Galactica: Book 1 - Via Lactea

 

The tenderfoots had finished their task, and yet, there was no news from the so-called veterans. Dawn was so near that the artificial darkness which permeated the innards of Thebes was getting ever more light, with streaks of pink marking the upper levels of the buildings in the area.

"We can not wait on them anymore," decided Tom. "If we do, we might get cornered in a position that is not defendable."

The other Centurions were getting nervous as well and decided it was time to take things in their own hands or paws depending on their respective species. Jerry assigned a new segment to each Centurie and they began the clean-up. Zen was assigned to a segment containing a considerable amount of grass lands; Tom and Jerry took over wooded areas, and Mark and Ovid were given segments containing a fair share of buildings. The others got assignments appropriate for their species.

Things seemed to go relatively well as the Units moved to their new working areas. Zen made first contact with the enemy, a group of Farmers out early in the fields to begin their day before the heat. His Centurie crawled in the long grass to intercept the long chain of Elves headed to some construction identified as a tool Barn by the Scouts. As the Elves got to the Barn and tried to open it, a volley of arrows flew from the tall grass, taking them by surprise. The battle was finished before it even started. After moving the corpses to the Ark freezers, Zen regrouped his Centurie and moved off toward another field, hidden behind a thicket of trees.

Meanwhile, Tom and Jerry used their physical characteristics to explore their area and found that the most densely populated area was near a pond. The combined Human and Elves population was essentially a self-sustaining village, but that had no Dog whatsoever. It seemed the lesson about Dogs working for the Crown had been learned.

«That is too bad,» commented one of the Decurion, a Wolf. «We need to spy on them before we attack. And notice there are no Equines either, nor Felines, or, for that matter any animal whatsoever. I wonder how they procure their proteins.»

«Thebes? Did you have a record of this village?» Tom asked.

«No. This grouping is new as far as I know. This area was supposed to be a water-fowl reserve.»

«You can remove that idea for the area. I have yet to see a single Bird. I hope the species in this reserve were not unique.»

«No, They were not, and luckily, I also genetically map animals as they are born. Do you see any Children?»

«No, and that is troubling.»

«I am looking at the birth-death records. No Children ever lived past 5 years of age. That is strange! And yet this area has been a concentration of souls for the past six months.»

«I thought you said you had no record of the village?»

«I have no records of the buildings, Tom, of the buildings! They are made of dead trees, I would wager.»

«From what I can see, yes, they are made of logs.»

«That also explains the flurry of death the records show concerning vegetation, and trees in particular.»

As the Centurie watched the inhabitants leave their homes, they noticed a group head toward a plot of land and dig a hole to finally dump something in it. A Decurie was sent to eye the activity a little more closely. Seeing that the number involved was limited and out of sight of the rest of the villagers, the Decurion ordered that the felons be killed with a volley of arrows. The rather tightly packed group of targets fell silently as the projectiles penetrated their breathing passage.

"Dig that hole up and let us see what they were trying to bury so quickly," she ordered.

Since the earth had just been moved and had not had time to compact, it was a relatively easy task to dig out the packages. When the packages were out, they were unwrapped to reveal some bones, and, to the horror of the members of the Decurie, skulls! Given the size of the skulls, they belonged to Infants around 4 to 5 years of age. Furthermore, all skulls showed trepanation and that the brain had been extracted. Shocked, the Decurion began looking at the bones with more care. She noticed first that all bones showed marks of butchering, and that the long bones had been split to extract the marrow. The members of the Decurie looked at each other appalled by their discovery.

"What do you think this means?" asked one of the Legionnaires.

"Do you remember the question from our colleague the Wolf?"

"Yes... You mean they practice... cannibalism?"

"How else can you explain what we are seeing? I am informing Tom."

As soon as the news spread within the Centuries, the fury rose to unprecedented levels. There was no holding back the Legionnaires and they charged the village, killing indiscriminately every biped they met.

"Do not burn the place down. I do not want a plume of smoke to alert the rest of the sector!" ordered Tom. "And we need to bring the Emperor here so he can see for himself the atrocities committed."

In his segment, Jerry found a rather impressive lake covering several acres, and spotted Fishermen getting their boats out on the water. Ignoring them for the moment, he had his Centurie move in across the road and take position near a tall building that seemed incongruous given that everything else was single-level.

"I wonder what that is?" asked a Decurion as he eyed the structure suspiciously from under the tree cover.

"I do not know what it is, but I do know how to bring it down."

His Centurie looked at him sceptically. Jerry focussed on some of the small rocks that seemed to bind bigger ones at the base and slowly pulled them out using Magic. The gentle sound of the rocks rubbing against each other was covered by the wind blowing in the trees’ upper branches. Gradually, Jerry removed the binding material on the far side of the tower’s base until he had several big rocks held by sheer mass rather than anything else. He then began diverting the water of a stream toward the tower, as he removed dirt from the immediate area much like Foxes dug their den, but to a much deeper reach. The gurgling sound of water seeping under the base of the tower was again covered by the branches smacking on each other as the wind picked up. Suddenly, a resounding crack was heard coming from the tower, attracting the people nearby. They converged to see what had caused the sudden noise and congregated where the defect in structure was most apparent. Animated discussions ensued, as the group of curious became compact. Suddenly, another thunderous cracking sound was heard as the base on which the tower had been built sank in, producing powerful geysers of mud. Before anyone could realise the significance of what they were seeing, the tower started leaning and the back of the structure tore loose. At first, the slant seemed small, but it increased rapidly. The imposing tower then split in half and the top toppled rapidly, falling on the panicked onlookers, followed almost immediately with the rest of the structure coming crashing down on those that had miraculously survived. A powerful gong was heard, as a plate of steel hit the ground several feet away from the base, flattening further some onlookers frozen in shock.

