today depends on victory in battle, cultivation of strength and wit, and the glory of supremacy over all? What good did it do any of us, dreaming of what we may yet be?”
He bared his teeth and scowled. “And yet here I stand, up against an enemy who indulged in those fanciful dreams. Everything I worked to achieve, all of my battles and misery, it counts for nothing in the face of their power. I burn for revenge but my enemy will never feel it.”
“There is no maneuver, no strategem, no stroke of genius that can make me a credible threat to this Gestalt,” he rasped, raising his head to look at Anja. “I was full of hope when I saw your ship, full of the expectation that I may at last find a way to realize our vengeance. And then I hear that they are as far out of your reach as they are mine. It is a hopeless cause, and though we may yet die for it I will gain no satisfaction at the end.” He gripped tightly onto the rail and turned back to stare into space. “I do not mourn for myself, but it is a poor end for Ysl,” he hissed.
Anja dropped her arms and moved to stand beside him at the rail, a contemplative look on her face. “When the Gestalt destroyed Earth,” she said, “I was returning from a mission with another of my sisters, Mia. We emerged from hyperspace at the transit station around Mars to find it totally destroyed. We cast our sensors across the whole system, found not a trace of life. The planets were scoured to bare rock, the stations and asteroid habitats vented to space. Tens of billions, dead.” Tarl twitched his head as she named the toll, but he did not respond.
“We jumped off to the nearest military base at Epsilon Eridani,” she continued, “But that was gone as well. We emerged from hyperspace just as the shipyards fell into the planet’s atmosphere.” Anja felt an involuntary shiver trace up her spine as she recalled the spectacle, the twisting support girders flaring from red to yellow-white as the habitat modules exploded around them with puffs of sparkling gas and metal fragments.
“We had thought initially that someone attacked Earth in a surprise strike, but after Eridani we knew it was more than just one system,” she whispered. “We started to jump to lesser systems, civilian stations, but they were all destroyed. No transit stations meant we had to spend days in between stars, waiting to see if the next one had been attacked. Every one had, until we reached Indomitable.”
She looked back from the stars to smile at Tarl, bitterness written into her face. Tarl stared back expressionlessly, his solitary black eye unreadable. “We were so happy to see the station in one piece that we let ourselves believe the comms had been knocked out. We had to dock and see the bodies before we admitted to each other what the silence meant. The station was mostly intact, but everyone aboard was dead. Bodies everywhere, stinking in the hallways and lying in piles by the common areas. The smell...” She shuddered, remembering. “Five thousand years later, the smell of death just reminds me of that station.”
“That was when I knew - it was more than just a few systems. I knew that it was everyone, everywhere. My colleagues, my friends, my sisters. Everyone I had ever met, aside from Mia. I had no idea how, or why, or who did it,” Anja spat, anger creeping into her voice, “just that it had happened and that we were somehow spared. My sister was convinced there had to be more survivors somewhere, she wanted to refuel and keep looking. I knew, knew there were no more and tried to convince her to hide, keep a low profile until we knew what had happened. No matter what I said she was determined to leave. She took the ship and I stayed on the station.”
Anja stopped talking for a little while and turned back towards the dock exit, her fingers drumming mindlessly on the railing. “I gave up on seeing her again after five years on the station,” she said softly. “After eight years I was…” She hesitated, searching for the proper words. Tarl was watching her curiously, having turned to lean back against the railing. Anja could see the streaks of shiny metal where he had gripped the top bar earlier, his claws scratching against the finish.
“There is a disorder that affects my kind, if our mental state deteriorates enough,” Anja explained briefly, finding herself reluctant to dwell on the subject. “We simply stop moving, our minds captured in a feedback loop. It can last for days, weeks, years even. Eight years after my sister left, I found a chair in a small room on the station and sat down to rest. I did not get up for three hundred years.”
Tarl didn’t give any sign that he found her claim incredible, though he did straighten up to study her face with interest. Finally, he leaned back against the railing and drummed his claws against his forearm. “I can see the appeal,” he said after a long pause. “Too well, I think. So tell me, Anja Tam. After sitting alone for so long, why did you stand again?”
Anja almost smiled at the intensity in his stare, but decided not to risk insulting him. “I got a message,” she said. “My sister Jesri came to the station and broadcast a signal to see if anyone was aboard. I was so surprised that I fell out of my chair. I responded to her at once, then dragged myself to the medical bay. I was in poor condition after all of those years immobile and barely made it, but by the time Jesri docked and made it to my room I was completely restored.”
The light in Tarl’s eyes dimmed a bit. “Your kind seems to value family greatly,” he said. “Among the Ysleli it is considered a sign of weakness to reach adulthood before you have defeated your hatchmates in combat. Only the best move on.”
