Showing posts with label galaxy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label galaxy. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

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 12th Supremor of the 1st 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 3rd 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.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

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.”