"Clean this place up!" ordered a smirking Jerry. "I think I saw some catapults on the beach! Put them to use and sink the fishing flotilla. When we are done, we move to the next objective. Time is of the essence."

Mark moved his Centurie toward a huge concentration of buildings and began cleaning up the outlying structures. It was deal with quickly as it was composed mostly of warehouses being watched over by drowsy and tired Guards. Things became more complicated when they began penetrating inside the amalgam of buildings. People were now awake and, although they were still groggy and had yet to leave their home to go to work, it was only a question of time before someone spotted the Legionnaires progressing from one flat to the next or across an alley to reach a new building. Ovid’s situation was no better. His first target happened to be a concentration of ex-military of the old heavy heads, and they were certainly more organised than the other groups the green troop had met so far. Ovid eyed the fortified layout as the artificial Sun rose over the horizon, projecting long shadows. That gave him an idea!

"Encircle the area silently and let no one in or out. I am going to be busy!"

"What are your plans?" asked his second in command.

"I shall shadow-walk and kill as many as I can before they even realise I am in their midst. If I ever find myself in trouble, the noise will wake up the dead, so you can then assault the place all guns ablaze."

"Shadow-walking? What is that?"

"It is a trick I read about while training with the Runt. It consists in projecting my shadow from one shadow to another and jump that way, noiselessly. Watch!"

With that last instruction, Ovid made his first move. He projected his shadow in the shadow of a watch tower, and then himself. He then climbed silently and projected his shadow again, but on the floor above his position. Then, he moved to his new shadow location, threw four knives in quick succession in the neck of those watching the area, recovered his knives, wiped them on the trousers of one of the Guards, and looked around. Spotting the next tower, he applied the same trick and disposed of four more Guards. He then moved further in the secure perimeter, jumping to a building that seemed to be some form of Barrack. Looking inside the ground-level window confirmed his suspicions. The Men were currently getting ready to leave the building to take their stations. Judging that it was too good an occasion to miss, Ovid focussed on the second floor’s cross-beams and brought them down, in effect taking almost half of the garrison in a single swoop. The noise was muted by the still standing walls, but still enough to raise the alarm. It had the expected effect. Those outside congregated toward the building to try and rescue their Brothers in Arms. Ovid waited, perched on the roof of one of the Guard towers for the majority of the military to be close to the now fragile walls to break the roof cross-beams that held them up. The walls fell on the stricken onlookers like a castle of cards, crushing another fair portion of the renegade troops.

Meanwhile, Ovid’s Centurie had penetrated the secure perimeter from the segment he had removed the Guards and watched, stunned, the bloody mess. Once the building had fallen, they moved in and began slicing the throats of the rare survivors. They remembered Harold’s orders: no quarters.

"It is time to move on. We got that concentration of felons just over the hill. I am surprised we have not seen any yet, so be as furtive as you can while we move to deal with them. Let us stretch our advantage to the maximum."

***

Sitar watched the so-called troops head toward the enclave with a feeling of disgust. Where was the discipline? Where was the dedication to a job well done? If it was not for Harold’s wish that they be pitted against the green troops in a contest of performance in eradicating the felons, he would have them fed to the meat-eating Ants. He watched Fang Chao swipe a front paw with bared claws at the arse of another piece of lard and wondered how long the Feline would hold back from taking a chunk of ham out of one of these veterans. It was now one hour past prime and they were finally leaving the Barracks to walk to their objectives. Spare Ribs was also having problems herding the troops and to get them to move, much to the surprise of Sitar, who thought that the presence of the majestic and ferocious Sabre-tooth Snow Leopard would have been motivation enough to get on the good side of the Felines. Their bonded Females were also experiencing the same issues, as were their progeny. Where was the basic survival instincts that would normally have pushed anyone to move their arse to save their hide? He dared not tell the Felines that their targets were already being decimated by the greens, since he was sure that this would bring even more claw-marks on protruding arse cheeks, if not a couple of deadly bites. He dreaded their reaction should there be no living targets once they reached the enclave of felons.

***

Things began to grow more difficult as those that still breathed made their way out to reach their work station. It seemed everyone had a clock up the arse and decided to leave their flat at the same time. Tom’s Centurie was just beginning its climb up another three-storey construction when every door opened at the same time, pouring the flats’ occupants in the hallways. At first, the reaction was stunned looks, but rapidly, some retreated in their apartments and tried to lock the doors. The Legionnaires kicked the doors off their hinges and began slicing left and right, to much cries of fury and terror.

Jerry’s Centurie had just finished clearing a six-storey building and were leaving it to move out to the next one when the flood gates of Hell opened. From every direction came felons that were sometimes too in a rush to even notice they were dead. But, eventually, the populace realised that the long-feared invasion was in progress and began implementing their civil defence drills, making the Centurie’s work a lot harder. Realising that the surprise effect was lost, Jerry ordered his demolition team to blow up the buildings with their occupants still in them.

The first detonation was powerful enough to resonate across the enclave, alerting everyone that did not already know it there was some action going on. The violent vibration told Zen the time for stealth was over and he began blowing up every building he could see from a tall, lone oak. Once this was done, he quickly dispatched his Centurie to finish off the survivors, moving from one point of resistance to the next to lend a bite to his Units.

