The Turquoise Queen, page 12
part #1 of Coalition Series
The regent suppressed a cringe. It was easy to forget what it really meant, for them to use the weapons she'd provided. At least the ones he was talking about were soldiers. They knew what they were getting into. She provided a schedule for their next contact, made assurances.
"The time to take Arjosat, and to crush your Sencris oppressors, draws near. And it will be you, Uljer Nourdolvi, who will lead your people into the future." With that boisterous statement, she bid the old Urvasatij warrior farewell.
He seemed very confident. Back when they first met, Erchtria had felt the guerrilla leader was a bit overwhelmed by the size of his task. Raiding supply depots in the dead of night was one thing. Seizing control of an entire planet was another. Now, however, he seemed to be taking to his expanded role quite well.
Now to her truer allies. Her next task would be to gather them all under another glass ceiling. She'd picked the location already, made all the arrangements. Surely they would all understand the need for it. She reached again for the secure communicator.
* * *
A single interstellar transit away, another Raiac stood at the center of his own throne room. It was a more modest imitation of the one on the homeworld, but still covered in golden adornments and stained glass panes. The same was true of the ceremonial handgun he nervously fidgeted with.
They were coming. There was no muffled thunder in the distance. The walls did not shake. No troops stormed the city's labyrinthine underground passages. Nothing of the ominous signs one would expect. But he knew they were almost upon him.
Of the Sharizinar Alliance's major colonies, Sirpratl was one of two transit hubs bordering imperial space. Earlier, twenty Sencris dreadnoughts had emerged high above the planet. On any other night, they would have been met by over two dozen Raiac and Tcheerazeen frigates. And would have promptly obliterated them.
Instead, they had encountered next to no resistance. The unmanned defense satellites had detected the invaders and fired upon them, but they were no match for such a massive force. One after the other, they'd been destroyed, dealing little damage in return. Such ease had taken even the Sencris by surprise. It had been the reason for the local regent's cries of injustice.
Earlier still, Erchtria had been informed by her spies of the impending attack. She had decided to withdraw all forces from the planet. President Shiredveeari, of the Tcheerazeen, had followed suit shortly after, leaving Sirpratl defenseless. It had been a calculated move by the regent. The odds were not in her favor. She could not afford to lose a single ship in a hopeless battle.
Upon hearing the news, she instructed him on how to act. The man she'd betrayed. She had heard him protest, allowed him to vent his justified rage, then told him what to do next, in as calm and reassuring a voice as she could.
So there was no fire in the sky, but for the few, small flashes of the exploding satellites. There were only the enemy's warships in orbit. There was no gunfire in the capital's tunnels. All ground troops had been instructed to go into hiding, and prepare for the inevitable occupation. They were soon to become a resistance movement. As for the local citizens, all they could do was hide in their homes and hope for the best.
Fearing for their safety, the local regent had sent his aides home. It left him alone, turning the golden gun around in his hands to keep them from shaking, facing the door to his throne room. It was locked, for what good that did.
Then he heard it, the faint, rapid clicking of numerous, tiny metallic legs. Undulating, mimicking the serpentine motion of the water creatures using them to move upon dry land. Fast approaching.
He stood up, weapon still in hand, pointed at the floor. Just him in there, a diminutive figure covered in loose crimson robes, gold chains and gemstones, trying in vain to look imposing. But he knew no one could have managed that in those circumstances, not even the most stalwart of the queens of old.
The clicking grew louder, then stopped. A moment later, with a loud pop, the lock flew apart, and the heavy doors slammed open. Three of them marched in, slithering close to the floor. Interlocking plates of armor covered every millimeter of their long, scaly bodies, even their tall, frail dorsal fins.
At the sight of the Raiac, the front legs of all three encounter suits straightened, bringing their red dot eyes to the height of their bipedal counterpart's face. The motion looked fluid, almost instinctive. Also coordinated and rapid, the soldiers trained the tips of their lances at the still armed, possibly dangerous regent. They too were red dots, glowing ones. Ready to fire at the slightest sign of resistance.
"That will not be necessary." As the translation device did its work, the regent's hand paused, half wanting to try to shoot the Sencris. The one in the middle, he was obviously the leader. The other two would get him right after, but maybe he could move fast enough.
Nothing but a fantasy. With very slow motions, he reached for the gun's battery and yanked it out. He presented the weapon, handle first, to the invaders. As instructed by Erchtria. Who, he hoped, knew what she was doing.
"In the name of the Sharizinar Alliance, I hereby surrender control of all Raiac domains on the autonomous colony of Sirpratl."
With a brusque, swift motion, the Sencris leader took the symbol of power from the regent. It looked small in his large, armored hands. Meanwhile, his subordinates relaxed, their suits' legs bending ever so slightly, the tips of their spears pointing down.
A hard, transparent material separated the water breather's face from the air around. He addressed the Raiac, his mouth moving without producing audible sounds. With a slight delay, the words began coming out of the suit's sound system, in a somewhat mechanical baritone.
"In the name of his Eminence, Flameridrail the Third, I hereby accept your surrender." There was here as much contempt as there had been in the regent's speech.
