When the first Judge of the Idrisat Brood was crowned on Aralush, a representative of Her Dominance had asked her what would become of the hundreds of millions of Aralu who had just been placed under her command. Her response was trite: “I will teach them to be Poslushi, and to serve us as only Poslushi can.”
However, Roman statesmen were buried in Egyptian sarcophagi; some places and peoples had the most peculiar ability to leave more of a mark on their conquerors than their conquerors left on them. This was true of Aralush. As decades wore into centuries and generations of Poslushi were born, lived, and died surrounded by Aralu, the two species on the planet developed culturally into a sort of creole. Poslushi gender roles were relaxed, and so were Aralu views on spirituality; Poslushi could occasionally be seen in Aralu shrines, and Aralu noblemen dined with the highest in Aralush society. Even their languages molded into one another; Aralush Poslushi were often noted to speak with a distinctly-accented Founderspeak that occasionally made them quite difficult to understand. The Aralu were no longer wholly Aralu, and the Poslushi no longer wholly Poslushi; they were Aralushi, one and all, and the Idrisat Brood, finding itself with the choice of going with the flow or being swept away by it, chose the former centuries ago.
Cutlass leaned over the data tablet in his hands, typing furiously. The view from his office at the apex of Aralush’s capital building hadn’t changed in the slightest, but, far beyond the blue horizon, the Combine to which they paid heed was foundering. Some could even call it dying.
Cutlass looked up from his desk as the door creaked open and a broad-shouldered, red-plumed Aralu crept in, her posture shrunk into itself. Cutlass’ antennae perked up in horror; he immediately knew that something terrible had happened.
“Warmaster Cutlass,” Karata saluted, her voice airy and breathless, “I bring news from the front.”
“What happened?” Cutlass asked. A small part of him immediately regretted not sending Karata away at once, but he had to know. Such was the duty of a ruler, to know all that shouldn’t have been known.
Karata took a breath. “Overbattlematron Dao has been assassinated, they say.”
Cutlass’ antennae dropped once more, and the room flooded with the smell of, curiously, resignation. “Worrying, but not surprising,” he said in a monotone voice, “and I imagine her fleet is currently finding a replacement?”
“Worse, sir,” Karata’s nostrils flared in disgust, “they tore themselves apart over it. When human fleets arrived, they only had to clean up the mess. The fleet is gone, sir.”
For a moment, Cutlass’ heart stopped. Armed conflict between uniformed Poslushi; he never thought he’d see the day. “Any survivors?” he asked, trying to keep the nausea down.
“None that can regroup in time to prevent the humans from launching a major offensive, sir.” Karata confirmed Cutlass’ worst fears in a few short words. They were going to lose the war, and it wouldn’t be like when they lost to the Upsilon. The Upsilon hadn’t committed themselves to overturning the Combine.
Cutlass took a deep breath in, then out, then in, then out. Then, he turned his gaze to Karata, staring at her intensely. “Prepare a radio broadcast,” he ordered, “I must speak to the people.”
“Is it on?” Cutlass whispered, jabbing a finger at the audio recorder on the tabletop. Karata made a gesture of affirmation. Cutlass sighed, mentally running through the contingency speech he had prepared a few weeks prior in the event that the worst occurred. Then, he began to speak.
“Esteemed citizens of Aralush and the combined Idrisat territories, the wartime situation has developed in a way... untoward to our civilization. Beyond our capacity as a planet to alleviate the situation.”
He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in to whoever was currently listening. “Beyond our capacity as a nation to alleviate the situation. I will not lie to you; the leader of our forces on the front is dead, and her fleets, where they have survived, are in retreat. It is probable that, in the coming days and weeks, a considerable portion of the Poslush Combine will come under human occupation.
“The very ways of life of the Aralushi culture, alongside the existence of both Poslushi and Aralu in our lands have come under threat, and Her Dominance’s Government of All Poslushi has demonstrated that it will neither alleviate the suffering of subjects affected by the war nor pursue a swift end to hostilities. In times like these, one can only...”
Cutlass’ voice seized in his throat for a second. Never, ever did he think it would come to this. “One can only look out for their own. Effective immediately, the Idrisat government on Aralush will no longer recognize the Pos Dynasty or the government of the Poslush Combine as its ruling authority. All judicial and executive power will thus be vested in an independent provisional council, and Aralush hereby declares itself to be a neutral entity in all conflicts involving the Poslush Combine. Any attempts at violating this neutrality will be met with direct action.
“This is Warmaster Cutlass, sovereign of the State of Aralush, signing off.”
“And we’re off,” Karata said, pressing a button, “you had better know what to do next, Warmaster, or we’re all dying for treason.”
“With how Katana’s handled things so far?” Cutlass laughed wryly. “I’d consider it a loss if her soldiers weren’t flocking to us.”
Then, his expression turned dead serious. “Recall all Aralushi craft from Combine space and mobilize all reserves on all planets. If the Combine wants to throw the sons of Aralush into the meat grinder, then they shall have them when they are bled dry.”
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“This is absurd!” Katana roared, springing from her throne. “The Idrisat Brood swore an oath to serve the Dynasty with their bodies and their blood, and the moment that is required of them, they secede?!”
“Your Dominance, if calm could prevail within this room for a moment...” the Magister of Diplomacy urged, her hands put forward in a gesture of calming. However, Katana was having none of it.
“If you aren’t going to tell me that our allies are moving to assist us, then I will tolerate no further words from you, Magister.” she growled, staring the Magister down.
“What I was going to say, Your Dominance,” the Magister bowed her head, “is that the ambassador from the Yolyski Union has flown in with an urgent message to be delivered to you directly. He awaits your command to enter.”
