Authors: James Traynor
Still, the Dominion had chosen to maintain a facade of legitimacy. While nobody would lift a finger to intervene for the sake of a handful of Makani, it was dangerous to be careless.
An attack on Toklamakun? What a preposterous idea! The Dominion's valiant naval forces had been on a sector-wide pirate hunt and had stumbled into Makani space just in time to witness the tragedy of a large asteroid hitting the poor planet. Now they were here to offer humanitarian aid and, since no central authorities existed anymore, establish a semblance of order again.
The justification was as thin as the layer of dust and ash that would soon fill Toklamakun's atmosphere for years to come. But as long as the Ashani controlled the system it really didn't matter. As long as no details found their way to the large newsfeeds the fate of Toklamakun wouldn't register in a volatile galaxy where great powers were staring at one another from behind fortified borders. Only a handful of ships that weren't part of the Dominion's navy had managed to make a run for it and transition into foldspace to escape the system.
His thoughts were interrupted by Strategos Tear'al, the same officer who a decade ago had recruited him into the upper echelons of Ashani society. They stood together in silence for a few moments by Corr'tane's ship's main holotank, watching the distant battle slowly fade in intensity as the last defenders were removed from orbit and peace returned. It was the peace of the grave.
“A most satisfying test,” Tear'al commented proudly. “Our forces are operating at their peak, command and communications systems are flawless, our training is unmatched, the fire of our determination all consuming. At last we are ready.”
Corr'tane closed his eyes and breathed deeply. So this was it. The moment long in the making, the point of no return they had been working ceaselessly toward these long years, with the threat of extinction always bearing over them. The day had come. “They were easy prey,” he replied after a pause. “A single system entity, rich in fighting spirit but poor in resources and power. So were the Aetu. But the worlds of the Pact will be harder to subdue.”
“Harder, but not impossible.” Tear'al stood a little straighter and raised his chin. It was a pose he often went into before extolling the greatness of his people. “We have the best soldiers in the galaxy and the best ships. Our dreadnoughts are unmatched in their firepower and our fighters the deadliest known to exist.”
Imperceptibly he sighed. Over the years he had discovered the head of the Dominion's Naval Intelligence Directorate was in fact hugely pompous and filled to bursting with his own self-importance. For as long as Corr'tane had known him, he recognized the man's inability to accept that he could be wrong, that it was quite possible that all the well-laid plans and schemes they had come up with to save their race might not actually work, and that they would all be going straight to hell.
His mind wandered, a luxury he did not often allow, and rested on a day ten years ago near the beginning of their association.
* * * * * * *
“Welcome to your laboratory, Corr'tane,” he had said with a flourish as he opened the heavy doors to his new home. It had revealed a vast complex built over three separate sub-levels beneath one of Karashan's main military research centers and included dozens of sealed rooms and isolation chambers for handling any imaginable substance he could have dreamed of. In that instant it had been like being a ten year old waking up on his name day again, his smiling parents waiting to present him with an armful of gifts as he and his sister joyfully ripped open the packaging with wide-eyed delight and childish giggles as each new surprise was exposed. He had actually run into the center of her new facility with that same wide smile of pure joy and spun around looking up at the high white roof. “This is amazing!” he had exclaimed. “I can use this whole facility?”
“
All yours,” Tear'al had smiled back, Corr'tane's enthusiasm obviously contagious. “The strategoi have great confidence in you. They've seen your work and recognize just how damn smart you are in your field. If there's anything you want, just ask and it'll be yours. Any drug, any chemical, any machine, and any member of staff, anything. It's all yours.”
A figure arriving at the door caused Tear'al to snap to attention like he was on a parade ground. The new arrival was a middle aged male Ashani decked out in the crimson tunic of a naval officer of high rank, perhaps even a Strategos. Corr'tane's youthful playfulness immediately evaporated and he scrambled to present himself under the hard eyes of the senior officer.
“Corr'tane.” It was a statement, not a question. “I'm glad to see you accepted our offer. The Dominion has need of your talents. Does our humble facility meet your expectations?”
“
Humble? Gods, oh yes!” he nearly squeaked and gushed before his self-control reasserted itself, pummeling down his enthusiasm and chastising him for acting like a teenage schoolgirl in front of such a dignitary. “I mean, yes sir. It's beyond what I could have realistically expected. I am deeply grateful for this opportunity.”
The older man smiled a little. “Good.” He chose to overlook his boundless enthusiasm and earlier joviality. “But you must remember these facilities are not for your personal amusement.”
“No sir, of course not,” he nodded solemnly.
“
This facility has one purpose: ensuring the survival of our species,” he continued. “And the only method of survival will be through the Dominion's military. Do you understand?”
“
Yes, sir.”
“
You will therefore be part of the military while you work here. You will wear a uniform and be expected to obey military regulations and take part in the occasional training, as we all do.”
“
Understood, sir,” Corr'tane's voice was flat. It was beginning to dawn on him exactly what sort of responsibility would be placed on his shoulders. Despite the treasure trove of facilities at his fingertips, he would have to work to fulfill a strict set of expectations.
“
You will have the honorary title of Commander, but as soon as you settle in you will be expected to earn that rank like every other officer in the fleet,” the older officer continued. He carried an air of natural authority and command. “Your intelligence and past work got you in here, but to stay you have to prove yourself worthy of this opportunity. Every day is a test for you. You're going to have over a hundred staff working here, many of whom will answer directly to you. Understand that many of them have been scientists since before even your parents were born.”
