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"Probe data returning, sir." Val peered at his screen, the work of the superbattleship's legion of sensors operators clarifying the raw data that Ares had herself plugged into. "Building force concentration data now."
"Tell me when you find one ripe for the picking," the fleet admiral replies from behind his folded hands, and get me some... proactive target acquisition."
"Acting, sir."
Supreme Emperor J'hsen found herself once again thinking about the mural that should adorn the otherwise sparse Supreme Imperial office. While it could have been relaxing, the office was by legislative mandate bare and somewhat reminiscent of a prison, or, maybe more accurately, a penitent's cell. Becoming the supreme executive power in a strong federal democracy like the Weirdo Zone led to not only a great deal of personal power but also a great deal of personal subjugation to the wills of the masses. Some described their ten-year terms as prison sentences or aestetic life in a monastery but almost never anything considered pleasant. Some people enjoyed it, and they made careers of it; others saw it as penance and simply did their best to the end; all saw it as duty to the people they served and were reminded of serving every single day by the utter lack of pomp or unnecessary accoutrements usually reserved for the title of "Emperor."
The Zone did admit to itself that it was an empire. Spanning three galaxies, billions of worlds, sextillions of sophonts, and millions of sentient species, it couldn't help but be an empire. Each location had its own government, own culture, own way of doing things, but all were collected into the greater body of the Pangalactic Empire by the overarching culture and dominating political thought of the federal government, which owed much to the earlier Terran Dominion and thus made the Weirdo Zone, in the eyes of outsiders, a sort of Human-dominated society. This happened simply because the elder races--the Volanti, the Koltrop, and the Kzroth--had forgotten what it was like to deal with the concepts of different races and cultures and needs from their own millenia of federation. They were so used to each other that anything different and unknown aroused the same primal fear as if they had never learned to adapt so well in the first place. Humanity, however, was different. It wasn't any more or less heterogenous than the average, but its subsets tended to fight amongst themselves a lot more recently than others. Humanity learned to live together, but perhaps in a more realistic, less ideal way. Fear of the unknown, they reasoned, was natural and thus shouldn't be called a bad thing. The inclination that one's own way is right and others wrong is natural as long as it is kept in check. A person can consider their species or their economic system or their way of life to be superior as long as they realize that it is a personal decision that cannot be forced on others.
In that way, they made perfect imperialists. Like the Romans, the Human-oriented Zone only cared if those under its aegis paid their taxes and allowed their people the freedom to be happy; in return, they received protection and even representation. This appeased the species they discovered, and this appeased the whole. Humanity was careful not to try and overwrite the cultures the Zone discovered, but yet it was their nearly unique proclivity towards keeping widely varied and often conflicting groups from annihilating each other that made them natural leaders. This had been argued back and forth for the five centuries of the Zone's existence, with the Humans most often on the dissenting side.
Still, Darwinism does act to some extent in societies as in any other competing structure, and so it simply happened. It simply was. And that is why Supreme Emperor J'hsen, elected by plebiscite, was Human like a plurality of Emperors before her. And it was the now-innate Human understanding, bred from years and years and years of quelling interniecine conflict, which made life difficult on such Emperors. The leader must understand that they serve their subordinates, and the subordinates' service to the leader closes the cycle. That understanding comes from teaching, and it comes from lifestyle.
God damn, what I wouldn't give for a mural right about now. Maybe a nice fresco for durability in some old Renaissance style. Needless to say, J'hsen's mind thought of things millions of light years away from why she was there or why her office was so bare. Naw... the People's Money Committee would never go for that. Too "imperial." I wonder if I can con them into getting a skylight.
A light blinked active on her desk, accompanied by a soft buzzing sound. Shifting in her chair to fit in it more as it was designed to hold her, she tapped the light with one finger, bringing up the image of Fleet Admiral Nibnumber on her desk display. "Ah, Fleet Admiral." She smiled wryly. "How goes?"
"Good news is we got the super-bee the Reaver commander was probably on, ma'am. Bad news is that 'was' is the key phrase."
J'hsen frowned. "Hrm."
"Gets worse, ma'am. My little sally forth there gained us quite a bit on the KIA/MIA list so our position is even more tenuous than it was previously." The Admiral seemed to wince internally.
"Military Services says they're still not willing to dispatch forces from Pioneer, and I can't say I blame them," the Supreme Emperor said.
"Understood, ma'am. I've got a new plan of essentially destroying the enemy in detail with lightning raids. It's risky, but no more so than waiting for the Reavers to just collect all their forces and jump in to wrest the shipyards from us."
"And you're asking for my permission?"
"No, ma'am, I'm keeping you informed." Phillip half-smirked wryly. "Still, without reinforcement, my hopes of us staying here are rather limited. I'll hold the line as best I can, but I'm not about to make promises at this rate."
