Barbarians

If today was your last day

And tomorrow was too late

Could you say goodbye to yesterday?

Would you live each moment like your last?

Leave old pictures in the past

Donate every dime you have?

Would you call old friends you never see?

Reminisce old memories

Would you forgive your enemies?

Nickelback - “If Today Was Your Last Day”

Fleet Admiral Hélène Fujimoto gripped the edge of her console as her flagship came screaming out of the sun, diving into the gravity well of the nearby planet. “Message to the fleet,” she growled, “open fire the instant the enemy ships are in range.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am,” her communications officer responded, speaking into her mic as she passed the order to the other vessels. Her opponent had taken refuge behind the gas giant, shielding them from view, but it was only a temporary reprieve. There was nowhere for them to run to now, and she grinned as the fleet closed the gap. Soon…very soon...when they whipped around the sphere’s mass, she’d have them in her sights.

“Ten seconds to intercept,” her XO informed her, as she watched the display. The enemy was good...damned good, in fact...and for the last three hours, they’d led her on a merry chase, playing the mouse to her cat, using every trick in the book to stay out of range of her guns. But now there were no more tricks to play, and she relished finishing them, once and for all.

“Five seconds,” the First Officer snapped, “...four...three...two...one.” He paused for a moment, waiting to confirm contact...but as the seconds dragged on the screen remained clear.

“Where the hell are they?” she snarled in frustration. The fleet continued its run, hugging the planet close as they raced around its equator, but somehow her quarry had slipped out from her grasp. Only where could they have gone?

“Contact!” the Helmsman shouted. “Multiple targets, bearing 113 by Mark 072!”

“Roll ships and fire!” Hélène howled, as the enemy came diving in from the planet’s northern pole, high above the elliptic. But her orders came a split second too late, as the enemy fleet beat her to the punch, throwing everything they had into her. Her flagship Zaaronq shuddered as weapons' fire tore into her flesh, and she watched as the battlecruisers Rapier and Katana erupted into fireballs. She recognized how the enemy commander must have pulled off his ambush, but that knowledge did her little good now. He had them in his sights, and although her fleet was fighting back as courageously as anyone could hope for...it wasn’t enough.

“Reactor is losing containment!” the engineer shouted. “Thirty seconds to overload!”

“Abandon ship!” Admiral Fujimoto shouted in frustration. “All hands to the escape pods!”

...and then everything came to a halt. The red emergency lights switched back to standard, as the frantic conversations of battle dwindled, and disappeared.

“...incoming message, Admiral,” her com officer said, not wanting to raise her ire.

“Put him through,” she sighed, rising to her feet, as Field Marshal Antuma’s face appeared on the screen.

“Calling to gloat, Kwasi?” she asked.

“Not at all,” the dark-skinned man smiled. “In fact, you almost had me.”

“Almost being the operative word here,” she chuckled. “There’s only one way you could have made that maneuver. Just how deep into the atmosphere did you have to dive to pull off that Aerogravity assist?”

“Deeper than I would have preferred,” Antuma grinned. “My engineers are not happy with me at the moment.”

“I’ll bet,” Hélène said. “Still...well played, Marshal Antuma.”

“Likewise, Admiral Fujimoto,” he replied, sketching a brief salute. “So...lessons learned?”

“You mean besides not going up against a seven-times Grandmaster?” she smirked, as Kwasi laughed. “I’m not sure how often that AGA tactic would prove useful in actual combat, but we should start drilling the fleet in its use. Never know when it might come in handy.” She leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “Just how long have you been waiting to spring that on me?”

“Cost you a bottle of 30-year-old Scotch to find out,” he replied, his eyes twinkling in triumph. “Still, I’m impressed with the Fleet. You’ve really built something here, Hélène.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” she demurred, “but I’ll admit to a certain amount of pride. Considering we started with nothing a decade ago, what we’ve accomplished in that time borders on the miraculous.” The Admiral got a wistful look in her eye, reliving a private moment. “If we’d had these ships then...”

“Don’t, Hélène,” Kwasi admonished her. “We all have regrets from that war. We did the best we could, with what we had. Luckily, it was enough.”

“...barely,” she shot back. “What is that quote by Wellington? ‘It was a near-run thing?’” The Admiral sighed. “The Iron Duke didn’t know the half of it.”

Antuma regarded her. “Something tells me you have more on your mind than getting your ears pinned back by me,” he probed.

“You know what it is,” she said. “We’ve spoken about it often enough. Now that we have a real fleet, we should use it...by keeping a closer eye on the Khonhim worlds.”

“That’s a political decision,” he sighed, “and above both our paygrades.”

“Look, I respect the Prime Minister,” she said, “but she’s making a mistake. We have almost no idea what they’re up to, and you know as I do just how dangerous that is.”

“She’s concerned we’d be poking a stick into a hornet’s nest, and I think she makes a good case.” Kwasi gave her a gentle smile. “They’ve stayed on their side of space for ten years now, and as long as they continue to do so, I’m happy to let sleeping dogs lie.”

“You know the thing about sleeping dogs?” she retorted, unmoved by his words. “Eventually...they wake up.”

Mankind had been expanding into space ever since he first set foot on Earth’s moon. Mars was settled first, and after centuries of terraforming had become almost as lush and inviting as the homeworld. It was many decades later that humanity’s first exosolar colony was established, but as Interstellar craft began exploring the nearby suns Man found other worlds to plant his flag. By the time they’d stumbled into the Triumvirate, there were ten planets that he called home, adding an eleventh not long after. After meeting the alien races that would come to have such a major impact on his society Man paused, consolidating his position as he took stock of his future. Making the radical changes demanded by the Triumvirate had not been easy, but as a century of effort drew to a close, he could say they’d taken large strides in maturing as a species.

With the technology gained from their alien allies, the worlds of humanity prospered. Marginal holdings became thriving hubs of exploration and commerce, at which point many a human gave a profound sigh of relief. No longer were all his eggs in one basket, and if the worst were to happen mankind could close ranks, and carry on. His history, his culture, all would survive. Having one of his deepest existential fears laid to rest was cause for celebration, even if it often went unacknowledged. Even the Khonhim War had not smothered that belief...though perhaps that had more to do with the fact they had attacked no human worlds than anything else.

Persephone, in particular, had done well for itself. It had become self-sufficient many decades earlier and given the pristine nature of its biosphere...requiring almost no alteration...it had become one of the most sought after destinations for those individuals looking for a fresh start. Its population skyrocketed, somehow maintaining the rough-hewn charm that came with its recent pioneer past, and yet welding on a patina of sophistication that only increased its value.

Which is why what happened next was such a devastating blow.