After the Eleto resistance confirmed the destruction of the Axis spaceport and attending groundbase, especially regarding the deaths of the colonial enclave Governor Xanmar and Besvet, the overall commander of Axis ground and orbital forces, a set of long-awaited plans were set into motion. With government and broadcasting contacts the call of liberation was sent to the planet’s populace. A summary of what happened at the spaceport as well as the approach of an alien fleet that was fighting the Axis was announced, as well as the implications. To further encourage the people to take up the cause it was stated that no formal surrender was made to the Axis forty-five years previous, all agreements being made under duress with the implied use of nuclear bombardment for non-compliance. As such, the war between the Eleto and the Axis was merely paused as far as anyone was concerned. The resistance informed all listeners that they were currently engaging Axis forces on the planet, and that any Eleto that comes across Axis personnel were obligated to either attack them on sight or inform higher authority. Those few Anti-Abomination Security Police personnel that were still in the field after the Commonwealth Fleet broke into the system days earlier were treated to protracted deaths via the use of improved weapons and materials, including one where a building was collapsed onto a disabled but occupied ASP vehicle.
Behind the scenes of all forms and levels of government on Eletoshani Prime engaged in a vigorous house cleaning. Those that collaborated with the Axis over the years and still had shreds of a conscious turned themselves in. Others that had secretly profited in their Axis dealings, the quislings (a far harsher and condemning term), either resisted violently, committed suicide, or tried to flee, only to get snagged by resistance teams already in place days earlier. Their public broadcast trials in the months ahead were a much need catharsis for the Eleto population.
The government went into an emergency session that first evening. Enough uncompromised representatives remained to validate the process, and in another display of defiance the proceedings were broadcast live. The first item on the agenda was the reestablishment of the Eletoshani in space. The city of Millstand was chosen as the site for the new spaceport, a display of monumental contempt against the Axis, and various motions to set up training academies, contracting construction and manufacturing firms, and rationalizing all the sundry other details in committees was made.
For the second item it was for the establishment of an army with the purpose of neutralizing the Axis presence on Eleto and for the reclamation of Evergreen, the other habitable planet in the system and whose Eleto population was purged in the years after it was conquered. Obviously, it will take the development of space transportation for the latter to happen, but with the Axis colonial enclave to be dealt with the army would’ve received some experience in the interim. All the requisite items needed were again delegated to committees. Those spacers and army veterans alive and able were called upon to volunteer, but it turned out they were already clamoring to be employed. As a result, there was no lack of instructors for both naval and army training centers and the eventually reestablishment of military academies.
Only two days later in the emergency session did the topic of the Commonwealth fleet was brought up. The Chairman of the Assembly simply announced that a ‘gentleman’s agreement’ had been reached with Commonwealth representatives to provide army support in dealing with those Axis army units still outside of the enclave, especially those units equipped with mobile cruise missile launchers. The Chairman said that, for the time being, a group of talented civilians was conducting sanctioned talks with the Commonwealth, but everyone concluded that he meant the resistance.
********
The landing site for the cutter was at an abandoned farmstead that now served as a command post for the Eleto resistance. Over a dozen 30-meter-tall radio poles were erected along with tents that housed their power packs and other equipment. The cutter landed silently, and with hatch opened the second alien race to stand on the surface of Eleto made its appearance. On his part, Mr. Nisecu Lake congratulated himself for keeping his composure on the first face-to-face meeting with a Crajen, a member race of the Commonwealth. Looking at an image of the representative beforehand wasn’t the same thing when he was just two meters away. He had to remind himself that he was looking at a sentient being and not an ocean-dwelling crustacean writ large. Major Crosscut, having met with representatives of other Commonwealth members, was more casual, taking in the Eleto’s form. From feet to eyestalks, the Eleto was 1.5 meters tall, whereas Crosscut stood at 1.2 meters. Both races had four legs and four eyestalks, giving them two points of commonality, though he wondered if Mr. Lake was apprehensive about his pair of crusher claws. He drew them back to the underside of his shell and extended his two hand-equipped limbs, palms open. Lake took this as a sign to talk, hoping that his portable translation pack he wore was up to snuff.
After the preliminaries the talks continued in a tent. Crosscut learned that of the 40,000 Comensal civilians in the colonial enclave some 8,000 were evacuated to Evergreen. 2,000 more were believed to have perished when the spaceport was destroyed. Axis Army personnel numbered 12,000 with at least half having been moved within the enclave proper and the rest still out in the field, mostly assigned to mobile cruise missile batteries tasked to destroy broadcast transmitters in a bid to hamper governmental coordination. Regarding the ASP some 8,000 of the 12,000 agents reached the enclave, leaving 4,000 behind in a forlorn bid to maintain the illusion of control before recalling them at the last moment. Lake stated that it was just a matter of time before those now-abandoned agents were ‘dealt with.’ Despite the accented translation Crosscut sensed the harsh, stone-heavy tone Lake used with those last words. Perhaps it helped that both Eleto and Crajen used their eyes and eyestalks to put emphasis on their spoken word. As for the remaining 6,000 Comensal they were naval personnel. Those assigned to the spaceport and groundbase were, of course, now dead with the remainder in the enclave as part of the Science Development Bureau.
