Tenax, of the Cyonian Assembly Diplomatic Mission to Ancestra

  Ancestra. The Founder’s homeworld. The birthplace of the Coalition. The cradle of the alliance that had beaten back the Bala’ur in the first war.

  The planet went by many names, but ‘bastion of rational governance’ was not one of them, at least in my mind. The puppeteers that danced the various voting blocs of the Coalition’s internal factions were ever out for their own gain. Nobody had quite as many puppet strings as the Founders and their loyal allies, or the Trikua and their dogmatic followers.

  I let my face form into a scornful mask down at the desk surface in front of me. A week. A whole Obelisk damned week had passed since the communications satellite repairs, or- refit? The story had changed over the last few days. Had I really gone to saying ‘days’ instead of nights? Mmh. The damned order for someone to shut it down had come from a digital signature perfectly forged to look like it had come from the Coalition’s communication offices, and the Cyonian engineers had carried out the order without a second thought.

  Just thinking about it made me seeth. I was not the ambassador, and as the vote had come to extend emergency powers I’d not been able to cast in the stead of my colleagues who had planned on attending through hologram. I was an alright orator, but I’d not been able to rally Atalor’s own voting bloc to shoot down the vote. The Founder’s own seated Coalition Chancellor, Aerun, had won yet another ten years of emergency powers in Atalor’s absence.

  I had to ask myself how would we ever stand a chance of ending this conflict if we only ever kept up the status quo, as the Founders seemed to prefer. Only our closest allies and outliers there-throughout had voted no. Our dissent earning harsh words from loyalist factions, and even harsher from the Trikua.

  The last couple days I’d lobbied in the Coalition Congress as acting ambassador for an investigation into my homeworld’s silence. At least after my papers to replace the ambassador had gone through.

  Only yesterday had we received news from a passing flotilla that they’d found wreckage and signs of an Bala’ur attack where once our FTL comms station had sat. The apathetic failure to mobilize an emergency session in the Congress room thereafter... Rrrrhh- I slammed my fist down on the desk.

  I’d had to sleep through last night to be up early this morning to assemble all I could for the standard session later today. The Chancellor's office had informed me that the first matter on the docket would be the matter of Atalor, as if that’d make up for the slow turning of gears leading up to this. Thank stars and Obelisk both, but it had taken much too long.

  The voice of my aide, Nela spoke through my desktop screen, her face popping up along with it. She always had her head fur styled to cast to one side. “Tenax. I’m receiving a priority signal being relayed from Dapo, the signal origin is live from a CASN Barr. They’re from the home fleet.” She intoned to me seriously, always on a quicker pickup than I was in the morning. Dapo though? Dapo was our largest colony, and from a couple quick movements of my fingers I confirmed that the CASN Barr had been stationed above Atalor when the communication blackout had started.

  “P-put it through!” I was already sitting up in my chair, crossing my paws together in front of me to hold them palm to palm, feeling my head lean forward in anticipation.

  In a moment she’d disappeared, and instead I could see the tired eyed look of a ship captain. His uniform looked like it had been the victim of a fire on the left side, scorched dark. The disconnected power conduit hanging from the ceiling behind him told me all I needed to know. He needn’t say a thing, but he did anyway. “Are you ambassador Tenax?” I affirmed it quickly with a flick of my ears positive. He had me on every word. “Captain Lutia of the CASN Barr. Ambassador, Atalor is under siege. The home fleet is gone. I saw the last of it being obliterated by a Bala’ur Armada three- four times the size Atalor has ever witnessed in our home system. What does remain is at Enire’s Yard. The Assembly is gone, as of the night of the 12th when we broke out no further contact from anybody on the surface could be confirmed.”

  Below his face I saw the horizontal bar indicating some files were being forwarded on an encrypted connection to my device directly.

