Minority Report
© 2021 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  foxenawolf


Balakrishnan leaned forward in her chair, paws on the desk with her fingers interlocked. If Shumeng was watching, she would have recognized the gesture from university – the Dhole-Akita was readying herself for a debate, and she had been a dreadful swot back then. “Your Highness,” she asked, “what targets are you looking at?”

Felix glanced at Admiral Doren, and the bear said, “We have several in mind, away from population centers.” The holographic globe moved, and a reticule popped into existence. The image in the reticule enlarged to show a desert mesa bisected by a dry river bed. “This, for example. It’s called M – Mal – “

“Malchaktan,” the canine femme said. “It’s a ruined city.”

“What’s its significance?” Felix asked.

“The First Emperor had it nuked to destroy the last remnants of the resistance to the unification,” Balakrishnan said. “According to records, six very crude and primitive weapons. The site is a monument. Still radioactive, and you can visit it, but only for a limited time.”

“So it’s like Atlanta, here on Terra?” one admiral asked, and she looked perturbed as the former ambassador nodded.

“That was a very long time ago,” said another voice, and Balakrishnan turned to see a short basenji peering at her through what looked like primitive eyeglasses. She recognized him, and his ‘glasses’ were actually his padd. It had been a fashion the last time she’d been on Terra. “Are you certain it’s still radioactive?”

“Yes, Professor. Tested with our own sensors,” she replied. She hadn’t liked him then.

Doren moved the globe to highlight a spot by a large lake. “While that would be a very definite target – no population, remote location – this would have more of an impact.” The image enlarged again. “It’s called the Savior’s Tomb.”

Balakrishnan started coughing. “You can not be serious,” she finally managed to choke out.

“Why?” the bear asked. “It’s three hundred kilometers from the nearest city, and nearly that to the Imperial Palace complex. Perfect target.”

The canine sighed. “You didn’t tell him, did you?” she asked the basenji.

“What’s to tell?” he asked smugly. “If you’re talking about that silly superstitious nonsense – “

“That’s precisely what I’m talking about, you fucking cretin,” she shot back. “And ‘superstition?’ You saw the Museum of the Lost – hell, I took you there!” The basenji looked like he was about to leap to his feet, but both stopped as Felix clapped his paws for attention.

“Much as I’d appreciate seeing such a frank and open exchange of views,” the leopard joked, “this is a strategy meeting, not a fighting arena. Ambassador Balakrishnan, I recalled you from Downtime Station because you served as our envoy to the Empire for over ten years. You know these people. Now, what are you and Professor Msani arguing about?”

Balakrishnan gave the basenji a glare before replying, “It’s what it says it is – it’s the tomb of the First Emperor himself. It’s a holy of holies sort of thing, and we have records of the only race ever to attack it.”

“Ah!” Felix sat up, ears flicking forward in interest. “What did they do? Can we open relations with them and find out how they did it?”

“No, we can’t.” She dug out her padd, unfolded it and started poking fingers at it. At one point, she waved an aide over, who studied what she was doing and whispered in her ear. Balakrishnan nodded, and the image of Gwath ka-shlal disappeared to be replaced by a member of an alien race.

It was rather short and squat, looking a bit like a reptile with a weirdly polychromatic skin. “This is a Sīēchēa,” she said. “I can’t tell you if that’s the name of the race, or if the shlani just did their best to imitate their speech. According to records – “

“Propaganda,” Msani growled.

She ignored him for now. “According to records, a force had actually landed on Gwath ka-shlal with orders to destroy the entire area. Supposedly they were all butchered.” The image was replaced by a very distorted video, showing one of the Sīēchēa, already dismembered, being decapitated by a shlan wearing mauve robes and wielding an axe.

“Emperor Terzhin XII was killed in action in space, but his son became the new ruler and after the system had been secured, he ordered the Sīēchēa exterminated.” There was a pause.

“Exterminated?” Felix asked in a skeptical tone.

“Again, according to their records, the Kashlani slaughtered every single Sīēchēa, everywhere they could be found,” Balakrishnan said. “There is a museum dedicated to preserving what was recovered.”

The Indochinese leopard put a paw to his chin in thought as a short silence reigned.

A silence that was broken by a derisive snort from Msani. “Propaganda,” he repeated, “stories to tell children when they’re too young or too stupid to know better. Supposedly this happened far back in their history – no one knows what really happened, but I expect that the Emperor was trying to gloss over his father’s failure to safeguard the home world.” He sneered at Balakrishnan. “You can be forgiven, Balakrishnan-jih. You’ve been too far away from Terra, and have quite probably gone native.”

An almost feral growl erupted from the Dhole-Akita femme. “If they,” and she gestured at the military officers in the room, “decide to try this, I hope you live long enough to realize how wrong you are, you Deus-damned idiot. Did your common sense die before you got a doctorate, or afterward?”

That brought the basenji out of his seat, with Balakrishnan almost as fast, and she glowered at the shorter mel.

“Enough,” Felix drawled. “Both of you, sit down.” The two canines sat, still staring daggers at each other. “Admiral Doren.”

“Sir?” the bear asked.

“The Kashlani did not assault Terra directly,” the leopard said, “although they did damage to the system defenses.” He thought for a moment. “We will return the favor. The Imperial Homeworld is off-limits.”

Doren blinked. “Sir?!”

“I believe I made myself clear. I want their system’s defenses attacked, and the Kashlani forced back to the table before they can complete their full mobilization. “Balakrishnan-jih.”

“Yes, Sir?” She kept a wary eye on Msani.

“I want you to go back to Downtime Station,” the Lord Protector said. “When we force the shlani to talk, I want you to be there.” He smiled. “Dismissed.”

The canine got to her feet, noting that Shumeng and the minkess were nowhere to be seen, and left the room. After a few more remarks, the rest of the people in the room left as well, leaving Felix seated alone and gazing at the hologram of Doren’s battle plan.

One of his ears flicked and he murmured, “Is she correct?”

“We are . . . uncertain,” a hooded and cloaked figure said as it stepped out of the shadows. “All that matters is that Holy Terra must be served, and Terrans are needed for that purpose.”

“Hmm. Do you think that Doren will exceed his orders?”

But he said it to empty air.