Ravens of Eternity

125 Friction

Admiral Chase and Swarmfather Retholis stepped through the lowered gate, out of the prisoner compound, and into the Green Zone. They, along with Retholis’ personal guard, headed towards his private gondola parked nearby.

“You really oughta stop taking me out like this,” said Admiral Chase. “You’re making it look like we’re arranging a political marriage between us.”

“That’s not a thing with you humans?” said Retholis. “What a shame. You could be doing yourselves a favor. Sometimes, the empire needs the stability afforded by them.”

“Well, they do happen, just with the corporations. They do it to seal alliances with each other, following ancient traditions or whatever bullshit. As if sharing blood ever stopped us from spilling it.”

“Sounds like you don’t approve.”

“Why? Does it work for the Drogar? How many political unions have resulted in less bloodshed? At least, for the people, rather than the rulers?”

Retholis frowned at what she had asked. There was no way to quantify how much peace they brought. He opened his mouth to refute, but was interrupted by loud, boorish yelling.

“See! There are apes in this compound!”

When they turned to look, they saw many dozens of Drogar idling around the corner, out of sight of the guards back at the Yellow Zone. In fact, they were far enough away that the guards wouldn’t have been able to intervene if anything broke out.

.....

Worse, many of them were armed. As before, they had their beltknives and sidearms, which was relatively standard. This time however, more than half of them also had rifles slung on their shoulders.

They also had a handful of EyeCasts floating around them, which presumably recorded and transmitted everything they captured.

Retholis’ half dozen guards immediately moved to defensive positions around the two of them. And though they didn’t ready their rifles, they certainly rested their hands on their grips, ready to raise them and take action.

They were equipped in light, angular urban armor and were armed with custom-issued short rifles. In contrast, the mob in front of them simply wore their blood red robes. Though their weapons were civilian versions, they still held lethality in them.

“No-one ever refuted they were here,” said Retholis.

“So why didn’t you tell anyone they were here in the first place?” asked another Drogar.

Murmurs in agreement rose from the crowd.

“Yeah!” shouted another. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

A hint of derision crept into Retholis’ tone as he responded to the question. He couldn’t help but feel it against these people.

“Did you perhaps miss the live OmniCast of when we took Federation prisoners?” he said. “I think any intelligent Drogar can figure out that we did, in fact, tell everyone.”

A rather brutish Drogar pushed his way through the group. A rather thick and wicked blade hung on his belt. Next to him was a smaller, thinner, and better dressed Drogar.

“And yet not a single one of you Imperials told a single one of us regular citizens where your precious prisoners were going,” said the thin one.

“Well,” replied Retholis, “you ever stop to think it’s because we’d prefer to avoid unnecessary conflict with unsavory types?”

“Then perhaps you should’ve put ’em on a different planet!”

Retholis sneered at the thin Drogar, and responded with sarcasm deep in his tone.

“Oh!” he said. “I didn’t realize you were such a scholar of Imperial Wartime Convention and Law! Please, elaborate on the proper procedure, then. I’m happy to hear your wisdom.”

The thin Drogar was visibly angered by Retholis’ taunt, and his facial spines flared out momentarily.

“You don’t have the right to put any apes on Taloren Prime, not now, not ever! Their very existence here is a fundamental attack on Drogar culture!”

Retholis stepped in front of the Admiral and shielded her. At the same time, he moved between two of his guards and stood along the same line they did. His hand rested on the handle of his sidearm.

“You’ll have to enlighten me,” said Retholis, “from which passage of the Great Ordinance is that line from? I seem to have great trouble remembering its place there.”

When the big brutish Drogar put his hand on his weapon, Retholis’ guards took the initiative and raised their rifles up and at the ready. Each of them moved their aim across the crowd, as they scanned for threats.

“Oh, that’s right,” he continued. “It doesn’t exist. Nothing like that has ever existed in our laws. Now, I’d like to enlighten you about a law that’s a bit more closely related to our current situation.

“Any who take up arms against the defenders of the Imperium are immediately branded as enemies of the Drogar. Any and all actions may be taken to neutralize them.”

Retholis was going to keep going with the rest of the law, but decided to instead let his words hang in the air for them to hear.

The group in front of him was incredibly angry, and many of them found their hands on their sidearms. The thin one and the brutish one were both the most furious of the bunch. The thin one was especially affected by Retholis’ humiliations. So much so that his fists shook by his side.

“Let’s get out of here!” he said. “We’ve better things to do than argue with another brainwashed Revisionist.”

The thin drogar then disappeared into the crowd and left in the other direction. One by one, the few dozen who gathered went after him and dispersed. The last was the brutish one, who never took his hand off of his weapon. Except after he turned around and took up the rear.

Retholis’ guards sighed in relief as they slung their rifles back.

“Thank you for your support,” Retholis told them.

The Admiral came up to Retholis and watched as the group of dissidents slunk away.

“Those your enemies?” she asked. “The ones you’re trying to get at?”

“No,” he replied. “Those were their pawns. And in a way, their victims.”

“Victims, huh? You feel bad about nearly killing them or something?”

He didn’t say anything, but she understood his response anyway.

“You know,” she continued, “you spoke differently to them.”

