CHAPTER 24 - TRAITOR

Elijs Valters tapped his fingertips on an unseen desk below the camera. Jamaad, all the while, was still somewhat in shock. Upon fully processing what happened, he prepared to deliver his own speech… after consulting the ship's database for some key information, and looking at Rachel's readouts. Compared to the cruiser, the seven surrounding ships were much smaller. In fact, they were barely larger than the Pheidippides, if somewhat better-armed. They were somewhat more squat than the Flame, but were still of a similar girder-and-tank construction. The major difference was that their radiators worked via drops of red-hot fluid magnetically guided through the vacuum, thus replacing the square fins with arch-shaped auras. The group of hostiles was positioned in such a way as to be able to get into combat range of the Pheidippides even if the scout was to turn around and go the other way, thanks to its massive inertia even despite the post-warp slowdown. Jamaad sighed and began speaking, making subtle gestures at the camera.

"You clearly failed as a person, considering you did things that only serial-killers-in-the-making do. You needed therapy, not a leadership position in a terrorist group. And guess what? You failed utterly in that position too. The True-Human Organization's goal is to 'purify human space'. What did you do? Your superiors set up a total failure of a republic that did nothing but slaughter those deemed unworthy. If I recall correctly, you were the captain of a whole task group… Where were you when the Canid StarNavy decided to pay you a visit on their way back? Where were you when the proto-Berserkers sacked your beloved capital? Of course, you were not there. You weren't even in the system. You were elsewhere, alongside your fellow cowards and traitors, preparing for your 'long march' towards the Hegemony. And clearly, they didn't care about you too much either: if they kicked out a high-ranking member over a 'petty disagreement', they wanted you out. So you set up shop here, in this land of power. And what have you achieved? Genuinely, what have you achieved? Owning your own ship crewed with sycophants? Having seven tiny yollkul corvettes trail you like obsessed fans? Looking like a complete dork? Is this what you have accomplished in almost fifty years? You have failed even in your pursuit of power, because you have more superiors than you did in your THO days! You, Elijs Valters, are a blowhard."

The warlord's sunglasses fell off his red-tinted eyes as he pulled back his head. He smalled his fists on the console as his white cheeks flushed red with anger. "YOU MMMNNN…! FUCK… YOU! FUCKING… SHIT… SHITBAG F… I WILL! LOOK AT MY F… NNMG… VASSALS FLYING… BESIDE ME! YOU ABSOLUTE WORM! AND YOUR… YOUR FUCKING PINK WHORE! WE WILL–"

The feed suddenly cut off.

"Patch," Jamaad spun in his chair. "Overdrive in twenty seconds."

The captain made the usual announcement telling everyone to brace, while the robot pinged.

"Was that really a good idea, sir?" Elektra said.

Jamaad shrugged. "Do you think he would just let us go if we said no?"

Rachel squinted at the screen. "The Flame's engines are going full blast now!... But the entourage seems to be hesitating."

"What even iiis happening?!" Kuw whimpered. Blue vapor poured from her ears.

"We might need to fight, Kuw… actually, I have an idea. Call one of the closest yollkul ships," Jamaad said.

"There are threeeee at the same distance," the relmai said.

"Any of them then," the captain said.

She selected the Vyyyalkllor, one of the seven scout-sized vessels. The screen flickered on, as comms screens were wont to do. Kuw was surprised to see what she saw.

Roundness. In contrast to the rugged angularity of the Civil-War-era cruiser's CIC, the surroundings of the yollkul captain were some of the most sleek, aesthetic-wise. Spherical consoles gleamed with chrome, their curved screens blinking with similarly-shaped symbols.

The alien himself was only humanoid if one considered anything with a head, a torso, two manipulator limbs, and two mobility limbs to be humanoid. Otherwise, it was not.

A very thin but two-meter-long, serpent-like body curved like a mutated question mark upon a chair that oddly resembled a beanbag, its form covered in fur that shone as if made of silver, which was braided into intricate circular patterns. It had no tail, the body instead splitting into the two legs that seemed to have no knees, instead seemingly possessing dynamically-forming and dissolving joints, adjusting the balance of its upper body: an extremely long neck growing out of the same connection point as the alien's hose-like arms. His limbs ended not in fingers, but rather split into five appendages that served the same role as fingers. His head, meanwhile, resembled that of an eel. A toothy perpetual grin plastered on a narrow muzzle… with three diamond-shaped eyes, their blacknesses glimmering like oil on water. Extra-long fur on his head was braided into the same side-ponytails of dreadlocks as those of Valters– and like the traitorous captain, he had lines of paint covering his face, and beads piercing his eyebrows. He wore a black tube-like uniform over most of his body, speckled with so many medals that it looked like a golden chainmail.