  He paused, taking a deep breath to shore up his professionalism. “The Bala’ur have opted to bomb the surface’s urban centres, infrastructure and strategic targets. So far as we could ascertain at least, this isn’t going the way of the first war.” I could recall that in the first war the Bala’ur had once successfully snuck a fleet within strike range of Atalor, they’d gone for maximum destruction for their ‘hunt.’ Bombing anything and everything they could, in lieu of landing anything on the surface. That had been in the middle stages of the war, before they... degenerated into bloodthristy cannibals entirely.

  ”Alongside this call I’m forwarding a formal request for assistance both from the Assembly’s last mandate before it was hit by a piercing bomb, and a situation packet from Acting Commodore Meris of the CASN Bole to appraise relief fleets of what they’re up against.”

  My brain was dizzy with the deluge of nonstop information. “W-w-wait but-” I tried to stammer and interject, but he went on regardless. Cutting me off. “As the senior-most surviving from the admiralty of the home fleet I’m also informing you that article nineteen of the Assembly’s Charter is being enacted. Until this threat has passed, all remaining Cyonian assets will be marshalled under the administration of the largest Cyonian colonial government. I’ve already informed Colonial Admiral Meer of Dapo colony’s new status as seat of the governance of our people. Your orders from the Governor and the Admiral are to make every effort to rally a counter-attack from the Coalition. Call it a crusade. Call it whatever will make them listen.”

  I sat there a moment, just staring back at him with a slackjawed look. “Captain- Dapo colony’s administration is in charge of... Everything?” Obelisk why was my chest so tight? The air in here felt so light...

  He let his ears affirm the yes to what I’d said. “This is unprecedented, I’m aware. The only way to centralize what’s left is with Article nineteen. This is a measure that will last as long as it needs to. Forgive me for my shortness, but I do have other calls I need to make. The Governor has every confidence in your abilities. They’d have delivered this message personally, but as you understand they’re currently assembling representatives from our remaining stations and colonies.”

  My reply came in short order. “I understand Captain, p-please send them my well wishes. It sounds like we’ll all be needing it.”

  He flicked his ears. “Obelisk protect us.” Before the feed cut off.

  I was suddenly staring at the black screen again, it’s sheen off the light above it showing my reflection. I saw my half robe, the wreath on my head that denoted my station, my half reading spectacles... And the seemingly stoic face I held.

  I could feel anxiety, stress, fear all welling up in me when my mind wandered to my homeplanet, the reputation the home fleet had, it’s apotheosis level status in the popular consciousness... All shattered. All gone. My home... I shook the thoughts, banishing them, no no- I needed to hold myself until I’d done what was bidden of me. I couldn’t let a miasma of hopelessness form in my mind. Nobody but me could do this. I had a job to do.

  __________________________________

  It was only about an hour later I’d managed to acquire a conference room ahead of the Coalition session later today. We had precious few hours. My aide, Nela was at my side in another high backed chair as I surveyed the four present representatives of factions Atalor could call longtime allies. In their times of need these neighbours of ours had always been protected from Bala’ur brutality by our fleet. They formed our core, loyal voting bloc and allies. We certainly had more friends than just this, but these were peoples we had full, ancestral confidence and trust in.

  From left to right,

  The Isstal Ambassador, Bomar. A stout people with long snouts, rounded ears and thick, brutal claws. Their skin was said to be deep, and loose. Making it difficult for Bala’ur to pierce their hide, and therefore they weren’t often afflicted by the featherneck’s paralytic saliva.

  They shared a trait with Cyonians even, their transition from incisor to molars had fang-like teeth. Though in their case it was because of their dietary history. Before they were discovered by our kind they’d had an amount of meat in their diet. They’d sworn it off by now of course, it’d been conditional on their induction into the Coalition. Even if Atalor itself didn’t agree with the stipulation put forward by some more ignorant species who thought simply meat eating was a vector for bloodlust, like what the Bala’ur had fallen to. The Isstal were just as horrified of people eating as any other species in the alliance, in fact... they had a bit of a reputation for being brutal in close quarters with Bala’ur.