Anja couldn’t resist a slight giggle at that, finding it a very Ysleli custom. “That would have been quite destructive if my family participated,” she chuckled. “But it was more than just being happy to see my sister. When Mia left I was certain she was mistaken, fatally mistaken. The enemy had taken too much from me too quickly. The Gestalt was this terrible, perfect opponent in my mind, something against which there was no hope of victory. When I heard Jesri’s voice, the first thing I had heard in centuries, I was…”
She hesitated again, the smile slipping from her face. “I was ashamed, Tarl. I felt such black, crushing shame when I sat in that autodoc, feeling it knit me back together again. Jesri was lost, hurting, just as crushed as I was by the deaths of so many. She too recognized that she couldn’t defeat the Gestalt, but unlike me her reaction was to seek weapons, seek allies. I had sat uselessly for half my life just gathering dust and waiting for death to claim me. I had wasted three hundred years of time because I thought I was already defeated. I had failed my allies, my sisters and myself.”
Tarl gave her an odd look, but said nothing. She looked back towards the stars, watching the slight shimmer of the retention field distort the tiny pinpricks like heat haze. “I never told Jesri what I had done on the station before she arrived,” she admitted. “She simply assumed that I had been gathering information like she had and I never corrected her. I have tried to be who she thought I was since that day.”
He nodded, considering. “I shall keep it in confidence,” he reassured her. “It seems as though-”
Tarl broke off as a loud bang echoed from the far end of the dock, followed by shouting. He frowned. “It seems as though things are proceeding without us,” he amended. “I must attend to this.”
Anja nodded and fell in beside him as he walked quickly back down the dock. “You may not have siblings, Tarl,” she said, “but you have your men. I know what it feels like to fight soldiers who believe in their commander. If there is no path forward for Tarl, be the Warfather until one appears.” She flashed him a small grin.
He bared his teeth in response. “I appreciate your counsel, Anja Tam,” he rumbled. “I will consider it. Now come, let’s see what my men are shouting about.” He increased his pace to walk several steps ahead of her. Anja jogged after him, the smile slipping from her face.
----------------------------------------
“We will not have terms dictated to us by an unruly mob of yellow-scaled thieves!”, screamed the Arrigh administrator, his shiny carapace quivering with anger.
Jesri sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling an impending headache. It had taken no more than a few hours of cease-fire before the station government and syndicate leaders felt emboldened enough to rally in response to the Ysleli raid. While Tarl’s troops could crush their sad little militia easily (something Tarl had enthusiastically and repeatedly offered to demonstrate) Helene and her fellow resistance members had urged caution.
They had a point. While the local militia was pitiful, the Arrigh had invested heavily in Elpis and would not tolerate a station takeover. Any forces they could bring to bear would likely be outmatched by Tarl’s ships and positively laughable against the Grand Design, but Jesri had to agree that a confrontation was best avoided. The cost in lives aside, it would be supremely inconvenient and highly visible if they started fighting a siege around Elpis while trying to plot moves against the Gestalt.
Therefore, the Ysleli had mostly withdrawn to a remote stretch of dock several kilometers down the rim from the main commercial terminal in a show of goodwill. Tarl and a cadre of his officers had remained for negotiations, with Anja and Jesri hurriedly inserting themselves as neutral observers in case the whole thing went sideways.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
As it somewhat had. She opened her eyes again, watching the administrator continue to scream epithets at Tarl. David had informed her earlier about the meeting’s attendees, drawing from their regular surveillance of the station’s activities.
The Arrigh currently lambasting the Ysleli delegation was a career bureaucrat named Kvkitt. He had arrived about two years ago as the administrator of this station and had by all accounts done a halfway decent job of keeping things running smoothly, although most of his power was gained by granting concessions to the station’s shadowy commercial syndicates.
As such, they were also present at the table. The Union of Crafters was represented by Xim Len, a thin wisp of a Tlixl with gossamer wings folded primly behind her. She had remained quiet for the proceedings, save for introductions. The dockworkers had sent a towering Dhumma who had thus far refused to divulge his name or speak in any capacity, preferring instead to glower angrily at anyone who glanced in his direction.
The local branch of the Association of Independent Shippers was led by a glistening iridescent blob named something long and mathematical. Jesri thought it might be a member of the Caran species, but as she had never met one in person she couldn’t be sure. It introduced itself to her as Escalating Irreducible Manifold, and had a surprisingly good sense of humor about the difficulties other beings had with both its name and amorphous nature.
Finally there was the representative from the Central Bank of Kita, a dour and ancient financier named Belshi. His primary contribution to the initial talks had been to inform everyone present that he thought the proceedings were a “waste of time, an affront to civilized dignity and an unfortunate encouragement to the ambition of churls and thieves everywhere.”