Ian was getting fed-up with the need for discretion and the explosion brought a smile to the Heir of Atlantis. Now, he would show the felons the real price of their forfeiture. He began moving rapidly toward a tall building only to see it blow up sky-high as he got nearer. Ovid had decided to produce a powerful explosion by accelerating a naturally occurring exothermic chemical reaction between the marble and the Oxygen of the atmosphere. The sudden rise in the atmospheric pressure within the building blew the walls and roof outward, bringing the building down on its occupants.

Mark was not to be outdone! As soon as he heard the explosion, he had his Centurie back out of their current engagement and then he threw at the felons every conceivable piece of free debris his mind could grip, from pebbles to boulders. For the felons, it was like watching the mother of all sand storms head their way.

Ian was furious! He wanted his fun! Converting to a Gold Dragon, he began incinerating every intact structure he could see. The freshly minted Legionnaires stared in awe as the Gigantic Dragon flattened building after building. The Centurions called back their troops giving them clear instructions to kill anyone trying to make a run out of the area but to let the Prince expand some frustrations without being underfoot.

The veterans turned off another ramp to enter the enclave just as Ian began torching what was left of the renegades. Huge bellows of smoke rose off the burning buildings, explosions rocked the atmosphere, and strident cries of fury raided their ears as the Dragon swooped down on the felons to convert them into instant roasts. Off in the distance, the veteran Centuries could see the tenderfoots busily killing off anyone trying to get away from the flying mass.

The Felines began slashing left and right, roaring mercilessly at the veterans to make them move faster toward the battle. A few slow pokes lost their hind quarters, and quite a few others would bear the scars of a deep set of claw-marks from the neck down to the rump. Finally reaching the battlefield, the veterans tried to slow down and delay any physical involvement in the battle but the Felines would have nothing of it. They forced them to enter the areas where the flying fortress was still very active, mindless of the potential friendly casualties. Desperate to get into the fray, the Felines abandoned the idea of pushing unwilling fighters into a battle, and jumped over the cowards to take their share of the kills. Ian saw the Felines involve themselves deeply in his battle and, mindful of them, took care not to hit them when he fell down on the felons. On the other hand, the veterans paid a high price for their cowardice. Realising the situation that unfolded below him, Ian swooped from behind the cowering Legionnaires and breathed a wall of fire that forced them to engage the enemy or end roasted.

***

Back on the icy and as yet unnamed planet, Alexander popped beside the Legate which had called his attention to the strange behaviour of the Natives, much to the surprise of the planet’s inhabitants.

"Finally, their brain frequencies have stabilised! We shall be able to exchange more precise information!" said the Prince, as he began digging their memory for the vocabulary set. Realising their hearing was of a somewhat lower range than Atlanteans, Alexander first modified his vocal chords to transmit within the Natives’ range. It also required adjusting his hearing to extend it to the 5 Hertz range.

"My Legate was surprised at your actions. Why did you kneel?"

"You talk?"

"Yes," replied Alexander with a smirk, "You do too?"

After a facial expression that Alexander interpreted as meaning ‘I have been had’, the Native, whose sex was assigned as Male because of Atlanteans’ conventions more than verifications with the life form, began answering Alexander’s first question.

"What we see here is a legend. We knew of a legendary city, named Uhura, where our last rulers before the invasion sat on seats of rock in a vast room. We lost the location of Uhura and thought it had only existed in our dreams, in Children’s story of past or illusory glory. We never thought we lived so close to it!"

"What else do your fables tell you about the city now laying in ruins in front of us?"

"There were huge tunnels going deep within the ground to protect its population during the rest cycle. There is talk of vast treasures of knowledge stored in especially structured caves. Each yearly cycle, when our people would rise from the dead sleep, they would spend as much time studying nature as growing food for the next cycle."

"Do you know how that knowledge was kept?"

"No."

"Do you know or have an idea of how to reach the tunnels we found under the city? For instance, are they linked to those we found leaving your home cave?"

"I have no idea. That information was lost in time. Why do you wish to know?"

"So you can reach this necropolis and give these poor souls a decent burial. They suffered immensely dying of thirst and starvation. They deserve the respect of a burial according to your rites."

"Is that all?"

"We need to discuss the rest later. We have found a number of caves still inhabited by your species, your kind if you prefer. They need to be freed of the grip of the invaders before anything else can be dealt with. Do you mind if my 10^th Army begins digging out a passage to these tunnels? We will be respectful and document everything we find for your information. In fact, we would much appreciate if you stayed near to decide what to do with some artefacts."

"What do you mean what to do with them?"

"There are many options: leave them on site; move them to your cave for storage; move them to your cave for display as is; move them to our space-ship for restoration to pristine conditions; move them to our ship for storage. That last option might be best since you do not have the proper environment to ensure their preservation for future generations."

"I do not know..."

"Neither do we. Since the fate of the artefacts should be decided by the People, we shall wait on such a decision, placing any item found in what we call stasis, thus stopping the damage of time, until such decision is rendered."

"Will it mean moving things elsewhere?"

"If you mean off-planet, no. I only need to ask my big Brother to come and build a tessaract that will then be set to stop time, in effect creating a time capsule. If you look over the area, there is a vast flat land suitable for this purpose. It need not be a big thing, as Tessaracts are space folds."

"What if the invaders come back?"