  The Petelian Delegation, Ambassador Nes and Ambassador Ves. Their protective shells flicked impatiently on their backs where their wings hid, antenna at attention. The insectoids were six legged, and their wing shells held dotted blues on a coal black coloration. Although intimidating figures with their above average sizes for sapients, standing at about a third taller than myself, they were timid even by Coalition standards.

  The Agnar Ambassador, Torrenia. Her people had lost their homeworld forty-five years prior near the end of the Second Coalition War. The Agnar’s voting power in the Coalition was still prized, as what little of their artisan culture did survive in refuge on our colony of Dapo was immaculate. Although Dapo was largely shared administration, they did have completely sovereign sections of the planet gifted to them by the Cyonian Assembly.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  They were small, big eared creatures. Furred in faded tans and suited to their arid homeworld of Aaela, though to most outsiders it was just known as Agnar, now presumably some level of wasteland since the Bala’ur took it. Their forepaws were excellent for crafting and engineering specialized equipment, or design and research. So much so that they were commissioned from all corners of the Coalition for their skill.

  And finally...

  “What is it you’ve shown us these video logs for Tenax? You stubborn climber. Stop staring us down.” Came their tweeting voice.

  The Dommis Ambassador, Calie. Her people were avians, a rarer commodity in the galaxy. Fairly short, but stout, and their legs were spindly with clawed graspers. They sported two black eyes on each side of the face, and almost exclusively yellow feathers save for a white underbelly. Their beaks were sharpened to a tip naturally. Unlike the other avian species in the Coaltion, the Dommis were more the singing types than the fighting types.

  I sighed. I’d shown them all the transmission from the captain, and pawed out preparatory packets for each of them to be appraised of the situation in advance of arriving. I observed the serious looks on all of them, save Calie, who was likely just trying to break the tension with the comment. She should know better though, it was few species who understood ‘ribbing’ humour when the subject matter was so serious. “I’ve called you here to discuss the future. We’ve got few options.” I managed, leaning back in my chair, my exasperation at the situation was palpable.

  Almost instantly I could see the shift from them as they murmured. Each of us had more than just a healthy working relationship, we each owed one another enough favours, both personal and professional that we were practically all friends. Just because I’d been more an inbetween to the ambassador didn’t mean I hadn’t been greasing some palms with our closest allies when he wasn’t around. “A think tank. Atalor is under siege, but not fallen-”

  Terrenia’s squeak of a voice came to slide in under mine. “-an assumption. If the surface still harbours any resistance, or even free Cyonians at all, we wouldn’t know since they’re all silent.”

  I... Slowly conceded a small nod. “An opinion none of us will share in front of the senate I trust, though?” They all tail bobbed a yes, or in the case of those who could not, gave a verbal equivalent. We didn’t want other members getting any ideas saying it was a lost cause after all. We’d learned from Torrenia’s own homeworld. “Good. For now, we have to assume there’s still fighting on the surface. I’m not appraised of all of the Assembly’s military schemes, but I am aware they had contingencies in place for a protracted ground war in the case they needed to hold out for liberation. Assuming of course the Bala’ur don’t just glass the planet once their hunt is done.”

  “Unlikely. The Bala’ur haven’t glassed a planet since the first war, if this is some kind of resurgence, or the precursor to a third great hunt they’ll try to pacify the planet entirely. If this was just another raid... just another proving hunt for their young bloods they’d have already fled the system days ago. This pillaging has some sort of strategic significance to whatever warlord is perpetrating it.” Came the voice of the Isstal, his deep cords a commanding but not unpleasant presence at the meet. Then, came a more pointed question. “My question is, since you and your people know that they only raid short term, why do you have a long term contingency to hold out in a ground war?”

  “A contingency in the case the Bala’ur or other body tried to invade long term of course!” I waved my tail pleasantly to indicate that was all I’d say on the matter. His astute mind brought him to speak again.