Lake was straightforward in his request for help. The destruction of Axis Army units in the field as well as their missile batteries was top priority. Orbital kinetic strike technology was known to the Eleto resistance as they obtained captured documentation from the Axis, and in those documents was information about the Commonwealth using such technology in Axis systems such as Bedrock and Bulwark. If necessary, Lake told Crosscut, written authorization can be obtained from the Assembly Chairman for use of kinetic strikes as directed by appointed Eleto representatives. Crosscut affirmed that he would pass on the request to Admiral Coopersmith.
Another immediate need was the destruction of Axis satellites and broad-spectrum jamming of radio frequencies. While this wouldn’t help regarding deployed Axis army units, as they were operating independently, it would help keep the enclave blind with their observation satellites destroyed and leave them unable to contact Evergreen. Crosscut said that this was already in progress, and that surveillance support for Eleto ground forces can be provided. Intercepting cruise missiles was a much harder proposition as the Axis could just fire them off, not bothering to go after broadcast sites but simply target random cities out of spite and impotent rage. Hearing the last part of Crosscut’s sentence made Lake involuntary chuckle. He excused himself, saying that the Axis would soon learn just how impotent they really were. With a preliminary agreement, both parties informed their respective higher ups. A formal declaration of support was made and signed in under eight hours at the capital city airport.
*******
It was five months later. The Commowealth fleet had long since disposed of the orbit works, bases and military ground instillations over and on Evergreen. Just two task elements remained; one to keep tabs over Evergreen, treating any suspicious planetary movement as well as industrial infrastructure to kinetic bombardment while another held station over Eleto, along with the necessary logistical support ships and transports holding 10,000 Crajen soldiers. Only a handful were needed, serving as spotters to call down kinetic strikes on even the smallest concentrations of Axis Army troops. The Eleto expressed their appreciation for all the assistance provided but made it clear that the attack on the colonial enclave will be solely an Eleto affair.
System Admiral Wanfel, head of the Science Development Bureau branch on Eleto Prime, had long since resigned himself that the damnable Eleto abominations will eventually attack. He was looking towards the western horizon on an observation platform atop the research building in the colonial enclave. There had been no communication with Evergreen as Commonwealth ships planted themselves in orbit over the enclave and jammed all radio frequencies. Even the few hardwired comm cables running to disguised transmitters hundreds of kilometers away had been cut, save one, no doubt due to the work of the Eleto resistance. On that remaining cable was live broadcasts of Eleto content, ranging from coverage of governmental proceedings, entertainment and educational programs, and advertisements. Some were downright provocative, with one example being a schoolroom setting of children being taught how to best incapacitate a Comensal. Hitting the groin and buttocks was said to render a ‘bonehead’ unconscious the fastest, with children gleefully hitting a padded mannequin hanging from a noose like it was a party decoration. Wanfel assigned the most junior of his staff to monitor the content for anything of intelligence value. All he got was increasingly despondent and irritated officers. He had them stop after scenes of ASP agents being graphically killed were played as part of a program to ‘psych up’ the Eleto populace in the impending attack on the enclave.
Prime Commander Konset, Wanfel’s adjutant, climbed the ladder and stood next to his superior. “Sir, there’s been movement all along the perimeter this morning. What appears to be thousands of motorized carts have gathered just outside of artillery range to the west. There are at least 60,000 troops out there. Our recon drones have an appalling attrition rate. The damn abominations are even using trained birds to knock out our drones.”
Wanfel sighed. “Pity we can’t shell them. Given the range, our cannons, mortars and rockets will be swatted down by their point defense batteries. No doubt provided by those Commonwealth bastards, but I won’t put it pass those thrice-damned Eleto that they built their own systems in the past few months. Why the previous First Leaders wanted to keep them around in the first place will be beyond me.”
“Strange that they didn’t even try shelling of their own, Sir,” Konset said. “They have the resources of an entire planet and the technical know-how to mass produce even simple artillery, and that’s not even mentioning rockets. Perhaps they currently lack the numbers that will guarantee oversaturation of our artillery defense.” He had a point. The enclave was a circle a little over six kilometers in diameter, surrounded by a berm ten meters high, ten meters wide and with a 30-degree slope on either side. Atop the berm were hatches for pop-up 70mm guns with attending sensors. Spread equally along the perimeter, each gun had a 50% overlap with its neighbor for they served to engage incoming artillery rounds as well as any attempt at a ground attack. Artillery firing in direct-fire mode, in large enough numbers, might overwhelm a portion of the berm defenses to create a breach, but it will take hundreds of guns to accomplish. A few railguns could do it, but being such intense power hogs…
An alarm klaxon wailed to life, and down below soldiers manning strongpoints retreated into shelters for the sound of the klaxon was specific. Konset touched his comm earpiece, listening intently before speaking. “Sir, orbital observation has detected at least one thousand small objects converging over the enclave. They’re believed to be kinetic bombardment satellites.”