"I understand, Fleet Admiral. Is there anything I can do for you?" The fifty-odd year old woman smiled gently.
Nibnumber sighed. "Send help."
"I'm afraid I can't do that right now."
The Fleet Admiral firms his features and nods. "Understood, ma'am. GLAIVE out."
"We have a target, sir. Two, actually. One system has a superbattleship all by its lonesome, essentially; the other looks to be a mix of cruiser and destroyer squadrons."
"Battleship's a decoy," Nibnumber says easily, "get me targeting information on those cruisers. I want one stealth cruise missile on each of them before the fight; disperse targeting information throughout the active portions of GLAIVE. They jump, fire, hold until jump-out; we jump in close right after their missiles land and keep the enemy busy."
"Acting, sir."
The avatar, an almost ironically thin and young J'tari female, toyed idly with her simulated blazer pistol. I was in the sensor room of Brisbane at the time, but 'Bane had invited me in for this little conversation outside of ISVAR proper. "So..." She looked at me once, then went back to idly checking the balance of her weapon. "You in?"
'Bane chuckled. "I must admit, I like the Fleet Admiral's style. Apologize in person, then send his ship to convince me to fight after 'he got my best friend killed,' in his own words."
The superbattleship Ares shrugged lightly. "Yeah, he's like that. Runs me hard, but then, that's what I'm there for. Always like the challenge." Her eyes seemed to flash a little at the word 'challenge.' Her attitude, bearing... she certainly seemed a lot younger than Brisbane, which was appropriate, I suppose. She was still slightly unsettling. "Still haven't answered my question."
"I know Captain Stonozka will not pull rank, especially as guilty as he is feeling right now. I am unsure that he is fully combat effective."
Ares glanced at me again. "What about her? She should be able to talk to him on a more personable level. Get him back up for the game."
'Bane winced slightly at the word 'game' but nods slowly. "If she is willing." She smiled at me, which was a welcome gesture at the time. "I am ready to obtain what vengeance I can, so he needn't worry on my account."
"Right. Me, I'm always in it for the challenge." Ares aimed her pistol at some point in the distance, easily sighting down the barrel with a concentration I hadn't seen in her earlier. "I'm actually a bit glad I got pulled off that research gig... could've been so dull!"
'Bane just shook her head slowly. "Sometime, child, you will learn. I cannot chide you too harshly, because I remember my own gung-ho days quite well and hypocracy has never settled well on my mind."
"Eh, 'till then, it's all about kicking ass and taking names. Thanks again for having me over, 'Bane; see you in the battlespace." Grinning, the avatar blinked out of not-quite-existence.
There was a moment of silence before I spoke. "She scares me," I said simply.
"You're not the only one." 'Bane leans back in her chair with a gentle sigh. "A good mind, but a frightening one. Sagittarius was far more... appropriately thoughtful, so I'm told."
Several possible connotations went through my head. "Appropriate?"
"A better soldier, for one, and a better match for her commander. I don't think the Fleet Admiral realizes yet just how bloodthirsty his ship is."
I got the shivers from that thought, and I didn't even have to apologize for it.
A portside sensors Technician aboard a spear-like battlecruiser stared idly at her screen. Reaver ships lacked central intelligences, so it fell to massive numbers of sensor operators to each keep an eye on a particular portion of the sky and perform signals interpretation almost manually. Of course, such things were knowledge from the egg. It didn't keep it from being mind-numbingly dull duty for the operators, especially when the commander wasn't willing additional endorphins and adrenaline through their veins. One ghostly image of reflected light and low-IR emissions indicated a planet, hanging alone in the middling depths of the system. It glowed just a tiny bit brighter, as if backlit; sensor wash had a tendancy to do that sometimes.
The circle of the planet didn't change, but its innards varied in brightness, waving back and forth, seen across a broad desert plain. The Technician blinks and ponders for a moment. With active sensors off, it could be anything. "Warrior?"
The sensors officer looked back down the long corridor of Technicians. "Yes?"
"Permission to go to active sensors, Block Fifteen?"
The Warrior pondered, then made a signal of affirmation. The Technician flipped a switch, blinked, then screeched. "Inbound! Missiles vectors fifteen-se--"
Just then, the entire other row of Technicians shielded themselves from the blinding glare of their screens. "Jump wash!"
The entire ship shook with repeated blows, and suddenly the port side of the room tore away, opening its contents to vacuum and the tangled metal flesh of what used to be the port side of the battlecruiser.
"Jump complete, sir."
"Weapons, open fire on all unengaged ships. Secondary salvos on primary engaged."
