Out of the Ashes (Rise of the Empire Book 3) (2 page)

Prologue

Jun 2170 – Earth

Aileen no name walked down the streets of what was once Rome. The once great city was now the Ra’a’zani base. As she walked, she couldn’t fail to notice the state of the city. It was a ruin even before the Ra’a’zani came, the Great War took its toll. But when the Ra’a’zani chose it for their base, they simply moved in the few buildings still standing or cleared the rubble and built new ones. Or rather their human slaves did the work. Aileen had no idea why they chose this place to make their base, but the more time she spent with the Ra’a’zani the more she realized that it was probably random. They had beaten us completely and had no need of making a fortified base. They destroyed our technology and killed those who knew how to use or make it. Although the Great War did a lot of the work for them. And there was really nothing humans could do. They had no weapons, and even if they did, it would do them no good. They had no way of fighting against the five Ra’a’zani ships in the system. Aileen had abandoned all hope of freedom long ago.

With a few more steps Aileen arrived at her destination. She passed through the security checkpoint at the entrance, her red armband sending a signal to the guards identifying her as a personal slave to the Overlord. As she walked down the hallway of the base she noticed other humans moving about. At a glance she could see that they were ‘thralls’, it was the name that the other humans used. Thralls were those that were very young when the Ra’a’zani came, babies and small children, or were born after. They were raised separately from the other humans, by Ra’a’zani Taskmasters. They were different to the point that most other humans didn’t even consider them one of their kind. The oldest thralls were about thirteen to fourteen years old now, and had never known anything other than the Ra’a’zani, or if they did they were too young to remember now. They might have looked human, but Aileen knew that they were not. They were taught only the language of the Ra’a’zani, their ways and customs. They even wore custom made metal gloves that gave them sharp claws. They moved differently, their movements tense, always ready to lash out and attack. Aileen saw the looks they shot her way and knew that to them, she was nothing but a slave. There was no recognition that they were the same species, no mercy or compassion. They believed they were better. Aileen had been with the Ra’a’zani long enough to know that even though thralls were above the other humans, they were still nothing but slaves to Ra’a’zani. They had more freedom and could advance through Ra’a’zani society, but no matter how far they reach Ra’a’zani would never look at them as equals. And the worst thing was that they were fanatically loyal to their masters. Even Aileen, who had already made peace with the fact that she would never be free, still made small acts of defiance. A moment stolen, a heartbeat of hesitation to an order, small things. Thralls on the other hand were not only willing to obey, they craved approval from their masters. They would do anything asked of them.

She finally arrived at the command room and entered. Six Ra’a’zani were inside, four standing in front of various stations in their relaxed positions with their four crab like legs locked in place, a Ra’a’zani version of sitting. The other two, one gray scaled and the other brown, stood in the middle of the room by the holo of the Solar system, talking. Aileen approached slowly and took her position behind the gray scaled Ra’a’zani.

“… to expand our mining operations Dakar. The convoy from clan Uunaran will arrive in two years. We won’t be able to meet their order with the current output.” The brown scaled Ra’a’zani – Taskmaster Tra’r’an – said.

“We will need to send more slaves to the asteroid belt.” The gray scaled Ra’a’zani – Dakar Vit’r’an Overlord of Earth – said.

“It would mean taking more from the breeding programs. The others are too weak to survive for long.” Tra’r’an said.

“The next shipment of breeding groups is in three years, by then the other breeders will reach maturity.” Dakar Vit’r’an said.

“As you say Dakar, I’ll send out the orders.” Tra’r’an said and then left.

Dakar Vit’r’an stayed looking at the holographic representation of the Solar systems. The holo showed all Ra’a’zani assets in the system. There were five total Ra’a’zani warships in the system, three that were on patrol duties near the hyperspace limit, covering the approaches from Ra’a’zani space. The fourth one was on guard duty in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter where all Ra’a’zani mining operations were. And the fifth – Dakar Vit’r’an’s flagship –  was in Earth’s orbit. There were a few other ships in the system, transports that took workers from and to the asteroid belt. Every few years a convoy would come to Sol to take the materials and slaves back to the Ra’a’zani space, those ships usually stayed for a few months while Ra’a’zani exchanged personnel and everything got loaded.

