Page 11 of Clan and Command

Piras thought it over. He could see the advantages and difficulties of such a project. He appreciated the wisdom of such a maneuver. Something like that could indeed get him into Maf’s inner sanctum. Yet he felt there was more to it, something ugly under the seemingly cut-and-dry operation. Why else would his gut be churning so hard?

He repeated what he thought he knew to clarify the assignment. “I’m to identify a target that will help swing the war to the Basma’s advantage. I’m also to give him the means to successfully attack that target. And no one, including those who are aware that I’m playing double agent, can know what target I choose?”

“Such a smart fellow. No wonder they made you an admiral.”

“Fuck off. What am I missing, Kila? If the Fleet Admiral or Admiral Tranis don’t know what I’m up to, who will warn the target of the coming attack?”

Kila shook his head. “Warn the target? So much for you being smart. At least you have a nice ass.”

Piras ignored the innuendo, his focus on the dawning horror. “Wait, if no one warns the colony or base I choose, then people will be killed. You’re talking about me serving up victims to the Basma on a silver platter.”

“My faith in you is restored.” Kila sounded tired rather than teasing. It was as good a sign as any that bloodshed was on the menu.

Piras stared at Kila, aghast. No wonder his instincts were screaming. “If I choose a colony, it will mean civilian casualties. A military post will lose us good, loyal fighters and perhaps weaken our defenses.”

“It will also win you and I the Basma’s complete confidence, making us privy to important information we can use to impeded Maf’s fleet.”

Piras jumped to his feet and paced back and forth. His bare feet managed to make plenty of noise on the wooden balcony. He was stomping in his agitation, but it still didn’t make as much noise as the disbelieving chaos in his head. How could Hobato sanction such a ruse?

“You’re telling me to become a butcher. I’m an asshole, not a murderer, Kila. There is a difference, you know.”

Kila watched him, his expression weary but unruffled. “If that bastard Maf has the Earthers under Copeland on his side – and it’s certain he does – then we are in for a long, deadly war, Piras. One that could finish the Empire. To get in close enough to Maf and the Holy Leader means sacrifices must be made.”

“But to give the victims no chance! No hope!”

“If the target is military, then we’re discussing mainly Nobeks.”

Piras halted to snarl at him. “Just because there are more of your breed and they make up the majority of the deserters doesn’t mean I should sign them up for a killing spree.” Lidon’s face flashed in his imagination.

A ghost of Kila’s sarcastic smile flitted over his lips. “Well, that warms my sweet little heart to hear you care so much for my breed, Dramok.”

“This is not a joke, you stupid fuck. What the hell is wrong with you to treat this so lightly? I should push your worthless hide right off the balcony for being such a callous shit.” His voice rose as he berated Kila like he had once unloaded on his unlucky crews. None of it was bluff. When Piras said he would hurt someone, he meant it.

Kila laughed out loud and stood. He bowed. “There’s the brute I’ve heard so much about. Nice to meet the real Piras. I’ve been hoping to give him a reason to show up.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll give you that pleasure after we’ve finished this conversation.” Before Piras could protest that no such thing would happen, Kila turned serious again. “I’m not laughing at you, Piras. Your reaction is part of what makes you so right for this mission. You care for the innocents caught in the middle of the Basma and government’s pissing contest. Yet you’re hard enough that once you’re committed, you’ll see this thing through.”

“Hard enough to commit mass murder? You’re an absolute idiot if you think that’s who I am.”

“Hard enough to help us win the war despite the unpleasantness.”

“Unpleasantness.” Piras shook his head. Only a Nobek would call killing others ‘unpleasant’.

Kila continued doggedly. “Let’s get back to my earlier point about a military target taking out mostly Nobeks, which you so rudely interrupted.”

“Shithead. You deserve to be interrupted. Muzzled even.”

Kila brushed off his insults. “I do not downplay my breed’s right to live despite our numbers and treachery, Piras. Do not think I take the matter lightly.” He stretched and stood up. He walked to the edge of the balcony, looking though the blue-leaf canopy at the moons above. Lobam was easy to see, and Piras noted the pained look that crossed the Nobek’s face. Lost moon. Lost people. It had hit them all hard.

Kila continued. “As a Nobek loyal to my empire, I welcome the chance to die in glorious battle, especially against impossible odds. If I was on an installation you chose to sacrifice, I would celebrate it.”

“Even knowing your empire had set you up?”

“To serve the greater good? Of course.” His answer came without hesitation.

Piras stared at him. Didn’t Kila know that such a death would be pointless? Could he truly believe all the nonsense he spouted?

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