Barbarians

And the people bowed and prayed

To the neon god they made

And the sign flashed out its warning

In the words that it was forming

And the sign said

"The words of the prophets

Are written on the subway walls

And tenement halls"

And whispered in the sounds of silence

Disturbed (Cover) - “The Sound of Silence”

“Dear Creator...they are no better than the Khonhim,” Raichret got out, still in shock over what they’d just witnessed.

As much as Nassat would have liked to disagree with his wife, he couldn’t. Dzach’s destruction had shaken both of them to the core, and now there was a rather large question looming over the both of them...what did they do now?

“We always knew the humans possessed a barbarous streak, even a vicious one when needed, but you are correct. What they are doing now is little different than the Khonhim attacks from the last war.” He closed his eyes and strove to recall the meditation techniques he had learned as an Acolyte, but they danced just out of his reach. Sighing, he opened his eyes once more.

“Perhaps we should not judge them so harshly,” he said after a moment’s reflection. “They lost three of their worlds to devastating attacks. Had we their skills and temperament ten years ago, is it not possible we also would have responded in such a manner?”

“I would hope we would not be so eager to leap into the abyss,” she said, grimacing as her husband looked as if he were about to say something, and then changed his mind. Sighing, she reached for his hand. “I have not forgotten how I almost killed Jiyazh out of hand, Nassat,” Raichret said at last. “I was not in my right mind then, as you know.”

“And neither are the humans,” he replied, giving her a gentle smile. “Though in the Admiral’s case, I do not believe it is the loss of the human colonies that has so affected her...but the death of Marshal Antuma. She was furious when Zion was destroyed, but not...not...” He stumbled for a moment, grasping for an appropriate word.

“...malevolent?” she suggested.

“Malevolent, yes,” Nassat agreed. “Her treatment of Jiyazh in particular. He is not responsible for these attacks.”

“No...just the attack that murdered my family,” she said. “He may be innocent of these crimes, but never forget his hands are covered in blood.”

“I have not, my wife,” Nassat vowed. “And many other families...but despite all of that, I know in my heart that this is not the way.”

“And the Prime Minister’s orders?” she asked. “Do you not have a duty to obey?”

“I am...unsure,” he admitted. “Before tonight my path was clear, but after witnessing that…” He shook his head, trying to clear away the image. “I am no expert of human history...far from it...and yet I can recall many occasions in their past where blindly following orders was the path to ruin. Even...damnation.”

Raichret became very still. Her eyes were huge golden orbs as she stared at her husband, gripping his hands. “Nassat, listen to me. Whatever you are about to say next, choose your words with care. You know I would never betray your confidence, but others might...especially if the Admiral were to learn you were contemplating treason.”

Nassat stared at her in shock. “Treason? I have said nothing of treason.”

“And just how do you think Admiral Fujimoto, in her current state, would react if you said this to her?” she demanded. “I fear that in this moment, there are only two groups in her mind...those that follow her orders, and those that would conspire against her. I dread what would happen to you, should she place you with the second faction.”

“Prime Minister Singh would allow nothing untoward to happen to me...or to us,” he said. “We are still far too valuable to her.”

“The Prime Minister is also very far from here,” she said, “and would never learn the truth if the Admiral decided you were a supporter of the enemy. I fear she is already suspicious of you, given your...relationship...with the former Dhyaksh.”

“She ordered me to bring him here,” Nassat reminded her.

“And tonight, you learned why,” Raichret whispered. “For the sake of our children, do not give her reason to do the same to you.”

At that very moment, Leandra Singh was standing before the glass wall of the Minister’s chamber, gazing out over the alien city. She had come to this place decades ago as a supplicant, begging for table scraps, and now, in a very real sense, she commanded all that she surveyed. Sometimes she could enjoy the heady emotion that came with that realization, but today was not one of them. Admiral Fujimoto’s report of the destruction of Dzach filled her thoughts, as she questioned yet again her orders to the fleet.

She sighed and turned away from the view. What other choice did she have? The Khonhim had to be stopped, and if she had learned anything in the last war, it was that raw violence was the only thing they recognized. If she pounded them hard enough, they would see the error of their ways...or at least recognize that continuing along the same path would become a very expensive proposition. Make the price high enough, and eventually, the enemy would refuse to pay it.

Are you certain that’s what this is about? a traitorous voice in her head asked, Not revenge?

And that was the big question, wasn’t it? The images from Persephone, from Thule, and from Zion had shaken her to the core. It wasn’t the first time she had seen ravaged worlds except that these were human worlds. That shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did.

Oh yes...it did indeed.

In the last war, she had been the one counseling patience to the other ministers, as they scrambled to create a military from scratch. She had sympathized with their pain, even shared it, but she had been willing to accept the horrendous losses. She told herself that there were still plenty of other Triumvirate worlds, with trillions of citizens still alive. In retrospect perhaps it had been callous and cold-blooded, but what other choice did they have? What we cannot cure, we must endure.

Now, the situation was different. They had a military, far more powerful than what they had scraped together to fight the last war. They could strike back now, instead of being forced to absorb the blows. That had to change the equation, didn’t it?

Didn’t it?

How she longed for Marshal Antuma’s counsel, now more than ever. Even in their darkest hours, he had radiated a calm sense of purpose and reason that had helped guide her decisions. She depended on him these last ten years, and his loss felt as if her right arm had been torn from its socket. Admiral Fujimoto was a skilled warrior to be sure but could never take Kwasi’s place. Not in the way she needed. She and Antuma hadn’t become friends...the very nature of her position prevented her from calling anyone friend...but she had grown to trust and respect the man.

And now, he was gone.

Even though he hadn’t said a word, she knew he had been uncomfortable with her orders to shatter the Khonhim. He’d understood the necessity, he had been far too skilled a strategist and tactician not to, but there had been a shadow on his face when she’d given the order...as if he were staring into a dark future only he could see.

Except that now, she was beginning to sense it as well.

His sacrifice had had a profound effect on humanity. For a moment mankind had breathed a sigh of relief...only now whatever comfort they had taken from their salvation had galvanized their terror and anger in a way that was frightening her. The mature and civilized veneer Man had worked so hard to cultivate had been stripped away, revealing a ravenous beast.

The mob now howled for blood...and it would not be denied.

Dear God...what have the Khonhim unleashed? she asked herself yet again...as she wondered how many more worlds would have to die.