Nova Wars

It's always the quiet ones. - Unknown, Terra, Age of Paranoia

Tawtchee sat and watched as everyone hustled and bustled about, moving quickly between stations as the ship prepared to drop from Transit Space and into realspace. The directions they had gotten from "Chuck" to decipher the encoded data embedded in the scars on his back had been complicated, with specific drive speeds, specific Transit Space bands, and tolerances as low as a few light seconds.

The ship was ready to drop, the counter winding down.

Tawtchee knew that Hrekkel felt that he was some kind of good luck charm. That Tawtchee would be able to figure out things that other people could not.

Tawtchee felt that Hrekkel needed some time in a brothel and a good bar fight.

Still, he had spent the entire time going over Terror technology, how it reacted when it was first met, how it had been bypassed, what kind of computer systems still worked.

He wasn't surprised to find out that the majority of the computer systems that still worked were stuff like automated VI bill collectors, legal fine help desks, and traffic offense systems.

He checked the bridge again.

Everyone looked wound up like a cherry before their first firefight.

A glance showed him Field Captain Strechen, who looked like she was wound tight enough to vibrate. The Field Captain had her hands clasped in front of her, leaning back against the wall, the heels of her shoes pressed together.

Tawtchee just turned and watched the counter wind down.

"Remember, all weapons offline. Shields at standby except for particle screens. Engines at full stop," Hrekkel reminded the XO. The XO repeated the orders, the female sweating enough the fur on the sides of her snout and the top of her head were slick.

When it hit zero, the ship made the slight downshift from the bottom of the lowest Transit Space band and into realspace. There was a slight shimmer in the air, a feeling of momentum that had suddenly released somehow.

The tension on the bridge got more intense.

Tawtchee just looked at his thumbnail.

"We're being scanned," the sensor technician said. Their voice grew choked. "Two, three, four hundred point sources. Multiple scanning methods."

A light swept through the bridge, from side to side, then from front to back, then back to front, then side to side in the opposite direction. Then the light filled the bridge. Each member of the bridge crew was outlined. Data scrolled across the outline. The consoles and electronic equipment was suddenly outlined then glowed slightly, like an objective in a VR game. More data flowed by.

The viewscreen at the front of the bridge came on. Runes appeared, then began flickering, finally settling on Dra.Falten standard text.

YOU ARE BEING SCANNED

RESISTANCE WILL BE MET WITH OVERWHELMING FORCE

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE

Time moved by slowly.

YOU HAVE BEEN SCANNED

THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION

PLEASE WAIT FOR INTERACTION

NON-COMPLIANCE WILL BE MET WITH OVERWHELMING LETHAL FORCE

SOMEONE WILL BE WITH YOU SOON

YOU ARE NUMBER [ONE] IN THE QUEUE

A REPRESENTATIVE WILL BE WITH YOU IN APPROXIMATELY [12.6] MINUTES

The light suddenly winked out.

The last two sentences stayed on the viewscreen, the time quickly speeding by.

"Tawtchee, it's on you if you think I'm screwing up," Hrekkel said when the timer dropped to less than two minutes.

Tawtchee sighed, standing up and moving forward. He twisted the cap off the bottle of fizzybrew and slugged down part of it.

The crew eyed him suspiciously.

There was a glow in the middle of the bridge, in a wide empty area where two console rows met with a path from the back of the bridge to the front.

The glow suddenly pulsed and a female Terror appeared.

"Greetings! I am Perfect-Day-331978," the Terror said, her voice pleasant in the soothing aural range of Dra.Falten hearing. "If you would prefer a live agent to speak with, please say 'Live Agent' at any time. Please listen to the following menu as our options may have changed."

The female tapped mid-air and a holographic box appeared.

"If you would like to check the status of your application for residency, visitation, or amnesty, please touch box one," she created another box. "If you need to start a new application, please press box two. If you would like to verify your application, press box three."

The hologram kept speaking, putting up boxes and suggestions.

"Live Agent," Hrekkel said when it said "If you would like to repeat this menu, please select the pound sign box."

The hologram flickered. "Before I transfer you, I need to gather more information."

"Live Agent," Hrekkel said.

"With more information, the live agent will be better able to serve you," the hologram said. "If you were to state the nature of your inquiry, I will be better able to connect you to the correct department. Please state your name and star nation of origin."

"Live Agent," Hrekkel said again, looking frustrated.

"Before I move you to a live agent, I will need some information to..." she started.

