“We are at the re-building stage, Galnal. I know that as well as any. But my concern is focused on what we are re-building for. It took us, as a race, hundreds of tanuude to get where we were, masters of our domains in space, masters of this arm of the galaxy. It only took a couple of alien bombardments for us to lose that status. The people are not used to being told what to do, being told where to go, what is permitted travel, what is not. The humans did not elect to occupy any of our worlds which to me was a sign of weakness. Their blockade of our territorial space is thin and porous. What we do now must shape our future as a species, and that future should not be clouded by the ashes of war or the overbearing domination by another race.”
“And I agree with what you just said. But until we can effectively find a way out of this bottle, find a way past the blockade, how do you see us regaining what we have lost?”
Phatie grunted. “It is your lack of vision that disturbs me most, Galnal. You were appointed by the Orduud politicians; I reached my position by way of battles won. We seem to be at an impasse here about the future of the Malguur. Do you not agree?”
“You seem to forget that I served in the Hyfuur campaign, eminence. My experiences there led me to where I am now.”
Phatie stood quickly and yelled, “Your experiences on Hyfuur! What a joke! What did you do, Galnal, hop the first ship out of the system when the bombs started to destroy your birthplace? You certainly didn’t rally any resistance to the incoming Elber Fleet.”
Galnal stood and leaned in. “What you say is pure rubbish. We were outnumbered and our ships were no match against the humans. I did what was necessary to survive, as did many.”
This insubordinate geluur, thought Phatie, summoning up the most outlandish curse he could think of. He reached down and opened one of his desk drawers. When his three-fingered hand came out of the drawer it was holding a high-powered projectile weapon. “Survive this,” he said casually as he pulled the trigger.
A loud report filled the room and Fleet Uurgud Wan Galnal grabbed at his chest. His hand almost disappeared into the gaping wound. He looked at his eminence with a quizzical stare before he crumpled to the floor, his ceremonial sword making a clattering racket as it fell with him.
Phatie walked around the desk and kicked the sword away with his boot. “You’re not fit to wear this, not even in death,” he said.
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The above dialogue takes place between the Supreme Military Commander of the Malguurian Armed Forces and one of his underlings. Things didn't go well for poor Wan Galnal.
When asked later by one of his staff members how Ganal took his demotion, Bale Phatie replied:
“He took it in the chest.”
Look for Book Two to be published before the 10th of October.
Tomorrow's post: The new cover by Christopher A. Jones (my son, Yay!)
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