Admiral's Nemesis Part II Page 7

  His words were cut off by a back slap so powerful it almost knocked him off his feet.

  “You’ve finally taken a mate?? This is fortuitous news… truly this is a day for celebration!” Elder Storm drew his arm back and almost dumbfounded look on his face as he stuttered. “First my nephew returns to us from the grave, and now word of a new mating pact too. If only your mother were here to see this.”

  Po’ta cocked an eyebrow and rolled his other eye.

  Elder Storm flushed. “I meant your Grand Aunt! Of course I know your mother, and my niece, is still alive,” growled Storm.

  “You’re losing a step, old male. Next thing you know you’ll be reminiscing about the bad good old days and requesting a self-heating blanket to get through the day,” snorted Po’ta with good humor.

  “Self-heating blanket? I’ll show you a self-heating blanket!” Storm glared, snatching up a rug off the floor used for feet-wiping and tossing one end out like a rope, to wrap around the neck of the other male.

  “Ack! Get off of me,” bellowed Po’ta, flailing his arms over his head to try and throw the thing off him. “Is this any way to treat your favorite nephew just returned from the dead?!”

  “Favorite nephew is it? Say instead only nephew! I’m not as old as all that,” snarled the Elder as the tug of war over the rug degenerated into wrestling and rough housing from one end of the room to the other.

  “Uncle!” cried Po’ta as they rolled all the way over to a wooden vanity desk containing his no longer living Grand Aunt’s favorite porcelain, “careful of the vase!”

  “Ho!” Storm snorted, releasing his nephew who promptly tossed away the rug.

  “And here they told me you were inconsolable,” Po’ta rolled his eyes as he slumped onto a couch.

  Storm started to swell up angrily and then his shoulder slumped. “I doubt that’s how they said it,” he muttered looking to the side. “Bunch of interfering females,” he said under his breath.

  “Depressed, possibly suicidal, certainly in need of a good reason to get out of his room so that they could sneak in and dust the place, give it a general cleaning,” Po’ta said frankly.

  “A general cleaning!” Elder Storm erupted angrily and turned a withering gaze on his young nephew causing the younger male’s shoulders to shrink in slightly. “Never marry more than one female at a time, it’ll be the death of you for sure, Nephew.”

  Po’ta blinked at him quizzically.

  “I don’t know how you’re an authority on the subject; as far as I know you mated once and they still won’t let you alone,” he objected, “seems to me if you’re going to suffer anyway you might as well enjoy yourself before you die,” Po’ta finished clinically.

  “But that’s exactly my point!” Storm said pacing in front of the younger male and waving his arms in the air. “There’s entirely too many females in this family as it is. Oveta is long past and yet still they’re conspiring against me! Imagine if instead of one I’d married three or four, why I’d be long dead by now for sure!”

  Po’ta snorted and then chortled with mirth, even wiping the corner of his eyes after a several seconds. “That’s a good one,” he snickered.

  “It’s the Maker’s honest truth I tell you. 'Go out and get this.' 'Move your lazy rump there.' 'Why are you messing up my perfectly good floor?' When you point out that you’re so clean you squeak, and in the best shape of your life, you’re informed that it's your attitude that’s cluttering up the place like a gravity field in the middle of an asteroid belt, so you need to take it elsewhere. Anywhere but your own home, I swear…” Storm trailed off into dire mutterings.

  “You can’t beat them, you can’t join them, so I see no reason not to enjoy them while you can,” Po’ta said uncaringly, clearly not taking his old uncle’s dire rumblings to heart.

  “You’ve just got one for now. But watch carefully or they’ll sneak up on you. There’s not nearly as many males as there are female Stalwart,” warned Storm, “first it will be a sister that always seems to be underfoot but if you show the slightest sign of interest watch how you’ll suffer. Then it’ll be a cute cousin they introduce you to or their best friend from primer school. All of it totally innocuous and then the next thing you know,” there was a loud CRACK as he slammed his palms together with finality, “you’ll have a whole harem around and they’ll be running your life.”

