For every inevitable end
there is a beginning. That
beginning always has a single
man that makes a choice to
change what is.
Sometimes, however, that
change is not a choice but is
instead a gift given by god for
him to do what must be done.
Tarkus IV Colony
2162 A.D.
The Year of the Dog
Smoke wafted lazily from one of the far tables, as an alien puffed deeply on one of the finest Cuban cigars smuggled out of Earth. The bitter sweet smoke curled its way towards the ceiling, mingling with the other gasses that had collected, stirred up by the great palm leaf ceiling fans that drew a variety of noxious substances away from the patrons who were drinking, laughing and smoking in the bar perched high on the edge of a cliff overlooking the lake.
Tarkus IV was as remote a colony as humanity could fund, tucked on the limits of Polian territory. It had celebrated its fiftieth anniversary earlier that year, not that any remembered or cared about the early settlers who had been forced to settle on the world by the UN's one-hundred-year one-hundred-world colonization plan. To some, history was better best forgotten, and on a world that had grown plump on funnelling humanity's trade goods to the members of the great Polian Alliance, history was virtually irrelevant.
The glass had a cockroach swimming in the green beer. The alien bartender had fallen in love with the idea of Saint Patrick's Day, and naturally taken it a step too far, dying all of his drinks green with a local plant that had a rather potent affect on anyone foolish enough to actually drink it.
The man accepting the drink stared down at the struggling insect. Just another example of the gifts Earth had to offer the galaxy at large. Bugs, drugs, and thugs.
Alexander VonGrippen pushed the glass aside, "the Jump Drive Madam Graal, I don't have time..."
The oversized creature across from him steamed from five orifices set around her neck, the rolls of her mottle yellow flesh retracting as the methane excreted from her multiple stomachs discharged in pungent clouds that joined the Cigar smoke sweeping towards the ceiling. Her cheeks ballooned, the lacquered pink blush matched her bright pink lipstick that matched her equally garishly pink leather outfit obviously two sizes smaller than it should be.
"Admiral," she said choosing her words carefully, "your species has waited for a hundred years to attain the stars, what is a simple drink between two...friends?" She smiled, a gesture she was obviously unaccustomed to, mimicking human behaviour, baring vicious fangs that oozed and dripped saliva.
VonGrippen cocked and eyebrow and leaned forward, "the Orion Tradeliner that is due in this system within the next few hours. You have delayed this transaction for five days already, perhaps I am beginning to doubt your capacity to deliver what I need."
Her eyes swept down the thirty-year-old human sitting before her. His simple linen shirt, the sleeveless red and black vest he wore overtop. His clear eyes shining as he returned her gaze levelly overtop of his steel rimmed glasses. He wasn't a fool; the heavy automatic pistol on his thigh ensured that. She ran her tongue down one of her incisors and nodded.
"Then, Admiral, we should discuss what your race is willing to pay for... our technology." She shifted her bulk; "after all, there are intergalactic laws against selling Jump Drive technology to human beings."
"Laws that the Orion Directorate force upon their customers," VonGrippen reminded, "you maintain the independent capacity for trade, you aren't threatened by their monopoly..."
"And yet," Graal smiled, "your government is strangled by it..." She paused, "I could report you to the American Governor on Tarkus... he is obligated to arrest anyone attempting to purchase... illegal technology."
"The governor of Tarkus has been well paid by my house," VonGrippen countered, "as will you. Now can you deliver the jump drive before the arrival of the Tradeliner, or am I going to take my business elsewhere?"
Graal considered for a moment, gauging how desperate the man before her would be, "there is no one else, Admiral, you're options are limited. The Polians requires that Earth and its colonies join their Alliance before they share their secrets. The Orions ferociously guard their monopoly over interstellar travel through your territory... how much did you have to pay just to get that pretty little ship of yours to Tarkus? If you believe the Orion's aren't aware of your presence and your plans..."
"There are alternatives to booking passage on Tradeliners," VonGrippen kept his voice even, his eyes glancing across the room to where Graal's bodyguards were standing, he folded his hands on the table and smiled, "and the only way for the Orion's to know I am here is for you to have told them."
Graal's smile got broader, "there is a significant reward for your capture, Admiral. And I am a business woman."
VonGrippen nodded, remaining seated, in no hurry to escape the trap, "what makes you believe I didn't anticipate your duplicity?" He raised a finger and make a simple gesture.
Around the bar his crewmembers rose from their seats, tossing back their disguises. Long black trench coats falling open as they lifted their sub-machineguns. Graal's pair of bodyguards jumped at the sudden realization they were outgunned ten to one. They looked helplessly at their mistress for orders.
Graal shook her head, "even if you get off of Tarkus, Admiral, the Tradeliner..."
