Excerpted from The Guardians of Peace by Jeffrey Caminsky, published by New Alexandria Press.
Prologue
“And still the question remains,” snapped the young man. “Is Khu’ukh dead, or is it a trap?”
Taking a deep breath, Ga’Glish calmed himself enough to continue. “You see our predicament, Zatar. The longer we delay, the more suffering our people must endure and the further the Terran fleets will push into the surrounding skies. Yet if the reports are meant to deceive us—”
“Yes,” interrupted the slender young Crutchtan. “But whatever once passed between them, and however wise the Veshnan Solan may be, his speculation about the matter can be no more productive than our own.”
As Ga’Glish snorted impatiently, Zatar of Ib’leiman could only smile in grim amusement. He had heard much about this young Crutchtan, whose gifts had brought hope to the Alliance just when all had seemed lost. Yet the lad seemed to care little for the niceties of form that had always made visits with Crutchtan dignitaries seem so endless. It was a refreshing change, though it did little to improve the humor of their small gathering. The fact that the young man was right made the mood even more somber.
“After our guest has traveled all this way to lend us his insights,” hissed Ga’Glish, “you cannot even have the courtesy to hear what he has to say?”
Before the lad could respond, the Veshnan intervened to rescue the youth from the lad’s inexperience and breach of etiquette. “I draw no insult, my old friend,” Zatar smiled pleasantly. “Please take no offense on my behalf. And young fa’Shenali is quite right—for while I came to know the Terran quite well, the culture of his people was, and remains, a mystery to me. I know only that deception forms a large part of their dealings among themselves. And in battle, it seems that my Terran friend proved to be quite a master of the art himself—so much so that, I must confess, his actions were those of a stranger to me.”
“So you agree,” said fa’Shenali, his voice little more than a whisper. “This could well be the sort of deception that Khu’ukh might engineer, drawing us into the open so that he can strike a final, lethal blow. One from which, given the fact that our reserves are depleted and we have no margin for error, we would never recover.”
Zatar drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could scarcely imagine the horrors that would follow in the wake of such a disaster. It was apparent that the young Crutchtan spoke directly from his heart. Despite the success of recent weeks, Zatar had no doubt that they remained in mortal danger, and one misdirected step could bring destruction to all they had ever known.
“That sort of deception seems alien to me,” Zatar replied at last. “So alien that I cannot discount the possibility, even as it seems to make little sense.”
“There is another facet to our problem,” Ga’Glish added.
“And what is that, my old friend?”
“We have actually intercepted two separate reports from Terran transmissions, Zatar—which offer conflicting and contradictory explanations for his absence from the fighting. Both report the same result, but I find myself wondering what each may say about the future.”
“The first report,” fa’Shenali interjected, “says that the One Called Khu’ukh is missing and presumed killed while traveling from a consultation with senior commanders to the battle of Denlubi, lost in the eddies of the nearby vortex. It is the explanation that the Terran military leaders have passed among themselves. And we have intercepted similar reports in many different sectors— ”
“As have others of the Alliance,” added Ga’Glish.
“The other report,” fa’Shenali whispered, “we have intercepted only once— ”
“Though on a high-security channel, one that we have been able to penetrate only intermittently.”
“All these reports have come only on military channels, not on their civilian broadcasts,” the younger Crutchtan snapped. “And all could easily have been left unencrypted just to ensure that we would be able to decipher their message.”
“Far be it for me to interrupt,” Zatar tried to intercede.
“The fact that these reports appear only on military channels means nothing,” countered Ga’Glish.
“It means everything!” retorted fa’Shenali.“It means that the information is entirely under the control of their commanders, and is not being told to their people. Given what is at stake, it means that I will give neither report any credence. Not unless we find some way to confirm it.”
“The second report...?” Zatar tried once again, astonished at his hosts’ display of temper. Crutchtans were ordinarily so outwardly stoic. Even filtered through the translators, this was an unprecedented display of emotion for any Crutchtan to show.