  Po’ta shrugged. “If you’re going to suffer anyway, I say you might as well enjoy the benefits that go along with it,” he said carelessly, though the intelligent gleam in his eye belied his seeming complete lack of care. “Besides, from a species standpoint there are more females than males and we’re generally the ones dying in battle,” he got a twinkle in his eye, “that’s why I plan to do my duty to my race to the best of my abilities. Think of all the lonely future widows that will cry themselves to sleep if I decided to walk your crusty old path?”

  “Crusty?! I say let some other fool be tricked into loading himself down with six wives. Supporting a family of thirty is an almost impossible task. Just think of the work hours you’ll be putting in,” he urged, “even just providing a proper education for all those kids, forget about having the time to raise them the proper way, when you have many under foot it is impossible.” He ended with complete rejection.

  “So I am to take it then from your general reaction to my visit that you’re completely fine and I should take all the dire warnings of doom and gloom about your health and mental state as typical female overreactions and chalk it up to over-sensitivity?” asked his Nephew.

  Elder Storm chewed on his lower lip, opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Have you been having any rage issues?” the Elder finally asked.

  “Don’t change the subject without at least trying first,” Po’ta said drawing back with alarm.

  The Elder male seemed to deflate shrinking in on himself, his former enthusiasm leeching from him. “I mean lately?” pressed the Elder.

  “What are you going on about?” Po’ta demanded irritably, visibly alarmed, his eyes raking the old male front top to bottom and front to back even going to so far as taking a step to the side for a better view.

  The Elder glared waving a long Stalwart arm and smacking his inquisitive nephew’s hands away. “Honestly...” he started harshly and then paused, “they may have had a point. I was considering ways to end my life.”

  Po’ta’s started with shock, his eyes going wide. “How can you say that… how could you do that to the rest of us? How selfish are you to even think that?” he demanded furiously.

  “I’m one old and increasingly useless male, one with a niece and half a dozen other widowed females of various ages to look after. Everyone else, including my daughter, mated out! What else was I supposed to do?” Storm shot back angrily. “At least if I died in battle the death benefits, along with my estate after they sold it off, would be sufficient to let them find a good mate or buy into a business cooperative if that’s what they chose.”

  “At least you weren’t intending to take a long walk out an airlock. That’s something,” growled Po’ta.

  “Our family grouping was all but dead, in service to a cause that’s destroying our people from the inside out. As for me I’ve buried two sons and a daughter with more brothers, cousins, nieces and nephews than I can easily count and my productive years are numbered. So until you came back literally from the dead, what future did our family grouping have?” Elder Storm’s eyes turned red with emotion. Even if I had another nephew or son, my productive years are numbered. I wouldn’t be around long enough for him to grow up.”

  “I thought better of you. There are any number of quality males out there that could be welcomed into the family,” rebuked Po’ta.

  “There were,” agreed Elder Storm, “but every one I approved of is dead and none of the females appeared interested in anyone that was left. I’m not going to wait around hoping against hope for something that might not be. I intend to take my fate into my own hands.
“

  “And kill yourself,” Po’ta said with disgust.

  Elder Storm suddenly got a cagey look and gazed around the room shiftily. “There are many different ways to risk your life. Death is not a certainty. Not for myself and, now that you’re back, not for our people I’ll wager,” Storm said in a low voice.

  “What are you cooking up now? There are no human spies within the walls, hiding inside the ventilation ducts or secretly copying our computer core via remote access devices. Your pretending at stealth is amusing,” Po’ta said relaxing slightly even as he rolled his eyes and hooted derisively.

  Elder Storm smacked his lips disapprovingly. “I’m very serious here,” he said.

  Po’ta frowned. “Fine,” he said, leaning forward, “what is it you think we can do for our people that is likely to risk our lives and lead to your death?”

  Elder Storm now that he was being taken seriously turned pensive. “Over these past two years I have watched as the situation of our people grows grimmer by the week,” he said seriously.