  “In the case relations with The Founders or Trikua ever went sour?” He asked plainly.

  I just canted my head with an indifferent roll of my paws in gesture. “I never said that Bomar, and if I did it would be grounds for suspension from The Coalition.” That seemed to placate him, all present company had reason to be distrustful, since our objectives and goals had more or less been aligned since our little bloc of power had formed. And the greater Coalition acted against those goals at times. Of course, we Cyonians were just the ones brazen enough in this alliance to wear it like a badge in public.

  I recentered the conversation. “The surface is still alive. I don’t know how, but it is. How many ships among the lot of you could you spare for relief efforts?”

  This was the hard question, each of them represented a world in mortal peril of Bala’ur obliteration now that their defensive lynchpin- Atalor, was gone. If they decided to be selfish and spare us nothing I almost couldn’t blame them.

  The buzzing warble of Ves spoke up, her forelegs crossing on the table on front of her seat. “Tt-tt-tt-ttthe Petelian States are prepared to dedicate our second fleet: Eighty-nine ships, eight of which are capital classes.” The majority of Petelian ships were designed with long range capabilities in mind, their targeting technology meant to make up for their rather lacking eyesight. They made for good snipers in the void, but not much else. Once in a slugging match they’d fold.

  As if pushed on by the most timid in our alliance speaking up first the Dommis Ambassador, Calie spoke to take some of their thunder. “We can spare eight carriers, complimented with screening destroyers and light cruisers of one hundred fifty strong!” That I knew, was more than half their carrier forces. The Dommis prided their military doctrine on their carrier tactics. Many carrier-launched fighters with missiles, assisted by screening ships to both protect the carriers from opportunistic feathernecks and keep the fighters from being chased when they retreated after dumping their payloads. They’d learned to fight this way as a way of countering Bala’ur raiding tactics. Swarms of fighters were good for chasing down raiding ships which were conventionally disjointed and out of formations, but in a protracted fight against any real Bala’ur fleet they too were like tinfoil. Their raw potential for filling the void with missiles though... Alongside our fast firing railgun broadsides made for a good synergy.

  Internally, I regretted that we’d not better committed to joint exercises to teach them how to fight our way. We’d been unable however because of the Coalition’s war cabinet, calling such proposed cooperative training a ‘waste of precious resources.’ and subtly insinuating cooperation aside from officially Coalition facilitated wargames was a threat to unity in the alliance. I internally sneered, wishing the Assembly had had the courage to simply ignore that particular outlook. We’d had to choose our battles politically, and we’d let that one slide.

  My eye flicked to the Isstal, studying him as he did the same back to me. “I have not been appraised of any forces we can release to Atalor by my government, the supernova in the Anokra system has caused unexpected interference and climate disasters on our own homeworld. What I can tell you is as of four days ago we had five battleships and accompanying compliment not assigned to disaster relief and defence.” That... Well. The Bomar didn’t build many ships, the ships they did build were armoured like a bunker within a bunker. You could count on those five battleships and their ‘compliment’ to last for well into an hour of direct combat if their dual shield generators were properly cycled, and screened by our own ships from too much sustained engagement.

  It was a design philosophy that was so power and resource intensive to build and maintain it made some sense they only built so many ships. Unfortunately, it also meant their potential for manoeuvring actions was limited. And all the components and parts that’d usually be spread among a dozen ships was instead amalgamated into one of their ‘battleships’.

  I sighed. Glancing at Terrenia with perked ears. She pleasantly answered back with a wave of her tail. “You’re out of luck on that front my friend. Unless you want shuttles and buckets from before the fall.” Naturally. The Agnar were never known for their ship making, just ship parts making.

  “I know Terrenia. Hopes and prayers might help though.” I replied with a playful tinge in my voice.

  She gave an affectionate little waggle of her ears. “I’ll ask your Obelisk to guide you to victory then. We’ve gone over ships, but it sounds like it won’t be enough.” She asserted.