The Raiac shrugged, gave a listless smile with his pedipalps, already envisioning what role he might have in the days to come. Or months, or years, he could not know. Prisoner, puppet governor, something else? That's what the Empire did in its colonies. Place a native in a position of power, for the sake of appearances. While the peaceful surrender would probably grant him some level of comfort, none of the possibilities were captivating.
"I assume you have already paid a visit to my underwater counterpart."
"My most trusted captain is seeing to it right now. Should we expect resistance?" There was more than a hint of menace in the question.
"He was instructed to do the same thing I just did. So no."
The Sencris gave little attention to that reply, slithering past the defeated local leader, towards the ornate chair at the center of the room. The suit's rows of articulated legs clanked loudly, with greater force than they needed to, leaving tiny dents on the polished stone floor. More pointless intimidation, the Raiac thought to himself. The battle, if there had even been one, was won. Without loss of life on either side, it seemed.
"I like this." The Sencris glanced at the walls, the ceiling. "Not too different from a palace in my homeworld. A pity I must rule this planet from the Tcheerazeen city. All grey, flat and empty, no sense of style whatsoever."
Something bubbled up inside the regent then. Not because of the insult to his friends in the oceans. He kind of agreed with that. The Tcheerazeen's general preference for minimalism irked him a bit too. It was the smugness that got to him. How this invader, who had just arrived, already treated the place like it was his. It filled him with sudden defiance.
"Don't worry about that. You won't have to stay there very long." It took all the courage he had, to utter those words to the armored beasts who circled him, producing that menacing clanking as they did. Who could kill him, probably without much consequence, if they wanted to. But he did say it, keeping his voice calm and level throughout.
"I won't." The admiral placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "The Rageris will appoint a viceroy for this world soon enough. Then I will move on with the armada, to conquer the rest of your people."
Then, as the other two soldiers escorted the deposed regent away, he added with a smirk:
"I hope they fight harder than you did. This was dull."
At that, the Raiac realized all his hopes now laid with that strategy he'd been cursing against moments earlier. Not a comforting thought, as the Sencris dragged him, and his home, to a fate unknown.
* * *
"Hi father." The Raiac on the other side of the line had large orange eyes and plenty of matte patches on his exoskeleton. He was dressed in an old, dark blue robe, the kind one wore at home, when no one but close family was around. "Is mother home? There's something I need to tell you both."
"Sure, I'll go get her."
The regent waited. She'd taken off most jewelry before making this call, save for a few thin gold chains. It was an attempt to look less formal, like she'd stopped by for a visit, maybe. A moment later, he returned. The woman sharing the screen with him had much more of her daughter's crimson gaze, and looked at least a decade older than her husband.
"Hello, Erchtria my darling. It's been too long."
They had a lot of catching up to do. Enough that the actual motive of her call could be postponed for a while. The regent asked about what they'd been doing since last she saw them. They accused one another of having been absent, half joking, half serious.
They talked for a long time. She discovered, for example, that her father had taken up cooking in his spare time, with mixed results. She listened, focused on it. It soothed her to chat about such mundane things. But it was a short-lived diversion.
"We were so, so worried," her father complained when she mentioned her recent travels into imperial space. The ones to the Galxij worlds in particular. "Those people are dangerous, daughter. I hear they eat one another!"
"Nonsense," she said laughing, though she knew that, in the right circumstances, they did eat one another. "Besides, I had aunt Irshte to keep me safe. You know how good she is at that."
They laughed too, and agreed. But the cheerful tone of their talk had dissipated. Mentioning her travels had dragged Erchtria back from the calm of daily life on the homeworld. Back to the war that had just begun.
"The Sencris launched an invasion of our space. Sirpratl is under attack right now." She hesitated. "I wanted to tell you, before you hear it in the news."
It was the sort of information regular citizens took with distanced dread. It concerned them, but would not affect their everyday lives right away. It was all happening on some distant planet, at least for now. For these three people, however, it was a lot more personal. Erchtria's mother took some time studying her daughter's face before speaking.
"You don't think you can stop them," she stated.
The younger Kreshalti's pedipalps straightened forward. At that moment, she wished they were meeting in person.
"My military advisors did the math, mother." She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, voice faltering a bit. "So, actually, I am quite sure I can't stop them."
Not for lack of trying. She wanted to tell them about all she had been doing. She had been looking for support everywhere she possibly could. Among age-old allies and hostiles alike. Making arrangements and scheming. Sacrificing a whole planet to the enemy, just so she'd have a few more frigates down the line. All that, and still the numbers fell short. She wished to confess it all. But she could not. Someone else might be listening in. Her father broke the silence.
"So, this time next year, there'll be some imperial viceroy ruling us instead of you. That is the most likely scenario?"
She closed her eyes and nodded, the most timid gesture she'd made in years. He continued.
"Then you will find an unlikely scenario and you will make it happen." It sounded like an order. "You are the right person for this job. Most people within a few thousand or so light years agree with me, remember?"
"Yes, thanks for reminding me of the exact, enormous number of people who are depending on me. Very comforting." But she smiled.