Wanfel let out a labored guffaw. “Damned walking stumps, they made their Commonwealth friends do the dirty work for them. Why did they wait this long? Wanted to make us marinate in our own apprehension with their insipid attempts of intimation?” He then yelled out to the distance. “Why don’t you send in those schoolchildren with their swatting sticks while you’re at it, damn fools!”
“Sir, please, get to the command post.” This was the first time in the past five months Konset seen his superior in this state. Wanfel was the only surviving senior officer in the enclave, and was by default the overall commander of all military forces on the planet. No doubt had there been a protocol in place he would’ve ordered the nuclear bombardment of Eleto while there were still missile bases in orbit after the death of Governor Xanmar and Admiral Besvet. Getting him to focus on immediate command needs would alleviate the pent-up frustration he obviously was experiencing.
“Very well, Konset. If they want to kill us, then they must make a greater effort.”
The observed objects were indeed kinetic bombardment satellites, but were of Eleto, not Commonwealth, in origin. Being bright, industrial people, the Eleto scientists and engineers put the acquired Comensal plans for the kinetic system into production just two months after what came to known as Restoration Day. The factories involved went all out, producing the weapon as fast as they could be married to the rockets that would carry them into orbit. Launches started just days before, all coinciding so that they arrived over the enclave at the same time. A Commonwealth cruiser served as the controller, assigning targets. Not within the enclave, but along the perimeter berm. An Eleto officer, a grizzled naval veteran that survived ten years of bone breaking labor in an Axis-run prison camp, had the honor of pressing the commit button. Accelerating to 10% of the speed of light there was no hope of even Providence intervention that the defensive berm guns intercepting the kinetic projectiles. It was utter devastation all along the top of the berm, inflicting craters where the defensive guns used to be, and the 70mm ammunition magazines exploded in sympathy. The profanity spouted by Axis observers had to been imagined, but certainly it was epic in volume and descriptiveness.
The Eleto had indeed assembled any army, 100,000 strong. There were thousands of simple, three-seat off-road 4-wheel carts that were little more than frames with a roof to offer passing protection from shrapnel. Along with them were motorcycles made for Eleto physiology. What they lacked in protection was more than made up with speed, and vehicles were purposely built to last just for a few days as the power cells couldn’t be recharged, all for the sake of lower cost and expediency.
Other specialized vehicles moved ahead. A two-kilometer zone around the enclave was lousy with buried anti-personnel and anti-vehicle mines. Arranged to create a path fifty meters wide the vehicles created two lanes, one from the northwest and southwest respectively, each mine-clearing vehicle carried a pair of explosive-laden mesh rolls that were 100-meters long. It took time to create the lanes, and despite losing all their berm guns the Axis Army units still had artillery of their own and commenced shelling as soon as the shock of the kinetic bombardment wore off, even though the Eleto still had their anti-artillery active and moving up with each new set of mine clearance vehicles. They went with two lanes as there was no road access to the enclave, which could only be accessed by VTOL aircraft and the now useless and sealed off transit tunnel to the destroyed spaceport.
It would’ve been better had the Axis artillery stayed silent and waited until the now-ruined berm perimeter crawled with Eleto. By firing now, they revealed their presence to Eleto observation satellites. What came next were hundreds of drones, all controlled via comm lasers from those satellites and thus immune to jamming. Operating those drones were college students given a month’s training, all motivated to do their part in the war and even more so for those that lost relatives over the years due to the depredations of ASP agents. Footage was broadcasted live and unfiltered across the planet. When the first drone came upon a 135mm gun pit it flew into gap between the ground and camo tarp and delivered its 5-kilo canister of hyper napalm. The sight of five Comensal soldiers running out of the pit, fully ablaze and with only their screaming being silenced as the ammunition cooked off in an explosion that put them out of their misery. The comm cable feed controlled by the Eleto into the enclave was reactivated, showing delayed footage of drone attacks. After witnessing the third attack Wanfel ordered that no one was to watch the footage on the pain of being shot on the spot. Even Konset had to agree, accepting that it was no good to get addled by things one cannot control.
