D.S. BROWN - THE HAVARIAN GENOCIDE - CHAPTER 8

“3^rd Supremor’s purview has been doubled,” Hiakalite smiled, thinking of the 1^st Supremor.  “Numerlen has been keeping a secret.  Urendil, fleet production has increased exponentially.  I don’t know where the resource allocations have been coming from, and it’s my job to know these things, especially when they’re a secret.”

Hiakalite smiled in admiration.

“1^st Supremor Numerlen has been operating in the black, executing even better than I might have.  There will be a new Third Fleet, a Tenth Fleet, and a Minus One Fleet, something he calls Negative Fleet.”

“Negative Fleet?”

“Assigned to the Intelligence Directorate.  Totally black.  Off the books.”

“But, the Intelligence Directorate already has a fleet.”

“Not a fleet of Capital Ships.  Not a fleet able to undertake a full scale military campaign.”

“Capital Ships?”

“Yes, Capital Ships, and one Neastar Class vessel.  I’ll get confirmation and instructions after the orders for Tenth and Third Fleets are announced.  

“Well, it would seem 3^rd Supremor Hiakalite has been given permission to save The Great Majestic.  Assuming it’s really worth saving.”

Hiakalite dismissed the wizard’s sarcasm.  “How’s the weapon?"

Urendil closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.  “Very timely.  With one hundred percent certainty I’ll be able to release and load by the time we arrive at District 45.”

“Excellent.  The ship will be waiting.”  Haikalite pulled up a holoscreen and checked their flight information.  “We’ll be landing very soon.”

Urendil opened his eyes.  They glowed.  “Yes, very timely.”

Haikalite noted a bright red glow in the corner of the holoscreen, first one, then two, then a host of alerts appeared.  They were all priority messages.  One of the signals indicated his aide signaling him from the cockpit.  Haikalite lowered the privacy screen.

“Sir,’ said Aakate.  “Priority message for you from Alliance Command.  Several messages from Alliance Command.  Sir, I’m picking up increased comm traffic on all channels, military and civilian.  Something’s happened.”

“You’re right, Aakate.  I’m receiving alerts on my personal lines.  Let’s see what’s so urgent.”

The 3^rd Supremor looked at the host of signals.  One of the messages was encoded and processed through the Neoshorite Hyper Cluster.

The Neoshorite Hyper Cluster was a state of the art communications ship that roved through hyperspace.  It was one of the Intelligence Directorates most important assets, and provided the only always-on communications conduit to their Fifth Column Allies in the Zradgen Empire. 

Haikalite accessed the message.  A thin, harried Zradgen appeared on the screen.  This was cause for concern.  Haikalite did not know this sentient, and he knew all the sentients who had access to the cluster. 

“For whoever receives this message, by now you should know what has occurred.  In the Empire, the Havarian are like dust in the wind.  Our cause has been discovered.  Klaksor Ahmbien is dead, along with almost all the Havarian. The mad Emperor has attempted complete genocide.  Thankfully, some survive.  We have managed to broadcast a wide area hypersignal into Alliance space.  We will contact you again when we can.”

The message ended.  Hiakalite looked at Urendil.  The Emir looked shocked.   

“Klaksor Ahmbien is dead?”

“It would appears so,” said Hiakalite.  “Along with almost all the Havarian.”

“Genocide?  Truly Kdifoc has lost his mind.”

“We’ve always known that.  Only a madman would try to create a god.”

Hiakalite accessed the wide area broadcast.  The cabin was filled with a holographic recording of the Daaneen system.  The images were prefaced by commentary.  The voice sounded like that of the anonymous Zradgen they had just heard.”

We have sent you, the sentients of the Majestic Alliance this log of the events that occurred in the Daaneen star system.  Many lives were lost in getting this account across the line. The Column has been devastated.  Yet we feel our deaths are worth the cost.  The galaxy must know about the horror.  The Emperor wishes to drag us into the darkest of days, and beyond.  He has done unspeakable things, and must be stopped.  He is the truest evil, an apostate who stands against life itself. What you are about to see is an abomination.

The false Emperor Kdifoc has transformed his brother into a terrible new space god.  This antigod destroyed the entire military force of the Daaneen system.  Over the course of the attack, Kdifoc ordered the genocide of the Harvarian species. 

