Barbarians

You got the world on its knees

You're taking all that you please

You want more! (You want more!)

But you'll get nothing from me

You're like the burden we bear

You love the hate that we share

You want more! (You want more!)

But you'll get nothing from me

But enemies! Enemies!

Shinedown - “Enemies”

Prime Minister Singh stared at the communiqué in shock. “Dear God,” she whispered, as the other ministers moved towards her. “The fleet we sent against the Khonhim homeworlds...it’s...it’s…” Her words trailed off into silence.

Minister Thrassath took the note from her hands and scanned its contents. “Merciful Creator,” he whispered, “they have been ambushed.”

“Are there any survivors?” Minister Ω 445 Intersect Γ asked.

“...we don’t know,” Leandra replied, taking a moment to compose herself. “The message was...interrupted.”

Thrassath was about to respond when the doors burst open. Half a dozen Security officers pushed their way in, taking position in front of the exit as their sergeant stepped forward. “Prime Minister, I regret that I must place you and the others under arrest,” he said in measured tones.

“Under arrest?” she said in disbelief. “On what charge?”

“Treason, Prime Minister,” he answered...and as Leandra looked closer it was impossible to miss the expressions on their faces. None of them seemed to regret a thing, in fact, they appeared to be gleeful.

Warning bells started going off in her head, as the other ministers began to squawk in protest. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, silencing the others with a wave of her hand.

“May I see your warrant, Sergeant?” she asked, stretching out her hand.

“Of course,” the sergeant replied, unable to hide the smirk from his face as he handed it over...only to freeze in place as he felt something cold pressed under his chin.

His warning cry died on his lips, as Leandra mashed the barrel of her hideout gun against his throat and pulled the trigger.

The officers behind him stared in shock as he crumpled to the floor, but she was already firing at her next target. Two more went down before they turned and ran for the door behind them, seeking cover, as Leandra grabbed Minister Byzaagaab by the arm.

“Come on!” she shouted, dragging her away.

“...what is happening?” Minister Thrassath screeched, as the Security goons began returning fire.

“It’s a goddamn coup!” she howled, firing another round at their attackers. The shot went wide, but the officers ducked just the same. It was obvious they hadn’t been expecting trouble and were now scrambling about, unsure what to do. It wouldn’t last for long, eventually they’d regroup, and it was doubtful she could hold them off forever. “Get to the Emergency exit!” she screamed at them.

“...but...it must be a mistake!” Minister Ω 445 Intersect Γ wailed.

“You’ve got two choices,” she snarled, firing another round, “come with me and live, or stay here and die!”

Despite their terror, it only took the ministers a split second to make up their minds, hurrying behind her as they raced for the exit.

The missiles provided by their anonymous benefactor raced away from the task force, closing the distance to the shipyards in a handful of seconds. They were of Khonhim manufacture, scavenged from the previous war, designed to give the Tetrarchy forces plausible deniability. They would claim the enemy had fired them from stealthed Khonhim ships...and once the Earth Force ships were destroyed, they could clamp down on the planet’s population, all in the name of “Security”.

After all, it wasn’t the first time they’d engineered a coverup. The last one had held up for ten thousand years.

The shipyard’s defenses were minimal, nowhere near enough to prevent their destruction. The missiles bored in, detonating with pinpoint accuracy, the explosions wiping out the half-completed vessels, the yards and repair facilities...and the thousands of workers who had once called it home.

There were no cheers on the flagship as they wiped out the human installation, for that was not their way. But the self-satisfied smiles on the faces of Admiral β 892 Sine ζ and his crew spoke far louder than any words could have managed. They had done it. Despite the odds, they had come to the Human homeworld and broken them.

As they congratulated one another in hushed tones, the communications officer turned to face the Admiral. “Sir, I am receiving a transmission,” she said, “...from Admiral Matevosian.”

Conversation ground to a halt, as the Admiral nodded. “On screen,” he ordered.

As the human’s image appeared, Admiral β 892 Sine ζ launched into his rehearsed report. “Admiral, stealthed Khonhim fighters have infiltrated the system. We are attempting to locate them as we speak.”

Matevosian glared at him in return. “Do you think we’re stupid, Admiral?” he snarled. “We have a dozen satellites in orbit dedicated to keeping an eye on you, and they’re all reporting the same data...that you fired on the shipyard!”

Admiral β 892 Sine ζ leaned back in his chair. “Your satellites are in error, Admiral,” he said, “but I can assure you, we will deal with the guilty parties.”

“You can count on it, you traitorous son of a bitch,” Matevosian snapped. “We’re disseminating the data as we speak. If you thought you could keep this hidden, you thought wrong.”

“I believe there is a saying among your people,” the Ronin replied, as amusement crept into his voice. “History...is written by the victors.”

Matevosian sneered in disgust. “Do you believe we humans haven’t faced your kind before? It’s happened so many times in our past the words we use for traitors are taken from their very names. Judas, Quisling, Benedict Arnold...oh yes...we know your kind quite well.” A thin cold smile appeared on his face. “Which is why we have learned to take...precautions.”

“It would appear, Admiral, that your so-called ‘Precautions’ have failed,” as all pretense disappeared. “Your ships are destroyed. We’ve beaten you.”

“Have you now,” Matevosian replied. “Tell me Admiral...just who do you think designed your ships?”

A growing sense of horror began to dawn on the Ronin Admiral, as the human showed his teeth.

“Goodbye, asshole,” Matevosian smirked...as every ship in the task force exploded in brilliant balls of flame.

Tango was nestled in the crook of a tree, high above the others, scanning the horizon with her scope. “We’re clear,” she whispered into her mic, as those on the ground huddled in conference.

“Our best chance is here,” Jiyazh informed them, highlighting a spot on their HUD displays. “Two days travel, perhaps three. It will be difficult for them to track us in the swampy terrain, and we can resupply at our destination.”

Sergeant Lin tugged on his ear. “Food and medical supplies, maybe, but we burned through a lot of ammo during the breakout. I figure we’ve got enough left for one or two engagements before we’re forced to throw rocks at them.”

Nassat grimaced at his words. “Suggestions?” he asked.

“Traditionally, guerrilla forces have taken their weapons from their enemy,” Musashi replied.

All heads swiveled back to Jiyazh. “It will not be easy,” the Khonhim warrior said after a moment. “There is no depot within range we could raid, and even if one were available, it would be well guarded. I doubt we have the strength to launch a successful attack.”

Nassat gazed at the map, and then looked around at the others. They were exhausted, after thirty hours of nonstop movement and combat every one of them was dead on their feet.

But as he scrutinized their faces, what he saw was resolve. They would find a way through this, or they would die in the attempt. Nothing else mattered.

He turned his attention back to the map and highlighted a nearby section. “Here,” he said with growing confidence. “We lure the forces tracking us to this location, and then…”

“...we ambush the bastards,” Lin smirked.

“Providing us with the weapons we need,” Musashi nodded.

“Assuming we are successful,” Jiyazh pointed out. “They will look for such a trap.”

“Then we must be clever,” Nassat smiled...though it did not touch his eyes.