Come ride with me

Through the veins of history

I'll show you a God

Falls asleep on the job

And how can we win,

When fools can be kings

Don't waste your time

Or time will waste you

Muse - “Knights of Cydonia”

“It is confirmed, Admiral, the enemy has retreated to Gzuj. For the moment, they seem content to remain there.”

Admiral Matevosian nodded as he listened to the Dhyaksh. “Which is why we have to expedite Phalange,” he said. “I find it unlikely that the…” He froze, cocking his head. “Just what we supposed to call them now, anyway? ‘Masters’ is no longer accurate, and ‘Evil Ronin’ will make folks distrust our own after all that’s happened.”

Jiyazh Ghuuyaz dismissed his concerns with an airy wave of his hand. “What we call them does not matter,” he said, “as long as we destroy them to the last.”

“Yeah...about that…” The Admiral rubbed his face, before fixing the Khonhim leader with a stern look. “I don’t want you going off half-cocked before we’re ready. With what we’re bringing to Gzuj, we might have a chance, but if you go it alone? You’ll be slaughtered.”

The Dhyaksh chuckled. “Your concern is most appreciated, Admiral.”

Matevosian managed not to roll his eyes. “My concern has less to do about you than it does the ships under your command. We’ll need those ships to pull off Phalange, so do nothing stupid to get them all shot up.”

“It is a good thing we are in agreement regarding strategy, Admiral,” Jiyazh said, choosing his words with care. “Otherwise, I would take issue with you giving me orders. While my fleet and that of Admiral Otxoa are joined, and she has accepted my command...I do not accept yours.”

The temperature dropped a good twenty degrees as the two men stared at one another before the human Admiral spoke in low clipped tones. “The Marshal has placed me in overall command of Phalange, and right now it’s the only plan out there that gives us even a prayer of victory. We are bringing the bulk of the resources needed to this fight, so I need to know one thing, Dhyaksh.” He leaned forward, eyeing him. “Will you grant me tactical command of your ships when we liberate Gzuj or are we going to have a problem?”

The seconds dragged on as Jiyazh chose his words before speaking. “A commander in these matters should be the one best suited, most qualified for the role. After consulting with Admiral Otxoa regarding your Operation Phalange...it is my opinion that in this case, that individual is you.” The Khonhim gave him a wan smile. “It is only because of the unique nature of the plan I agree to this. Were it an operation that played to my strengths...”

“Fair enough,” Matevosian replied, grateful for what he could get. “We’re in gathering our forces now. Once that is done, we’ll proceed to Gzuj as quickly as possible. You have my word, Dhyaksh.”

The Khonhim leader inclined his head in gratitude. “We will continue to monitor the system and inform you of any changes, Admiral. I look forward to your arrival.”

“As do I,” his human counterpart answered, “as do I.”

The Prime Minister handed over her report. “Our latest figures show that we have reclaimed over 63% of the infected Ronin, Minister,” she smiled. “We hope to reach 85% within the week.”

Minister Λ 516 Tensor Π accepted the data and perused it before allowing his metal chassis to relax. “This is welcome news, Prime Minister,” he said. “How long before all my people have been restored?”

“We don’t have a good answer to that, I’m afraid,” Leandra sighed. “There are too many factors involved. Our best guess suggests a 95% cure rate in one to two months. After that?” She spread her hands. “Chasing that last five percent could be the work of years.”

“You must bring them all back,” the Ronin Minister insisted. “My people have suffered greatly in this war. We were both its first victims...and its last. We are still tallying the losses, and it is likely they will run into the millions.” He faced the Prime Minister and said, “Losses caused by Tetrarchy forces.” His lack of the normal visual clues made it difficult to gauge his feelings in this manner, leaving her to fall back on her belief of how she would react, were the situations reversed.

“We had no choice,” she whispered. “Once the Quarantine failed, once we lost containment, we had no other choice. We knew what they had programmed them to do, and we couldn’t let that happen. As it was, we still lost several worlds to their efforts.” She didn’t want to press the issue, but Leandra at least wanted it on the table. The Ophipteran world Exuqyxx had been just the tip of the iceberg.

“We grieve for those lost,” he intoned, and that at least she believed. The Ronin were no more sanguine about killing than their Triumvirate fellows. “But there is an even greater issue before us, Prime Minister,” he said, and she braced herself for what was coming. “Operation Blackout.”