After the initial attack, Krakoth went from planet to planet raining destruction on all that remained.   Those that survived were doomed.  Before he left the system, Kdifoc loosed Weapons of Planetary Destruction on the star Daaneen.  The Daaneen star system is no more.  Your own scientists, both military and civilian, will no doubt notice the new supernova.  This living abomination, this horror, this act against nature must be stopped. Kdifoc and his foul antigod brother, Krakoth, must be destroyed.

What followed was a visual account of the attack.  Hiakalite and Urendil watched in horror as Krakoth blazed a path of wonton destruction through the star system.  They watched him kill, and kill, and kill.  Then they watched Kdifoc order the destruction of the star, something that had not been done since the Great War with the Amengalish. 

“Unbelievable,” said Urendil.  “I guess we won’t have a problem getting anyone to believe us now.  The politicians will have to act.  The constituents will demand it.”

“Yes, they will.” said Hiakalite. 

As the holographic account ended, the voice spoke. 

We can do little.  It is up to you and time is of the essence.  Kdifoc has dispatched the abomination to the Young Princess.  The antigod is to destroy your Kha’ahmpionic fleet, and either capture, or destroy the Kha’ahmpion itself. 

           

D.S BROWN - THE HAVARIAN GENOCIDE - CHAPTER 7

“Look’s like our ride has arrived,” said Urendil. 

            

Hiakalite’s shuttle landed on the deck.  His aide, Aakate, stepped from the shuttle and stood at attention by the door.  Hiakalite walked out of the waiting area and boarded, quickly followed by Urendil.  His aide brought up the rear, closing the door behind him.  He sat down at the controls, and proceeded to take off.

            

“I trust the meeting went well, sir?”  His aide asked.

            

“As well as can be expected, Aakate,” said the Supremor.  “As well as can be expected.”

         

“In other words, it was a waste,” said Urendil.  “As expected, but at least we did our due diligence.”

            

“Sorry to hear that sir,”

            

“Don’t trouble yourself,” said Hiakalite.  “In truth, we accomplished a great deal.”

            

“Very well sir.  Destination?”  Aakate asked.

            

“Military district 45.”

            

“Yes, sir.”

             

“Aakate, I’m erecting a privacy screen.  I do not want us disturbed.”

            

“Yes, sir.  Understood.”

            

Urendil and Hiakalite sat within the cocoon of the privacy screen as the shuttle streaked away from the spires of Narella City.  The shuttle quickly gained altitude, flying high over towers that seemed to reach to the stars.  The Supremor looked out the window, down at the beautiful city in which he grew to adulthood. 

            

Narella City, the capital of the planet Narella, the Narellan Federation, and the Majestic Alliance.  All its great towers were either ebony, ivory, or silver, or silver gold, the color of ascerium.  They were pure structures, with clean edges, order growing from the natural chaos of the northern continent’s great forest.  Narella City was a band of crystal that existed in harmony with its surroundings, merging with the forest that stretched across the continent, from one sea to the other.  Some of the trees, revered by the people of Narella, grew as tall as some of the buildings.  Sentients all over the Majestic considered Narella City to be one of the most beautiful cities in all the worlds.

            

The shuttle left the capital behind.  The Supremor’s aide set a high parabolic course due south, flying at nominal cruising speeds.  Its flight path would take it into low planetary orbit, and then back down again. Military district 45 was a small island in the midst of an archipelago on the other side of the planet.     

            

“We won’t have their full support,” said Haikalite.  “Of course, you knew this.”

            

“Yes,” said Urendil.  “Still, the trip wasn’t worthless.  We must always make every attempt.”

            

“You’re always looking for converts.”

“Not necessarily,” Urendil said, smiling.  “However, a new convert never hurts.  We want more sentients to understand the esoteric nature of our universe.

“Yes, it would help.  That way they can avoid the pain of having the truth smack them dead in the face.  When it does, they’re usually turned into mindless catatonics who can no longer distinguish between fantasy and reality.”

          

“Especially when reality looks so similar to fantasy.”

            

Haikalite chuckled.  “Indeed.”

They both continued to look out at the window, as the sky soon gave way to the darkness of space.

“Fortunately, the sentients who matter the most don’t need to be convinced,” said Haikalite.  “They’re longtime converts.”

Urendil looked at him critically.  “What did I miss?”

“Only what I wanted you to miss.  As we left the Ocracy chamber, I received an encoded communiqué from 1^st Supremor Numerlen.”

