A small belch of cosmic Hawking radiation was, at first, the only indication that something was out of the ordinary. A great golden leviathan deviated from its course to investigate. Its single, massive engine burned white-hot as it accelerated on an intercept vector. A single, hollow, copper-colored cylinder formed its core with four rounded, gold-colored, ovular “petals” stretching from its aft near the engine to beyond the cylinder's opening. Upon closer inspection, these gargantuan superstructures were dotted by comparatively tiny imperfections several meters across. The entire beast stretched nearly four-thousand meters from its tip to its tail, and yet moved with an agile grace.
The great vessel rapidly closed the distance with the anomaly and filled space with torrents of high-powered radiation. Suddenly, it seemed to jerk as if struck by some bolt of static. It altered its vector at an alarming rate, and fired its torch drive in a hard acceleration. More focused bursts of radiation filled a narrow cone along the golden vessel's trajectory, and revealed its quarry – a small, twenty-meter cylinder moving along briskly but unpowered at a decent fraction of light speed. The giant seemed to blossom; its superstructure “petals” retracted and angled themselves perpendicular to the copper stalk. Heat and energy surged through the vessel, and the night was split by a lance of highly charged particles. Instantly, the small cylinder was vaporized without so much as an explosion.
The leviathan shuddered and convulsed as its body buckled and warped, as if stabbed by some unseen dagger. Metallic skin peeled back like the outer covering of some exotic, overripe fruit. Atmosphere belched from the dying ship, and finally it was consumed in an impossibly brief blue-white flash. Fifteen grey-black shapes raced through the rapidly expanding clouds of debris and plasma on jets of fusion fire, each vessel just under two kilometers at their longest point and shaped similarly to the blade of an ancient Phillips head screw drive. They were attended by about a dozen far smaller craft, ranging from a few hundred meters long, in close formation around each parent. The wolf pack of newcomer vessels spread their formation outwards as they cleared the debris field and angled on a new vector.
Directly towards the small blue-green rocky world in orbit of one of the twin stars of the Coruc-Tel system, and the bastion of mysterious aliens that had claimed it.
The Judge of Souls does not come with fiery wrath, or righteous vindication. He does not arrive to the sound of horns or the beating of drums. When Koshiir-Ra comes to pass judgment, he will knock politely on your door and be invited in as an honored guest.
-Somtaaw Mekiz uln-Sigga the Prophet, c. 1289 BCA
Kasaar-Ro, Khontala Mountain Range
142 kilometers north of Ejiira – Somtaaw Holy City
Kush, Feazanthia System, Hiiglawa Galaxy
12 Weeks Prior
A soft chime sounded, followed by the melodic voice of the house synthetic intelligence.
“Arriving: Somtaaw-sa Kelen uln-Jalaat, Kiith-sa of the Somtaaw, Warder of the Shimmering Path, Lord of the Western Ranges.”
Silas stood and smoothed his clothing before nodding to the hidden camera to allow admittance. The Somtaaw Kiith-sa was a physically impressive man even without military prostheses; standing nearly 1.8 meters he towered over nearly anyone who had not replaced their body with a Milspec-issue one. His skin was a deep tan and his body layered with muscle that spoke of long periods spent under the rigors of high-acceleration space travel. Dark-blue, almond-shaped eyes examined Silas with a harsh twinkle and a cold intelligence behind them.
“My Kiith-sa,” spoke Silas as he bowed low and held his hands outward in the customary salute, his voice deep and twinged with the after-voice of a synthetic vocal cord, “it is an honor and a privilege to accept you into my home. How may I serve you this day?”
Kelen uln-Jalaat stepped forward and spoke gruffly.
“You may serve me, Phia...” his face and tone softened, “with a hug for your big brother!” The Kiith-sa pulled Somtaaw Silas uln-Jalaat, Phia of the Somtaaw defense forces, into a tight embrace with a throaty laugh and a series of heavy-handed slaps on the back. “Ah, it has been to long, eerachal-ulnpir. Where is Miiram? Huh? Miiram!” He released the chuckling Silas and embraced the wispy form of Somtaaw Miiram woral-Silas, cupping her heart-shaped face between his hands and kissing her mahogany cheeks. “Silas, you have any of the '87 left?”
“What, the Tilak vintage?” inquired Silas as he slipped an arm back around his wife.