"Given we more than likely wiped them off their home world before coming here, I sincerely doubt they will pose a threat any time soon, if ever. It does not mean there are no other dangers lurking around. We have met our fair share and we know that, left to your own devices, you stand no chance to survive in the long run."

The People’s surviving leaders exchanged body language clearly indicating they were undecided as to what to do.

"There is no rush to decide. We need not start the process right away, although I think it is best it be dealt with promptly. The melting of the permafrost will render the plains treacherous, and I suspect there will be a lot of mud and seepage below. It is not that water damage has not occurred over time already, it is that the delay will make our work more difficult. I shall leave now to return to battle. We have quite a few more caves to clean up of your invaders. The Consul of the 10^th Army has been informed of my decisions and will implement them. Legate, report to your Primus Legatus. There is no need to keep a whole Legion assigned to guard a pile of rubble. The weathering has just about destroyed anything of value that might be accessible without a concerted effort. A single Centurie will do fine."

With a bow to the People’s local representatives, Alexander left the site to return to his primary mission.

"How does he do that?" asked one of the Natives.

The Legate was surprised he could understand the Natives’ language and even reply to them. Apparently, Alexander’s visit had been used to improve his linguistic capabilities without his knowledge.

"He is a Mage. I, for one, have very limited magical capabilities, but those of the Royal blood always surprise us with their power. From my study at the College of Magic, I know it is based on direct manipulation of energy and its coalesced form, matter. They also manipulate life and time directly, as is testament my capacity to now talk and understand you and your language."

"Are they Gods?"

"If I said yes, I would lose my commission. They do not feel they are gods. They try to bring us to their level, and that, alone, differentiates them from what would define a God. A god, if it exists, thinks we are only good to worship him or her. They ask nothing of the sort. In fact, should anyone try to begin such an aberration, he or she would probably get recycled. Centurion? Have you also gained the People’s language?"

"Yes. We all realised it as we listened to the exchange, Legate."

"Then, you are assigned to guard Uhura until such time the People decide what to do. Rotate with the 3^rd and 4^th Centurie every eight hours."

"As you command."

"Please accompany me back to your cave. We have been receiving reports of important discoveries within the transport tunnels."

***

In Thebes, the clean-up was coming to a close. Ian was dealing with the last group, composed of Priests of a new faith.

"I am sick of bigots," whispered Ovid as they eyed the group facing Ian. The Preachers were all dressed in fancy clothing, holding strange-looking staves, and wearing tiaras made of tin, much to the amusement of the Heir.

"You can not be Gods, you are not even decently clothed!" said their most vocal member.

"I need no clothes to be who I am. It is only those who falsely take an identity that need to hide their shame behind bits of dead organic matter. And who are you?"

"I am the God of these people whom you so mercilessly destroyed!"

"Ah? If you are a God, as you say, how come you did not fight and win that battle, since I, myself, never did claim this state?"

"You are not worthy of my power," replied the loud mouth.

"Tell me, what makes a God?"

"A God knows everything, is everywhere, can do anything and is immortal."

"So, if I gather what you said, there is a litmus test for a God. He is immortal, therefore, since you claim you are immortal, we shall test that hypothesis. I call you to battle! Ovid, give that dead fool your sword."

The future cold cut made for the sword and took a mighty swing at Ian, who solidified his body as the blade was halfway through, breaking the blade in the process. He then pulled the blade shard out using his fingers, healing himself as he did so to the point there was not even a scar left once the steel piece was out.

"You better find another method to dispose of me, loud mouth!"

The Priest, stunned, threw the cutlass’ stump at Ian’s head. It flew right through and hit the floor behind the Heir, much to the shock of the so-called God.

"You are but an illusion!" he clamoured.

"I must be quite consistent to break a blade of function made of hardened blue steel, do you not think?"

The preacher charged Ian with a knife made out of gold, only to see it roll to the guard rather than pierce Ian’s skin.

"I told you, I am very solid, for an illusion!"

The Priest tried to punch Ian, only to fly right through the Prince’s body and land flat on the face, collecting a bloody nose in the process.

"I forgot to mention that the floor too is very dense. Am I bad or not?"

"The floor is less dense than his brain, Ian!" said Mark, as he stepped out of the way of a growing pool of blood.

"Maybe you are right. He might do a good brick."

"No, I shall not put up with organic bricks in my body!" stated Thebes unequivocally.

"It was only an idea, Thebes. Do not tie up your laces over the idea!"

"I do not have laces!"

"Given you are showing all the temper tantrums of old age, I have my suspicions, Grandma!"

Meanwhile, the supposed god managed to stand up, leaving a trail of blood on the floor.

"Kill that abomination!" he ordered his acolytes. The group charged Ian only to meet the Felines in their way. Blood and guts flew everywhere, covering the area in gore.

"It is so bad these brain-dead will not see your demise, god of comedy. They took their ride in the Ferris Wheel of life and their turn just expired."

Enraged, the Preacher tried to charge and strangle Ian with his bare hands. However hard he tried to grip at the neck, nothing seemed to bother the Prince.

"Hey, stop that! I am ticklish! I might pee on you, and you are not worth the contribution of my private fertiliser to your growth!"

Finally growing tired of the game, Ian pushed the aggressor gently away and looked at him in the eyes.

"So, you are a God? Let me verify this by applying to you the test you so diligently applied to me!"

Ian slowly converted to his pure energy form, first coalescing his lower limbs, then his torso, his left arm, and finally the rest of his body, dropping the terrorised individual at the last second on the gooey floor.

«Feel the heat of my fury!»