"GIVE ME A FUCKING LIVE AGENT, YOU MUTATED MALFORMED SPAWN OF A TWO CREDIT RING-TONE!" Tawtchee yelled. He threw the fizzybrew bottle through the hologram. "IF I WANTED SHIT FROM SOME JUMPED UP COUNTING BOX, I'D CALL THE TAX SERVICES!"

The hologram gave a huffy sound and vanished.

"Are you sure about this?" Hrekkel asked, shifting nervously in his chair.

"You've never dealt with Imperial Pay Services," Tawtchee said. He gave a short mocking laugh. "That was damn near the same VI that I had to deal with to get my combat pay comped."

One of the lower ranking had gathered up the bottle and dropped it in the reclaimer even as a robot sopped up the spilled beer. Tawtchee picked up another fizzybrew from the six-pack he'd put on the unused backup combat control console, cracking it open.

A new hologram appeared.

"Good day, sir, ma'am, both, or neither," the hologram said. This one was sitting behind a desk, without the flowing code across the surface. They were dressed in official looking clothing, the desk had clutter on it. "I am Agent Sarah Goodporter, representing the government of the systems you are intending to access. This interaction is recorded for performance review and training purposes," she gave a tight lipped Terror 'smile'. "How may I assist you at this time?"

Hrekkel stepped forward. "We are searching out the Terrors."

"Oh, well, in that case," she smiled. "I suggest you adhere to the following instructions," she said.

"I am recording," Hrekkel said.

"Good. All right, what you do, is you go back to your quarters. You put on a clown suit, one of the good ones with the squirting flower and the rubber nose. Then you get a good running start," she paused for a second, smiling. "Then jump up your own ass."

The hologram winked out.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO EAT A BOWL OF DICKS

appeared on the viewscreen.

Then it winked out, leaving an icon of "RATE MY SERVICE" on it.

Hrekkel turned and looked around. "OK, what happened?"

Tawtchee took a drink and shook his head. "You gave them an out," he sighed. "The only thing lazier than a government employee is a government employee you need something from."

Ee'eerlee'u gave a snort of a smothered laugh.

"Want to try?" Hrekkel asked.

Tawtchee shook his head. "No, but I'll do it anyway."

He guzzled down the fizzybrew, lit a cigarette, and picked up the book reader he'd gotten from stores. He moved over and tapped the rate my service on it.

The box popped open. One-half to five stars. He hit 'half" on the star. The box popped up asking why he chose that rating.

"Bitch was ugly" was what he typed. He hit submit and took a drag of the Treana'ad smokestick.

The hologram appeared again before he could exhale all the way.

"What?" she asked. She looked angry, staring at Hrekkel.

"Wasn't me," Hrekkel said. He pointed at Tawtchee. "It was him."

The hologram looked at Tawtchee. "Oh, a funny guy."

"You look like someone knocked a fruit-leaper primate out of a tree with a rock, shaved it, and tried to pass it off in a brothel," Tawtchee said. "Seen better milk jugs in the chow hall dumpster."

"That's sexual harassment," the hologram snapped. "And borderline hate..."

"Blah blah blah. Give me your supervisor or I'll tell them you're racist against rodent people," Tawtchee said.

"I'll do no such thing after you harassed me. I am authorized to terminate this call," she reached forward on her desk.

"It's because I'm a veteran and a western red-whiskered Dra.Falten, isn't it?" Tawtchee blurted out. "You primates, always hating on us red-whiskers. You're just leveraging systemic racism of the system on me."

The hologram paused.

"I want to speak to your supervisor," Tawtchee said. He took a long drink and burped. "Or transfer me to the military services representative."

The hologram flickered from top to bottom.

"Better yet, transfer me to your red-whisker omnibudsman," Tawtchee said, sitting down in a chair. "I brought something to read, so I can wait."

The hologram vanished, leaving behind a bead of light.

"Well that didn't," one of the bridge crew started to say.

"Shut. Up," Tawtchee snarled.

He opened the book and started reading. Making a point of finishing the fizzybrew and getting out another one.

He was on the third before the pearl of light blossomed into the hologram again.

"A supervisor is willing to speak with you. Please identify those who wish to speak to the supervisor," the hologram asked.

He pointed out Hrekkel, Ee'eerlee'u, and Strechen.

"Prepare for supervisor interaction," the hologram said.

She suddenly smiled.

"I'm going to enjoy what is about to happen to you immensely," she said.

Everything suddenly went dark.

For everyone on the bridge, mist billowed up around all four of the scientific team. There was a loud hum that shook the entire ship. The mist tattered away into nothing.