For the Army and ASP personnel it came as a relief as the first Eleto vehicles came up and over intact parts of the berm. They had seen more of their number either being burned or blasted by drones in the interim. Especially those that were on fire, running towards them in a forelorn hope of assistance and survival, the Comensal cut them down in what they told themselves was to save their dignity. But really, it was an attempt to forestall the swelling tide of fear they felt in their guts. Even with their developed sense of kinesthesia, shooting down drones with guns not designed for the task was challenging. Worse yet, those drones equipped with weapons that ran out of ammunition became rammers, exploding on contact with their embedded 2-kilo charges of explosives.
The Eleto carts ran up as close as they could get to the first set of buildings before depositing their passengers; the drivers immediately returned to the assembly areas to pick up more troops. Motorcycle drivers went even further, getting into what was the western portion of civilian housing. They served as directors for drones, calling in strikes on known and suspected Axis sniper positions, and what positions. Every Comensal house was a two-story affair with a two-story covered tower on the roof that served as a dining place, most often in pleasant summer and fall weather. To make the snipers honest, every one of those towers was attacked, either with a 30mm grenade filled with kaboomite or a 1-kilogram load of hyper napalm. Give them credit, the snipers did manage to shoot down a handful of drones, but the Eleto built tens of thousands of drones, and were willing to expend even up to five drones to kill one sniper. And when drones weren’t used then portable one-shot kinetic weapons were employed, which simply obliterated the towers. Despite their bravado and chauvinism that could choke a quadruped, a notable number of snipers abandoned their positions as they witnessed their fellows being utterly massacred.
It was now late afternoon. In the bunker located under the SDB building Wanfel watched as the Eleto overran the city like rising flood waters. He didn’t put it past the abominations knowing every street, building, and bunker in the enclave. In fact, all buildings in the enclave have bunkers, a standard feature of all Comensal colonies. Those for civilians were underground and proof against all but high-yield nuclear and antimatter explosions. Kinetic impactors moving at 10% light-speed were an entirely different matter. He could only spare a moment on wondering why they didn’t simply use the kinetic system and wipe out the enclave at little cost to themselves when a fresh alert caught his attention. “Sir,” said Konset from the operations table, “there are now over 40,000 Eleto within the enclave. 3,000 of that number are known casualties. All three rings of civilian housing have been overrun, and they’re concentrating on the western quadrant, forming a wedge. It appears they’re heading for the center of the enclave.”
“What’s our estimated remaining troop strength?” Wanfel said tersely.
“We’re down to 2,000 Army soldiers, Admiral. As for the ASP personnel, there are 6,000 remaining, mainly due to them being concentrated in the central core. They have been… reluctant to advance to reinforce key Army locations.”
“Damn jumped-up policemen.” Wanfel practically spat out the words. He looked at the display built into the top of the table. “Going into the heart of enemy territory is something any army can do. And what do we have at the center of the enclave? ASP Headquarters, this Bureau, and the Administrative Complex.” He adjusted the view, focusing on the latter building. “See, on the top of the Complex, Konset? It’s our flag, and like any army those Eleto abominations will seize that flag, boosting their morale.” Just then the security camera that was trained on the Complex caught sight of a drone. It was a quad rotor, and apparently it spotted the camera. The drone titled to the left, then the right, and in a burst of speed flew at the camera. The screen blurred and went dark.
“They took out the camera, and several others at the same time,” Konset said with resignation. “They knew where they were mounted. Stolen data, had to be, Sir. Not one Eleto has ever set foot in the enclave, aside from a slab in the biology lab.”
Wanfel looked fit to eat nails. “I’ve come to a decision, Konset. All ASP personnel, and I do mean all personnel, even the secretaries, are to take positions around and in the Administrative Complex. They are to guard the flag flying above the Complex down to their last breath and drop of blood. Any hesitancy, any ‘smack talk’ will be dealt with immediately.” He looked Konset in the eye. “I hereby authorize all non-ASP personnel to shoot on sight any ASP member that refuses to carry out my orders.”
“As you command, Admiral,” said Konset, secretly thankful that he was in a bunker and not outside in the ever-growing hellstorm.
It got even worse that evening. Now 55,000 Eleto were in the city as the stream of incoming and outgoing carts didn’t stop. Fresh troops, weapons and ammo came in; the wounded, the recoverable dead and firsthand intelligence came back. Tactics changed; instead of outright destroying the towers on civilian housing drones fired grenades filled with black smoke. Unlike black smoke used by Axis forces elsewhere, this version was modified by the Eleto to chemically break down the filters used on Axis gas masks. Snipers and isolated knots of soldiers that thought themselves immune now found themselves uncontrollably choking, stumbling to leave the black clouds of death only to die by gunfire and bodily slammed and killed by exploding drones.