  I had to agree. I didn’t know what state our colonial defence fleets were in, but the majority of them were hand-me-downs from the days when we still built them fast, for hit and runs. Our fast firing, armoured home fleet was no more. If we had a thousand of our colonial ships, and then our allies we’d only dent the Bala’ur’s occupation fleet. “The attack on Illis-03 was a diversion by the feathernecks to weaken Atalor’s defences. Our task force there was ambushed and destroyed. Nothing remains of the home fleet.” I mused, reminding them of that tactical circumstance would bring the full picture into colour.

  “We need support from the wider Coalition to save your world, Tenax.” Nes’s own buzzing voice spoke, although devoid of the stutter of his counterpart. “If the appeal in the session at noon goes poorly, you could offer the Zenis a competitive contract for preferential trade rights and prices to Agnar goods from Dapo. Whomever sends the bigger fleet wins the contract.”

  The Agnar representative perked her ears. “We’d be amicable to a temporary accommodation like that in the name of saving our friends from the fate that befell us.”

  It wasn’t a bad play, but it’d only ensure that we had the support of one fence sitter among dozens. “Nela, put that in. I want our staff writing something to that affect up and ready for proposal by four past noon. I want you to schedule the Zenis and our Petelian friends here together for a ‘Trade Negotiation’ this evening. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind pretending to ‘compete’ for such a contract Nes? Ves?” They both gave little head bobs of affirmative, playing the Zenis into sniffing for a deal their financial competitors wanted would get them to be all the more interested. “If they don’t have the time slot, make it sound like we’re going to give them basing rights to Enire's Yard.” She nodded to me with a smirk.

  I ran through my head some of the big players in the Coalition. “The Benaians?”

  A negative ear flick from Bomar. “They’re tied up on the other side of the Lance, apparently they’re facing Bala’ur incursions as well. We’re two sectors over from them. They won’t be interested in a defence operation without a consensus from the Coalition Senate.” Good point. I sighed...

  “Well. We’ll just have to see what we can see. Each of you, do what you can to speak with those you think would be willing. My hopes for the Senate session are high, but my gut tells me we need to try every avenue. The survival of my world, of Atalor, is paramount.”

  Bomar snickered a touch in his deep tones. “Yes, yes the very famous and very prized Enire’s Yard. The core of our alliance’s power, and bastion against the feathernecks. For all it is worth now surrounded and cutoff. Which I’ll remind you we fronted the raw material for.”

  “And we the custom crafted components.” Terrenia hastily added.

  Nes and Ves both spoke at once.

  “Aaa-aa-aa-and we the-”

  “-targeting equipment that make it so feared to approach.”

  I flatly looked between them all, then to Calie to see if she had a quip to add to our joint venture station that’d acted as a key manufacturing and military installation for all five of us. “What? Do you think I’d be so swollen-headed as to mention our own work on it?” She asked with a trilling tweet in her voice. “Heh.. Maybe. But not while our Cyonian friends are being so callously killed by Bala’ur. This is a serious time.”

  It was odd to hear the oddball humoured avian instead remind the lot of us just how terrible what was happening was. I suppose part of me had... almost forgotten it with how smoothly we all worked together. These here who I considered friends had... distracted my darkest thoughts. “Aa- Calie is right. We can joke later. I’ll see you all at the session. Bomar, see what you can do to confirm those ship numbers by the end of the day. I’m due to file a full report of aid on the way to link up with our colonial fleet by nightfall.”

  And with that. We broke, and I found myself stepping out of the office, the heavy anvil of responsibility finally beginning to weigh on me like it had when the captain had called... It was so easy to forget the horrors of war when you were in the near-mesmerizing halls and willow architecture of the offices here in Ancestra’s Coalition complex.

  That stress, that anxiety, that fear... It was still there. “Hhh...”

  My paws were shaking again.