At first, nothing seemed to happen, but as the heat around Ian increased, the Preacher backed away on all fours, trying to stay a comfortable distance from the ever-hotter Sun Ian had become.

«I should have known! You looked like the Frog that tried to play the Bull, and now you run off like a Pork from the roast! I am not going to spend any more energy than necessary to dispose of you. Die!»

An intense beam of light left Ian and struck the man’s head right between his eyes, bringing the brain to boiling point and blowing his head up from the sudden pressure of water vapour trying to escape from the casing.

«What needed to be done is done. Vanish to the recycle bin of a volcano!»

With that last command, all traces of the last battle vanished.

"The after-battle clean-up is only beginning. We have our work cut out for us!" said Zen.

"No. The veterans will do the cleanup. Their attitude has displeased me immensely, and I believe they are not worth their station. They will have to earn their grades back, starting with that cleanup detail. I want all the new Centuries to report to their Barracks and rest while these veterans of cowardice begin the task of clearing up the area, by hand please! Cowardice has a price, and they will pay it with their sweat and their blood. It is either that or summary execution!"

There were a few grumbles from the veterans, quickly thwarted when Sitar threw a couple of knives at the most vocals’ throat.

"Ian made his wishes clear. You obey or you face me! Get to work! And do not believe because I am out of sight I should be out of mind!"

The green troops moved back slowly to their Barracks, tired beyond reason after spending the night and half the day doing not only their work but the work of the veterans.

"I expect the Centurions for compline in my offices for the after-battle reports. For now, sleep after a light lunch; eating too much might not sit well with your stomach." ordered Sitar. Sitar and Ian left the Barracks to move to their own resting area, but not after a quick dive in the frigid water of the Arctic Basin Tessaract.

"I shall always wonder why we do this. Why not a hot beach, or at least a place where we do not share the water with ice floes?" asked Ian.

"We stay awake better that way. Remember, Harold is waiting on us, and who wants to fall asleep while doing a report? It is not that Dad would say anything, but it would be disrespectful. Anyway, you know Dad loves short and to the point reports. We shall do so more effectively if we are awake than if we fall off our chairs due to sleepiness."

"You are right. Thebes? How long before we reach our next objective?"

"We reach it in two days. Typhoon just wiped out another stream of Insect ships."

"And where is the Emperor?"

"He is having a quick lunch with his Advisors at the Privy Council Hall."

"Okay, thank you. Let us go, Sitar. The faster we deal with this, the faster I go to bed."

The two Boys ported to the Hall and walked in. After grabbing some sandwiches, they joined the others at the table, and looked at Harold expectantly.

"It had been years since your arses graced these seats, Boys. What brings you here?" Harold asked.

"To give you a preliminary report on the disposal of the forsworn felons. It is done. The only losses on our side were from the veterans, and then, mostly from friendly fire. The renegades were so disorganised by the rookies that the veterans had it easy."

"I do not understand. Usually, it is the veterans that soften a target."

"Yet, the green troops did 99% of the work, and did so well they only suffered minor wounds, more twisted ankles and rope burns than anything else. On the other hand, the veterans lost several officers, mostly to the Feline trying to make them move to the battle zone. And then Ian, here, lost patience with their delaying tactics and roasted a few rears."

"How many losses on our side?"

"At last count, 120 Legionnaires."

"What are your plans, Sitar?"

"Disband the left-over Centuries, degrade the Centurions that failed in maintaining discipline and readiness, retrain everyone from zero, and kick butts so hard they will know it is not a good thing to piss me off."

"And what about the tenderfoots?"

"I am waiting on the Centurions’ reports to decide what to do."

"You are quiet, Ian. It is not you, the boisterous flame-thrower, to keep silent for minutes! Is everything okay?"

"I am thinking about the last events and I am wondering if we are made for peace or for perpetual war."

"What brings out this existential questioning?"

"What if we needed external conflict to maintain our unity?"

After some chin-scratching, Harold voiced his concerns.

"You may be right, but I hope you are not, my Son. I know Life grows by competing for limited resources, and that we can not, overnight, change from competitive to co-operative behaviour, however unlimited Magic makes our resources. There is another aspect you neglect, Ian. Look at those who led the felons. What were they after? Power. There, the resources are limited, because our immediate family concentrates Power in a limited number of hands. It is not that we intentionally do so, it is the fact that the number of powerful Mages is currently restricted. Furthermore, even if there were more, we still do need a form of governance, or else we would end in chaos."

"Dad is right, Ian. And he does not say openly what I am about to lay on the table: these people are jealous, Ian. They envy what we have, and want it by any means. It does not even cross their narrow brain case that they can not because they do not have what they want most, the Power of Magic. We do not try to stifle their growth, in fact, we try the opposite, but the wall imposed by the nature of Power is seen by them as a deliberate effort to kill their climb up the ladder of social status, a stupid idea if ever there was one."

"That is sad, Brother. I suspect we shall have other issues of similar nature as time passes."

"So do I. Narrow-minded individuals have a tendency to sprout everywhere an obstacle shows up and they feel slighted by the bumps of Life. The only encouraging thing is Harp’s comment on Magic: it is spreading like wildfire in dry grass, and we shall eventually have a population composed entirely of magical beings."

"Maybe, but the weak Mages will be all the harder to control."

"I know. And ambition will grow with the gradual increase in Magic. I am just glad of one thing. Our own Magic is constantly increasing in Power, as we converge to your level, Ian. I am almost ready to convert to the Plasma form. I am giving myself another three years or so to be able to do it."