The Administrative Complex was at the center of the enclave, and surrounding it was a 200-meter-wide strip that served as an open-air plaza with lines of trees and benches at regular intervals. Crossing that strip was tantamount to a death wish, for every window from the Complex had to be treated as holding snipers, machine gun or light autocannon nests. This was fine as far as the Eleto were concerned as they had planned for this contingency. Teams equipped with 60mm recoilless rifles fired shell after shell filled with the modified black smoke into the windows while snipers and counter-snipers traded shots. The black smoke was having its effect, for even Axis snipers couldn’t aim while choking, their gas filters utterly failing.
A flight of 1,000 drones arrived and hovered over the Complex with dozens peeling away and entering the building through broken windows and into rooms darkened by black smoke. They were operating autonomously and were the most expensive drones built due to that autonomy. Armaments were mixed, from assault shotguns, grenade launchers, laser-guided rockets and flame cloud incendiary bottles. Targeting parameters were exclusively based on Comensal physiology; that is to say, bipedal. After the first 200 drones entered the Complex the order was given. En masse, over 4,000 Eleto ran the distance to get to the huge building along with a sprinkling of carts and motorcycles. A handful of casualties were incurred, but at the expense of those Comensal willing to suffocate to death as the interior of their lungs were coated with black smoke residue. Only at this point were a handful of the portable kinetic weapons brought forward. They utterly obliterated all four entrances, allowing the Eleto to enter, the first ones firing their grenade launchers until their clips ran dry, all the while more autonomous drones flew inside, single-mindedly fixed on killing all Comensal they spotted. All the Eleto wore gas masks, obviously made to handle the altered black smoke.
The Administrative Complex building was far larger than what was needed for the colonial enclave. With an eye on what they saw as the inevitable future, the Comensal intended the enclave to be the capital of Eleto once the abominations were finally exterminated. It was eight stories of arrogance clad in an exterior of white marble, all of which were cut, shaped and polished by POW labor in the first three years of occupation. Gold and platinum-accented artworks and edging were everywhere, but in dozens of battles across several floors all that splendor went unnoticed if not outright destroyed. Eleto soldiers advanced by grenade, and what flushed-out Axis soldiers they didn’t get with gunfire the drones did. It became a common sight to find decapitated Comensal for the autonomous drones, once out of ammo, committed ramming attacks and detonating their built-in explosive charges, with Comensal heads being the aiming point.
Konset witnessed this on a bunker monitor until the ceiling mounted camera at the Complex’s northern entrance was destroyed by gunfire, further proof that the damn abominations knew the layout of the Complex. He looked to Wanfel, the older man personally directing a platoon of soldiers over a comm link to interpose themselves between the Eleto and main stairwell leading to the roof. Then a brainwave hit Konset. He put his back to Wanfal as he accessed the cable feed from the Eleto. It was showing a live shot of the exterior of the Administrative Complex. He muted the sound, but imagined the cheers as, minutes later, the Eleto emerged on the roof. The proud flag of the Asteroid Axis was hauled down and taken away, no doubt to be displayed in a damn abomination museum in the future. A drone swooped in and dropped a package. It turned out to be the flag of the Eletoshani Academy. It went up the pole, the roof spotlights illuminating it in all its splendor. Konset dared by raising the volume ever so slightly, and in doing so learned that the flag was the only one to be saved at the capitol 45-years ago from being destroyed by ASP agents tasked to eliminate the symbols of Eleto governance.
An unconscious pang made Konset turn off the feed, turning at the same moment that Wanfel did. “Konset, the abominations are now heading directly for our bunker entrance. You are to destroy the remaining databanks and transmitters. If they capture them, they’ll be able to remotely activate the emergency beacons of all the surviving soldiers out in the field.”
“Yes, Sir. Are you going to remain here?”
Wanfel unholstered his laser pistol and held it with deliberate malice. “I will stay here along with the technicians and take down as many abominations as Providence will allow us. It has been an honor working alongside you, Commander.”
“Likewise, Admiral. Good luck.” Konset smartly saluted and went deeper into the bunker. He wondered how many Eleto Wanfel was going to shoot before all was said and done.
********
Eight days later. The colonial enclave was still a site of activity, though it was for the removal of bodies and clearing of debris. A significant portion of the Eleto Army remained within the enclave as there were still 30,000 Comensal civilians present, living in the bunkers under their homes with enough supplies to last three years. However, there was a chance that some or all of them could emerge and resume the fighting, so patrols and observation posts were set up.
Prime Commander Konset, for the eighth day in a row, wondered why the Eleto kept him alive. He remembered destroying the equipment and databanks as ordered by Wanfel, followed by a deafening sound and an explosion of light. After that he found himself on a bed inside his house, located in the inner ring of housing in the enclave. Eleto guarded him around the clock, and only allowed him access to certain rooms, and the gunsafe was removed. It was enforced boredom, and he had no idea what was to become of himself. So, it came as a relief on the eighth day that he was summoned to the Administrative Complex in his full-dress uniform. Whatever was going to happen at the very least he would look good.