She knew that the original Ra’a’zani force, the one that conquered Earth, had more than 20 warships plus support ships. But such force wasn’t needed. They took Earth easily. They had arrived at the worst time possible, just as Earth ended the Great War. It had decimated humanity.

If Ra’a’zani came in the opening of the war, they would have had a lot harder time taking Earth. If there was one thing humanity excelled at, it was fighting. But they came after, when humanity was barely a shadow of what it was during the war. Aileen was young when Ra’a’zani came, barely fourteen years old, and everything she knew about human history came from the stories of those older.

After the Ra’a’zani took her, Aileen had heard a story of Earth before the war and how things would have been different if Ra’a’zani came then, it was told by a young slave that was killed for trying to attack a Taskmaster. No one had believed him when he spoke, taking his words for the ravings of the insane. But sometimes when she slept, she dreamed of Earth free and strong. She hated those dreams, she knew that she would never be free. She had seen the wickedness of human spirit in the breeding camps, she knew that they would never free themselves. Too many had accepted the Ra’a’zani rule, too many had turned against their own for no more than an extra piece of bread. They would be ruled by the Ra’a’zani forever.

And perhaps it was for the best, they didn’t deserve better. Even before Ra’a’zani came, Aileen learned on the streets of a slum city that humans would do anything to survive, she had done it herself. She killed and stole and lied to get food.

Dakar Vit’r’an turned around to face her. “Did you do what I asked?”

“Yes, Dakar.” Aileen responded.

“And his reaction?”

“He killed a slave that was nearby Dakar.” Aileen answered.

Dakar’s lips drew back in a Ra’a’zani smile. “So he was insulted? Good. Perhaps he will think twice before moving against me next time.”

Ra’a’zani society worked on principles of influence and a kind of twisted honor. A Ra’a’zani Taskmaster had tried to gain support and increase his duties on Earth, but by doing so he had encroached  on the Vit’r’an’s territory. And as a retaliation Vit’r’an sent Aileen to deliver a message. It was a simple invitation to a meeting. But the retaliation was in fact Aileen. By sending her, a slave, Vit’r’an had insulted and degraded the Taskmaster. Soon, every other Ra’a’zani would learn about it and the Taskmasters influence would drop, effectively ending his plans for some time.

Even now, Aileen still didn’t understand all the aspects of their society. The way they moved up and down the society's ladder seemed insane and illogical. But somehow it worked.

Dakar turned back to the holo, he pressed a few keys on the bottom of the holo and it changed to a series of reports. Vit’r’an locked his legs and started reading. Aileen steeled herself for another day of standing there unmoving as Dakar worked.

Chapter One

December 2170 – Sanctuary

Tomas Klein stood by a window in the Olympus palace receiving room, waiting for his guest to arrive. The room was bright, filled with warm colors, and had a homey feeling that came from its furniture. All of it was brought here from Earth, and was old even before it was loaded on a ship for a 60 year long trip. A bookshelf filled with real paper books lined one wall, real Persian carpet covered the floor. Wooden chairs and tables were placed in the middle of the room, two sofas and a small coffee table on the other side of the room close to the book shelf, and further behind them was the big wooden desk, similar in appearance to the Resolute desk used by the presidents of the United States, long ago. Tomas had it made long before Olympus ventured into space, and it was brought with them from his personal storage units. Tomas didn’t even know that it was here until one day he entered the room and found it inside. Anyone who entered the room would be very surprised at its appearance. There was no sign of technology there.

Looking through the window Tomas could see a big part of the Olympus city. It amazed him sometimes how fast it rose up. But then again with their technology the only limitation they had were materials. There were no politics, no need for endless bureaucratic maneuvering. They decided to do something and then just did it. Permission was given quickly and alternatives immediately suggested if for whatever reason something couldn’t be approved. And it showed. Fabricating technology meant that as long as they had the resources they could build anything in a fraction of time it would have taken anyone on Earth.