"I admit if all the Royals could reach the Plasma form, I would sleep better. That we still depend on coalesced matter for survival worries me," replied Harold.

"Dad, you would not sleep at all. I no longer require sleep as you know it. Dad, there is one thing I need to ask you. Do you want the Artificial Intelligences to reach that stage?"

"First question, Son: is it possible? Second question, does it not require the capacity to do Magic?"

"Yes to both questions, Dad. The first hurdle, giving Magic to the Artificial Intelligence, is well in the domain of the feasible. After all, we can now increase the magical core of living organisms. There is no reason we could not design a magical core for the Artificial Intelligences."

"But they share a common body and space!"

"They also share a common magical source, Dad. Remember the veritable sea of Magic on which floated Kantar. Kantar’s Artificial Intelligence has a limited access to that resource, but Harp and I have been studying the problem and we believe we can not only partition Magic into separate cores, should the need arise, but allow all the Artificial Intelligences access to a common pool of Magic. We are studying both options in an effort to determine what is best. We are also thinking of giving each Artificial Intelligence a magical core based on Ianium. We now have enough of that rare element to give them a magical core of level M-1. As Ianium recharges while we travel, they would not run out of Magic any time soon."

"Continue your research, Ian, but we shall address the issue more in depth later. Do not implement things before discussing it with the Privy Council and I."

"Ok. Dad, I need to go to bed."

"I thought you did not need to sleep?"

"There are other things to do in bed than sleep!"

"I do not need a picture!"

"Do you want a movie instead?"

"Ian! You little devil!"

Sitar and Ian left the Privy Council Hall laughing at the Adults’ long faces.

***

On Thebes’ Main Bridge, the crew, composed mostly of Foxes and a couple of Dragons, including the Captain, Typhoon, were looking at long-range sensor reports on the upcoming theatre of operations.

"The reports indicate the Insects are deeply involved in a terrain war. "The Marsupials are giving them a run for their money," commented Bushtail Fox, currently in charge of strategic analysis. The Insects may have the superiority of numbers, but the climate, much warmer than their home world, is proving a formidable obstacle to their progress. The Russians had General Winter; the Marsupials have General Summer. And it is highly humid. It seems Hydrogen Dioxide is toxic to the Insects."

"Call water, water, please!" said Typhoon, who was getting cranky from his over-long stay in command.

"Anyway, Captain, they drown!"

"What about the first contact we shall have with the Insects?"

"Their space forces are not being replenished due to our interception of their armada. Right now, the Insects have air superiority and space superiority in the area, but our arrival will turn that tide."

"We still have no effective way to establish air superiority for lack of aerial fighters, Bushtail."

"The FSS may not be ideal for that, but I am pretty confident we still can out-perform the Insects’ ships in those conditions."

"What about ground forces?"

"There, the Insects are faced with a very obstinate population that benefits of an in-depth knowledge of the terrain. The Insects pay an exceedingly high price for any gain they do. The spy sensors teleported by Paschal show the ingenuity of the Marsupials. They booby-trap every square inch of the ground, assault the Insect supply lines, dig holes with spikes on the bottom in which Insect Scouts fall to their death. Whenever possible, they set the vegetation on fire, producing Insect firecrackers every time."

"Have the Marsupials launched anything in space?"

"No. The electronic spies show their only launching pad was the core of the assault point for the Insects."

"Very well. Begin porting offensive micro-weapons. Program them to target the Insects exclusively."

"We are still out of range for proper placement of these micro-weapons, my Lord."

"How much longer, then?"

"In six hours we should be at the extreme range of that kind of port," replied the weapon officer.

"Ready them, and begin as soon as possible. Assist the Marsupials as best you can by directly confronting the Insects. I want to make the Insects weary of taking a step in any direction."

"That will require over 4,000,000,000 of these micro-weapons. We are short by half. I am asking for accelerated production. We should have ²/₃ of the required complement in six hours."

"By the way, who manufactures these little marvels of killing machines?"

"The Fairies. They are rewiring their Spiders to produce glue and assemble the pieces produced by the new Spider web filaments. The Spiders are very dedicated workers. You missed the movie they made of their production line to show to Paschal and Sitar. It is fantastic to see millions of these Spiders producing densely packed tissue, weaving it and cutting it to form, and assembling it into components no bigger then my pinky nail. They explained the electronics were directly integrated into the filaments at the Spider’s gland, making each electronically conductive. The Fairies have been sending their best weavers to study electronics under Paschal, and the results are there. Just look at our communicators! They are now part of our clothing, and their range is several light-years greater than our old ones."

***

On the icy planet, Enron had managed to assault nine more caves, distributing a Horde for each. The Insects were taken as much by surprise as the first cave’s slave-masters had been. The violence of the Natives when they finally felt the yoke of the Insects break shocked Enron, but then, they had been holding back for so long it was like a pressure cooker suddenly released from its binds: the cover hit the roof, and the Insects literally were butchered with a ferocity that revealed their hatred of the occupants of their land. Once they had triggered the battle, the Atlanteans let the Natives vent their rage and took to exploring the outer reaches of the cave. It took them a short while to find a similar transport system as their original target had revealed. Enron sent out another Legion of Scouts to explore them while he established contact with the Elders, gaining the language from Alexander. Strangely, he needed to adjust the vocabulary extensively, much to his surprise.

"Alexander, are you sure you have the vocabulary proper? It does not match theirs at all, except for some odd occasions."