Instead of a car or even a cart Konset was made to walk the distance, escorted by just two Eleto and a drone. Correction: the only drone that he could see. Along the way he noted the signs of violence wrought by weapons fire on various houses and structures, and when it came to the Administrative Complex it was as bad as he expected. All the windows he could see were busted, and stains from black smoke ran up the white marble façade. Divots of said marble were also gouged out by errant recoilless rifle shells and kaboomite-filled grenades. The western entrance was remarkably clear, and there was even work being done on installing new doors. Helping with the work was a Crajen; it fit the intelligence briefing Konset received earlier in the war. The giant crustacean waved hand-equipped front limbs at him while his pair of crusher claws clacked open and closed in a menacing manner. Konset averted his eyes from the intimidating display.
Inside Konset was taken to an elevator that exclusively went to the office of the Governor, atop the massive building. This would be the second time he ever went to that office, with the first being when he arrived on Eleto years ago and was personally greeted by Governor Xanmar. The elevator stopped and the doors opened into a reception area. Unlike the other rooms in the building, it was pristine, giving one the impression that the secretary had just stepped out for a moment. One of the Eleto pressed a button on the secretary’s desk, and the doors to the office opened. Konset walked in with his two escorts behind him.
The Governor’s office was large, in the shape of an oval, with windows on the west and east sides. Along the walls were paintings depicting the victories of the Comensal race. From the beastial looking Lauset to the inoffensive Hamthen each image was meant to stroke the ego of a race that prided itself on being the supreme beings that had the favor of Providence. What pride Konset felt was instantly squashed when he saw he wasn’t alone. At both west and east windows was an Eleto, with one of them affecting a particularly disconcerting pair of smiles. On either side of the huge desk were four Eleto, sitting in adjustable chairs so that their mouths could be seen above the desktop. And standing, not sitting, in the governor’s chair was an Eleto that gave off the aire of leadership. His pair of smiles were thin before he talked.
“Good morning, Prime Commander Konset. Please take a seat.” said the Eleto, indicating the chair designed for a Comonsal in front of the desk. His words were translated into Comensal, courtesy of the audio receiver he had on his chest and the office computers. Instead of a flat monotone the abomination used the deceased governor’s voice. It was unsettling to hear it, coming from a pair of wall speakers like a principal addressing an assembly of students. “I’m Mr. Lake. Over there, at the west windows, is Mr. Smiler, and at the east is Mr. Brant. They’ll keep you honest, along with the other eight here in attendance.” Lake motioned with his back pair of hands, and the two escorts left the room and closed the doors behind them. “I noticed you gazing at the paintings. Very intricate and detailed work, though I must say there are inaccuracies. I had a talk with some Commonwealth friends. The Uan race,” Lake pointed to that depiction, “have not been exterminated, but it was near thing. The Hamthen,” again pointing to the mentioned painting, “while dealt grievous losses, have made a commendable resurgence and are even actively participating in prosecuting the war with their allies against the Asteroid Axis. Finally, there’s my race. That is what my people call eating the cake before it’s fully baked. Technically, it’s food but the taste leaves much to be desired.”
“You brought me here just to vent your spleen, or whatever you’re using as a substitute?” Konset said cooly. He made himself not to go into histrionics, which is probably what these Eleto want him to do. “Was no one else available?”
“To be honest, yes, Mr. Konset. Your superior, Wanfel, took a concussion grenade to the chest and died from cardiac arrest. Also, you’re the only officer left. Yes, the only officer left alive in the enclave. The rest all went down fighting; even the ASP agents found their spines in the end.”
Konset smiled. “They remembered that they were Comensal.”
Lake returned the smile twice over. “Before I go on to the subject of my spleen venting, I’ll like to give you an update on current events. The new spaceport is well on the way to completion, and our first ships are scheduled to start construction in two months. In orbit the beginnings of a new space station have taken shape, and our various technical schools and academies are turning out engineers, technicians, spacers and soldiers. We’re now flying shuttles and pinnaces, and by the end of the year we will be landing troops on Evergreen to reclaim it for the Academy. And, via the good graces of the Commonwealth, we even began trade with a race called the Inna, just two transits out and accessible via a closed warp point in the Porch system. The very same warp point that allowed the Commonwealth to conduct the liberation of our system from your Axis.”
Konset raised a bony eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re the one eating unfinished cake. The Asteroid Axis will endure, grow stronger, and come back and do what it should’ve done in the first place.”
Lake’s eyestalks wiggle slightly, a sign of bemusement. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Mr. Konset. Now that you presented your position paper I can now go on with my temperamental spleen.” He pointed to an object on the desk, 130cm tall and covered with cloth, giving the impression it was rectangular in shape. “The story concerns the object under that cloth, and the man who made it. His name was Coin, and by all accounts he was an excellent craftsman. Able to make intricate mechanical devices for their aesthetic appeal and equally crafted wood coverings for them.”
