Good night, Swith! Perhaps you'll win next time.
Speaking of evil Septimus, time for one final one-shot before I give up on my second wind and go to bed.
The First GenocideSeptimus lowered his mechanical arm as smoke emanated from the barrel, the rim that once sprouted holographic fingers glowing red-hot as a reminder of the deadly payload it had just released. It was finally done. After two decades of campaigning, Andaris had at long-last come under Confederation control. Not his finest moment, admittedly, but he'd started off soft. Now, he understood the value in ruthlessness, the emptiness of mercy. If he'd begun this campaign as he'd ended it, Andaris would have been a Confederation core world by this point, possibly even petitioning to join the Confederation's Interplanetary Council. Instead, the backwater world was a smoldering husk of its former glory, its empires reduced to rubble and its survivors quaking in fear as they accepted the reign of their new masters.
Enlightened masters, he reminded himself. Andaris had languished under theocracy for ages and when the Confederation had arrived it was a backwards world still warring with itself over religious discord and tribal feuds. Now, finally, it was united under a government that would propel its people and their planet to galactic godhood. Nothing could be more noble of a quest than this.
"Brother, the transport ships are arriving to take the wounded off-world for treatment," Sister Ophelia ascended the dome that Septimus stood upon as he surveyed the wreckage of his first military campaign, "Shall we send word to the Board? I'm sure they'll be most pleased of our success."
"Your success," Septimus would have laughed had it not been a female he was talking to. This social impediment frustrated him to no end, "I was merely a tool to ensure it. Your dictates and strategies carried the day, Captain."
"Do not underestimate yourself, Brother," she lay a hand on his mechanical shoulder, gently rubbing the cover of the generator within, "You are definitely suited to be a member of the Board. I'll see to it that your recommendation for full Board membership is approved. Thank you for your assistance."
As she descended the cracked dome that had once been a sand igloo for a family on this world, Septimus turned to follow. He was interrupted, however, by the
whoosh of a bullet nearly ripping through his neck. It grazed the side, leaving him bleeding and irate.
"Who shot that?!" he turned and raised his mechanical arm, the cannon humming as it came to life once more. No violence would be tolerated by this new planet. Though she was a civilized world now, she had to learn her place. She could have her rights if she earned them and understood that rebellion and insurrection were intolerable in the eyes of the Board. Nothing less would suffice for them, and nothing less would suffice for Septimus. He gritted his teeth.
"Show yourself, coward!" the emotion crept into his voice, though it was contained by his programming. Ophelia ascended the dome once more and two laser rifles protruding from her back began scanning the area for possible targets. The village was empty, only smoke and the cries of the wounded and dying - soon to be evacuated off-world for treatment and augmentation - accompanying the duo. They lowered their weapons and Septimus sighed.
"Damn barbarians don't know what's good for them when the see it," he spat, "Sometimes I wonder why we even bother."
"It's not right to leave people in squalor when we can offer them a better path," Ophelia replied, "With our knowledge and technological advancement these people will live longer, healthier lives and be more productive and creative than ever. Everyone deserves an opportunity to have at least a glimpse of this, wouldn't you agree, Brother?"
Another shot, this time completely missing Septimus, rang out and interrupted the pair. Only this time, the shooter emerged from within one of the supposedly-abandoned sandgloos and showed himself, his face shrouded behind a red kerchief and his hair blocked by a red and gold hood.
"As long as I live, your kind will never be safe on this planet," he growled, raising his rifle to take another shot. Septimus raised his cannon and gave him a look of annoyance.
"You're out of your depth, kid," he warned, "Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. This is Confederation territory now and we will not brook any violent resistance. If you have an issue you can take it up via due process. But don't make me blow you up. I've killed enough people on this forsaken world to last a lifetime."
The man lowered his rifle and his eyes narrowed, "No, you're right. You've done enough killing here. The next time I see you, I'll put a bullet in your brain and skin your scalp to add to my collection. You killed my family, the proudest of the Andarians, and I will not take this transgression sitting down."
"Is that a threat?" Septimus warmed up the cannon barrel, "Because if it is, I can dispose of you right now and you'll be nothing in three seconds flat."
"Just shoot him," Ophelia raised her laser rifles and trained them on the cloaked man, "He's a threat. We're the military. It's what we do. He's standing in the way of us bringing to the people of this world a truly just and knowledgeable society."
As he readied the cannon to fire, the whir building up to a fever pitch, the man dropped his rifle.
"You must get bored sometimes, don't you, Brother?" the man removed his kerchief and let a weathered, yellowed smile through, "Isn't it tiring, just killing a man without a challenge? I mean, that's why you went soft on us the first time, right? You wanted it to be like those history books you love to read so much. You want the knowledge to match up, don't you?"
"Shut your barbaric mouth and face your death with some courage," Ophelia warmed up her own rifles and prepared to fire.
"Well you could kill me, but then you'd still be bored, Brother Itum," the man raised his arms, "Come on, now."
Septimus raised an organic hand, "Don't shoot."
Ophelia gave him a look of utter incredulity, "What the fuck are you doing, Sep? He's playing you! Just kill him and let's file our report so we can let the civilian crews in to clean up this mess."
"That's right," the man said, "Let's play. Come on, now. You and me. Let me go. I'll hunt you, I'll hunt you to the ends of the galaxy and we'll see who really is deserving of the title civilized man."
"You think that killing me will make you civilized?" Septimus snorted in derision, "You are a barbaric fool if you think might makes right."
"And yet you assert your authority over this planet by butchering all of us," the man let out a hollow laugh, "Truly, you people are rich. You can't see the hypocrisy in front of your faces. But you can make up for it. Just let me go. We'll play a little game together. Come on, Septimus. Let's play. Don't be a spoilsport."
"How do you know my name?" Septimus' eyes narrowed, "That's classified information. Who told you?"
"I assume that's my cue to get out of here," the man winked, grabbed the rifle, and dived into the abandoned habitat. Septimus and Ophelia opened fire, leveling the dome to ash and cinders as they ensured there was no way the man could have survived. Further scans upon the wreckage reported no signs of life, and Septimus and Ophelia breathed sighs of relief as the requisitioned transport ship touched down and medics came out to assist the wounded.
"Don't pull shit like that, Septimus," she grabbed him by the shoulder and glared, "This isn't one of your storybooks. War is not an art, it's a science. When you see a hostile that is a possible threat, you eliminate them. That's it."
"I'm a diplomat," he replied tersely.
"Diplomacy is a function of violence without the blood," she let him go, "You'll get the approval, but if you ever pull that shit again you'll be sorry you ever bothered asking me for a recommendation to full Board promotion. Now go. I have to make sure he's well and truly dead."
For the first time in nearly three hundred years of loyal and dedicated service, Captain Ophelia of of the
Explorator had to mark a significant enemy combatant as missing instead of killed. She didn't like the paperwork that accompanied it, but she hated more the fact that she'd never get a decent night's rest again. Somewhere, whether on this sunny rock or some other, the man was playing the game. And it was a game Septimus, in all his youthful naivety, was bound to lose.