A ping on his implant informed Tomas that his visitor had arrived. He steeled himself and gave his permission. A moment later the doors slid open and his guest entered. He was struck with the visage of his visitor, even though it was not their first meeting. Lanai Sumia took a few steps in before she noticed the room and then stopped, she looked around at the objects in the room. Her hesitation gave Tomas time to observe her. Lanai Sumia was from a race called Nel, a race that Olympus met about a year ago. The first meeting was a shock to both parties, as they looked very similar to one another. Nel had gray colored skin, tails, talons instead of nails, and they had no hair on their body other than on the top of their heads. But those were the biggest differences. Sumia had long black hair, and her strange Nel eyes were light blue, speckled with many small black pupils that constantly moved. She wore a tight form fitting clothes with a kind of a coat over them that had short sleeves and fell down loosely to mid-calf length. She took a few steps toward the bookshelf, then reached with her hand and touched the hardcover of a book and then pulled back. She cast a hesitant look at Tomas as if she was asking permission. Tomas walked up to her, and then took the book she touched and offered it to her. Hesitantly, she reached for it, as if it was some great treasure. Slowly she turned it in her hands with an expression of awe on her face.

“I read about this, in the files your people translated for us. It’s how you used to record your history.” Sumia said in English, she had learned their language during her 10 month trip from Nuva to Sanctuary.

“Your people didn’t have anything similar?” Tomas asked.

She grimaced, her gray eyes dimming with sadness. “We had something similar, long ago. But my people are not like yours. We do not value things of the past, when something new and better comes along we discard the old. I believe that all the records we kept in a similar fashion were destroyed, when we switched to digital data storage. And our records are nowhere near as extensive as yours, we record only the most important events, things that affected our entire people, and our history doesn’t go nearly as far into the past as yours does. Of course we do record data concerning technology and laws. You on the other hand record every single thing, down to the smallest events of your history, you even keep records of things that you have long since proven false. I can’t imagine what it all could serve.”

“We have learned long ago that it is important to remember the past, the stories of our ancestors. It helps us avoid making the same mistakes.” Tomas said.

“Stories…” Sumia said, her strange eyes twinkling with amusement. “I have read a few of your fictional stories. They were… Interesting.”

“You don’t have stories? Made up stories I mean.” Tomas asked, intrigued.

“Not in the written form, and available to everyone. We have what we call Sufra Nim - family stories. Every family has them, and they are passed down from one generation to the next in oral form. Each generation adds something to it. It is a kind of family history. They are not shared with those outside of the family. And even those are not really made up, more something like embellishment of the truth.” Sumia said as she turned the big red book in her hands, studying the writing. Tomas could see that she was struggling with the artistic font the name of the book was written in, so he offered his help.

“It reads ‘The Lord of the Rings’. It is three books gathered in one big tome. You should read it, It is one of our greatest fictional works.” Tomas said.

Sumia narrowed her eyes, a gesture that Tomas learned was supposed to convey interest in something. “I don’t think that I am that proficient with your written language just yet. But perhaps when I feel confident enough.” She said as she put the book back in its place. Tomas moved his right hand over his chest in a Nel gesture that was meant to convey his acceptance and approval. He then gestured towards the two sofas. They sat opposite one another, with Sumia siting closer to the edge with her back straight to leave room for her tail.

“The facilities you provided are sufficient, and the food is excellent. The Guxcacul are thankful for the quarters you provided for them, they asked that I relay their thanks.” Sumia said, referring to the giant anthropoids that came with the refugees from Nuva, only a few of them were on Nuva as a Consortium diplomatic team. And now with the war, they could very well be the last of their kind.

“It was the least we could do. And the Mtural?” Tomas asked. Mtural were another member race of the Consortium, and four families that lived on Nuva came to Sanctuary as well.

“They are much more similar in stature and necessities to us. Their quarters are adequate.”

“Good. The transport with more of your people should arrive in nine months. And by then we will expand your facilities and flesh out any details and problems that might arise.” Tomas said.

“I can’t thank you enough for allowing the families of those already here to come from Nuva and live here on your planet.” Sumia said.

“Don’t mention it. But you didn’t request this meeting just to tell me this.” Tomas stated.

“No,” Sumia sighed in a very human like move. “I wanted to inquire about the tests you are conducting on the samples you took from my people.”