Lake stepped onto the desk and stood next to the covered object. “It was one year after the occupation started, and he was visited by ASP agents. In under an hour he was gone, along with his set of tools, but not before having a final word with his apprentice, Packer. This was in the presence of the agents, so all that Coin could say was that he was being commissioned for a project, a project worthy of ‘an old man.’ Packer never saw Coin after that.” Lake walked behind the object; his eyes still visible and focused on Konset. “Despondent, Packer removed the remaining items in Coin’s workshop weeks later and came across a photo of him next to a distinguished man, playing golf. Inscribed on the back were the words ‘Me being treated to golf after giving a retirement gift worthy of the old man.’ It was then that Packer remembered a conversion he had with Coin some time before, talking about his studies in university and his favorite professor, one that had the nickname Old Man. After some investigation Packer found out who that professor was and paid him a visit. After telling him about Coin’s being taken away by ASP, Packer asked out of curiosity if he got a gift from Coin in the past. He did and showed it to him.”
With a brisk tug Lake removed the cloth covering the object, revealing it to be an ornate clock. The wooden exterior had an exquisite sheen to complement the curves and embellishments planed and sanded by hand. On the face of the clock, at the top, was a calendar composed of rotating display cogs and denoted in Comensal numbers and writing. At the bottom was another set of cogs, set to display Comensal time measurements. Taking up the center was a representation of a planetary system with each planet, small for terrestrial and large for gas giants, having their own circular track and moving at exaggerated speed. “A fine piece of work, powered by a battery that can last for decades,” Lake commented. “Packer was devastated. The Axis could just have easily commissioned Coin to make a clock, even paying for it, but no. They took him away, depriving the world of his advanced skill in making beauty. Paying his condolence, the professor passed a secret that Coin shared with him. That secret stayed in Packer’s mind. And it stayed… and it stayed.”
“Then three years after Coin’s disappearance, Packer got a measure of closure. In one of the rare announcements made from the Administrative Complex, the Governor, the first Governor, addressed the Eleto population from this very office, on the day the Complex was completed. While the Governor blathered on about having the Eleto increase industrial output, on the implied threat of food rationing, Packer saw this clock in the background. There,” Lake pointed with this left back hand at an empty shelf on the wall behind him, “it was there the clock sat from then up to now. He knew Coin’s work on sight. Packer reasoned that Coin was taken to create this clock in a dungeon workshop, probably created a few more, perhaps even one for your First Leader, before being killed.” Lake’s eyes swept the room, going from west to east. “On that day Packer couldn’t work anymore. All he wanted was to get to this piece of art and take it away from filthy Comensal hands. He joined the resistance and used the skills that Coin taught him to create diabolical mechanical-fused bombs against ASP and even Axis Army units. And now, he will have the honor of disclosing the secret to you, Mr. Konset. Mr. Packer, if you will?”
An Eleto from the right side of the desk stood up and joined Lake next to the clock. Only then did Konset notice this Eleto was missing three of his four eyestalks, the stumps covered in bandages. Eleto do have regenerative capability, and in two months new stalks will be fully formed. Glaring at Konset for a moment with his one eye, the Eleto called Packer focused on the clock. He rapidly pressed the central symbol representing the Comensal sun five times and then rolled the calendar cogs in a purposeful manner. Another press of the central symbol had an audible pop accompanying it. A wooden flower embellishment swung down, revealing a cavity. Lake reached in and drew out a rectangular object, silver in color and with a pair of telltale lights on one end.
“Every example of this style of clock made by Coin has this feature,” Lake explained. “A secret compartment protected by a combination lock. But, like every master craftsman, Coin had his own combination installed just in case the client forgets theirs. He would’ve passed that knowledge to Packer, but thankfully Coin told his professor. Despite being knowledgeable, professors can be scatter-brained from time to time, and thus he passed Coin’s secret combination to him. In this case, it was Coin’s graduation date from university and quickly deduced that he had translated the date into the Comensal dating convention.”
The look on Konset’s face conveyed the look of impatient expectation. Lake savored that look for a moment. “You Comensal have been very exhaustive in destroying databanks in the last five months. Every primary, secondary, and tertiary databank has been physically destroyed in acid. Even your personal notes have been shredded and burned. Then there’s this.” He held the silver object up to the light. “Every governor since the first one had their own private database containing the personnel records of every Comensal, civilian and military, that has been posted or lived on Eletoshani Prime. They updated it twice a year and used the data when considering promotions, transfers, and rewards.”
Konset turned his head, looking at Brent instead of the disconcerting face of the Eleto named Smiler. “I’m sure you’re going to regale everyone of my record. Go on. I will appreciate some backhanded praise.”
