Barbarians

The change, it had to come

We knew it all along

We were liberated from the fold, that's all

And the world looks just the same

And history ain't changed

'Cause the banners, they are flown

In the next war

The Who - "Won't Get Fooled Again"

“...they didn’t give you a choice, Marshal.”

Nassat turned to face the person speaking to him. Admiral Fujimoto stood regarding him, her arms folded across her chest, as he stared down at the planet below. Zhis had fallen to their guns just as Dzach and Gzuj before, and once again he had brought Jiyazh to talk them into a peaceful surrender.

And just as before, they had chosen death, instead.

“There must be some way of getting through to them,” he said at last. “How can they choose death over life? Not even the deaths of those they claim to care about sway them.”

“...Bushido,” Hélène whispered.

Nassat stared at her. “I do not know what that means.”

“Literally translated, it means ‘The Way of the Warrior’,” she explained. “It was a code my ancestors once followed, a very long time ago.” The Admiral gave him rueful shrug. “It was an attempt to bind the warrior class…Samurai...with august virtues, to enoble them into something more than mere killers. Values such as Honor, and Compassion, and Respect.”

He nodded. “Those are admirable traits. But I do not see the connection.”

She sighed. “Because over time those values became corrupted, perverted into something sinister. Bushido came to mean obedience without question. They treated with contempt those who had surrendered instead of showing mercy...for the crime of not having died to the last in battle.”

The Marshal turned back to gaze at the planet, at the dark clouds now dotting the landscape. “The Khonhim would understand your ancestors well, Admiral,” he said at last. “And what brought an end to this ideology of Death?”

Hélène grimaced, as she pointed at the ravaged planet. “That,” she said.

Nassat shook his head and turned away. “Is genocide the only recourse left to us?” he asked. “I cannot accept that.”

“They’ve spent millennia plotting their revenge against the Triumvirate races,” she said. “They have molded their entire society to serve that purpose. It has defined them for so long they are no longer capable of seeing an alternative.” She gave him a hard look. “Not until they’re forced to, at least.”

“We have devastated a third of their worlds, and they are showing no signs of capitulation,” he shot back. “How many more must we bombard, before they recognize the futility of continuing the fight?”

“Maybe all of them,” the Admiral replied. “You should be prepared for that possibility.”

“If I were human, perhaps I could,” he said. “Were I member of your race, it is possible I could accept the slaughter, accept that there were no other options.” A dark cloud crossed Hélène’s face, as Nassat held up a hand. “That was not a slander against your people, Admiral,” he explained. “I was merely pointing out how dissimilar our races are. Our species are adapted for very different roles, which shapes our view of the universe.”

She nodded after a moment. “True enough, I suppose...but it doesn’t change a thing. They still won’t surrender to us, their enemy. Nothing is likely to change that.”

Nassat bowed his head and closed his eyes. She spoke the truth. The only reason the Khonhim had surrendered in the last war was because they had captured their leader in battle. It had paralyzed them at a crucial moment, and…

His eyes flew open as he raised his head. “You are correct,” he intoned, “the Khonhim will never surrender to us.”

“I’m sorry, Marshal,” Hélène said with some sympathy. “At least we can continue the campaign, recognizing the fact they won’t listen to reason.”

He shook his head, as an odd gleam shone from his eyes. “No...you misunderstand,” he said. “They will never surrender...to us.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Now I’m the one in the dark,” she said.

Nassat only smiled in reply, as he reached for the intercom.

“You cannot be serious,” Jiyazh exclaimed, once Nassat explained his sudden brainstorm.

“I am,” he replied.

“I never thought I would hear myself say this,” Hélène chimed in, “but I have to agree with our...guest.” Nassat wondered what word she originally had in mind, as she plunged ahead. “He tried to negotiate the surrender of both Gzuj and Zhis, and they refused to listen. What would make them heed his words now?”

“Because at the moment they see him as our prisoner,” Nassat explained. “But...what if they did not?”

“He is our prisoner,” Fujimoto contended, glancing at the Khonhim.

“But what if he was not?” Nassat pressed. “What if he was attempting to reclaim the title of Dhyaksh?”

The Human and the Khonhim both stared at him. “I surrendered that title,” Jiyazh said at last. “Chugaz Uydan is Dhyaksh now.”

“But that title is not static, is it?” Nassat asked. “You have explained to me how you earned the position, how you and the other claimants met on the field of battle to prove your worthiness. Why could you not do so again?”

“And how would you propose I do that, assuming I was interested in the first place?” Jiyazh demanded. “Whatever standing I once had, I lost when we lost the war. My resignation was little more than an acknowledgment of that fact.” He shook his head. “You have seen how my people react to me now. Attempting to become Dhyaksh once again would be impossible. The people would never support me.”

“He’s right,” Admiral Fujimoto agreed. “We humans have experience with puppet leaders...and that’s how the Khonhim would see him. Without the respect and consent of those he would govern, the only way he could maintain control would be at gunpoint. Not exactly a stable form of government.”

“You are correct, he could not be a puppet,” Nassat agreed, “which is why it would be necessary for him to earn his position.”

“And I ask again…how? Jiyazh said in exasperation.

“...by leading soldiers into battle,” Nassat said matter-of-factly.

“And where do you propose I find these warriors?” the Khonhim asked, badgering him. “Because I do not see any of my people volunteering to serve under my command.”

Nassat smiled. “Jiyazh, you may not have any warriors at your disposal...but we do.”

“...are you insane?” Hélène snarled in horror. “Are you seriously proposing giving him a commission to fight against his own kind?” She shook her head in disbelief. “There isn’t a single one of our soldiers that would serve under a Khonhim commander...assuming for one minute I would allow such a thing!”

“You are not in a position to allow or deny this, Admiral,” Nassat said. “I am in command here.”

“Not for long, if you plan on giving our enemy his own army!” she shot back. “No one in this fleet would stand for it. I’d be forced to place you under arrest just to keep you from being torn apart.”

Nassat rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Admiral, despite all appearances to the contrary, I am not a fool. We would have safeguards in place to ensure Jiyazh did not get...ideas.” He gave the Khonhim an apologetic shrug. “You understand.”

“And why exactly would I do this?” Jiyazh asked. “The Admiral is correct about one thing...none of your warriors would trust me not to betray them. You are asking me to do battle with my race. What incentive could you give me to accept such a ridiculous notion?”

The Saurotaur Marshal looked back down at the planet below. “Because your only other alternative, Jiyazh...is that,” he said quietly, pointing at the ravaged world.

“This is lunacy,” Hélène hissed.

Nassat closed his eyes. “When genocide becomes tolerable...what is one more act of madness?” he asked.