Leandra had been waiting for that shoe to drop. “Minister, it is my role to look out for the safety of all Tetrarchy citizens. Blackout was to be used only when all other avenues had been exhausted. Thankfully, a cure was discovered in time.”

“Prime Minister, it will be many, many long years before the Ronin can put what happened behind us,” Λ 516 Tensor Π said. “In an instant, they transformed us into murderous savages, and while we regret the steps taken to prevent my race from harming others, we recognize the necessity.” The AI rose to its feet. “But genocide is something we may not be able to forgive.”

“I hope you’re wrong, Minister,” she replied, rising as well. “But given the fact that the infected Ronin were willing to wipe out all the races of the Tetrarchy, Blackout was the only option left to us, had no cure been found.” She fixed the machine with a hard stare. “Or were you suggesting we bare our throats when your infected brethren came calling?”

The Minister began to reply, but Leandra cut him off. “We still have a war to win, and the rest of your people to rescue,” she snapped. “You wish to condemn our methods of survival? That is your right, but it will wait until after we’ve defeated our enemies. Not before.”

Λ 516 Tensor Π turned and stormed towards the door, pausing just before he exited. “This is not over, Prime Minister,” he warned, “and when the war has ended? I will see you removed from this office for your actions against the Ronin people.” The Minister spun away and pushed his way out of her office.

“...only if I’m lucky,” she muttered.

Tango entered the General’s quarters and found him staring out into the vastness of space. She leaned against a bulkhead and folded her arms across her chest. “A credit for your thoughts,” she said.

Nassat was silent for some time. “How are they progressing?” he said at last.

“Not bad, all things considered,” she answered. “They’ve got guts, that’s for sure.” Her eyes twinkled in the soft light. “But then considering their parentage...I’d expect nothing less.”

“...do not sway me with flattery, Tango,” the Saurotaur hissed. “Not now.”

She sighed and wandered over to the sideboard, pouring herself a drink. “I was being serious,” she replied, before finding a comfortable chair and plopping down into it. “I’ve seen you and Raichret both in action, you may recall. I meant every word.”

The widowed general’s head bowed at the mention of his long-dead wife. “I just wanted to keep them safe,” he whispered. “I cannot understand this...this obsession of theirs. This desire to place themselves in harm’s way. Not only that, but at the spear’s very tip.” He turned away from the monitor and faced her. “Where did I fail them?”

The human just shook her head. “You didn’t, Boss,” she told him, taking a sip of her drink. “They just see the universe differently than you do.”

Nassat snorted in disgust. “Easy for you to say,” he said. “A human child choosing to become a warrior is a matter of pride. My children, however, are not human.”

“I’d noticed,” Tango chuckled. “The hooves were a dead giveaway.”

“You mock me?” he snarled. “By what bizarre human custom do you think gives you the right?”

“This has nothing to do with my humanity,” she fired back. “The reason your children chose this life? My world, instead of yours? It’s because they grew up in a universe where war was a palpable reality...and you didn’t. Even now, after all these years, you still can’t accept that things have changed. You keep hoping your universe will go back to the way it was.” Tango rose to her feet, drink in hand. “News flash...it won’t.”

Nassat turned away, attempting to hide from her words. “The world you grew up in was a fantasy, Nassat...a false utopia based on a lie. That it lasted as long as it did is a damned miracle, though given what we know about the Ronin now, it’s probably because they murdered the competition.”

He turned back to face her. “And what of your kind? he demanded. “Have you not told me how your own people long dreamed of the very peace mine helped you discover? Before the Khonhim Earth had not seen war in a century. Tell me, when in your long bloody history had that happened?”

“Never,” she admitted. “But that peace came with a price, Nassat. You coerced it from us, making it just as false as yours. I’ll grant you, the Triumvirate did us some good, and helped us mature...but we always knew in the back of our minds it couldn’t last. Why do you think we conceived Vegetius? Why we created the Guilds and the Reenactments?” Tango looked him in the eye. “It was because we always knew that this day would come…and we were determined to be ready.”

The aging Saurotaur’s head bowed once more. “I would do anything to keep them from this,” he whispered.

“I know,” Tango answered, “and so do they. But unless you’re prepared to lock them away, you must make peace with this.” She went to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re terrified of losing them, like the way you lost Raichret,” she said gently, “but this is their life...and their choice.”

Nassat looked at her, his eyes wet. “...watch over them, will you?”

Tango smiled. “I always do.”