"I had no issue talking to the Elders of my original target. I have yet to contact the new underground city, as it seems to lay a bit further off the launching pads of the Insects. Let me talk to our crypto-maniac, Thorsten. Maybe he and Yamato have an explanation."

"Do you think telepathy will work at that distance?"

"I do not see why not. And I do not expect to pay long-distance call fees."

"You, Brother, are nuts."

«Alexander to Thorsten! Alexander to Thorsten!»

«Thorsten here! What can I do for you?»

«Well it is nice to know telepathy works at what? Seven light-years’ distance? Anyway, we have an issue. Is there a reason why we have to relearn a new language at each cave? I may be exaggerating, but Enron is complaining my vocabulary does not fit his new contacts.»

«There are many reasons. First, there is no certainty they had a universal language before the Insects clobbered them into submission. The Earth had over 6,000 languages before the Cataclysm, and the resurgence of local dialects was only hindered by a common writing after it reduced civilisation to glowing wastes. Had we been invaded instead of blowing ourselves up, maybe quite a few of these dialects would have survived. And I remember Ian moaning about the difficulty of communicating with different tribes in the Amazon, even if their languages showed a common base.»

«Okay. You said ‘first’ that means there are more.»

«Yes. It ties with what happened after the Cataclysm. We never did have time to find other Humans in the Asian continent; there might have been others, hidden deep in valleys that got destroyed when the West Coast took its leave. Had we done so, we might have met groups that did not speak Franca Lingua. It is due to geographical isolation. A language evolves once it is in isolation or becomes immersed in a specific geographical context. Even the area covered by Franca Lingua showed a tendency to diversity hindered by the need for trade."

"Still, Harp had no issue talking to them when he visited the West Coast."

"There, the factor you are not considering is time. How long have these caves been isolated? I heard across the branches the number of 60,000 years. We have been having communication issues for 7,000 years, maybe 8,000 at the most, and no region was really totally isolated, due to the use of Magic to circumvent the problem. Apparently, the Insects actively prohibited exchange to prevent a concerted revolt. It should not come as a surprise they drifted linguistically, even in regions close to your current location."

"That is not encouraging. You are telling me, in effect, that each cave will have its own language?"

"Yes."

"I hope they will have something in common."

"Oh yes, they will. It is the Insect and their invasion. That probably anchors their identity, their myths, and what is left of their culture. Remember the Humans: the invasion by the Elohim anchored their myths."

«I shudder at the need to learn another 5,000 or so languages!»

«Consider their own dilemma! They will be unable to communicate with each other when we put them in contact!»

«You sure know how to make mountains grow!»

«That is a new one, Alexander. Dwarves are known for reducing mountains to dust, not the other way around!»

«Anyway, thanks for the information. I am sure the others will benefit from it as well.»

Enron, Greywolf and Silver Moon had kept an ear on the exchange, and finally fathomed the issue to its full extent.

«We need to get dedicated communicators for each Cave. How many caves are there?»

«Enron, from the map of the launchers, and assuming there is one per cave, we will need 1,296 translators. You went overboard with 5,000 languages, Alexander. From our mapping there is a launcher about every 10˚. It does not mean there are not abandoned caves at a much higher frequency. We shall explore the planet much more in depth once we have removed the Insects from it,» replied Silver Moon.

«My Hordes just engaged nine caves,» said Greywolf. «How are you progressing?»

«We are at the same stage,» replied Enron, getting confirmation from the others that they too were engaging the enemy.

«When we are done, we shall have freed 40 caves at the end of phase two,» Alexander concluded. «Phase three plans for 81 caves, which will leave 1,715 caves to clear of Insects. Phase four pits us against 729 caves, and phase 5 cleans up the rest, or 446 caves, including the core Centre. Since this phase took two days to set up after we ended phase one, and the distance increases as we move toward the equator, I estimate the next phase will begin four days after we complete this one; the next one’s onset will be eight days after phase three, and phase five will be 16 days after the end of phase four. Do we all agree?»

«That sounds reasonable Alexander If I do the maths, and assuming we have no surprises when we deal with the caves and it takes the usual two days to clean them up, we should be finished in 36 days. That is not bad for the eradication of the Insects from this planet,» replied Enron.

«That is the military issue. The next issue is the civilian one. How do we deal with the Natives? We can not, in good conscience, abandon them to their fate, and we can not take them on Thebes without their consent,» commented Greywolf.

«I admit I have no idea how to deal with civilian issues. Thebes is a giant military complex. Civilians are military out of uniform,» said Alexander. «But I think we will get some help from Thebes once it comes back from the courtesy visit to the Marsupials. Let us cross that river when we reach it.»

***

On Thebes, the clocks marked compline and the 12 Centurions of the green units dutifully reported to Sitar’s situation room, right beside his office. The surviving Centurions of the veterans were conspicuously missing.

«I wonder where these drag-my-feet are?»

«I can tell you where they are, said Spare Ribs, walking in the meeting leaving bloody footprints at every step. «They are feeding the Termites in the Ark. The moment you left the theatre of operation, they began finding excuses to grab everything around and try to herd it. I read somewhere that it was called something like ransacking or plundering, rather than do what you had asked. Greed drove them nuts; I removed said nuts.»

«I had similar issues,» said Fang Chao walking in with his teeth red from blood, «I also practiced the same treatment. By the way, I never understood the fad about cocktail sausage. You can not even get a bite out of them!»