The camera seemed to be at ground level, so the yollkul seemed to tower over the view. Behind him stood, not sat, several others with far fewer medals. He spoke a strange language, which quickly got muted and dubbed over in English.

"Greetings, relmai and humans! What brings you to contact Knight Tyyllbmmou, a loyal servant of Baron Valters, who is in turn a loyal servant of Lord Xllykblloyhk?"

A message from Jamaad blinked on Kuw's comms screen, partially blotting out the view of the alien captain. It told her what to do… and be as polite as possible doing so.

She took a few deep breaths, and tried very hard to avoid falling into her usual vowel-lengthening tic. "This is Kuwkuobue Liukwelbea-ma, Comms Officer of the TFSMV Pheidippides of the Terran StarNavy speaking. I am aware of your allegiance to your master, and his offer of a duel to us, but I am sorry to say that he is not of good rationality. Are you willing to hear our side of the situation?"

Tyyll tilted his head. "Go ahead."

"I know we are trespassing, but it is for a noble reason. We do not carry contraband. We do not hide weapons, or spies. We are on an important mission," she paused.

"What is the mission?" His three eyes squinted in unison.

Kuw breathed in deeply, and relaxed as she tried to not seem as if she was trying too hard to be honest, while at the same not letting out any truly critical information. "We are delivering a time-critical message to a Barrier of Freedom state. Time is really tight, so that's why we took a shortcut through your empire. Without this message, the security of that country may be compromised. And in addition, due to the breach of the Barrier, your country, which I assume you love, would also be in danger."

"What Barrier of Freedom state?" Tyyll narrowed his eyes even further.

Kuw could tell that the alien was halfway-expecting a response that would lead to an escalation. But the comms officer felt that she should not answer a question with a question here. Honesty was the only answer.

"The Union of Ilsh-Bewruw Kingdoms," Kuw looked down.

"Friends! Friends! Friends!" the yollkul clapped his hands. "The ilsh helped us! They helped our empire rise! If the Baron allows, and I will inform him now, we will let you pass."

Kuw looked back up. There was a glimmer in her eyes. "Sir Tyyllbmmou, your Baron is not in his right mind, and is highly unstable. During the Human Civil War, he slaughtered defenseless civilians just to feel power. He did it because they were weaker than him– on a whim."

Tyyll looked confused.

Kuw continued. "But look at your ship– a corvette only slightly larger than our scout. And look at his ship, five times longer and three times wider. Do you think he will not destroy you on the same whim?"

Something seemed to wash over Tyyll. Something resembling confusion. Kuw saw an opening.

"This means that your master's power, however much of it he has, would be jeopardized. And so would be your power, and potential to rise. Meanwhile, what power would you get out of dueling and destroying us? And what about the potential Terran intervention that could result in your and your liege's deaths? Think about it, Sir!"

"What do you expect me to do?" he said.

"Forward my message to the other Knights. See what they think. Convince the Baron that what he is doing is not only wrong, but ultimately self-destructive. Consider the net power gain from attacking us, and consider the potential net power loss from doing so. This is a very irrational course of action. Sp, forward this message to the others, convince them to let us pass," she then looked back at Jamaad's note nervously. "Remember: if he needs some extra convincing, we may be a small ship but we have lots of extremely high-end weapons."

The yollkul paused, putting his hand on his chin. "Yes… you have a point. I admit you have a point. I also admit I and my friends– the other six– had only joined him on the promise of plunder. If you have nothing to plunder, and he is likely to get us killed… oooohohohohoho… just promise to assist if any of us join in our little usurpation, eh?"

"I… promise!" Kuw said.

His lips pulled back more, and this grin was the last thing the comms feed transmitted before flickering off.

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Kuw sat there in silence, then covered her face with her hands. Blue vapor kept pouring. There was a nervous silence as the cruiser accelerated towards the poor scout ship. It looked as if it was going to intercept the Pheidippides… and it appeared that even if her plea was taken into account, they would have had to join in a battle.

There was seemingly no effect. The group, in fact, consolidated itself as it continued its trajectory. A subtle thought crept over everyone that their mission ended there: the Knight's idea, whatever it was, had been reconsidered. Elektra pulled out her Bible, suspecting that this would be the last time she would see its sacred words.

…

Rachel recoiled from the screen. "The Vyyyalkllor and three other ships are firing at the Flame From Embers!"

"They are WHAT?" Elektra stood up, inadvertently dropping the book.

"What the fuck?!" Artur sprinted over to lean into the sensor screen. Rachel made room.

She zoomed in. Streaks of missiles began to zip from the mutinous ships towards the cruiser and its three loyalists. The other group of four rotated towards them, ceasing its interception path as they fired back. Patch, having silently observed the course of the engagement as usual, adjusted the ship's escape trajectory, taking into account the enemies' now-fumbled pursuit.