“Couldn’t speak to you directly, could he?”

“You know the way the game is played.  He’s been at this far longer than I have, and just now things 

have been a bit precarious.”

“Everyone acknowledges a new Zradgen offensive is coming.  The what and how are in dispute.”

“Exactly.”

“So, what did he say?”

“Of course, I apprised him of the situation some time ago, and sent an encoded update just prior to our

departure from Verdoon.  I received a response.  They were understandably distressed.”

“You wouldn’t know it from the way some of them behaved in the hall.  But again, it is the way.”

“Absolutely,” said Haikalite. “Could wind up being too controversial in this climate.  One has to temper

his connections, his communications, his dialogue.  Make it appropriate for the public and private eye.”

“You sure you don’t want to be a politician?”

“Quiet old wizard.”

“A sentient for the ages, soldier, historian, poet, spy, and politician.  My oh my, you’re so well suited.” 

“I do not agree, old friend.  I’ve made my home on an ancient backwater steeped in mysticism.  My ally, best friend and confidante, even among Emirs is considered—”

“Eccentric,” Urendil finished for him.

“Not the word I was going to use, but I guess it’s as good as any.  However, we digress.  We have accomplished what we came to do.”

“Which is?”

“We now have enough resources to prosecute a campaign against our perceived threat.  They have given us the means.

“They?  Who besides the 1^st Supremor?”

“The Chancellor of the Council, and The First of the Ocracy.”

Urendil was truly surprised.  “Both?  I was not aware our influence extended to the heads of both bodies?”

“Well, I believe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.  After all, I’m the spy, you’re the wizard. “

“Point taken.  Please continue.”

 “Old friend, I’ll tell you.  We’ve been given more than even I could have dreamed for.  Essentially, we will have to hold the course, if we can’t fix it on our own.  And that is what they have given us, the chance to fix it for them.  Keeping conventional forces arrayed against a conventional enemy.”

“And that would leave us arrayed against a god.”

“Yes.”

“So, my Supremor, exactly what have we been given?”

D.S. BROWN - THE HAVARIAN GENOCIDE - CHAPTER 6

Hiakalite was perturbed, angry, but not intensely so.  This had been expected.  He stood in the skydeck waiting area, watching, as out on the deck 12^th Supremor of the 1^st Fien Brameosa, commander of all land forces in the Far Star Majestic border worlds, boarded his personal shuttle.  Hiakalite’s shuttle was two shuttles behind, following a lobbyist, and a finance minister.

“You might as well sit down,” said Urendil, from the plush bench.  “There’s no use brooding over it.”

Hiakalite frowned.  “I’ll brood if I want to.” 

The 3^rd Sumpremor looked up through the clear ceiling of the waiting area at the immensity of the two-mile high Tower of Representation.  This was the heart of the Narellan Federation Government, home to the Narellan Ocracy, which served as the Federation’s governing body.  It was also home to the Majestic Alliance Council, which directed the combined efforts of the sentients opposing the Zradgen Imperialists.

“Still, you’re right.  Brooding is a waste.  Hopefully, our next destination will prove far more productive.”

Urendil smiled.  “I’m sure it will.”

“Is it close?” 

“Very soon.  A towra, maybe less.”

“Well, there is that.”

“Don’t sound so cynical.  There is all kinds of support.  Remember, in the great halls things aren’t always what they seem.”

Hiakalite continued to look outside, concealing his smile.  “I’ll continue to wear my frustrations on my face, Urendil.” 

The Supremor glanced at Urendil, and then looked over at the lobbyist and finance minister.  Urendil thought he understood, and chuckled. 

“I gather we’ll continue our conversation in the shuttle.

“That would be best,” said Hiakalite

Haikalite continued to smile, playing his role.  He was working his craft, just as well as Urendil did his own.  He was the able prevaricator after all, the master spy.  There were always alliances, sides played against other sides, sentients vying for power, even when they were united against a common foe.  War could be treacherous, even when you were on the same side.  And in this, a game he had no love for, he excelled. 

The waiting area fell into silence.  The next shuttle landed on the deck.  The lobbyist walked out and boarded his shuttle.  Just as the lobbyist was taking off, the finance minister erected a privacy shield.  He began to have a conversation with someone on a localized holoscreen. 

“Not a bad idea,” said Hiakalite.

“Yes, but gauche.  We’re in the public waiting area of the Tower.”