VonGrippen lifted his TAC-link and flipped it open, turning the small screen towards her, "this one?" he inquired calmly, the video feed was live, showing the great bulk of the giant alien vessel as it closed on the planet, filmed from its aft quarter.
"They have you then," Graal replied smug in her confident situation.
"On the contrary, it is I who have them." He stood and lifted the TAC-link, "you may commence boarding actions XO." He snapped the TAC-link closed, "thank you for delivering the Jump Drive on schedule Madam Graal, however since I have to collect it myself, I think we'll waive the finders fee." He motioned again to his men as he marched out of the doors.
Free of the oppressive air of the claustrophobic bar he looked up into the bright Tarkus afternoon sky, slipping on a pair of dark sunglasses, his boots crunching on the gravel as above him his master plan went into operation. The dropship sitting in the centre of Tarkus's main square powered up its engines, ready to convey him back to his ship. The HMS Shisak that lurked with her pair of escorts; shadows in the night, moments away from attacking the hapless Tradeliner that had blundered into a trap that would finally free humanity from the Orions.
He marched up the ramp and sat down on the hatch, accepting the TAC-headset,slipping it on, and tilting the optical screen over his right eye, watching the tactical data that the Shisak fed to him. Soldiers from House VonGrippen secured the city, the transports, disguised as Orion cargo pods had landed over night, spilling their contents as the strike teams secured the American Colony while VonGrippen had sat across from Madam Graal. The Colonial Militia, really little more than a temporary police force, easily overwhelmed by the firepower the House could bring to bear in such a short time.
Unlike Tarkus, the leaders of House VonGrippen had learned from their past, and had set a course for the future.
"Once you have disabled the aft gunnery pods," VonGrippen ordered standing under the bright sun, watching the start of the battle, "send in the breaching teams."
"Aye Admiral," Commander Knight responded dutifully. "However, you should know I have a priority one communiqué from your father..."
VonGrippen gritted his teeth, not now...
"Patch him through." VonGrippen ordered, resting a hand on his sidearm as he rotated the optical screen so that it could act as a holographic projector. The image, relayed through the FTL comm system on the HMS Shisak wavered as it formed in to the formidable man that dominated the ten colonies forming the High House VonGrippen, widely regarded as the most powerful man outside of the Sol system.
Philip VonGrippen, the self styled Highlord, wore the long black great coat with its blood red lapels sweeping down his lean form, his bearded face tightening into a scowl as he surveyed his only son.
"Who gave you leave to commence this attack?" he demanded angrily.
"You did," VonGrippen responded, folding his arms, "have you changed your mind, again?"
"This is not the time for your impertinence," Philip snarled, "if you go through with this attack, you risk isolating our colonies from one another..."
"A danger that will be negated once we secure a Jump Drive," VonGrippen answered calmly, "we have discussed this at great length..."
"And I am telling you that the risk is too great at this juncture. Cease your attack and return to Geldan immediately." Philip's tone brokered no dissent, and VonGrippen nodded his head.
"As you command my lord," he motioned to one of his men, "abort the attack, order the Shisak and escort ships to approach the night side of the planet and order our men to withdraw from Tarkus..."
"No," Philip licked his lips, "Since we have acquired the colony, I see no reason to hand it back..."
VonGrippen tilted his head at his father's image, "I disagree, their position will be untenable with an Orion Tradeliner in orbit, once the Shisak withdraws..."
"You have your orders Alexander!" Philip snapped.
VonGrippen shut down the TAC-link, his hand tightening around it as he looked upwards again. His father had disabled the trap with his orders, leaving the soldiers and ships under VonGrippen's command with the difficult task of escaping under the guns of an alien vessel that wouldn't hesitate in utilizing orbital bombardment as a method of pest control for their American allies.
"Orders Admiral?" One of his men asked.
"Sound the retreat," VonGrippen decided, "my father's ire I can weather, Orion rail cannons on the other hand..."
"Aye, sir," The crewman replied, issuing orders into his own TAC-link, recalling the soldiers to their drop pods, while VonGrippen issued orders to the Shisak and her escorts to cover their withdrawal from the colony. Cursing his father's timing and the delay that it would cause in the grand plan.
* * *
The dropship descended from the dark rain clouds, curving across the irrigation fields and factories, curing its tilt boosters as it approached the dark stone house high on a cliff-face above the capital city. The bright landing lights signalling its approach as it touched down with a sharp whine, its ramp sliding down as the soldiers marched down escorting the young Admiral as he crossed the wet gravel to the main entrance to the manor house. The sodden falcon banner streaming proudly from its flagpole before the great house. The striking falcon that symbolized so much of what the military house stood for.