“Aye!” clapped the Kiith-sa. “The journey from the capitol has left me parched.”
“All five minutes of it, eh?” quipped the younger brother before dodging a playful swipe from his elder.
“Wrong capitol, my sarcastic sibling. I just came from Tiir. You should really connect to your link more often.”
Silas' jovial expression sobered. “The Daiamid isn't scheduled to meet again until...Kelen, what's happened? Why have you come all the way out here?”
Kelen Somtaaw-sa shifted his expression to match his brother's as he shook his head slowly. “Yes, you really do need to connect to your link more often, even when on holiday, my brother. Miiram, my dear, be so good as to get that wine. Your husband and I need to talk about a great many things, I'm afraid.”
Silas looked over the balcony as he delicately sipped the ruby liquid in his tumbler. The wine burned his throat satisfyingly on its way down. Twilight was fast approaching, and the last gasps of sunlight cast an amber hue over the mountain villa. Cool, dry air began whipping down from the peaks, and the brothers were only spared its bone-chilling fingers by the taught plastic awning that covered the balcony.
“So we're actually going to do it, then,” said Silas gravely as he gazed out at the view. “To think, after all this time...”
“We didn't have much of a choice, my brother,” said the Kiith-sa, wrapping an arm protectively around the phia in a gesture of genuine familial affection. He took a deep swallow of his own glass before continuing. “You've seen the reports.”
“I know, Kelen. I know,” sighed Silas. “Coruc-Tel must not fall,”
“Not into the hands of the barbarians, it cannot. If the Star Empire and this new 'Coalition' continue much longer, the Kisovuy will be no match for them. And while the Kisovuy may not be much of a threat to us...”
“Any one of them could, potentially, breach the facility and make use of it.”
“And we cannot simply destroy the facility. You knew a second expedition would have to be launched, little brother. You really should use your link more often.”
One of the moons was already high in the sky, and the other was just beginning to appear in the west. Their combined moonlight danced and reflected off deposits of gemstones and precious metals. The rusty stone of the gorge below appeared as a blood-red starscape from this vantage point.
“As did the Three march across the twinkling path of creation undaunted...” began the younger.
“...so too must we bear the hardships of our journey with head unbowed,” finished the older. He then sighed. “You recall the rumors of the Sobani engaging an unidentified vessel in the Gamma quadrant?”
Silas chuckled. “How could I forget? I had half my staff and two synths poring over hearsay and supposition for almost six months!”
“They're true, and it's worse than we feared. They apparently put up quite a fight. The Sobani field officers acted stupidly, yes, but still...our probes are receiving reports of vessels of similar design operating far too close for comfort. Of course, with the Kisovuy still occupying the system-”
“I've been studying military strategy and tactics all my life, Kelen. I didn't pay for this house with my gardening skills, after all.”
This elicited a sharp laugh from the older brother. He then shook his head sadly. “You really should use your link more often, even on vacation,” he slipped his hand into his breast pocket. “I've been instructed to inform you that you have been activated, little brother.”
Silas took a sharp inhale of breath and stiffened. “You cannot be serious.”
“It's worse than you think. Someone put your name in for Phia-sa.”
“WHAT!?” Silas wheeled on the older man. “You CAN'T be serious...”
“I told them that's how you would act. It's mostly a political appointment, I'm sorry to say.” Kelen waved his hand at the incredulous look being shot his way. “Oh, I didn't mean it like that. No one thinks you don't have the capability appropriate to the station, it's just that they wanted a Somtaaw. You just happen to have the added bonus-”
“-of being the brother of the Kiith-sa. Sands swallow you, Kelen, if you voted for this expedition because of my career-”
“I voted,” snapped Kelen as he wheeled and met his brother's stare. “Because it is the right thing to do. The Reformists want a Somtaaw because they think we'll be a calming influence on the Sobani. The Sobani want a Somtaaw because they think we'll be able to motivate the Foundationists. The Foundationists want a Somtaaw because they think we'll reign in the Reformists' ambitions. They all want someone close to me to ensure an uninterrupted supply chain...and I want you because I know you're the right man for the job.”
Silas simply looked at his brother – his Kiith-sa – stupidly for a few moments before remembering just who he was.
“I...will not let you down, my Kiith-sa.”
“Good!” said Kelen with a clap of his hands. “Because if you do I'll kill you and take this house. Now, I could use another drink.”