The mention of his parents sent a sharp flash through his memory: an image of his father leaving for duty on the Tuathaan border the morning after his and Pyshana's tenth name day, the happiest day of his memory. He had stood under their home's door frame wearing a plainer version of the same deep crimson tunic the lecturing officer wore. A week later their mother had tearfully told them that Father was dead, lost to a skirmish with Tuathaan raiders. Five years later they had stood in silence as their mother had been lowered into the rich soil of their simple family burial ground. All their connections to the heady days of childhood had been severed and buried with her.
With a start he suddenly reminded himself to focus on the present and the high ranking officer.
“
Personally, I think you will do well here. Your first task will be to review the data of your predecessor, some simple biological formulas, nothing too much for your first day. I predict a very productive future for you here, Corr'tane. We're going to save our people together, starting right now.” He offered his hand out. “Welcome, Commander Corr'tane.”
He reached out and solidly clasped the officer's forearm who returned the gesture with a hint of appreciation in his blue, cat-like eyes.
He cracked a small grin. “Commander Tear'al will show you to your office. Good day.” Stepping back he acknowledged the naval intelligence operative's salute, then disappeared out of the room.
Corr'tane released a deep exhalation and doubled over, his knees trembling.
“Are you all right?” Tear'al rushed over and grabbed him, escorting the scientist-turned-officer to a chair.
“
I think I just need a moment's rest.” He sunk back into a surprisingly comfortable seat. “Gods, I've always been better with germs than with people,” he muttered sourly. “Please, tell me truthfully: did I make a complete fool of myself?”
“
No!” the intelligence officer chuckled. “Actually, I think the old man seemed quite taken with you.”
“
Really?” he frowned, sounding everything but convinced. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“
If he'd have taken against you, you'd have known about it, trust me. He doesn't suffer fools and incompetents. I'd say he actually respects you.”
Corr'tane smiled at that. “I guess he's the base commander then?”
Tear'al barked a surprised laugh. “You didn't recognize him, boy? That was Strategos Kalla'shan, Head of the
Eye of Satevis
. As the man in charge of the organization running all our intelligence services, he's
de facto
second only to the High Strategos himself!”
“
Oh,” was all he could manage. He'd never met anyone even remotely as powerful before. For all their professional clout the people constituting the National Scientist Council had only been marginally important in general society. To meet a man who shaped the course of their civilization was a new experience, and he could feel his hands trembling again. To be actually favored and trusted by such a person was something even more disconcerting.
Tear'al looked at him as if he knew exactly what went on in Corr'tane's head at that moment and gave him a jovial laugh. “See? Now you've got friends in high places. This is the rest of your life now. You're not just some lab tech in an academy working for people far less talented than you. Now
you
're the one in charge. Your talents have been recognized by the powers that be. You can make a difference.”
“
A difference?” he was still shaking. He felt as if the weight of the new situation was beginning to crush him. Suddenly all he wanted was just to go outside and get a breath of fresh air.
“
Of course! Your work will play a part in deciding if our race lives or dies. We already discussed this.”
They had talked about it, true. But it was only now that it really truly began to settle on him, that he registered precisely how much was depending on his work here. The future of a species partially resting on the shoulders of a twenty-five year old biologist. How was that for pressure to perform? All that other young biologists needed to satisfy was to publish a paper once in a while!
His stomach suddenly felt as if it had been crushed down to the size of an atom and his entire insides constricted with pain. He scrambled from the chair, pushed past Tear'al and collapsed in a corner, vomiting profusely.
* * * * * * *
His cold blue eyes wavered for a moment from Toklamakun. That less than dignified moment had been when he had grasped the enormity of what was needed for his people. His stomach hadn't truly settled for a week, but as his staff arrived he had felt renewed, filled with a new sense of purpose. The doubts and fantasies of his youth were gone.
A few quick flashes in space caught his eye as a wing of fighters cleared up the debris field after the brief battle. In truth, it was a euphemism for shooting down
OpFor
life pods.
The flashes vanished, and once again space was peaceful as the Dominion armada slowly settled into a geostationary orbit above the now defenseless planet below, uncontested and victorious.
“The Makani army is a formidable force,” Corr'tane said conversationally. “Our landings will not be unopposed.”
“
We have the best armies in known space,” Tear'al replied predictably with a smug expression frozen on his features.
He had changed a lot in the past decade. In Corr'tane's opinion the change had been for the worse. Tear'al just wasn't open to new ideas. He had subscribed to his blinkered belief in Ashani superiority over all things. A bad stance to take for a former intelligence officer.
On the surface it even seemed he was right. The Dominion's military was unmatched in size and prowess by all except the Rasenni Royal Navy, and even then it was generally acknowledged that Ashani personnel were better trained. However, as Kalla'shan's replacement he should have been planning for any flaws in the Dominion's war machine. Immediately assuming it would conquer all, that's how disasters happened. And the Ashani simply could not afford a failure of intelligence in the coming war.
The fleet had finished redeploying, moving into a blockade of the planet and forming a protective cordon around the cruisers that were moving into position in high orbit. The asteroids these ships towed behind them, aided by dozens of maneuvering thrusters latched onto the rocks themselves, easily dwarfed the powerful warships. They were useless against other warships unless the enemy was blind, deaf, and stupid. In military terms they had precisely one use: orbital bombardment. All one needed to find was the right angle. Gravity did the rest.