Prologue (known only to the EEF)
Field Marshall Jeremiah Strykker checked the stop watch feature on his multifunction datalink bracer again. He nodded slowly, “Sir, it doesn’t look good. Five attacks. One in Kalino, one in Chooru, one in Dumbar, one in Dunesphere and one in Kelvara. Each within thirty five seconds of each other.
This was a timed attack, sir. An effective terrorist attack by multiple cells in different cities.”
Across from him was a desk piled high with pictures of crime scenes, and behind that sat the severely thin and wirey form of Colony General Malthus in an uncomfortable looking metal chair.
Colony General Malthus gently tapped his lower lip with his pointer finger, so deep in thought he seemed to have not heard his Field Marshall. Jeremiah politely waited. He had worked with Malthus long enough to know the old bloodsucker was trying to find something in the data before him. The Colony General finally lifted a single sheet of reports from all the others.
“What does Mag Der’al mean?” he asked.
The Field Marshall wasn’t a translator mek, and he wasn’t a specialist on Olgog culture. Then again the question wasn’t directed at him. It was directed to the older looking Olgog standing off to the right.
“Commander?..I mean…Captain?” asked Jeremiah acutely aware that the Olgog who had once helped train him in leadership techniques was now a far lower rank. He never did find out what caused the Olgog to be knocked down so many ranks, and didn’t think it polite to ask Shiro. He felt bad for the slip of the tongue.
Shiro moved an errant braid out of his eyes, and pushed off from the wall he had been leaning on.
“Mag usually means nobility or could mean ancient blood,” said Shiro, “Der’al is the world, or it could specifically mean Refuge. The Mag Der’al are either the Worldly Noble, or the Chieftains of the World, or the Ancient Blood of the Planet.”
When Malthus heard the last title, he slammed his hand down on the desk, “I know the Ancient Blood of the Planet. They were a group of Freedom Fighters during the Genocide. They were one of the first terrorist groups I captured and interrogated during my first tour of duty in the south.”
Shiro often forgot his commanding officer had been around back then. Malthus had seen it first hand, while Shiro had only heard legends of the Genocide as a youth. When Shiro was born, Malthus had already been serving in the EEF for over one thousand five hundred years AFTER his service in the Genocide.
“I don’t feel good about the work I did during the Genocide. I stopped a lot of freedom fighters that were genuinely trying to free their people. The Ancient Blood weren’t one of them,” said Malthus tensely, “They were a cult, and they all believed they literally were being guided by planet Refuge to kill humans and human-sympathizers. They singlehandedly gave the Church of One enough propaganda material to keep the Colonial leadership off their back for over one hundred years. Bad stuff…bad stuff…”
“Yes it is, if their recent attack is any sign,” agreed Jeremiah, “Fifty colonists dead at a Caravan Station in Dumbar from a lightning storm artificed bomb. Thirty colonists dead and fifteen Oners dead at the site of the original Church of One Basilica in Chooru, conventional explosives. Fifteen colonists dead and one hundred and twenty injured near the main checkpoint at the wall of Kalino, from Krato-blood acid bombs. Truck bomb killed two hundred and nineteen worshipers Dunesphere. Chill Life Bombs on a River Boat carrying tourists killed seventy people and unleashed a trio of them as undead Kaeleochs in Kelvara.”
“Dunesphere deserved it,” grunted Shiro angrily.
“Even if the zealots of Dunesphere have been doing the same to other colonies for years, we are the military protecting all the colonies, even the ones we don’t like,” said the Colony General putting a calming hand on his old friend’s shoulder, “I know you spend a long time working with the Kalino underclasses. How are they responding to the attacks?”
“The usual way,” said Shiro sadly, “They are calling for blood. They want whomever was behind it nuked into oblivion. They want the criminals caught and executed. If it is the Mag Der’al behind this, and the colonials find out…they could push for a full occupation.”
“I wouldn’t allow it,” said Malthus, “Too much risk for another Genocide.”
“With all due respect sir, the choice would be out of your hands,” said Jeremiah, “If enough colonies call for a vote of No Confidence in you, they could have you replaced with a new Colony General. Dunesphere has been trying for it ever since the Inquisition discovered your little secret. The New Vorik royal family has been hoping to replace you with one of their favored sons since the end of the Border Wars. With Chooru, Dumbar, Kalino, New Vorik and Kelvara, they would have a large enough minority to push it through.”
“Then we need the perpetrators captured,” Malthus growled, “The Mag Der’al must be stopped.”
“What are we authorized to do?” asked the Field Marshall, “Some parts of the south are considered nature reserves by treaty. We should be careful how we proceed Sir.”
“Careful yes, but quick and thorough,” replied the Colony General, “Contact the VLAD Agency, lets mobilize them to get as much intel as we can. I want Special Forces deployed in capture teams with full air support and strider support. No orbital weapons, no starships, no tanks, I don’t want the Olgogs to think we are invading them, cause we aren’t. And Jeremiah No Nukes…”
“Sir Yes Sir,” Field Marshall Strykker replied, deeply troubled he had grown a reputation as happy to deploy atomics. Reality couldn’t be further from the truth.