Nodding in silence, the younger Crutchtan lowered his head. Ga’Glish took a long, deep breath and continued.
“The second report contains the seeds of mystery as well as promise,” said the elder. “We have one source, consisting of an intercepted conversation between two high-ranking military officials, discussing the manner of his death. But this account suggests that the Terran leadership killed him themselves, while he was traveling a great distance to the west...and seeking to aid his home planet in a rebellion against the central Terran government.”
“What!”
“Our linguists have checked their translations, and are positive that this interpretation is correct....”
“They are certain that they understand the gist of the conversation,” added fa’Shena¬li, his voice now milder and under control. “The truth of account, however, is open to question.”
“For obvious reasons, we are releasing none of this,” said Ga’Glish. “Rumors of this sort could have wildly unpredictable results. And if fa’Shenali’s worries prove correct, they would have a devastating impact on our morale at a time and place of the Terrans’ own choosing. And we have no doubt that the time they chose would be precisely when another change in fortunes would prove most disastrous for the Alliance.”
“What are the implications—,” Zatar began.
“We have other references in their civilian broadcasts to some sort of uprising or insurrection— ” Ga’Glish interrupted.
“—of unknown size and origin,” added fa’Shenali.
“—suggesting that there may be some Terran elements sympathetic to our own cause.”
“We don’t know where, or how we might contact them— ”
“But we think we have enough evidence to believe that they exist, either now or in the recent past.”
“And if he was trying to join them....,” Zatar whispered.
“From a strictly military standpoint,” said fa’Shenali, “it makes no immediate difference how he died—so long as he is, in truth, dead. Whether by accident, or at their own hands, if he is no longer able to assume command of any Terran fleet, then we are free to press our attack without fear that he will appear at our most vulnerable moment and destroy us. As soon as we can confirm that he is no longer a threat...well, then all things are possible.”
“But in a larger sense,” said Ga’Glish, “it makes a great deal of difference to know whether Khu’ukh died returning to the battle, or was murdered by his own kind. For if he was willing to join some kind of rebellion, then the discontent among the Terrans may well be more widespread than we allow ourselves to believe at present. It means that some elements of Terran society may be willing to help us. And it may give us additional options for the future.”
“More than this,” Zatar nodded thoughtfully. “The knowledge that at the end he had joined with us would give us an inestimable boost to our own flagging spirits.” Privately, he had the passing thought that it also meant that he could mourn an old friend, rather than rejoicing at the death of a merciless enemy.
“But at present, this is all fond hopes and idle speculation,” said fa’Shenali. “It solves too many of our problems, and toys with too many of our emotions, to make me think that it is anything but a Terran ploy.”
“And so, if you have any opinions to offer....”
“I am afraid, my friends, that all I can offer are good hopes for the future, and wishful speculation.”
As his elders continued their discussion, Fa’Shenali took a deep breath and looked at the floor in contemplation. They had accomplished much, but there remained much to be done. And so long as this particular phantom remained in the shadows, he was determined to keep their progress cautious and slow, no matter how much Ga’Glish and the rest of the High Command called upon him for action. Even across the gulf of space and war and culture, the One Called Khu’ukh had proved an inspired teacher, even if his lessons were always written in blood. And though fa’Shen¬ali had learned those lessons well, he still felt like a young one in his first year of school. He would risk much when pitted against the slower, duller students in class; but he alone knew how terrified he was at the thought of confronting the headmaster.
Though hailed as a hero by his own people, and called a savior by the Imperator himself, the young man felt lost and alone in a universe that seemed to know only sadness and tragedy. Like Zatar, fa’Shenali was surprised to discover that among his fondest hopes was that this alien teacher of his had died not as an enemy, but as a friend. Yet in his heart, the young man’s greatest fear was that the master would soon return to show his most pretentious student just how much there was to the art of war that remained for the young man to learn.
© 2012 by Jeffrey Caminsky
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