The sound was intriguing. A small crash and a unique sound, as if the liquid of the sea were being sucked into a straw. The pattern also provided intrigue. It was regular… but at the same time, unpredictable. It came often enough that one might think it a conformity… but then when one sat to time the next one, it came too soon, or lingered too long.
It was a pleasing distraction.
On this world, the water running over the red sand was one of many distractions. High above came the cries of animals, rudimentary communication of undecipherable meaning, but to the untrained ear, it almost resembled a chorus of song. Below, there was a different sort of chorus; the beautiful sound of society… the buzz and hum of a mechanized world, the transportation and information, communication…
It existed as background. Foreground was the waves… the glorious, calming waves.
It wasn’t often that Cree’Ar Judicators were able to retreat to Arigaun… often, even when they did, they merely did so for consultation with the Eldercaste and had little time, if any, for their homes and families.
Now was not such a time.
For Kal Shora, time was infinite.
Or so he thought.
***
The world of Aradon was not what one would consider beautiful. On it crashed no waves. Above it sung no birds. But if one looked upon it long enough, a respect began to form, and if you continued to look, it began to take a strange, perverted sort of beauty.
If looked at for too long, despise began to set in.
Aradon was a beautiful world that one began to hate the more one viewed it.
“Eptar'a'kar'a, Judicator.”
“Paz’f’aar’a’shan, Tassadar.”
The two warriors clenched fists, drawing each other close and briefly touching head to shoulder and shoulder to head. When they drew apart again, Tassadar kept a hand on the other’s shoulder, as the two began to walk.
“You are back in Arigaun, my friend?”
“Yes. They require me to return to Borleaquay for the official announcement of my promotion.”
“So that is why you have graced us with your presence! I knew that if you had a reason to extricate yourself from knee deep in the dead, it would be for such a self-serving sentiment as making a speech and wooing a crowd.”
“You know me too well. I do despise these formalities… were it to my discretion I would have accepted my promotion over the visage.”
Kal Shora stopped walking then, uttering a deep sigh. Tassadar stopped as well, hand still lodged on his friends shoulder, as he stepped in beside.
“I do enjoy being home, however.”
“Don’t we all. On the subject of your impending promotion; I offer my congratulations.”
“And I accept them. I only wish that I do not disgrace myself by being so inept in the position as was my predecessor.”
“Did not your parents ever teach you that words hurt, Kal Shora?”
“Of course, Tassadar. How do you believe it is that I rose the ranks so quickly?”
“I thought it was your taut body.”
“Oh my. I do suppose that explains your lingering touch.”
And instantly, Tassadar removed his hand, clasping as Kal Shora did the metal rail immediately in front.
“Back to the subject of rank, though… why is it that you have chosen now to retire?”
“Oh, young Judicator… one never retires from defending the Cree’Ar Dominion. I have merely retired my sword in favor of my words.”
“Ah! After all your talk of speeches and your derision for grandstanding, you have accepted the title of High Elder!”
“Indeed. They have retired me from the field so that I may perfect the ultimate cure for Cree’Ar insomnia.”
“I offer you my congratulations, and may I say, it is about time.”
“Well, to be honest, the process has been finalized for quite some time. It was placed on hold, pending your return from the Occupied Territories.”
“Ah. In that case, allow me to also offer my apologies.”
“Such is life.”
“Such is life.”
For a few moments, nothing was said. Before their eyes the world of Aradon continued its existence. Tek’a’tara were hard at work crafting what now appeared to be some sort of gigantic hexagonal weave of metal. Both men knew what it was to be.
“It will be a glorious vessel.”
“Indeed. They are calling it… the Kal Shora.”
“Horrible name.”
“I agree completely. I only hope that the Yat'a'leg'a'lora are overcome with humor upon reading our registry.”
“Where next shall you be found, Judicator?”
“Ador. I will retreat directly from Aradon to my home, and spend as much time as possible before I must make my speech and return to duty.”
“Respectable. I am going to Lin; we owe our allies in the Dominion for their redundant focusing technology. As well, we are to coordinate the replacing of the Parrow Lin lasers with our plasma disruption cannons.”
”Finally. I cannot believe that any species still utilize lasers. So archaic.”
“Indeed. I will meet you on Ador at my earliest convenience.”
“Until then, High Elder.”
“Until then, High Judicator.”