Tawtchee was aware he was laying face down, his head to the side, in a puddle of drool and where his nose had bled. He blinked several times and his vision came back. He could see the top of the chamber. It was hexagons of armaglass with a spiral pattern inside of it. The glass was black, smokey, hiding what was inside. There was a single door with a lever-style door handle.

With a groan he pushed himself up, pulling his knees to his chest and pushing off with his arms so he could stand up.

The walls were white with gold flecks in them.

Hrekkel, Ee'eerlee'u, and Strechen were still unconscious.

Tawtchee moved to each one, waking them up, helping them sit up.

Hrekkel blinked twice at the walls and gave a low moan of fear.

"No, no no no," Ee'eerlee'u moaned. "No, please, I can't face her again."

Tawtchee didn't bother to ask who, just heaved Strechen to her feet. "We need to move," he said, heading for the door.

"I can't suffer her ministrations again," Ee'eerlee'u said, her voice full of remembered pain. "I can't."

"Worry later, move now," Tawtchee snapped. He opened the door.

A Terror stood there.

There were a half dozen behind them, all in black armor, helmets, opaque visors, carrying weapons.

But it was the one in front of him that had his attention.

Three meters tall, a meter wide. His legs were as thick as Tawtchee's waist. His arms thicker than the Dra.Falten's thighs. His eyes were blue, his hair gold and cut close to the scalp.

"Going somewhere?" the Terror asked in perfect Dra.Falten.

"Merely helping my companions," Tawtchee said. He sighed. "And I was short. Single digit super midget."

The Terror grinned. "Life just ain't fair, is it, brother?"

Tawtchee shook his head. "No. No it is not."

"I'm here to escort you to a Tier-Three Supervisor," the Terror said. He turned. "These guys are to make sure you don't do anything stupid like try to attack me."

"I forgot my main battle tank in my other pants," Tawtchee said, stepping out and following the Terror. Hrekkel and Ee'eerlee'u followed, the female holding onto the male, her head down, her knees shaking.

"Didn't come looking for a tussle, huh?" the male asked.

"No. Just got roped into some genius's plan," Tawtchee said. He gave a heartfelt sigh, ignoring the tremors of gut wrenching terror making his stomach twist. "Now everything's all sideways. There's always some smart guy that has complicate everything."

"Ain't that the truth," the Terror said.

Strechen stood up, lifting her arm from Tawtchee's shoulders. She wanted to scream at him to not act like everything was a personal trial and burden.

But her voice was caught in her throat at the sight of the armored and heavily armed Terrors flanking them.

"Is it far? I really could use a fizzybrew," Tawtchee said.

"Not far," the Terror said. He stopped in front of a door. "Right here, as a matter of fact." He touched a panel next to the door and it slid open.

A female Terror sat behind a desk. There was some decorations, a cup with writing implements in it, a holofield projector, and a nameplate.

T3 Supervisor Aisling Goodmorrow was on the plate.

There was also four chairs.

"I take it I'm dealing with the one in front?" the Terror female asked.

"He's the most talkative," the male said, shrugging.

"Thank you," the female said. She looked at the Dra.Falten. "Have a seat."

"No charge," the male said, leaving the room.

Tawtchee took a seat. He ignored that two of the armored Terrors took up places at the back wall, one on either side of the door.

The sound of them moving their fire selector levers was loud and Tawtchee noted that he didn't hear capacitors charging.

Hrekkel and Ee'eerlee'u took seats next to Strechen.

"All right. I won't pretend I'm expecting paperwork from any of you," the Terror said. "What brought you here?"

Tawtchee gave a shrug. "From my point of view? A set of orders, a threat of summary execution, then some travel aboard a space ship following something called the Path of the Traveler."

"That explains the ID codes that Magnus, Surcsee, and Hateful-Code left on your ship," she pointed a writing implement at Tawtchee, "And you, but not why you are here," Aisling stated.

"Something about the Path Less Traveled," Tawtchee admitted. He made a motion behind him. "They had all the answers, but something about where we appeared freaked them out."

The female Terror looked at them. "Why?"

"She is not here, is she?" Ee'eerlee'u asked, her voice full of fear. She put her hands over her eyes. "I cannot bear to even gaze upon her visage again."

The female Terror was silent for a moment. "No. No, she is not. I know who you refer to. Is that who set you upon this quest?"

Hrekkel nodded, blinking and swallowing, trying to control his terror.

"Explain," the female Terror said/ordered, staring Tawtchee in the eyes.