  “That’s nothing new,” observed Po’ta, leaning forward in his seat. “What’s changed?” he asked into a growing silence..

  “I have been ruminating on the Alliance Gorgonus, old wounds, and the number of our youth who return to their family groupings ruined by the red rage,” he said heavily.

  “We did what we must. You yourself told me that when you encouraged me to join and fight for our people,” Po’ta said brow furrowing as an edge entered his voice, “don’t tell me you’re abandoning your principles.”

  “And I was right to urge you to join the fight to protect our people then, since you were inclined to fighting the Imperials then—just like I am right now,” Elder Storm growled.

  “What are you right about then?” Po’ta demanded coolly. “Do you think we were wrong to stand on principle? Or maybe you think we should now surrender what we have. Turn tail and flee once again in the darkness of space? With many of our ships unable to sustain themselves without external support and no assurance they, meaning we, will survive the journey. Meanwhile, by going we tacitly permit the actions of the Empire of Man even as it slaughters out into the Rim pushing its borders ever further as it takes what we have built meanwhile killing all that oppose them—including ourselves, the near defenseless alien species like the slugs, and every other uplift and hard scrabble colony in the region?”

  “Wrong? No.” Storm said flatly. “Misguided? Perhaps. Although even now I do not yet believe so it is possible. But at the end of our strength both as individuals and as a people? More and more I am coming to believe the answer is yes. Something has to change.”

  “You’re on the Council of Elders. Is it not your very job to advise our people? Why not take your concerns to the Council instead of seeking death?” Po’ta said sternly.

  “Don’t lecture me, boy,” flared the Elder, “do you think I haven’t tried? The council is heavily invested in winning this war, a conflict which I am coming to believe we cannot win. Did the Empire draw back, hesitate, or show any level of increased caution after we bombed their worlds for the first time in our history in response to their genocidal attacks on our planet side homes?” he popped his lips and half stood to make a double chest thump. “NO! Yet the fools who believed that all we needed to do was stand up to the bully for once still won’t see it. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, genocide for a genocide. They attack our warships, we strike back at theirs. That may have had meaning once but right now is just a losing proposition for all to see. Yet opinions are too heavily entrenched among the older generation at this point to be easily swayed and the newer council members fresh from the wars don’t even see the point of the discussion anymore. To them discussing the actions that originally split our people right down the middle are now nothing more than a distraction from the real issue. After all, why debate what has already been settled? To them this is a fight to the death nothing more and nothing less and just talking ourselves in circles will solve nothing.”

  “I’m not sure that I disagree with them,” Po’ta said after a moment his gaze now a hundred light years away. “What is it you think you can do that needs my help?” he asked with a penetrating look his former joviality gone. “Keep in mind that while you’ve been thinking deep thoughts I’ve been out there on the front lines. The battlefield is not a place for social engineering. Giving peace a chance is all well and good in theory but if history has taught us anything, it is that when the Empire is involved ‘peace’ inevitably leads to orbital bombardments and annihilation as our people are hunted down in the streets!”

  “Just listen to yourself,” Storm said, his gaze both piercing and insightful. “Even you are affected by this long war. I merely suggest we are losing and might need to reevaluate, and you question if I want to bare our necks to the enemy in some misguided attempt at galactic peace!”

  “Then what are you saying?” Po’ta said, taking deep breaths and settling back in his seat.

  “It is my belief that our people are unbalanced, they have been since we first stood Stalwart in the face of Imperial Aggression and Genocide and we are growing increasingly so as the battles drag on,” he said.

  “Even though we took a stand on principle we seem to be coming to a bad end. Red rage incidents are up. Battle shock is at an all time high. Yet large numbers of mediators, councilors and psychologists, in fact a majority of those vital professions, the ones our people need so badly right now, chose to sunder themselves from their own people when we stood Stalwart in the face of genocide,” Storm said, glowering in anger as he remembered the sorry past.