Now it was Tomas’s turn to sigh. “The tests were… Inconclusive.” He said.

“How so?” Sumia asked.

“Well, there is no doubt that our people are related. There is too much similarities in our DNA. The problem is all the extra stuff. We can’t find any way to explain the connection, and your samples pointed us towards some things that we missed in our own DNA, that we can’t figure out.” Tomas said.

“I would offer help, but none of my people have the expertise to help you.” Sumia said.

“It is appreciated, I promise that you will be one of the first to know if there is any breakthrough.”

Sumia turned her palm sideways and back agreeing.

“There is one more thing I wanted to ask you.” She said. “After you told me the truth about your people, how you are separated from your home world and the rest of your people, and that this one system is all that your people have, I wondered about the reason why you helped us. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful beyond measure. But going to war for the people you barely met even if there was a distant connection between us, just doesn’t seem…”

“Sane?” Tomas interjected.

“I would have chosen a different word, but yes.”

“Every one of my people chose to leave their home behind because they held certain values paramount. Values that the rest of humanity neglected. One of those is to help those in need. I am not going to lie and say that us involving in this war was an easy decision to make. Because it was not, but we wanted to help because it was the right thing to do.” Tomas said. “And the unprovoked attack on our ship, along with your data on the Sowir certainly helped the decision.” He added with a smile.

“But there are so few of you, even with your manufacturing capabilities you can’t possibly match the Sowir fleets. You just don’t have the people.” Sumia said sadly.

“Yes, we are few. But I never intended for us to be fighting an all-out war with the Sowir. I hope to come to an arrangement with your people, that is why I sent Fleet Commander Farkas alongside Retsar Isani to your home world. I hope to make an alliance with your people. What Sanctuary needs most is time to grow and expand. Your people have already survived for decades in this war. If they agree I am prepared to use our fabricating technology to build ships for them. It should be enough to give your people a chance to win the war.” Tomas said.

“I hope that my people agree, but I fear that they will see you as primitive and weak.” Sumia said.

“All they have to do is look at the records of battle for Nuva to see that is not the case.”

“I fear that they won’t believe you. My people… Those living on the home world are not like me and the rest that came from Nuva.”

“In what way?” Tomas asked, confused.

“Nuva was a young colony, but it was also a place to send… Well, social misfits and those of the lower class.” Sumia said hesitantly.

Tomas frowned, “I don’t understand, lower class? It was my understanding that your people were all equal.”

“On Nuva that is the case, but only because everyone living there was of the lower class, with the few exceptions being me, my team, and the military. But even the military were posted there because they were misfits, speaking against the class system or having the misfortune to fall on the bad side of a more powerful family.” Sumia said.

“Well, that’s…”

“Appalling.” Sumia added.

“I would have used a different word, but yes.”

Sumia smiled softly, “Yes, I have read your history. You passed a similar period in your history, hundreds of years ago. But you fought against it, and changed the way people perceive those around them. You have achieved a true equality.” Sumia said.

“No, not really, we just learned to hide the gap better. Olympus was partly my way of achieving that equality, amongst other things. And I like to think that I succeeded. Everyone has equal rights and opportunities in Olympus.”

“Yes, I can see it when I walk the streets of your city.” Sumia said.

“Thank you.” Tomas said softly. “But even if your people are divided so much, they must see that they can’t win this fight alone. The Sowir destroyed or captured your shipbuilding facilities, the more time passes the stronger the Sowir get, while your people stay behind. Rebuilding the same shipbuilding capability you had before will take decades, but with our technology you could close the gap in a few years.”

“I can see that. But the ruling families are another matter entirely. They won’t agree with you controlling the technology, they will want it for themselves. If they even believed that you have it.”

Tomas brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes for a bit. “If I was in a different position, I might consider giving it to them, but I can’t risk it, not when the future of my people depends on it. I hope you understand?”

“I do, and I would have done the same thing. The home world has abandoned us, we were on our own. They left us to die at the hands of Sowir. And we would have, if you didn’t come along. For that you have my thanks, and that of the people of Nuva. We will do anything to repay you.”

Tomas nodded, “I guess we will just have to see what comes of Fleet Commander’s visit to Nelus.”