Hiakalite smiled.  “You’re a snob.”

“No, I’m simply civilized.”

Hiakalite recognized the privacy shield as standard grade, far below military specifications.  It could not be adjusted to filter in external sounds, and maintain its field of silence.  The Supremor could speak to Urendil now in relative privacy, if he so desired.  However, relative was the operative word.  The waiting room had a holorecording system, as did the entirety of the Tower of Representation.  The whole city was wired for surveillance and security, but the government district was by far more secure than the rest.  Their conversation would be recorded, and most certainly viewed by others.

There were powers, those other sides that would want to know what he was doing, what he might be saying, and to whom he might be saying it.  They would be searching for something to use against him, especially after his testimony before the Ocracy.

The Supremor had made his report first to the Ocracy, and then the Alliance.  He had friends in both governmental bodies, yet his road was still a difficult one.  What he had to say was rooted in mysticism.  It was also corroborated by SentInt, Sentient Intelligence, but this was still not enough for some.

His testimony was compelling.  In the vast hall the sentients listened to his words, and viewed his data.  They then heard Urendil’s testimony.  Of course, the picture they painted with words is what intelligence officials have done for eons, telling the story with data pulled from various disparate sources, trying to make a cohesive whole out of hundreds, or thousands of data points. 

Hiakalite and Urendil did their best to make the situation clear, yet there were still some hearts and minds that were averse to magic and dismissed it outright.  As Urendil ended his testimony, the great hall was shrouded in silence, staring at a simulated visual of a fearsome Zradgen new god.   

They thanked the Intelligence Supremor, and the revered Emir, and promised to go over the data.  They would now deliberate and decide a suitable course of action, if any.  They neglected to mention when. 

The same words were repeated when Hiakalite spoke to the sentients of the Alliance.   During both testimonies he received nods of acknowledgement.  He caught the eye of more than one politician.  Many would support him, though not publicly. 

Unless the beneficiary of the power of the Rite of Atmos attacked the Alliance worlds directly, they would not act.  In fact, many of the politicians simply refused to believe, and would not do so unless they saw the new god swooping down on their very own heads with hot death. 

The governing bodies were still too busy considering the appearance of the Kha’ahmpion, and more than a few felt that two godlike events was just one too many.  Some of them were still having trouble believing in the one, let alone the appearance of the enemies mystically manufactured god, or god myth.

Hiaklite had known this would be the outcome before he set foot in the meeting hall. He was going through the motions, but that still didn’t make it any less frustrating.  The song and dance of government could sometimes be quite draining.  No matter, there were plans within plans.  If necessary, Hiakalite would confront this threat on his own.  He now had the means.

D.S. Brown - THE HAVARIAN GENOCIDE - CHAPTER 5

Krakoth ravaged the Harvarian fleet.  The Kallhad’s sensors recorded every blast and blow, cataloging the information for analysis.  The Zradgen observed their new god in his orgy of destruction, ripping apart vessel after vessel.  He flew into ships.  He used his hands to rend metal strong enough to skirt the surface of a sun.  He took the time to enter some of the ships, murdering Harvarians and Fifth Column Zradgen traitors with his gauntleted hands.  He moved swiftly down corridors, dismembering and eviscerating.  He destroyed intimately, personally, on an unholy scale.  Kdifoc was there, using the Khallad’s sensors to see it all.

“He is magnificent,” said Kdifoc.  “Look at him.  He’s glorious!”

What was the Harvarian fleet was now a maelstrom of shredded metals and gases.  Clouds of energy floated where vessels once flew.  Body parts littered the local area of space.

“There are only two vessels remaining,” said the senseman.  “Wait, new contacts.  Ships are mobilizing from almost every planet in the system, many of them are of the same design, with exposed heavy weapons.  And they’re moving very fast.

“Must be the aid they requested,” said Vradakos.  “They’re a little late.”

“Shall we engage?”  asked the weaponsman.

“No,” said the Emperor.  “Maintain our position.”

“They are charging weapons,” said the senseman.  “They’re coordinating an attack vector for the Prince.  All of them.  They will be in attack range … now.”

A swarm of vessels converged on Krakoth’s position.  They surrounded him in a sphere formation, with no fear of hitting their own ships.  Their weapons fired, unerringly.  The Prince was struck.  He slowed down, appearing hurt.  They fired again, and again, and again.