«Rinse off your mouth with that water, Fang. I suspect some tasted not so good!» said Ovid, creating a huge basin of water for the Felines.

«You did better than our Brother Viola. When he created his first bucket of water, he forgot the bucket,» commented Sitar.

Fang drank and rinsed his mouth quickly, then the two Cats waded in the rapidly reddening water. Sitar changed the water continuously, making sure it stayed clear. After their impromptu bath, the Felines walked out of the miniature pool, clean and instantly dried by Magic.

«How come you did not get your mouth dirty, Brother?» asked Fang Chao, as he looked at Spare Ribs.

«I clawed them clean of family jewels. It was messy, but I did not feel like tasting these dangling bits.»

«If you think it was less messy, you need to visit the buildings I dealt them in.»

«Anyway, that explains their absence. What is happening now in the enclave?»

«Our Kittens are keeping an eye on the Centuries. The hoarding all but stopped, and the Legionnaires are hard at work removing anything and sorting them for disposal, reuse, or storage. A Centurie of Wolves is lending a hand in maintaining discipline. I can tell you a snapping pair of jaws near the mid-section cries louder than anything else.»

«Even Mouth of Thunder?»

«That one uses a stave very effectively to get his message across. I think he was tired of yelling and getting ignored. Smashing some nuts made him very unpopular! He is tireless, but growing impatient by the minute. I think he broke a few staves on recalcitrant backsides.»

«That is the guy as I know it. Too bad he lacks the most elementary sense of strategic initiative. He will perpetually stay a Sergeant-at-Arms because of that.»

«Do not feel bad about it,» replied Spare Ribs as he looked at one of his oldest friends. «I think he likes being in charge of training recruits.»

«Anyway, back to the reports. I need to collate them for the Emperor so he can peruse them tomorrow at prime. Do you have your written after-action reports?" said Sitar as he turned to the new Units.

Everyone had taken Mark’s advice and kept their reports to a maximum of two pages: losses, wounded, enemy killed, list of commendations for promotions, and a short explanation as to why. Even Zen presented his report on paper, after pulling it out of a cylindrical container. His writing was as sinewy as his body, but very legible. After reading each report, Sitar inked his right thumb and pressed it on each sheet, thus giving his thumb of approval.

«These reports are concise, to the point, and complete. That is why I shall present them as is to the Emperor tomorrow morning. Be present at prime for breakfast at the Royal Mess Hall with your Units. Dismissed! Fang Chao, Spare Ribs, go rest and join us tomorrow also. I understand you made it your duty to get the veterans in line and that this is not a thing that can be done in one day. I appreciate you took the time to give me a verbal report of the situation.»

The Felines left for their den, tired after a very long night and an even longer day.

«We need to learn to write!»

«How, Spare Ribs? Just look at our paws! How can we hold that tiny object they use to write reports with?»

«I am not ready to be outdone by a Snake, Brother. He does not even have paws to hold these things, and yet he managed! Tomorrow, after breakfast, I plan to talk to the Snake and find out how he did it. It might give me a tip on how to deal with the issue!»

«I shall accompany you.»

***

By matins, Thebes was within porting distance of the micro-weapons and deluged the planet with what it had in stock, targeting the dark side, where the Insects were the most active. The Sun’s rays cooked them in their suit and they had to either find some caves to hide into or retreat to their icy space-ships.

The arrival of the micro-weapons on the theatre did not go unnoticed. The number of skirmishes exploded, as well as the number of destroyed Insects. The sudden increase in Insect deaths mystified both foes and friends. The Marsupials did not hesitate to attack at night, even if it was not to their advantage. Why lose an opportunity when it arose, even if they had no idea where the opportunity came from?

Taken aback, the Insects regrouped in what they thought were defendable positions, in effect allowing the micro-weapons to concentrate on these points rather than be dispersed over a wide area. The number of explosions tripled, clearly bringing across to the Insects that their strategy of static defence was a disaster.

Meanwhile, the Marsupials weeded out the isolated Insects, doing a search and destroy pattern on the night side. Much to their surprise, a frequent occurrence of discovering an Insect was its apparent suicide. They could not understand why such ferocious fighters suddenly became suicidal. Unknown to them, some micro-weapons accompanied their Units and quickly dealt the deadly blow to the Insects found.

The day turned to dusk and the micro-weapons followed the sunset, taking the Insects by surprise as they emerged from their refuges, be they basements, caves, or space-ships. Quite a few caves and buildings blew up from the sudden mixture of methane and oxygen, killing every insect inside instantly.

Meanwhile, Insect troop carriers continued to drop to the ground on the dark side. The influx of new troops seemed endless, but the micro-weapons were informed by the electronic spies of any fall point and converged instantly on it, encircling the space-ship even before its locks opened. The simple opening of the locks brought a two-phase attack. The first phase would let the first wave of Insects out while carpeting the lock’s insides with micro-weapons. Once the lock cycled again, the micro-weapons entered the space-ships and began killing every Insect inside, usually resulting in a thunderous explosion that wiped most of those Insect troops outside. The micro-weapons were expelled violently by the detonating gases and fell back on the unsuspecting Insects that had miraculously escaped the destruction of their ship.

The Marsupials watched with awe the recurring destruction of the Insect vessels, not understanding what could be the cause, but learning quickly it was better to stay at least a mile off a freshly landed troop carrier.

The flood of Insects continued unabated and seemingly unending. Twenty-two hours after the drop of the first micro-weapon, Thebes appeared in the sky of the Marsupial world, marking the beginning of the end for the Insects.