VonGrippen entered the main hall, smelling the familiar scents of the hearth, the comfortable furniture that all served a utilitarian purpose. His mother, the grand lady herself, stood on the middle steps of the main staircase, looking down upon her son, her face sombre.
"He's waiting for you," the disappointment dripped from her words, and VonGrippen steeled himself for what was to come.
"Did you put him up to this?" VonGrippen asked, the anger like iron in his voice.
"Don't you dare..." she began.
VonGrippen's eyes flashed as he turned to look up at her, "there will come a day, mother, when your aspirations will consume you. And on that day, I am certain that I will find it in me to smile." He turned his back on her again, "but for now, there are dead that need to be counted, and explanations given."
He marched across the hall and opened the door, his own anger boiling beneath the surface as he walked into the aged study, lead lined windows that rattled under the steady downpour beyond them. The warm fire cast orange light that danced along the spines of the ancient leather books, reflecting the golden letters of literature that had been lovingly collected by their master, but never read.
The Highlord sat behind his desk, his coat draped across his shoulders, and his countenance dark, "you betrayed me." His words were harsh, but a light of disbelief shone in his eyes.
VonGrippen folded his arms, "I saved your soldiers lives, protected our fleet assets and ensured the continued prosperity of our house. Simply because I chose to disobey you, doesn't mean I don't serve you loyally. What I do is, was, and always will be for the House."
"I am the House." Philip warned, rising from his chair, his voice cracking, and for the first time VonGrippen noticed how old his father had grown. The great visionary that had built the House, the man who had united disparate colonial factions into one strong and unified force was dying. He was the same man that had caught a glimpse of the future, turning the Geldan industry towards the production of warships, ready for the inevitable day that the secrets of Jump technology would permit them to traverse the Beacon Corridor without the need for the Orions. That man had grown old, and would never see the fruits of his labours.
"When I made you Admiral of our fleet, I did it to solidify my control over the military..." Philip rested his palms on the great wooden desk to stop them from shaking in his fury, "but instead I find that I now have less control over the military than I had before!"
"Have I ever failed you?" VonGrippen asked pointedly, "you ask me to take colonies, and I have done it. Since my appointment, the House assets have increased significantly. We nearly had jump technology, and..."
"Your mother believes that you are plotting a coup," Philip said, the anger in his voice fading as he studied his sons face for some glimmer of a clue that would prove his fears correct.
VonGrippen smiled confidently, "I am your legacy, father, Mother is just worried about what will happen to her vaunted position after you die."
"And?" Philip pressed.
"I'll admit to a strong desire to build her a house on the northern glacier and prey daily for global warming," VonGrippen looked up into his father's eyes, "but seriously, father, she will no longer hold sway over Geldan politics. How many whispers on the pillow did it take for you to recall me from Tarkus?" He advanced a step, "how many for you to turn your back on the grand plan and humanity's only hope to escape the ridiculous taxation the Orions charge every time we want to send our trade goods to other colonies. While the Americans and the UN milk their alliance to further their own ambitions?"
Philip shook his head, "The European Union has summoned me to attend a conference."
"What are they offering?" VonGrippen asked surprised at the revelation that the House may have found an ally in such unlikely times.
"The usual platitudes," Philip remarked, his heavy eyebrows shining as he stared at his son, measuring him, "I am going to attend their conference..."
"An alliance could shift the balance of power on Earth," VonGrippen warned, "there will be war once the United States learns that there could be a challenge to their dominance."
"That war is inevitable," Philip snorted derisively, "sooner or later it matters little. America continues to put pressure on our outer colonies, trying to extract their trade tariffs..."
VonGrippen folded his arms as he shook his head, "we're not prepared for the war yet..."
"The time for your preparations is over Alexander, the time is at hand to act," Philip gripped the lapel of his great coat, "and act you shall. I want you to accompany me to Earth..."
VonGrippen inclined his head, "I shall order the Shisak..."
His father shook his head, "no, you have a promise to complete. A future leader of the House should look to his education."
VonGrippen's brow furrowed, "you're dismissing me?"
Philip smiled, "your mother feels you have been neglecting your studies, your Thesis defence is due, and Cambridge University isn't far from London. Consider it a temporary leave of absence from your duties."
"I am not that naive, father." VonGrippen remarked dryly, "but I will do as you ask, provided adequate measures are taken to ensure your safety on Earth."
"Do what you must," Philip waved his hand dismissively, "we leave on the next Tradeliner..."
"And the Orion's are all right with this idea?" VonGrippen asked in bemusement.
"The European Union have agreed to pay the extortionate amount the Orion's demanded for our passage, it seems that our new friends are... desperate."
"Desperate people are dangerous," VonGrippen warned.
Philip nodded his assent, "completely. Now secure your ship and see to your men. I have work to do."