An incoming call resonated from Kuw's console. It was Tyyll. It looks like they would need to collect their due soon. She silently blamed Jamaad for what seemed like forcing the ship into combat.

"Listen, let's make this quick. You have a point, Kuwk. You have a point. I followed you, and decided to rebel and tell my friends to rebel. Turns out the others were, apparently, dissatisfied with the Baron and saw an opportunity too. Or so they said. Apparently, Knight Nqeeqcull of the Pttlleccu alerted Baron Valters of what we were planning. We won't win, we don't have a numbers advantage and they have a cruiser on their side. You guys are armed? You guys promised? You're to the cruiser's behind. Help us help us help us," the yollkul captain said with desperation in his voice.

Jamaad had a mysterious expression on his face.

Something clicked in Artur's brain. "Captain! We have five missiles left. I wanna blow this guy to atoms! How about a magsail slug right into his back end? I mean, his ship's…"

Jamaad sat and thought. Yes, they had enough ordnance to, perhaps, tip the scales of the battle. But this was not to be the last yollkul jump, much less the last hostile jump. Each of those five missiles counted. But on the other hand, this man was a menace and a war criminal of the worst caliber. It would do well to put an end to his reign of terror once and for all. Jamaad was not normally one for honor, but this was different than threatening an incompetent pirate, violating the space of a hostile neutral, or flouting the 'law' of an unjust corporation. Here, honor mattered. Or did it? He waited a small while, to see if it would indeed matter, depending on the Flame's exact loadout. After all, he would not want to commit the most dishonorable act: failing his mission, to deliver the message at any cost.

The shots began connecting…

…and the Flame's point-defense cannons shot down almost all of the incoming yollkul missiles. Only one grazed its radiator. Most, on the other hand, were reduced to vapor.

"I apologize. We don't have many missiles. We can't spare any," Jamaad said. "You are on your own, Sir Tyyll. Good luck."

"WHAT? WHAT? WHAAAAT? TRAITOR!" the other captain screamed, his serpentine body undulating in rage.

Then the view flashed with a distorted, creaking sound for a tenth of a second, and suddenly collapsed into static.

"The Vyyyalkllor has been destroyed by a macron cloud! But not before its own missile connected with one of the Flame's three engines. Looks like they'll be slower now. We'll get away!" Rachel shouted.

"And the other mutineers?" Jamaad asked coldly.

"Still fighting!"

Artur fumed. "Look at the ship! They're gonna turn slowly. They won't dodge. We can shoot them! With the particle beam bomb for one… it's not like PD will shoot that one down?"

"Weapons Officer Artur, have you considered that spending our most powerful missile that, as you said, pierces right through point-defense, on a hostile that currently doesn't impede our mission, would reduce our chances of making it to Ilsh-Vusbaw?" Jamaad squinted.

"But think of the glory of bagging this relic of the civil war? The civil war that my father fought in?" Artur asked.

"But think of the glory of living to save Ilsh-Bewruw, then returning home alive to see your father again?" Jamaad responded. "The kid gloves, the goodwill gloves, came off as soon as we entered this final stretch of space. We help people when it would cost us nothing. When it would cost us something important, aid is secondary. We are not on a humanitarian mission."

Patch beeped and finally spoke. "The captain is correct. Net benefit for fulfilled mission: high. Net benefit for neutralizing defector: low. Addendum: when risks are considered, second-case net benefit is negative."

Artur sighed. His captain, the captain who agreed with nearly all of his combat-related decisions previously, has committed an act of at least moderate cowardice. But of course, he did not voice it. He lowered his head and went back to his chair. Elektra, meanwhile, just turned in her own, and crossed her arms. She didn't quite disapprove on a conscious level, but her moral compass went as distressed as a real compass would near a magnet.

"I am sure you know what you are doooooing, sir," Kuw said. She smiled regardless. She was just happy to be alive.

The battle went on for over two hours, with the other three rebel ships valiantly holding their own against the four surviving loyalists, destroying all but one of the loyal corvettes and disabling various subsystems and even a whole fuel tank of the cruiser. But it was to no avail. First three became two, then two became one, then one became none. The CIC crew was quiet as this grim spectacle continued. According to Elektra's estimates, an average of two lives were lost per connecting main-hull hit, and over two dozen lost per destroyed ship.

At the end, the Flame From Embers was still flying. Missing two whole engines, a radiator, a sensor dish, and a macron gun, but still flying. The last surviving member of its entourage was adrift nearby, both of its drives torn off, a distress signal flashing impotently. But even the former was now too slow to even have the faintest hope of catching up to the nimble and intact scout.

"He's calling us!" Kuw said.

Jamaad laughed. "Let's see what he has to say."

Valters was utterly livid. The light in his command room flickered on and off. His sunglasses were cracked, his nose was bent, and his hair was disheveled. He spat out a broken, sharpened tooth. It appeared that combat whiplash was not kind on the defector captain.

