《Barbarians》The Barbarian War - Chapter 5
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Now I will tell you what I've done for you
Fifty thousand tears I've cried
Screaming deceiving and bleeding for you
And you still won't hear me
Don't want your hand this time I'll save myself
Maybe I'll wake up for once
Not tormented daily defeated by you
Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom
I'm dying again
I'm going under
Evanescence - “Going Under”
The human colony of Thule was far from a garden paradise. Its many glaciers and fjords were spectacular, to be sure, but except for a narrow band at the equator, the bulk of the planet was a frozen wasteland. Blizzard conditions were the norm on much of the surface, and outside of the hardiest of adventurers, it was far from a popular destination.
What made it valuable, however, was its location. Its many moons were rich in minerals, from titanium and phosphorus to fissionables, such as uranium and plutonium. It had become one of the major fabricating facilities of the Tetrarchy, and they had constructed much of the new fleet in one of Thule’s many shipyards. Most of the colony residents lived in orbital structures near where they worked. Such an important location was guarded and monitored, and when the alarms began to sound the population headed to the shelters, while the Naval garrison sought to train their guns on the attacker.
Only the RKKV traveled at relativistic speeds, and 37.2 seconds was not enough time to react between first sighting...and impact.
Marshal Antuma was ashen as he relayed the news. Hélène Fujimoto could only stare in shock, her head in her hands, as Kwasi slumped into his chair. Nassat looked at the humans...first one, then the other...before clearing his throat, as he had so often seen them do under similar circumstances.
“Marshal...what are your orders?” he asked.
Kwasi turned to him as if even that simple movement took every gram of strength he had. “The Prime Minister’s directive was clear, Colonel,” he replied. “The attack on the Khonhim homeworlds goes as planned...with one slight alteration.”
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“...and what would that be?” Hélène asked, still stunned by the tragedy.
“That I will not be taking charge of the fleet,” he said, “you will.”
The Admiral started to protest but was cut off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re not up to the challenge, because I know better,” he informed her. “No one knows how to use those ships better than you do.”
“Other than you,” Fujimoto said. “And just what will you be doing in our absence?”
“Trying to stop these attacks,” he said. “What good does it do to pound the Khonhim into paste, if there’s nothing left to come back to?”
“Marshal,” Nassat said, “you said there was no way to stop them...not without a great deal of luck.”
“Then let us hope I am lucky,” Kwasi said with a half-smile. “In the meantime, Admiral Fujimoto will be relying on you even more than before.”
“Of course, Sir,” Nassat said quietly. “I will not let you...or her...down.”
“I know you won’t,” said after a moment, as an odd expression played across his face. “Once again, I must ask the impossible from you, Nassat. I would apologize for that, except…” He shrugged, unable to finish.
“I understand,” the Saurotaur nodded. “After all...Humanity came to our aid when it was most needed. It is only fitting that we return the favor.”
“I hope you still feel that way in a moment,” Hélène informed him, with a trace of levity, “because I must tell you I have no need for a Colonel.”
Nassat blinked in surprise. “I do not understand...if you do not require my services I will stand down, but…” He froze the words dying in his throat. “...dear Creator, not again.”
“I’m afraid so…General,” she said with a smirk. ”Morale will be important now, and you commanding a division could make all the difference.”
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“Ten years ago I’d never touched a weapon,” he protested. “I am not qualified to lead a company, let alone a division. By human standards…”
“...as you have pointed out so many times before, you aren’t human,” Antuma said, interrupted him. “You have risen to the challenge repeatedly, and I know you will do so again.” Nassat started to speak, but the Marshal shook his head. “The debate is closed, General.”
“...yes, Sir,” he said at last.
“I’ll give you the Attack Transport Gabriel,” Hélène informed him, “though Navy personnel will handle the actual piloting. She’s a good ship, with a good crew.”
“I’m sure she is,” Nassat said, with some trepidation. He paused for a moment, struck by a sudden thought. “I have do a request, Admiral.”