It all came tumbling out. The last few firefights. Getting press ganged into a mad journey. The state of the Empire. How Hrekkel stated that some worlds were falling out of contact. His meetings with the other Guardians. How the Confederacy had withdrawn and shrank over the last thousand years. How something called the Mar-gite had apparently attacked the Confederacy and devoured much of it.

The female Terror listened to it all, jotting down notes.

When she asked him to point out which worlds on the star-chart, he didn't hesitate, even though he knew he was giving the Terror the approximate borders of the Empire.

The Terror got up, moving around the starfield, looking at it. After a moment, she sat down.

"And that brought us here, to you," Tawtchee finished.

The Terror nodded slowly. "To Tír Tairngire."

"To here," Tawtchee said.

"Your nation had been at war, attacking and attempting to forcibly settle Confederate claimed worlds," the Terror said. "Yet you come here, on this, the day of my cat's quinceanera, to ask this favor of me."

He didn't know what a cat or a quinceanera was, but Tawtchee nodded.

"Despite the fact that we founded the Confederacy, that they are our allies and war blooded brethren before you even mastered space travel," the Terror said.

Tawtchee pointed at the star map. "Mx. Goodmorrow, I'm a soldier. That's all I've ever been, and I can tell you, what is taking bites out of the Dra.Falten Empire either is or will be taking bites from the Confederacy also."

He took a deep breath and jumped.

"I don't care why you vanished after the Second Precursor War. I don't care why you ran off and hid from the rest of the galaxy thirty, forty, even fifty thousand years ago or whatever. I don't care why you're hiding inside this nebula from your friends," Tawtchee said. "What I do know, is that if I do nothing, hundreds of millions of males like me will be killed on the battlefield, their DNA catalogued for the records, and then," he took a deep breath. "And then they will cease to exist and their lives will have never mattered in any way as the Empire is devoured. Not conquered, devoured."

The female Terror leaned back in her chair.

"There it is," she said softly. "There, Tawtchee, you are."

He blinked.

"What you really care about," she said. She nodded, her eyes slowly starting to glow a hot amber. "You do not want to see tens of millions die in a war they cannot win, be devoured when they lose."

Tawtchee nodded. "The universe hates us enough, I will not stand by and watch as the universe devours my people and laughs at me."

"I will return you to your ship," she said. She tapped her desk and a panel slid back. A red button rose out of the desk.

"What about..." Tawtchee said.

"I am empowered to send a task force with you. It will be small, ten to twenty ships," she said. She gave a smile. "Only fifty to seventy-five warriors per ship."

Tawtchee sunk down, almost deflating. "That will do nothing."

The female smiled, her eyes slowly beginning to glow red.

"You're right. It is time humanity stopped hiding," she said. She bared her teeth in a smile.

All the teeth.

"Let the galactic spur remember us as we write our names in the heaven's in blood and fire."

"But..." Hrekkel started to say.

She pressed the button.

Everything went black.

-----

They'd found themselves face down in the gym, with one of the Way of the Means troopers poking Strechen in the back with a stick.

They'd gotten to their feet and slowly made their way to the bridge. In the lift they ran into Ee'eerlee'u and Hrekkel.

Hrekkel dry heaved several times and Ee'eerlee'u's shirt was soaked with sweat.

Tawtchee was curious as to what could invoke such a terrified response in the two, but figured that it wasn't exactly the time or place to ask.

When they moved onto the bridge, it was bustling with activity.

"Status report?" Hrekkel coughed.

"We were given instructions to return the way we came, that we would be met outside the nebula," the XO said. "They fired a near-C velocity salvo near us from an unknown point and activated the shell's self-destruct less than five hundred kilometers from us."

"You are following their instructions?" Hrekkel asked. He half collapsed into the chair.

The XO nodded.

"Let's go. I want to be far from this place, Hrekkel," Ee'eerlee'u said.

Hrekkel just nodded.

"Let's go."

-----

The small explorer ship exited Transit Space according to the instructions.

Hrekkel sat next to Tawtchee on the bridge, staring at the forward viewscreen as it cleared to show glimmering stars.

"Entrance into Realspace successful," the XO said.

"I thought I was over it. That I could handle it," he said for the hundredth time since he had told Tawtchee what had happened when the mythical Detainee had kidnapped him.

"Everyone has their breaking point," Tawtchee said. He stared at the screen. "Maybe the other path?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps this is a fool's err..." Hrekkel stared to say.

The roar echoed off of everything, roared through the speakers, howled from the very air.

FÁG AN BEALACH TÁ BRISTEOIR FÁINNE TAGTHA