Xonmik looked up with a start at the situation holo, watching his squadron getting ripped to tatters as dots simply started appearing, active sensors finally showing the streams of missiles slung from behind the fourth planet in the system. An instant thought to the helm, and the spear quickly pivoted before accelerating away; a quick order barked to the survivors of the initial onslaught, and they began to speed away in a different direction. Then the holo shuddered with sensors wash, and in its wake appeared a massive enemy icon. That was all it took to get Xonmik running out of the command center post-haste.
Ares, if she had the biological background to, would have sighed. Surprise attacks are never as challenging, she thought as she idly transformed the consistency of a detachment of destroyers to that of iron filings with a lazy swat from her starboard arsenal, certainly not a real test of my skills. Deep within her armored breast, Fleet Admiral Nibnumber would have disdained such thoughts, still in fervent--albeit invisible--hope that his plan was still going to come off as he looks over the strategic indicator screen. "Torpedo spread on that group of cruisers there... hmmm... see that cruiser by itself?"
Admiral Ka-Ri nods. "Running for it... away from the main group. A distraction?"
"Probably what they want to attract attention from. Core it."
Pikbuuv nodded to his old friend. "Company-Officer..."
"No time," Xonmik replied quickly before grabbing the old Warrior by the shoulders and lifting him up. "On your feet and get moving."
The Reaver general, looking quite old and decrepit, peeked back into the local command networks and groaned. "It can't be..." He tried to resist, to do something.
Pikbuuv sighed, balled up one three-out-of-four fingered hand, then checked his superior officer once more out of consciousness. A quiet load is better than a resisting load, he thought as he slung the limp bulk of the general onto his shoulders and ran out of the room.
"Outside of red-zone engagement range, sir. It's booking."
Nibnumber frowns. "Well, that's why we have standoff cannon. Maneuver us to keep us in red-zone with the main group but bring us about so that one's in a terablazer arc. Call in the support units to assist in cleanup."
"Acting, sir."
Space combat has no use for this quaint little idea of moving in the same direction as one is facing. Gravity well care of the gravity distortion drive firmly pointing in one direction, Ares easily turning her ponderous bulk in another, torpedo tubes glittering as they discharge their warheads, particle cannon turrets and blazer collimators all spewing energy both kinetic and electromagnetic at the host of targets that surrounded her.
A squadron of shiv-like destroyers zipped away from the conflagration around the superbattleship, ready to make their escape. Suddenly, their communications system erupted with an eardrum-shattering ululating yell. What the--
--hell? I thought as my IVSAR view pitched with 'Bane's battlecry, the old cruiser leaping forth from behind the planet with more speed and vigor than I would have given her credit for. I find it effective in disorienting the enemy, Officer Sovinto, she replied easily even as several megablazer beams streaked from her (me?) into the lead ship of the formation.
One Warrior threw the other none-too-gently into the back of a bulky lighter just before slinging himself into the cramped multi-use cockpit. It may have been comfortable for a Technician; for a Warrior, it was simply comically small as he wedged his blue frame in, oversized fists looking as if they would crush the delicate controls.
The squadron flashed past us faster than I could think, our cruiser element just speeding through on a high-speed pass. You'll need to do better than that, Officer, the ship chided gently, I'm well over three times your age and leaving you behind. Inertialess drives bent space to 'Bane's and the helmsman's combined wills, bringing the ship about and streaking back around for an oblique pass. You also think several million times faster than I do, 'Bane, hold on... watch out for that destroyer there, her emissions are hot. My view jinked portward away from the red lines that blinked forth and disappeared from the destroyer, matched by green lines of our own that intersected with its icon and turned it darker until some green-dot torpedoes converted it to an expanding mass-cloud.
I really couldn't feel proud about that. Relieved, but not proud.
Xonmik slammed a fist down on a non-vital panel, bending it into itself with its force. "Work, spite you, work!"
"Target in red arc, sir. Targetcomps are singing."
Nibnumber nods. "You have your order."
"Acting."
Ares, in her mind, leveled the barrel of her blazer pistol at the retreating icon, letting all else fade from that small portion of her mind for an instant of crystal clarity as her avatar slowly squeezed the trigger. In reality, intense energies stored in banks after banks after banks of capacitors deep within kilometer-long focusing tubes released their energies, a ten-meter wide swath of pure electromagnetic noise in the varicolor light, ultraviolet, x-ray, and gamma ray frequencies screeching out with enough power to drill a hole through a planet's crust. This planet-drilling beam instead burned through a few fully-powered gravitic shields then cored a hole ten meters in diameter through the length of the cruiser, from stern to stem before bursting out the other end and losing itself in deep space. The cruiser, power plants cut in twain, conduits freely evacuating contents, reaction masses and fabricators and all simply released to the night, tore itself to shreds as system after system overloaded and burst in a miniature flash, reducing the entire warship to kindling. All too easy, thought the superbattleship.
And the Reaver battlecruiser Oomlok was no more.