“I suspect I already know what it is,” she nodded. “We slated Raichret to command the Medical detachment on the Clara Barton if memory serves. I’ll see to it we assign your ship and hers to the same Task Force.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” he said quietly.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “As it happens, I have a request for you.”
“Of course,” Nassat answered.
Her face softened. “Go home, Nassat. Spend time with your family. Hug your children.” She found it hard to meet his gaze. “...because I have scheduled us to depart in thirty-six hours.”
“But why do you have to leave?” Taichist asked as he clutched his mother’s hand.
“Please don’t go,” Chechla sobbed, as she buried her head in her father’s chest.
Nassat and Raichret both struggled to fight back their own tears as they sat their children down. “We don’t want to go,” Nassat whispered, holding his family close, “but there is something important we must do.”
“...it’s the Khonhim, isn’t it?” their son said with sudden vehemence. “I heard people talking. They want to kill us.”
Their daughter lifted her head, her eyes wide. “Is that true?” she whimpered.
“...I had hoped we would never need to have this conversation,” Raichret said to her husband, as heartache stained her every word.
“Nor I,” Nassat replied, as she laid her head on his shoulder. With a heavy sigh, he looked at his children. “...the Khonhim have attacked the human worlds,” he told them, “so we must stop them. But I promise you, we will be back before you know we are gone.” He forced a smile on his face, but his children saw right through it.
“But what if something happens,” Chechla wailed.
Raichret took a deep breath and lifted her children’s heads. “Now listen to me,” she said in firm tones, “we will have none of that. Your father and I have both fought the Khonhim before, and nothing happened.” The two of them shared a brief glance, as they ignored the lie.
“Your mother is right,” Nassat said, “so I need the both of you to be very brave.” The twins looked at him, still unmollified. “Aunt Pellat will look after you, but she’ll need you to keep her from being frightened. Can you do that for me? Please?”
The twins looked at one another and then solemnly nodded. “We promise,” they vowed.
Emotion threatened to strangle the words in his throat. “I’m so proud of you,” he said...as Raichret bit down on her lip to fight back the tears.
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Silver Amelia
Amelia used to be a positive, brimming girl loved by those around her. Once tragedy had befallen, her view of the world has changed. Her sight was no longer filled with blooming flowers. Her eyes bore those of an actor. Her body knew what true pain was. Lastly, her heart was filled with the resolve to continue her Grandfather's legacy. The dream of a world that accepted diversity. However, in a series of events, Amelia was jolted with another realization. The ancestors of her family, Laurel's Royalty, descended from a being far from what humans could call a relative. Now, her ancestral blood forcefully awakened by a grand scheme, Amelia found herself unsure of her own identity and purpose. Would she live as a human and only lay the foundations for diversity? Would she accept her newfound identity and become immortal? Even so, no matter what option she chose, she needed to prepare on how to accommodate the Heroes summoned from another kingdom. _____________________________________ Author's Notes: This novel is a participant of WriTE This novel will be re-written after I finished it and gained more experience in writing. Anyway, feel free to join Amelia's journey. My first work. Light gore only. Added traumatizing content just in case. Comedy is less prioritized when the story moves. Tags will be added as the story goes. Feedbacks are appreciated. Release schedule: 1-3 chapters per week (Updates on Weekends) Unknown Chapters: Stalled (Read at your own risk, but the continuation will be posted at a later time) Feel free to join this discord: https://discord.gg/duFTzZr *Cover is mine.
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Just because it can be found, doesn't mean it should. All things found, all things fixed. Jude Demarco was the best private detective Nicodemia Station had ever ignored. Detective, handyman, medic. He was a bulldog who tracked down every lead and wouldn't let go until the bloody truth died dripping in his jaws. Even if someone got hurt. Even if someone got killed. You lost it? He can find it. When a collector arrives in a private cruiser from Earth looking for a stolen painting, Demarco has to decide if a few dimes are worth dealing with the worst of the worst in Nicodemia Station. It'll pit him against crime lords, government bureaucrats, and, even worse, the Catholic Church. If there's anything folks get too passionate about, it's art and religion. No sane person would take a job that mixed the two. Then again, sometimes a person just gets desperate.
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