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"We're committed now," the Ancient One murmured with a shiver, letting the thoughts just flow to her from Xonmik. This treachery, this sudden mutiny had made her helpless, put her in the power of her lesser--a wholly new sensation. "We have nothing else to do other than let the game play out."
Ra'pij'okk tapped his teeth together in quiet dissent. "Not necessarily... we simply need to adapt as the situation demands. Now, the problem is that Pikbuuv has..." He hits his own mental block. Rebellion against the High Mind Queen, the Ancient One... so utterly unthinkable as to be only the product of a diseased mind. The Thinker works his mind around it, unconsciously looking for an acceptable equivalent or analogy. "He has become the enemy. He is no longer one of Our Family, Ancient One. We must act as if he is not."
"What do you suggest?" The large reptilian looked down with quiet desperation at her adjutant, bony fingernail-like claws of one hand picking at each other in unconscious nervousness, the hand kept out of sight in habit.
"Our intelligence shows that the Zone has always been concerned about military forces 'going rogue,' falling out of their control. We can admit that this is what happened here... and then move to assist them in controlling the problem."
"No... not possible." The Ancient One shook her head, her own mind reeling. "Those are my ships, my crews there. I cannot help to destroy them--they represent a large investment of my resources. We cannot affort to simply throw them away."
"They are not ours anymore," Ra'pij'okk snapped back momentarily, instantly regretting it as the Queen lashed out with her mind, striking him across his psyche. He cowered back, cringing, teeth clenched in pain.
The nameless Queen shivered, turning pained herself. "I am sorry. It cannot hurt us to tell the truth, just this once."
Fleet Admiral Nibnumber stood leaning his elbows against the back of his chair, looking over the spherical strategic situation monitor with a wry grin while he waits for the audible click of the public address system's transmit switch. With a snap of metal on metal, he began. "Task Force GLAIVE, this is Fleet Admiral Nibnumber. As you may have heard, we're preparing to get back into the fight. We're in this for the long haul now; GLAIVE has officially received change of status from a support expeditionary force to a full combat task force. We are being reinforced by MilService and ExService ships from across the Weirdo Zone; commanders, I want you to memorize your OBs so you know who you're attached to and know how this fleet is going to keep itself coordinated. Strategic offices back at Headquarters and aboard Ares are coordinating on battle plans; every ship and crew will receive its orders in secret to ensure operational security.
"We're going to hit them hard and we're going to hit them fast. The Thaurians are going to rue the day they hit us." He nodded to the comm officer, and she flipped the switch back to the inactive position. "So," he began to quip as he spun his chair around and flopped into it, "what do you think of HQ's latest brilliant plan?"
Ka-Ri chuckled and shrugged his broad shoulders. "I suppose it's time to call some bluffs."
Supreme Emperor J'hsen frowned. She never really liked talking to the Reaver Queen; the reptilian stroked all her sensibilities the wrong way. Admittedly, there were superior officers in her past with similar god complexes, but never anything this bad. Admittedly, it was to be expected from a creature who had apparently been alive in different bodies for over two million years and that ran an intergalactic empire due to the force of her very will. Admittedly, all her annoying traits were just indicative of the bias such a lifestyle would engender.
That didn't mean the old trooper had to like it. "I'm sure you understand when I say I'm not exactly prone to believing you."
The Ancient One on the other end of the line suppressed a growl. "It would be unprecedented, would it not? General Pikbuuv, the commander of that task force, has gone mad. It would be equal madness to persecute my people for his actions."
"I would like to respectfully remind you that I know my history, Ancient One," J'hensen managed to say without sneering, "and that the Reavers--pardon, the rayverr--have never had any recorded instances of mutiny, rebellion, or other such rogue action. It has been communicated quite clearly to me... by you, in fact, in previous dialogues... that the very structure of your collective precludes such horribly anarchic actions. I believe we were talking about how my anarchy could possibly produce vigilante warriors who would want to revenge themselves against you even after a formal peace agreement."
"That was a very real risk, even you admitted that."
"I admitted there was a small risk, yes, but that's beyond the point. The fact is that you've drilled it into me from day one that your people are more trustworthy and better than mine and, yes, I completely plan on having you live up to your words."
"What?"
"I'm faced with two options: believe you when you bring this up, apparently trying to prevent a casus belli we never even suggested, and based on things which should by all reasonable opinion be impossible in your empire; or come to the conclusion you're lying. Ever hear of Occam's Razor?"
"You have a propensity to bring up your species' culture," the Mind Queen glowered, "so I should have prepared better. No, I do not; that is my lapse."
"The answer that requires the least number of assumptions is more likely to be the correct one. I suppose it's not even worth asking if you've heard the story of the boy who cried 'wolf?'"
"I do know the basics of that one, at least. It is a rather common theme in most sophontic cultures--those that lie repeatedly are mistrusted."
"Exactly. I reserve the right to trust those who have proven themselves trustworthy rather than stalling for time and thusly wasting mine. I also reserve the right to act as I see fit after weighing your statement and your suggestions. I'll call you with my response after thinking it through. Good day, Ancient One."
Cutting the signal, J'hsen leaned back in her chair and frowned. "I don't like it."
Wantanabe, sitting in the corner of the room, nodded as he started drumming his fingers on the folding card table currently acting as his desk. "I can see why. Simply because we never broached our suspicion that the Reavers did it, really. Without us doing that, there's no reason for her to try and dissuade us from an attack."
The Supreme Emperor nodded, then leaned forward, resting her shoulders on her desk and her chin on her folded hands, deep in thought. "True. I do actually think she's being at least halfway honest, for once. There's no reason for her to say her troopers did it if they didn't; it's in her best interest to have us attack the Thaurians rather than suspect her. And that's why we're going to attack."
The civil servant's eyebrow raises. "Ma'am?"
"She's stalling for time, again. Her soldiers were responsible but she doesn't want us to attack now because she's not ready. Whether they were rogue or not is irrelevant. Does this mean that she can order this again and again and we'll have to let her get away with it because she used someone else's ships? Or does this give us the chance to finally dismiss her negotiations as a charade and the opportunity to end this once or for all?"
"I'm not sure I like where this is going, ma'am."
"Tough--the situation demands it. I've dealt with the Reavers longer than you have, son." Her voice once again took on the wry diction of an infantry officer. "They're crusaders, damned pragmatic crusaders. They believe in everything they do. They believe they're helping the people they subjugate, and they believe in the improvement of themselves through using subjugants for genetic material and resources. They're out to reform the universe in their image, if they can, and bring it all into harmony under their Ancient One. It's personal ego on a galactic scale, and it truly is us versus them in their eyes. I see no reason why I should think differently.
"We've fought this war for five hundred years," J'hsen said quietly, "five centuries. Europe went from the Dark Ages to colonial superpowers in the same amount of time. Five generations a century, twenty-five generations of warriors, 'Nabe. Trillions dead on both sides. Do we just let it continue? Do we just sit back and say 'no, it's alright, please rebuild your forces?'"
Her face turned grim, jaw setting in determination. "No. We're at war. Klauswitz would be out of his league here; we're not looking for territory or power. We are, quite simply, fighting for the survival of our way of life." She locked Wantanabe in her steely gaze, hidden iron in her soul making itself known in her voice. "The enemy is on the ropes. We can give them the opportunity to destroy us later, or we can stop them now. What would you have me do, hmm?"