Yes, history was filled with inferior forces triumphing through cunning or fortuitous circumstances. And she had a few ideas on how to achieve that. Still, the path ahead was a daunting one.
That very day, the news reached Sharizinar, its allies, every corner of known space. Corhadriam, Natalie, and all other politicians, official and clandestine, heard it from their informants, mere hours before the rest of the population. Throughout the Empire, official sources were quick to confirm it.
Sirpratl, a major Raiac stronghold, the Rageris' propagandists blustered, had fallen before the might of the imperial armada.
Invader
A tide passed. Of preparations. Of dreadnoughts amassing at star systems at the Empire's frontiers, and shipyards working day and night. Admirals reviewed battle plans while captains, crews and soldiers trained to execute them.
Then it was time. In the Cathedral of the Abyss, an audiovisual projection lit up. It showed the interior of a warship's bridge. A large circular room, with a seat for the captain at its center. In design, it mimicked the Rageris' throne room atop the arch. All around, officers tended to their posts, overseeing navigation, engineering, weapons, shields and so on. A wide screen covered the whole bulkhead, from the floor to the ceiling, where a wide hatch, the main way in or out, was located. The screen, when not showing any technical information, was made to look like a window. In reality, dreadnoughts had very few windows, and the bridge was located deep in the ship's bowels, as far away from enemy fire as possible.
This projection took up several square meters of water, directly in front of Flameridrail's eyes. Floating behind him, the seven highest ranking members of the Ree were also watchful, like investors overseeing the grand opening of a business on whose success they had bet their life savings.
Live and highly encrypted, the transmission was beamed, across over a half dozen transit routes, from a system at the Empire's outer edges. A face stared at the camera, anxiously waiting for something. It was an old man with rusty scales. He wore a thick, skin-tight suit, with a helmet and armored shoulder blades, and a belt with a powerful shield generator attached.
The old man commanded this and another nineteen vessels like it. Each, in turn, had a hangar filled with drones and corvettes of various types. They were the vanguard, the first invasion fleet.
"Admiral Dagedriom," the emperor spoke, "This tide, you are the instrument of Sankhron's will. Proceed with the operation as planned."
The admiral smiled, pleased by his leader's words of motivation. He turned his attention to the window-like screen all around and started dishing out orders of his own, in an aggressive yet precise voice.
A moment later, the transmission dissolved into static. In three dimensions and underwater, it looked like a cloud of tiny, bursting bubbles. This meant the warship had gone into transit, out of reach of any known communication device, or any physical influence.
Everyone present in the throne room had observed this procedure countless times. Usually, the camera feed would rematerialize seconds later, once transit was complete and communications reestablished. This time, it did not. Nobody expected it to, however. The fleet had moved beyond Sencris space, outside their secure networks' reach.
All the Rageris could do now was wait. There would be no other appointments this day. No meetings, no travels. This demanded his undivided attention, even if, for now, there was nothing to do but stare at a blank screen.
Meanwhile, the Ree talked amongst themselves, about all the possible outcomes of this first move, and what response from them each outcome would merit. The devout priestess, who had been the first to raise her fist for this plan, in the meeting from before, chatted with the heads of two other orders. She claimed she would support the war effort to the very end, no matter what. Their replies came in a more hushed tone, yet one could clearly pick up that both recommended caution.
Another, much older man recounted a major battle of the Sencris-Actonertalic War in which he, apparently, had taken part as a dreadnought captain. The emperor could not tell what specific battle he was talking about, but it had ended in a costly draw. The same, another priest retorted with a humorless laugh, could be said of that whole war. Both agreed that, if this first invasion ended with anything less than complete victory, their whole strategy would have to be revised.
The emperor listened without participating. His was the final say, yet it was important to measure how well it would be received. Besides, they spoke loud and clear, within earshot. Those words were meant for him as much as they were for everyone else. Another subtle reminder that his past mistakes had not been forgotten, and that his actions were being judged.
Flameridrail and his seven high priests did not have to wait long. Much sooner than expected, the admiral's face reappeared before them. He seemed exhilarated. Behind him, some officers were free-floating, out of their posts. In the background, the bridge looked as pristine as when the mission began.
"The Raiacs and Tcheerazeen have chosen to flee, rather than face us in battle," he exclaimed with pride. "We have destroyed their automated defenses, and are preparing to seize control of orbital facilities. Sirpratl is ours."
Flameridrail congratulated him, enthusiastic, in a manner that resembled a father speaking to his son. A son, in fact, many tides older than the father. He called Dagedriom and his forces a credit to the Sencris navy, though they had not accomplished much to be proud of. Just the destruction of a few light weapons platforms where, mere days earlier, intelligence had reported twenty-seven frigates to be.
In the back of his mind, the admiral did not really believe the enemies' retreat to have been mere cowardice. He suspected it was part of a larger strategy. But this was his first victory in the war they had started. And it was a major one. A key Sharizinar Alliance colony, taken without a single loss. The emperor himself had just saluted him. In the back, he could see the heads of the Sankhron Ree, those stern men and women, celebrating too. So, for the moment, shouting triumph and pride quickly drowned out those whispers of suspicion and caution.