“What’s this?”  said the avatar of the Emperor.  “What’s this?”

The blinding energy from the enemy weapons fire dispersed, to reveal a very still Krakoth.  He appeared lifeless.  His armor had vanished, retreating within.  His flesh looked ravaged and pockmarked.  The coordinated attack had harmed him.  But to what extent?

“Scan the Prince,” ordered the Emperor.

“The Prince’s energy levels are extremely low, your Highness.” said the senseman.  “Wait, they’re climbing.  They’re climbing fast.”

The Emperor smiled with a sense of satisfaction.  “Excellent.”

The Prince began to stir.  His armor slowly reappeared.  One of the Harvarian ships fired its weapons.  Krakoth raised his hand.  Enough energy to level a city collided with his palm, and dispersed.  Before the other ships could fire their weapons, Krakoth summoned forth a burst of energy that exploded outward from his center in all directions.  Every last Harvarian ship was enveloped in a sphere of destruction, hundreds of ships, thousands of lives, all annihilated. 

The warriors on the bridge of the Khallad were awestruck.  They stared at their screens in silence.  None of them had ever seen such a display of power.  It dwarfed even their weapons of planetary destruction. 

“The Death Blast,” said the Emperor.  “Excellent brother, truly excellent.”

“Your Highness,” said the Commander.  “The Prince truly is our God.”

The avatar of the Emperor turned towards the Commander.  “Yes, he is our God, but he is not to be worshipped.  Worship the space gods, worship whatever god you like, include me in your worship, but that is all.  The Prince, give him your fear.”

The Emperor raised his hand.  His palm suddenly glowed.  “For I am the Hand over God.  If I am not pleased, I will direct his destruction towards you.”

The Commander bowed.  “Yes, your Highness.”

“The energy dispersal is dissipating,” said the senseman.  “There is no sign of the Harvarian ships. 
They are all destroyed.  The Prince is emerging, and moving on a new vector.”

“Direction?”  Queried the Commander.

“The planet Daana,” said the senseman.

“He is going to Daana Command,” said the avatar of the Emperor.

“Shall we initiate, your Highness?”  Asked Commander Vradakos.

“Not yet.”

They all watched from afar as Krakoth approached the planet Daana.  Heavy plasma cannons on the planet’s surface fired salvo after salvo in a vain attempt to destroy him.  He swatted the cannon fire aside as though they were nothing more than gnats, mere irritants at best.  It was an amazing sight.  Krakoth countered.  Bolts of energy exploded from the Prince’s hands, raining death and destruction on the cannon emplacements.  His energy bolts were horrifyingly effective.  Before Krakoth even pierced the atmosphere, Daana’s planetary defenses were utterly destroyed.

The Prince blazed his way through the atmosphere.  He flew downward.  Smaller, in atmosphere energy batteries blanketed the sky with weapons fire.  It was useless, like swinging at a falling boulder with a fly swatter. 

Krakoth stopped just above the capital city.  He hovered there, in silence.  Disloyal Zradgen, Harvarian, and other traitorous sentient troops were in the streets and on building rooftops.  They tried to shoot him down with handheld weapons.  He watched them in their futility.  After some time, they stopped.  A few of them got down on their knees, worshipping Krakoth as their god, and begging for his mercy.

Krakoth reached out with his hand.  From it sprang a sphere of energy, again the Death Blast.  The sphere rapidly expanded.  It engulfed everything.  In moments the city was gone, wiped out in the same manner as the Harvarian fleet. 

Where the capital of the Daaneen star system once stood, there was now only a barren crater, large enough to be seen from orbit.  In its center was one lone sentient, the only thing still alive. 

Krakoth turned towards the sky, looking across the distance, towards the direction of the Imperial vessel Kallhad.  “This system is pacified, my brother.  Come and claim your prize.”

The warriors of the Kallhad were taken-aback by the Prince’s breach of protocol.  One does not simply refer to the Emperor as my brother, even if he is your brother.

“Stay where you are, new god,” said the Emperor.  “We will be there shortly.”

“I await your arrival brother.  In the meantime, I think I’ll fly over the area and observe the effectiveness of my power.”

The Emperor was amused.  He closed his fist, his godhand.  Krakoth would require a reminder of protocol when they arrived planetside.

“Commander, Planet Daana.  Come down on the Prince’s coordinates.”

“At once, your Highness.”