Barbarians

Steps have been taken, a silent uproar

Has unleashed the dogs of war

You can't stop what has begun

Signed, sealed, they deliver oblivion

We all have a dark side, to say the least

And dealing in death is the nature of the beast

Pink Floyd - “Dogs of War”

“Prime Minister, of course we’ll send help to Earth,” Minister Thrassath said. “We owe humanity a great debt for our own survival, and if we can repay your kindness in even the smallest way, it honors us to do so.”

“Indeed,” Minister Ω 445 Intersect Γ said in agreement. “Preparations to provide aid to your homeworld are already underway. We are gathering together a relief fleet as we speak, and they should depart shortly.”

“In addition,” Minister Byzaagaab continued, “another task force has completed its trials, and has been rerouted to the Sol system to provide security. The dreadnaught Ψ17, the carrier Osprey, hospital ship Marie Curie, as well as several battlecruisers and various other craft. They will keep your people safe.”

Leandra looked at the other ministers and felt nothing but profound relief. Humanity was doing all it could to deal with the damage inflicted on Earth, but even with the resources of both it and Mars, it was still a Herculean task…and the security situation was even worse. Admiral Matevosian’s surviving ships were badly damaged, and if there were another enemy armada out there somewhere…

“On behalf of my people and my planet, I thank you,” she said. It was never easy, asking for help. Avoiding any appearance of weakness was ingrained in her, but there comes a time when one must cast aside ego and hubris, for the greater good.

The one nagging concern in the back of her mind was that the task force Byzaagaab was speaking of was crewed almost entirely by the old Triumvirate races. It was an experiment, in fact, an attempt to prove just how far they’d come in the last ten years. At least the key command positions individuals who had served in the last war, so each brought practical experience with them that should serve well.

She wasn’t sure why it was bothering her, other than concerns regarding their experience. Though it’s not like we had any combat veterans in the ranks when we first charged into battle, she thought. Maybe it was because she still had concerns regarding their still prominent pacifistic tendencies. Ten years wasn’t enough time to instill the warrior spirit into races that had no martial tradition, in her opinion.

Or perhaps it was the notion of letting others guard Earth. By tradition, Earth Force was human, though much of that was because of the latent xenophobia many humans still possessed. Finding volunteers had never been a problem, but building the ships from scratch would take time they did not have. For now, by necessity, individuals who had evolved under distant suns would guard the Sol system, but as soon as they could construct replacement ships Mankind could begin relieving the task force.

It's only temporary, she thought to herself, an emergency measure, nothing more.

Sergeant Major Lin came to a halt outside the compartment, as Nassat prepared to open the hatch. “Are you certain you don’t want me in there with you?” he asked.

“Not for this conversation,” the newly promoted Marshal replied. “As much as I rely on your guidance and expertise, this is something that I must do myself, I think.”

“Probably,” Lin agreed, “but I’d still feel better if I was watching your back.”

“You are,” Nassat smiled, “and I know you will set new records gaining entrance should I require your help.”

“Count on it,” the sergeant said.

“You see? There is nothing to fear,” Nassat said as he clapped the human on his back, as the hatch opened and he stepped inside.

The hatch slid closed behind him, as he entered the compartment. Its sole occupant gazed up at him from a comfortable looking chair, as she waved a glass around. “Come to gloat, Nassat?” Admiral Fujimoto asked. “You could have at least knocked.”

“I feared you would not allow me entrance, and I needed to speak with you, Admiral,” Nassat replied.

“Well then, by all means,” she scowled, taking a drink from her tumbler, “invade what little privacy I still have left.”

Nassat grimaced as he seated himself across from her. “I regret the necessity of my actions, Admiral,” he said, “but I can assure you, I would not have gone to such great lengths, did I believe in my heart not doing so would have led to tragedy.”

Hélène took another swig of her drink, before setting it aside. “So tell me, Marshal,” she said, “what brings you to my little corner of the universe? Come to tell me you changed your mind? Or did you discover you bit off more than you could chew?”

“Admiral, in just a few days we will arrive at Gzuj,” he informed her, coming straight to the point. “We do not know what awaits us...but I suspect the Khonhim will have at least some ships stationed there. That sort of battle is not part of my skill set, and I fear my handling of such an engagement would cause many pointless deaths...deaths that could have been avoided.”

She froze, as she gave him an appraising eye. “Unless they turn tail and run at first sight of the task force, I can guarantee you’ll be out of your league. So I’ll ask again...Why. Are. You. Here?”

Nassat took a deep breath. “Because I would like you to be in tactical command of the task force when our fleets meet in battle.”

“Ha!” Fujimoto barked out a laugh. “Not even forty-eight hours and you’ve already come crawling back to me.” Her face twisted into a cruel parody of itself. “You wanted command? Well, now you’ve got it...and I hope you choke on it.”

The Saurotaur sighed. “Hélène...those are your people out there. People that you trained. Are you so filled with anger towards me you would let them die, to prove a point?”

She snarled and turned away. “...damn you,” she cursed. “Ten years ago, you were just a recruit. You are completely out of your depth...hell, you should still be a sergeant!”

“Believe me, I wish that I were,” he said quietly. “And yet you yourself promoted me to General, as you may recall.”

“That was a political decision,” she snapped. “You had trained subordinates that would handle the actual fighting.” Hélène sneered as she glared at his uniform. “Marshal,” she hissed. “Kwasi was a Marshal, back when you were still a private and a damn good one. You...you’re not fit to shine his boots. He earned that right, by having the best strategic and tactical mind of our generation. Can you make that claim?” Nassat chose not to take the bait, which Hélène saw as assent. “Damn right you can’t,” she sniffed, as she rose to refill her glass. “And now he’s dead, and you’re alive. Tell me...where’s the justice in that?”

“Marshal Antuma was an honorable man,” Nassat answered, “and you are correct...my skills pale compared to his.” He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “But there is more to command than tactical expertise, Admiral. Kwasi understood that.” There was a moment of silence before he fixed her with a hard look. “And you, do not.”

Fujimoto whirled around, drink in hand. “How dare you!” she snarled. “What gives you the right to judge me?”

“This is not about rights,” he said, “except perhaps, for what your people call Human rights...and by that, I do not mean whatever privileges you believe we owe your species. When the enemy is defeated in battle, the conflict ends there...or at least, it should.” He rose, as they squared off. “...and not be subject to reprisal.”

She snarled once more, ready to hurl another insult into his face, but Nassat was having none of it. “I have read the histories of your world, Admiral, and there have been others who have acted as you did. Warriors who acted out of hate, or fear, or pain….and History did not judge them kindly.”

That seemed to give her pause. “You and Kwasi saved my people, and in the process created something more, something to be proud of,” he said quietly. “Do not let what has happened tarnish that legacy, Hélène. Now, you may stay here, in your quarters...but before you make your choice, allow me to tell you what others have told me.”

The Admiral turned and looked away. “And what is that?” she asked, in uncertain tones.

“...that we need you,” he said. “That this fleet needs you...and that there is no one else who can do what needs to be done, as well as you can.”

The silence seemed to draw out forever before she responded. “...will you will give me full autonomy?” she asked.

“In tactical matters, yes,” he nodded. “But we will supervise you at all times. That I cannot change.”

Hélène turned back to face him. “I’ll think about it,” she said at last.

“That is all I can ask,” he answered, as he sketched a formal bow...retreating to leave her alone with her thoughts.