"You! YOU! WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DO THIS TO US! WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DENY A HONORABLE DUEL AND INCITE MY MEN AND WOMEN TO TURN ON ME! YOU BLACKGUARD…! YOU– FUCK YOUR WHORE CREW– FUCK THEM WITH A SHIT-SOAKED–"

After a gesture by Jamaad, Kuw muted him.

"You have a funny concept of a duel, Mr Valters!" the Terran captain hollered, while the humiliated captain kept silently moving his lips. "You showed up with eight ships, we had one. That's not a duel, that's a murder. And you call us dishonorable for giving you a taste of your own medicine? Also, if they turned on you because of a short speech by a highly unthreatening, fluffy relmai– yes, they, the people who pride themselves on strength, incited to revolt by a relmai diplomat– perhaps you don't actually have as much power as you think you do, even over them? Or perhaps the relmai are actually stronger than humans or yollkul? Maybe you should have their Commonwealth annex your country," Jamaad breathed in. "Oh, and I remember how you said your pinnacle of teenage achievements was arson. Maybe you should have stuck to that. You would have made a bigger impact on the world. You fucking idiot."

Silently, Valters raised a fist and punched the camera. Static.

"I did as you said, Artur. I killed him," Jamaad turned to look at the wolf-man. "I killed him with words."

"But… he's still alive?" the Canid growled.

"He lives for power. My words took away his power, and thus took away the object of his life. You know how yollkul society works? If he's lucky, he will become an officer on a Knight's ship after this. If he's unlucky, he will become a peon to said Knight, or even a serf to be sold to the dal-ghar, tucking in some low-ranking matriarch into bed every night."

Artur nodded. He was calmer now.

"At first I hesitated, Captain Warren," Elektra said, "but your last speech convinced me. In any case, this is a more fitting punishment for him than death in battle."

Kuw and Rachel hugged.

There were many other yollkul ships in the system, but all seemed to be giving the site of carnage a wide berth. The passage to a backwater frontier yollkul system, Gyxyll-nilsww, was now clear. According to the database, it was only claimed and had no infrastructure whatsoever. And after this, the territory that was only called the Roiling Collectives.

"I… don't like the sound of thaaaat place, nor its pitch-black map color," Kuw said, glancing at the screen.

"You know the bquaa, with their pheromones allowing sharing of emotions and a harmonious society?" Jamaad said. "Now imagine if these pheromones were actual mind control. That is the case with the species there. They don't have any single name for themselves due to their fractiousness– but acclimatized escapees to Terran space call themselves the akyzh-cci."

"Wouldn't the mind control thing result in one 'hive tyrant' taking full poweeer?"

"If only it was that simple," the captain chuckled. "You see, not only do they have those with stronger pheromone capacity taking control, there are many such individuals there… of similar or equal pheromonic strength. Each can turn thousands of others to their will. And just to make things worse, they have devised ways to manipulate this strength. What resulted is hundreds upon hundreds of collectives, some holding entire sectors yet others tiny factions of planets, splitting, fighting, and absorbing each other. Their competition breeds innovation, of course, which is how they have become a menace to this region of space. They have conquered and pillaged the peyrhyll core-worlds before the Alliance even formed, and drove them into becoming a diaspora, alongside several minor species. Oh, how rich in diversity the easternmost part of the Oval would be, if not for not one but several empires of ravagers and subjugators," Jamaad explained.

"...and what do they look like?" Rachel said.

"Akyzh? Well, do you know isopods, or really roly-polies? They're like those, but larger, much longer, with long branching arms at the front, and they move by biting their own tail and rolling like wheels. They look scary, but if pried from their despots' control, they can be very caring people, just like the bquaa… despite this, their roughness rivals that of Canids. Peyrhyll? Oddly similar to oversized, translucent frogs with unusually long and flexible fingers. Very polite– you see, even those who had to turn pirate due to their civilization's extermination are very pleasant to talk to. Or so I heard."

"Huh. Well, one of my genemod friends liked to catch and eat isopods… weird guy. Was too into his source species."

Jamaad continued, unfazed. "So, I suppose, after we exit yollkul and Collective space, we will be entering what remains of the Peyrhyll Federation. After one or two jumps there, we'll finally reach Ilsh!"

"I can't wait… wait, why is there no 'Peyrhyll Federation' marked on my map? Only some black space with streaks reading 'CONTESTED/ANARCHY'?" the catgirl said.

"The Collectives did not hold their new land. The peyrhyll homeworld turned into a Venus-esque hell due to an accident during its siege, and the core worlds were sacked. The remaining colonies cannot exert any authority even within their system. They may be organized, if struggling, states– but on the map's scale it is indeed anarchy. Not of the 'commune' kind, of the 'pirate-infested hellhole' kind."

Rachel gulped.