Rounding out the discussions were Tarl, still idly waiting for the Arrigh to finish screaming at him, Jesri, Anja, Rhuar and Qktk. David and Helene were listening to the discussions, but they had chosen to hide their existence from the station’s residents for the time being.
Kvkitt’s ranting wound down at last, leaving the seething administrator glaring at Tarl’s bored, seated figure. Tarl returned his stare icily, then slowly rose to his feet. Tall even for a Ysleli, he towered over the insectile Arrigh as he strode slowly towards the station’s representatives.
“I do not dabble in negotiations much,” he said briskly, beginning a slow pace around the conference room. “I find them tiresome. I avoid them where I can, except the necessary talks which occur before an enemy surrenders to me.” He stopped, glancing at Anja and Jesri. “With one notable recent exception.”
Jesri gave a small snort of amusement, which Tarl ignored. “Regardless,” he continued, “I believe the reason I found that type of discussion so much more bearable was the context. In every case the talks followed a great deal of violence and death, which conveyed a certain implicit promise of continuation if no accord could be reached.” He bared his needle-point teeth and stopped. His pacing had carried him to rest in front of Kvkitt, who looked up at him defiantly.
“It hastened things,” Tarl said softly, “that context. And as these talks drag on with nothing but insults and outrage from your contingent I find myself increasingly tempted to seek it out. So when you speak next, administrator, I ask that you indulge my preference for productive and concise arguments.”
Kvkitt seemed to swell with outrage at the threat, but before he could muster a response Tarl spun away and resumed his pacing in the opposite direction. “My men and I are here,” he said simply. “We will be present on the station for a time. These are facts, as unchanging as the orbits of the stars. So tell me, administrator - knowing this to be the case, how would you like the next span of time to play out?” Tarl reached his seat again, sliding smoothly into it and fixing Kvkitt with an expectant look.
The station administrator seethed, glaring daggers at Tarl across the low table. “Again you dictate terms,” he grated, his voice low and hostile. “You cannot use force of arms to abscond with government resources. The Arrigh defense forces-”
“Will die,” Tarl said bluntly, cutting him off. “Do not delude yourself into thinking a military solution is available.”
“Such confidence,” Kvkitt sneered. “I’ve seen your ragtag band of pirates. You have guns and ships, but where is your fuel? Your munitions? Do you really think you can beat a fully supplied navy with just the resources on this station? You have no idea the forces that can be brought to bear against you.”
Tarl gave him an amused look. “I have no idea if I can beat your navy, administrator. You make a good point, we would be hard-pressed against a decent force. However, if you force a confrontation you will likewise involve those four,” he said, indicating Jesri’s contingent. The station representatives looked and were confronted with a feral grin from Anja, only slightly diminished by Jesri’s pained look of exasperation. Rhuar tugged on Jesri’s sleeve urgently, and she bent down so he could whisper in her ear.
“Administrator,” Tarl said, staring intently with his remaining eye. “At that point your naval strength is irrelevant.”
The incensed Arrigh reared up to deliver another diatribe but paused in surprise as a wash of white light enveloped him. “What is-”, he sputtered indignantly before the field of light flickered and cut off all sound from within. Jesri sighed and walked forward as Kvkitt screamed and pounded noiselessly against the station security barrier, flicking her hand out for effect as the globe of light rose and carried him into the hallway.
The remaining station delegates stared at her, save for Manifold who merely slouched in her direction. Tarl leaned back in his chair, positively radiating amusement and smug delight. Rhuar couldn’t quite suppress a grin from his face, but quickly turned to confer with Qktk. The two huddled around a tablet, on which Jesri saw David’s face flash briefly.
Jesri shot Tarl an irritated look, then turned to address the room. “Let us all assume,” she said tiredly, “that we are reasonable beings who would like to conclude these talks to mutual advantage and without any unpleasant threats. To that end, I am proposing a plan of action: I am going to hire all of your organizations to do some work for me.”
The group exchanged glances, then settled back in their seats. Belshi and the dockworkers’ representative looked entirely unimpressed by her statement, but she thought she saw at least a flicker of interest from Xim Len. Manifold made no particular reaction, but it was unreadable anyway.
She pressed her momentum. “Xim Len, I would like to hire the crafting guild to make some custom equipment. We will need artificers and engineers, mostly, although there may be room for other specializations.” She stretched out her hand, and Rhuar rushed to place a tablet in it. Behind her, Qktk was still hard at work filling a second.
She placed the tablet in front of Xim Len, who picked it up and studied it, then tossed it back on the table contemptuously. “Please,” she said, giving Jesri an annoyed look. “Be serious. Half the items on this list are impossible to manufacture. We don’t have the facilities to tool gun barrels of that length, the alloys you’re specifying are fanciful at best, and I don’t even know what a…” She picked up the tablet, glancing over the list again. “...spatial distortion dampener is,” she concluded haughtily, glaring over at Jesri. “Don’t waste our time with jokes.”
