Page 18 of Clan and Command

No matter what I do, there will be blood spilled. Lives lost. I have a chance to end it sooner rather than later. Kila’s right about one thing; our faithful Nobek warriors would welcome the opportunity to save those poor civilians, even at the cost of their own lives. I just have to find the guts to take those devoted lives, if I must.

“And deal with Kila’s mocking smile every fucking day,” he muttered grudgingly.

Had he ever had a choice? With the haunted eyes of the women and children on the news vid – and the knowledge there were more such souls out there who were still behind enemy lines – Piras knew the answer to that.

He gave his bar and the unopened bottle of bohut sitting on it a wistful gaze. Then he turned his back on it and went to his computer station instead. He sat down and got to work, looking for a victim.

Piras had a direct connection to Fleet Command, once he got through a gauntlet of passcodes, security checks, and various scans. It took nearly two minutes to navigate those. He used that time to settle his thoughts so he could pursue his objective with a clear, logical intent.

He looked over everything his credentials gave him clearance for. Even the most unimportant operations of the fleet came under his scrutiny as he made his list of potential targets. Most of the fleet not patrolling a defensive cordon around Kalquor itself was massed near the Joshadan and Galactic Council borders, where the Basma’s forces had been most active and carved out the greatest territory for the revolt.

He scowled to see the colonies and stations Maf had managed to grab. The bastard’s rebellious army had gained a substantial foothold. There were also several installations and colonies within a day or two’s flight from those territories. Rumor had it that the Basma himself was in that area, directing his forces with the generals and high commanders who had joined his poisonous cause of a pure Empire.

The areas most in danger from the revolt at that moment were those that contained Haven Colony and Rel Fleet Station. Most thought Maf would move against them next. Piras was not so sure. Due to its function as a large-scale training facility, Rel had a sizeable fleet presence that would give the Basma’s forces a hell of a fight. Maf would squander precious resources if he went after Rel, and for little gain. Rel was nothing more than a training facility, not in close proximity to any major resources that would gain Maf much. Even Haven was no more than a small farming colony. It occupied less than half a percent of the planet it was located on.

There were those in Fleet Command who were certain Maf would go after Haven despite its lack of use in the war. It was a mixed colony of Earthers and Kalquorians, an installation made to grant refugee Earthers a new start within the borders of the Empire. Maf was known to hate Haven with a passion. He’d instigated a rebellion there before his identity had become known to everyone.

Piras had been the one to point out on more than one occasion that going after Haven would be a huge tactical mistake for the Basma. Even if his fanaticism led him to order such a thing, his generals and commanders would argue him into better sense. Yet fellow admirals persisted in calling for increased security around the tiny colony and Rel.

With someone on the inside, particularly someone like Piras who had kept High Command from expending resources where they weren’t needed, Maf could get hold of Haven. Maybe even Rel Station now that he had battlecruisers to work with. Yet despite the earlier rebellion on Haven, things had settled down. The two races living there now worked together peacefully. Peacefully? Hell, they were thriving. The Haven experiment was now widely hailed as an unqualified success, showing everyone how well former enemies could co-exist when their politics stopped getting in the way.

Piras couldn’t give Haven up to Maf, not after all that. He couldn’t insult the inhabitants that way. He most certainly couldn’t hand over all those civilian women and children in any case. Haven and Rel were off the list.

He looked elsewhere, his interest moving to the other end of Maf’s strongest hold: a large section of the border shared with the Galactic Council of Planets. There were few planets, moons, or colonies in that sector, but quite a few space stations. Thousands of stations, in fact. Shipping, commerce, and political interests had made that border important to the Basma and Imperial forces alike. The concentration of the opposing fleets and armies was highest here, with battles occurring on an almost daily basis as they wrestled for control.

Unfortunately for Piras’s needs, many of the space stations strung like pearls along the border were civilian in nature. Way stations for travelers of many species, commercial shipping, science and medical stations, and manufacturing facilities made up the majority of those targets. Maf would indeed love to get his hands on any piece of that Piras could get him, but the cost of noncombatant lives would be too steep. Maf had more than enough innocent victims whose only crime was in trying to live their normal lives. Piras couldn’t consign them to becoming the enemy’s hostages.

Piras shook his head at the lists of potential targets on his screen. He stood up and paced the floor, unable to find a way to do what he must without devastating his conscience.

“I will not give Maf the civilians. I will most especially not give him Earther Mataras and their children. But then what? Every military installation on the Joshadan and Galactic Council is close to something that’s not combative in nature. If he gets any of those martial stations, he’ll be able to take one or more civilian facilities as well.”

Piras raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. He couldn’t see a way out except to expose the most vulnerable people to danger. He refused to do that, so he was stuck.

“Fuck!”

Chapter 7

When Kila didn’t show up at Fleet Command Headquarters first thing in the morning to hound Piras, the Dramok felt a mingling of relief and disappointment. He growled bad-temperedly at himself for the disappointment and lost himself in going over the latest war reports.

The numbers swam before his eyes, particularly the reports of the failed attempt on Lobam. The casualty reports made his stomach curl in on itself.

The awful news, a terrible headache, and the lack of sleep the night before put Piras in a mood more pissy than usual.

Stim tabs would at least wake Piras up. But no, his desk drawers had none of the restorative aids. Piras sighed and looked towards the reception area where his assistant Dramok Gim’s desk sat empty.

No doubt Gim was running the many errands that tended to keep him out of the office for most of the workday. Piras’s aide was more likely to be missing than present, as many admirals’ assistants were. They did the necessary running around, staying in touch with their bosses through com units. Piras thought about calling Gim and having him pick up a supply of stims while he was bustling around Fleet Command. He looked once more at the casualty list on his computer vid. Fuck the stims. He needed a drink. He wondered if Gim would protest the breach in protocol if Piras ordered him to fetch a bottle or two of bohut. Probably. So it would be stim tabs after all.

Piras turned from the grim stats, reaching towards his desk com. Kila’s face hovered inches away, his gaze intent and sneering smile ghosting over his face.

“Good day, Admiral.”

Piras barely stopped the startled shriek that strained to escape his throat. Fortunately for his pride, it was a manlier shout which emerged. “Damn it, you fucking Nobek! Announce yourself when you come in someone’s office!”

“I think I just did.” Kila stood up straight, having been bent over Piras’s desk to give him the scare that still made his heart jackhammer. The Nobek bowed formally before teasing, “How was your night after I left?”

“You insufferable asshole. How do you think it was?” Piras activated the sound blocker he’d acquired on his desk and switched it on. He sat up in his chair and straightened the collar of his uniform before giving Kila his best steely-eyed admiral’s gaze. “I’ve decided to refuse the mission. I can’t be a part of it.”

Piras’s back-and-forth decision had swung back in the direction of refusal overnight after not finding a target he could live with. Seeing Kila’s leer reinforced that choice.

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