“Yeah, well,” Retholis replied. “When I hear them regurgitate the garbage they’re fed... I just can’t help but get aggravated deep down.

The Admiral chuckled and shook her head. Aggravation was putting it lightly. Drogar were burning up other Drogar for their own gains. If she experienced anything like that in the Federation, she would have been livid.

“No, not that,” she said. “You get all... regal. It’s not just what you say, how you say it.”

He looked at her and grinned.

“You noticed, huh? Been practicing my political face a great deal the past few years. Nowadays, it turns on the moment I see a camera, pretty much automatically.”

“Political face? What? You’re going for an administrative position?”

“I can defend the empire much better from the Towers, rather than my Flagship. You wouldn’t understand, but perhaps you should.”

The Admiral crossed her arms immediately.

“You’re right. I don’t understand. I hate all this politicking. All the infighting and power struggles and bullshit surrounding it. More than that, I understand my place is behind the lines, making huge guns to keep my people safe.

“Just like your place is to be the shield that keeps your people safe. That’s where you belong, Swarmfather. That’s where you do the most good.”

He shook his head resolutely.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “The biggest threats the empire faces comes from within it, not from out beyond the borders. And I’ll bet my entire clan it’s the same story on your side of the galaxy.”

~

Savoth picked up the snifter and swirled the clear red liquid inside. He then took a drink – really just a sip. At the same time, the scents of the liquor drifted into his nasal passages, which accentuated his consumption of it.

His throat burned lightly as the liquid and its fumes passed down through it.

“You always have access to the finest things, Senator,” he said.

The aged, rotund Drogar took a sip of his own drink and nodded with a toothy grin.

“Ah, Senator this and Senator that,” he said. “We’re friends now. Friends don’t need honorifics. Isn’t that right, Gravoss?”

The aged Senator turned to a similarly aged Drogar who sat at their table. Though, his age seemed to sit somewhere between the two senators in front of him. His orange scales sagged a little under his chin, and all of his spines drooped somewhat.

Similar to Konleth, he too nursed a round belly.

“That’s right,” said Gravoss. “We’re all friends here. Friends enjoying a simple drink and sharing easy conversation.”

“Nothing beats the old traditions,” said Konleth.

He raised his glass, and the other two tapped their glasses against it in unison. The tone of their vibrations echoed in the room around them.

All three drank at the same time, and took their time to savor the experience.

After a moment, Savoth was the first to break the silence.

“How’d you even get access to this?” he asked Konleth. “I thought Eluthean Spirits were impossible to get.”

“Who said it’s impossible?” replied the Drogar. “It’s all down to paperwork. Do enough of it, and the law just works for you. Anyone enterprising enough could get a bottle themselves, in fact.”

“Just don’t tell the Justicars,” added Gravoss. “They’re humorless.”

The three men laughed quietly and took another drink.

Gravoss reached into the folds of his robe rather suddenly, then pulled out a small datapad. A young female Drogar was attempting to contact him. He hit a button and accepted the call.

“I told you to block out this hour,” he told the girl. “It’s why I shut off my DI comms.”

“Sir, apologies,” she said. “But I’ve got serious news you need to hear.”

“This better be important, or it’s your job.”

“Y-yes, sir. Your arena champion... your favored one, sir, was killed in a duel.”

Gravoss jumped up from his seat in absolute surprise.

“What! Are you serious? Which duelist went after her? Which team? I’ll brutalize them!”

“Sir, sit down please, sir. You’ll want to...”

.....

She gave him a moment to calm down before continuing.

“It was a human,” she said.

Just as Gravoss was almost back in his seat, he jumped back up again. This time, his face was dark, and anger seethed through his teeth. The other two glanced at each other as this was happening.

Both grinned evilly as they realized the opportunity that was in front of them.

“The human duelist,” continued his assistant, “was sponsored by Szereth Design Group, Terra Firma Bladeworks, and some private citizens.”

Gravoss was completely incensed by what he heard, and lost all vestiges of control. He threw his half-finished drink into the corner, and smashed the glass to pieces.

He roared into the air in fury and frustration.

“I poured millions into that blasted duelist! Tens of millions! She was supposed to net me triple by the end! Rraagh!”

Fuel into the fire, thought Savoth. He shot a grin at Konleth, who nodded ever so slightly, as though to say, it’s time to work.

“Filthy apes,” he muttered. “To think they have the audacity to actually fight in our arenas.”

“In our sacred dueling arenas,” added Konleth. “Worse, they had the audacity to spit in the face of our traditions. And to kill a true Duelist while doing so. What a loss. A terrible, terrible loss.”

“And let’s not forget the unsavory corps who would back such a murderous beast. I bet they made a killing on the betting floor, and it was at the cost of Drogar spirit.”

Konleth picked up his snifter and poured out its contents to the floor.

“What could we do about this?” he asked with an innocent tone.

“We crush them,” said Gravoss. “I’m putting in an emergency order.”

His tone was hard and heavy and filled with fire.

“Yes, Executor Belynn,” said his assistant.

“We’ve got a Reborn somewhere in our roster right? Give her cutting edge everything – armor, weapons, meds. Have her go for the ape the moment she’s able. Tell her to pound it deep into the sand. Then prep an intel package against Szereth. Time to crush his margins to nothing.”

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