  “Don’t tell me you now think we should reunite with the Sundered,” Po’ta scoffed.

  “Exactly,” said Storm.

  “How can you say that?” Po’ta’s eyes bulged.

  Storm gave his nephew a piercing look “Because I have spoken with a Seer and it advised it,” Storm replied, dropping a proverbial bombshell.

  Po’ta’s eyes bulged even wider and he swayed back in his chair as if physically struck. “A Seer wants you to go and beg help from ‘them?” he asked, still in disbelief.

  “While others—including female busy bodies and a nephew who should know better might think that I’ve just been been holed up in this room of mine spiraling into depression and attempting to figure out ways to kill myself—I’ve been busy,” Storm said flatly, “I tracked down a Seer. I asked its opinion on the future of our people and, when I began to hear answers I did not like, I asked what I needed to do to change the fate of my people. Imagine my surprise when I was given the location of our wayward cousins and how best to contact them for aid,” Storm said, turning and projecting an image along the wall along with a projected travel path.

  Po’ta’s brow furrowed.

  “I still can’t believe you were advised by a Seer to contact the holocaust deniers,” his nephew muttered as he took in the galactic map.

  “They don’t deny the holocaust, Nephew,” Storm said grumpily, “they just refused to join us when we drew a line in the sand and were willing to back it up with reciprocal orbital bombardment strikes.”

  “If they kill everyone on our planet while their population cheers, we will not stand by silent any longer. I don’t like what our people had to do,” growled Po’ta, “but it was the only way to stop them and it did…for a time. The only language the Empire of Man understands is force.”

  “So we said,” agreed Storm, “but even among the Sundered there were those who, while not absolutely morally opposed to reciprocal action, still argued that a deterrent only works if your side is strong enough to be taken seriously. They said that we were wrong, not necessarily on moral grounds although they disliked those also, to dirty our hands in such a manner, simply because it wouldn’t work.”

  That made Po’ta pause. “At least that’s a rational argument,” said his Nephew, “in light of the Empire’s actual response later during this war. Although, as they say hindsight is 20/20 and it’
s easy to cherry pick things after the fact. Who knows what might have happened if we had made a few different tactical choices along the way?”

  Storm looked at his nephew pityingly. “They were all rational arguments, Po’ta. Whole clans and family groups split down the middle not because they were irrational, but rather because both sides had a point. Remember we had all these arguments ‘before’ we launched our first reprisal attack,” he reminded his Nephew, “I think that in the end it all boiled down to some who would rather die than concede the moral high ground choosing to run, and others who refused to flee their homes like herd animals running from a brush fire. A sentient has the right to protect his home, unless he stole it from another, and we pioneered our worlds.”

  “We are not lesser beings to be slaughtered at will,” agreed Po’ta unhappily, “at a certain point if you push a group of sentients far enough we will stand their ground and do anything to protect our families. Anything.”

  “Yes, anything,” Elder Storm said clenching his fists, “even consulting a Seer for a prophecy and tracing the steps of our Sundered brethren, though it makes no sense on the face of it.”

  Po’ta frowned. “What did the Seer say? You know how unreliable their words can be,” he finally replied.

  “When I asked where we could go for help, it told me a great power is growing within the Spineward Sectors, one that could be used to turn the battle in our favor and that our morally uptight kinsmen are the key. Not only in saving our people from outsiders, but from the corruption growing inside of it,” said the Elder.

  “The Council will not like this,” said his nephew, “this is not news they will enjoy hearing. Not many among my generation still believe in the old superstitions. The Seers are seen as highly intelligent information brokers. Nothing more.”

  “Getting the Council to send me away on a fool errand will not be hard. If only so they can finally free themselves of my annoying voice,” Storm sounded amused, “call them Seers of Prophesy or call them highly intelligent information brokers, it doesn’t matter to me since they are rarely wrong. I am old. I am an Elder and I cannot do this alone. Will you join me in risking all to save our people, Po’ta?” Elder Storm asked.