Jesri gave her a mild smile in return. “I will supply all blueprints, materials and access to the station’s fabricator workshops.”
The Tlixl’s wings spasmed, although she quickly regained her composure. “That’s ridiculous,” she spat. “Those workshops have been sealed for a thousand years. If anyone could open them, I would have done it long ago.”
Jesri’s smile widened at the sour note of disappointment from Xim Len. This was going to be easier than she had anticipated. Stepping back from the group, she raised her voice. “Station Prometheus,” she called out, “What is my access level?”
A chirrup of acknowledgement crackled from the room speakers, making the syndicate representatives jump. “Captain Jesri Tam, TNMC,” a neutral female voice said. “Access level is Officer, subgroup Captain. Full access is granted to station infrastructure, power systems, security, sensors-”
“Thank you, that will be enough,” Jesri said. Another chirrup sounded and the litany of privileges ended. She looked across the syndicate representatives and saw that she had their full attention. Xim Len reached a quavering hand towards the tablet again, scanning through the items on the list.
“We can,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Ah, we can keep the schematics and access afterwards?”
Beaming, Jesri sat down at the table. “See? It’s almost as if we were negotiating,” she said smugly. “Let’s go through the list.”
----------------------------------------
Two hours later, they left the room having hired on nearly every syndicate-represented craftsman, hauler and laborer on the station. Xim Len and the crafters were given workshops and schematics while Manifold’s freight captains were sent out to procure hefty cargos of raw metal, fuel and organics.
Belshi had been induced to offer them a generous line of credit for their purchases. That part had nothing to do with station access and everything to do with the battered identification chits Jesri carried for the Royal Uen Banking Union, the Finance Ministry of Tlix and a handful of other prominent institutions. She had no current account with the Central Bank of Kita, she had informed him, but could be persuaded to transfer in some credits…
He only validated the first account before hastily agreeing, his eyes bulging at the commencement date as much as the balance.
Most puzzling had been the Dhumma representative from the docks, who simply vanished from the meeting after the first couple of deals were concluded. Jesri finally asked Manifold about it during a break, and the bloblike captain revealed that Ix (who did have a name, as it happened) had only made an appearance in the hopes of fighting Tarl.
The syndicate heads had departed in a rush of excited chatter, eager to begin disbursing funds and launching ships. As Xim Len trailed the group out with her face buried in her tablet, Tarl wandered over and sat next to Jesri with a tired sigh.
“Well,” he grumbled. “That was much less entertaining than my proposal.”
She gave him a coy smile. “Oh, come on. You’ll have way more fun with this,” she said. “I thought you’d be excited at the idea.”
Seeing his blank look, Jesri sat up and blinked. “Wait,” she said, “were you not paying attention during the negotiations?”
“I am the Warfather,” Tarl pointed out, “not the Minister of Logistics. Why would I concern myself with the busy work you’re doling out to those drooling sycophants?”
“Because they’re overhauling your ships,” Rhuar said, tossing another tablet in front of Tarl. “Read up, Oh Mighty Warfather. Here’s an outline of the new schematics.”
Tarl snatched at the tablet so fast that his claws drew sparks from the table’s surface, paging through the designs quickly. “This is…”, he said, his voice quiet and serious. “You’re using human technology?”
Anja sat down to join the group. “It makes sense,” she said. “Your ships are less of an asset than a liability in their current state. We may not make them as good as true Terran warships, but we can at least keep your men in the fight.”
Tarl’s mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds before it snapped shut with a click. He stood abruptly and bowed low with a peculiar sideways twist, holding one arm to his chest. “Thank you,” he said simply, his voice thick with emotion. “I must find Xim Len, confer with her engineers, brief my officers.” He looked around dazedly still muttering under his breath, then walked quickly out of the room.
“Sister, I think you nearly made him cry,” Anja teased.
Jesri smiled and shook her head. “Rhuar gets credit for this one. I was just going to buy them off after Tarl wound up the administrator. I don’t know if this will net us usable ships, but at minimum we’ve solved our Ysleli problem for the time being.”
“And when they have their shiny new ships?”, Qktk asked. “Will we have merely invested in a larger problem?”
“Hey, I’m the only investor here,” Jesri protested. “And no, I don’t think so. We’ll just have to find missions that let them use their new toys productively. On that note… David, you still listening?”
“Yep,” came his voice over the room’s speakers. “Don’t you worry. We’ve been drawing up plans for decades.” His image flickered onto Jesri’s tablet, a wolfish grin on his face. “Want to see some targets?”