With no further words, Tassadar left. Kal Shora stayed for several moments, looking upon the ship that was to be his namesake.
Kal Shora’s brow furrowed. He promised that after he took his vessel, he would never visit Aradon again.
***
“Thank you all for sharing this moment with me.
I will attempt to be brief. I am a man of many words… something of a philosopher amongst military minds, but I do despise talking about myself. I will therefore instead talk about our glorious Dominion and the future of our people. I will also try not to bore you.
The Dominion is forever. We know this. From what is told the Dominion existed beyond today, many milenia beyond in fact. We know that it came to an end because we were a peaceful people, always happy to welcome and appease. And for this reason, Borleas has asked us to not be a peaceful people. He has asked us to be an aggressive people.
We do this. For we owe Borleas Quayver a great debt. When he came to our world, arbiter in hand, he gave us a purpose, a mission. He gave us the knowledge that we are not alone! And when we reached out from the sky many wonders awaited us. We have explored the galaxy and met new races… and new races have met us with hostility. While we regret each time our society has been tested in the course of war, we have survived, and in surviving have become stronger as a people.
Let us take a moment to remember those who have served before me. All did it for the same reason. Those that serve after I am dead. They will do it for the same reason.
Everyone in the Dominion have dedicated their lives, not to themselves, or to their family, their parents or their children… we dedicate our lives to Borleas Quayver. It is because of Borleas Quayver that even now, while I speak, the Dominion is eradicating the Yat'a'leg'a'lora who threaten to destroy everything we have built. It was his knowledge and his vision that allow us to persevere with both eyes open… and it is to him that we go forth from our world, with both fists ready.
I… I must apologize if this sounds like propaganda. The truth is I am proud of what we have made here. I am more proud of the Dominion, then I am of myself. I know that I am a small part in the glorious civilization we have created. And in a hundred years I will be an afterthought, a mere footnote when mentioning the accomplishments that I have helped bring along. I used to think defeating the Yat'a'leg'a'lora would take brilliant strategy, expert tactical maneuvers, and superior numbers. I realize now that we cannot outthink our enemy; they have shown a level of intelligence comparable to our own. We cannot outmaneuver our enemy; they have shown a great level at adeptness in the art of war. And we cannot outnumber our enemy; they have shown that their inferior religion is a popular mechanic for recruiting from backwater worlds in their territory. At times, I have considered that we cannot defeat our enemy. But we can. Victory is within our grasp, and we have the two most dangerous weapons of all; time, and faith.
Right now, the Yat'a'leg'a'lora are defeated. Now, our warships have entered their space. Their worldships and the planets they have conquered fall to the nexus network faster every day. Although their forces are considerable and of equal match, they cannot continue to spend time on the defensive. We are in a superior position and if we continue to press, time will make us the victor.
But only if we have faith. We, as a people, cannot give up. We must remain committed… no matter the cost. We will send soldiers to their territory and they will die. We will replace them. We will send warfleets to their territories and they will be destroyed. We will rebuild them. They will launch weapons that can damage our cities and homes. We will repair them. They will try and demoralize our people and break our spirit. We will resist them. While the Yat'a'leg'a'lora have a perverted code of ethos with which they peddle to unintelligible and hopeless beings to fight their wars. What the Cree’Ar Dominion have is faith. Not a series of manuals on how to fight and die for us but a hope, a dream, a common vision of a better future. Together, with strength, and with faith, we can make these hopes reality, and wake from our dreams and reach for our visions… with both hands open.
This is not my aim. It is not my goal. It is not my job. This is my life. This is your life. And when I die… and I will die… I hope you follow behind me with all due vigilance. We must never lose faith.
Before I adjourn this overblown and doubtless overdrawn ceremony, I would like to quote a man before me. He said
I have never come across a problem, no matter how difficult it seemed, that after careful considerations was not actually much more difficult.
This is my gift. This is my burden. I bear it for my Dominion. I bear it for Borleas Quayver. I bear it for the future.
May we meet again.
High Judicator Kal Shora.”
Across the world of Borleaquay broke out a simultaneous roar of approval. No one did not signal their extreme pleasure with their new military commander; with only Cree’Ar, Skey’g’aar, and very few Parrow Lin on the world, there were so silent hums of activity from a cybernetic network; only adulation. The people loved Kal Shora.
And from then on, Kal Shora would hate himself.
