Indawo
© 2020 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  Major Matt Mason


The Confed assault on Indawo had been unexpected, so the Sixth Fleet had had little trouble in overcoming the system and planetary defenses. Ground-based defenses were activated, but with the Confed in full command of the world’s nearspace, the leaders of Indawo realized that they were in an untenable position and surrendered.

They later came to regret that decision.


***


Around the battleship Satan’s conference table the members of the provisional government of the Terran Colonies watched, horrified, as Indawo’s entire government was charged with treason by the Confed ground forces commander and summarily shot. The planet was then declared to be conquered territory under military administration; “Until such time,” the general had announced, “as the Lord Protector determines that the planet can be allowed to govern itself as part of the Terran Sphere.” The executions and the declaration had been transmitted in the clear, to every Colonial world and station.

The Acting Chief Minister of the Colonies, Zulfikar Mo, sat in his chair as if turned to stone while his ministers reacted in various ways to the recording. Some wept, some were struck as mute and inert as the ox, and two others had started to argue over possible courses of action.

The argument was rapidly descending into personal insults and Mo said, “Quiet, please.” When the two paid no attention to him, the ox stood and slammed both paws, palms flat, against the table. “QUIET!” he shouted. The Ministers for Finance and Labor sat down, and Mo huffed a sigh as he got himself under control. “Marya.”

The lean canine Defense Minister said, “Yes, Zulfikar?”

Mo put his elbows on his chair arms and put both fists under his chin. “What – what are our options? Can we retake Indawo?”

“If we choose to, we must act quickly before the Confedders consolidate their hold on the system.” She paused and put a paw to the small interface behind her right ear. She looked around the table as her ears went back. “We have an incoming message from Terra. In real time.”

“Who is it?” growled the raccoon sow to her right.

“The Admiral-General,” Marya said, and the others around the table glanced at each other uneasily, obviously unwilling to be seen and possibly recorded for retaliation.

Mo understood their reluctance. “Narrow the focus and audio onto me only,” he said. “When we’re ready, accept the transmission.” The canine sat back, putting a paw to her datalink again, and after a moment all of the lights save for those directly over the ox dimmed, plunging the members of his cabinet into darkness. The conference table sank into the floor, putting Mo on an equal footing with the caller.

A few seconds later, the seal of the Confederacy appeared, followed after a second by the image of an Indochinese leopard in uniform appeared, sitting behind a desk. “Admiral-General al-Sakai,” the ox said.

The leopard’s tail flicked slightly. “With whom am I speaking?”

The ox smiled slightly. “Zulfikar Mo, Acting Chief Minister.”

Felix matched the smile. “I see. From where?”

“From New Horizon,” Mo said in a flat tone. “You, and the Order, don’t need to know anything apart from that.”

“My government has apologized for that tragedy – “

“And we’re quite familiar with Terra’s apologies,” and Felix’s eyes widened and his ears went back at the interruption. “Drop your shields and tell me, al-Sakai,” and Mo leaned forward, “what the fuck do you want?”

There was a stirring in the darkness, and at least one hissed “Yes” that the audio damping prevented the Lord Protector from hearing.

The leopard’s tail started betraying his anger, flicking back and forth as Felix sat back. “All right, Chief Minister. The Confederate Government and I have been very patient with all of you. You refused to ally with us against the Kashlani, let them defend you, and now we see that your ships are actively supporting their military.” He leaned forward, glaring balefully at Mo. “Now our patience is at an end.”

The former merchanter captain appeared unmoved. “I don’t hear anything but static. What do you want? I’m a busy fur.”

Felix crested. “What I want – what Terra wants – is for their Colonial cousins to return to the Terran Sphere, and join us in pushing the Kashlani back to their borders.”

“Or else what?” Mo asked.

The leopard bared his teeth. “Indawo.”

“I see.” There was a brief whisper over his interface as data was transmitted into his brain. His ministers had voted, and were letting him know. “I speak for the Provisional Government, Felix.”

“My ancestors, and a lot of other Colonials’ ancestors, moved out here to get away from Terra; away from repeated efforts to control us by vacbrained dolts like the Order – and you.” The leopard bared his teeth again and Mo snorted. “Don’t try to threaten me, kitten. I’ve been a merchant captain for longer than you’ve been alive; I don’t scare worth a fuck. Markus the Cruel learned a hard lesson when he crossed us, and when we joined the Confederacy we were promised that you Coreworlders would leave us alone.”

“So our answer’s this, Felix: Fuck you, and fuck your demands.” Mo dipped his right horn in a signal, and the hologram vanished as the lights came back up. The ox glanced at his ministers. “We’re at war with Terra,” and the others nodded. “Marya, options?”

“I’ve just told the admiral to move us.” There was always the possibility that the Confed could trace the signal. The Provisional Government had learned a hard lesson from the bombing of New Horizon, and now valued mobility as a defense. “Obviously, our first option is to attack, but their interior lines of communication are shorter than ours – “

“So we use the shlani to guard our flank,” a wolfess in a dark blue uniform with an admiral’s insignia said in a gravelly voice. Mira Fikset stuck out a paw, fingers together. “Here’s the Imperial incursion into Confed space.” She slid her other paw along her forearm until both paws were palm to palm. “We limit their ability to counterattack, because if they try to go at us from that direction they’ll be tweaking the shlani’s tails.” She paused and turned toward the lone shlan at the back of the room. “Kras dere’e bek ‘i?”

The Imperial liaison made a noncommittal gesture. “I shall have to inform the Ministry.”

Zulfikar Mo nodded. “Of course.”