Intrigued, Katana took a deep breath, trying to calm the raging inferno within her. “Send him in.”
“Should we leave, Your Dominance?” the Magister of War gestured to her fellow advisors.
“No; if it is important enough to tell me directly, then it shall be told to all of us.” Katana decreed. The Magister of Diplomacy put one hand to her headset, whispering a few words. Then, the throne room’s gate creaked open, its ancient mechanisms straining against the enormous steel doors. Walking in was a gangling biped with two long arms ending in seven-fingered hands and a pair of secondary limbs sprouting from their upper back, where the wings of a Poslushi female would be anchored. Their entire body was clad in an armor-plated pressure suit and their face was obscured by a silvery visor.
The Yolyski silently observed their surroundings, and then spoke in a harsh, metallic voice. “I have not visited your throne room in a very long time, Your Dominance. I dearly wish I could do so more often. Strength and plenty be yours, Your Dominance.”
“Greetings to you as well, Ambassador Versil,” Katana put her hand to her breast, “I am told you come bearing a message from your nation?”
“My nation and the Nostrodomo Citizen Federation, to be exact,” Versil corrected her with a respectful tone, “the Lyran delegate is indisposed with other state business, but has requested that the Union’s embassy carry on his message to you.”
“So?” Katana gave Versil an expectant look. “Say it. My time is valuable, Ambassador.”
“Yes, of course; that was never in question,” Versil bowed his head, “what I mean to say is that the Council of Arbitrators, in its infinite wisdom, has taken notice of your plight in the war between yourselves and the self-titled ‘humans.’”
Katana’s heart sank, but she couldn’t show it. “And have they reached a decision on the matter?”
“Indeed they have, Your Dominance,” Versil confirmed, “they have decided, in your absence, that the veracity of claims that you have been fighting a rogue, fugue species are very true, and that a threat to the established political order in the outer segments of the Orion Spur indeed comprises humanity and its allies.”
Katana’s hope lifted once more; could they actually be on the Combine’s side? “You have my eternal gratitude, Ambassador Versil.” she said, making sure not to sound too excited.
“With all due respect, Your Dominance, I was not finished,” said Versil, “a second vote was taken, once more, in absence of your delegate, and the Council of Arbitrators has ruled unanimously that, in the name of maintaining galactic peace, we will not be intervening in your war.”
Katana, blindsided by this, stood up from her seat. “Then why do you waste my time telling me of useless decisions?” she uttered.
“Oh, I would hardly call their ruling useless, Your Dominance,” the Yolyski’s voice took on an almost devious tone, “they have also ruled that, given your current performance in the war, it is unlikely that the peace will turn out well for you. Thus, let it be known that, in the interests of the security of the Yolyski Union and the Nostrodomo Citizen Federation, our combined nations will be placing the Poslushi territories that form the border with your nation under our stewardship, and forming a security zone between ourselves and the humans.”
For a moment, everyone was shocked silent; the judicial guards looked to their commanders in horror; their commanders, in turn, looked to the Magister of War; the Magister of War looked to Katana. Then, Katana surged off of the steps leading up to her throne, her elytra flying out behind her in rage.
“This is no more than an invasion of our space! And the Lyrans do not even respect me enough to say it to my face!” Katana screamed, stopping centimeters short of bowling Versil over. He was so small in comparison to her; if she so wanted, she could just grab him and squeeze until his suit failed, and then it would just be listening to him choke...
The Yolyski was unfazed. “I am sorry that you believe that way, Your Dominance, but you must understand that, sometimes, the best interests of one nation do not entirely align with those of another, and you cannot collide with our interests without initiating a war you are, to put it simply, sorely unprepared for. You would know; your nation was built on the backs of those you conquered.”
“And you act like yours is any different!”
“Why, ours is,” Versil put a secondary hand on his heart, “because the Council has ruled that our subjects never should’ve been independent in the first place. Our nation can protect and uplift those whom it rules; yours, apparently, cannot.”
Versil turned around, then looked back at Katana as he started to walk out of the throne chamber. “A species that cannot keep its subjects under its boot deserves nothing but to kiss the feet of a better people in turn. We shall see if humanity shall bring a more enlightened rule over your kind.”
Once more, the mechanisms of the gates ground closed, leaving the room in shocked silence. Then, the Magister of the Treasury looked at her liege, her eyes flaring with anger.
“Your Dominance, the borderlands are rightful Asterai territory! You cannot possibly be intending to just let this stand!” she yelled, gesturing wildly at the shut door.
“I am aware of your qualms, Overjudge,” Katana tried to hold her voice steady, “but Ambassador Versil is right; a war with the Yolyski and Lyrans would be disastrous for us. We shall reclaim our space in due time, but we must concentrate on our current situation.”
The Overjudge took a step back in horror, then spat, “Your Dominance, if you cannot protect our territory, then who can?”
“I will,” Katana enunciated, “just not now. We have bigger issues at hand.”
“If we don’t stop them, they’ll push forward their “security zones” until they’re knocking on the gates of Poslush!”
“And if we send any forces to stop them,” Katana began, starting to rise from her throne again, “we’ll be rolled over in the rimward sectors and overrun in the coreward ones! We cannot afford a two-front war when we’re already losing, understand?”
The Magister opened her mouth to say something, but then decided against it, storming out of the throne room through a side door. “You aren’t dismissed!” Katana called after her, but the Magister only looked back at her for a moment before slamming the door.
Katana put her head in her hands. “Guards, apprehend her and have her brought to task.” she called. As the Judicial Guard hurried off after the runaway Magister, Katana could only let out a muted grumble, clenching her fist.
Why did fortune hold so little love for her?