“Oh, I’m so terribly pleased to hear that, Mr. Konset. Let’s get to it, then.” Lake picked up a tablet he had on top of the clock. With two eyes looking at the screen Lake had his other pair of eyes on Konset. “Let’s see. You first served in the Eleto War, over forty-five years ago. At the end of that you were placed in the reserves, pursuing a career as a university teacher in the field of applied physics. Then you got reactivated for the Nu’Chut AI War, serving on an SDB technological evaluation team, picking apart captured technology. After that you retired from service and returned to university. When it came to the current conflict with the Commonwealth, you volunteered to be reinstated and was accepted, being sent directly here. All commendable work, yet you were missing something. Something that every Comensal civilian has achieved while on Eletoshani.”
Konset’s inadvertently raised inquisitive eyebrow gave away that he had no idea what Lake was talking about, and so he was duly informed. “In the forty-five years of occupation, not counting those that died in the 10-year labor camps, a little over 550,000 Eleto have been abducted and killed. Abducted for manufactured infractions of occupation law, suspected involved with the resistance, or just at random.” Lake’s eyes looked harsher. “We had copies made of the governor’s database and went through it for three days just to be sure of what we found. Some were shipped off-planet, to Comensal Prime to be stuffed and put on display in one of your museums. A few others were sent to a research complex in a system called Virus House, where your former boss Joncan was reassigned to. As for the rest…” Lake made an Eleto’s equivalent of a shrug, using all four arms. “It was clearly an unspoken rite of passage for every Comensal civilian to kill an Eleto while on this planet. And it wasn’t just adults that did it. Even children as young as eight were made to kill an Eleto. It’s all marked on every civilian record. We even found out that a similar rite of passage is done on the Lauset homeworld, where you’re running out of that race’s number to kill. Was it the plan to use my race to pick up the slack, having us killed one-by-one to affirm your race’s need for validation?”
Konset’s face offered nothing, so Lake pressed on. “This is where you come in, Mr. Konset. You lead the development team for the spinal force beam, and the prototype was installed on the light cruiser Populous. A worn-out freighter was automated and used as a target. It could’ve stopped with that, but you wanted live bodies in that ship to measure the effects of the weapon’s impact would have on their physiology. A totally unnecessary addition, and the 200 Eleto on board didn’t have pressure suits to give even a pretense of survival. You went to the ASP, requested 200 Eleto, no questions asked on who to select. So, the ASP literally picked people off the street, slapped on ridiculous charges, including one for causing an ASP agent being slightly delayed because he had to take an alternate route due to a car accident scene no being cleared fast enough.” Lake motioned to an Eleto to his left. “She lost her daughter due to that asinine charge. Two hundred families became less complete, but for you, for you… you finally got your kill against an abomination, albeit indirectly.”
“Is this the point where you kill me?” Konset asserted.
Lake now looked at the Comensal with all four eyes. “Do not skip to the last page of the novel. It ruins the experience. What we found on the datacore is enough to have all remaining Comensal on this planet killed. Your own race’s unrepentance, intransigence, and continuous exercise of genocide, either quick or slow, can only have one outcome on this planet. The Assembly has made their decision and made it law just four hours ago. I could have killed you in your sleep, on the walk to this office, or even right now. I killed my own share of Comensal over the years, and one more wouldn’t have been a bother, but why should I have all the fun?”
Konset felt a brief, sharp sting at the side of his neck. He felt and then removed a small dart, fired by Mr. Smiler. “Poison me, will you? You want your abomination friends watch me flop on the floor in death spasms?”
“It’s not poison, Mr. Konset, it’s a drug. There’s a difference.” Lake took a step forward on the desktop, getting closer to the Comensal. “It will wear off in an hour, but what will happen next won’t need an hour. Over the years we captured several ASP agents and tested various kinds of truth drugs on them. One of them, as it turned out, after a little tweaking, enhances the sensation of pain and hyperactivates the fear centers of Comensal brains.” Lake took another step forward, and Konset, to his chagrin, felt himself beginning to tremble. “One symptom of the drug is the subject’s proclivity to scream, and scream loudly, due to innate fears and physical pain.” Lake was now at the edge of the desktop and could see Konset sweat from pours between the boney plates that made up his face. “We had to prematurely kill one ASP subject because his screams were so loud it threatened to reveal the location of the testing site. I regret that I will never know if your screams will attract the attention of the Providence you Comensal acknowledge instead of actual gods. My spleen venting is over.”
Lake jumped down from the desktop, startling Konset to the extent that he audibly gasped. Placing the now-deactivated audio receiver on the desk, Lake motioned the eight attendees, Mr. Brent and Mr. Smiler to gather around, and spoke in Eleto. “The ankles, back of the knees, and the armpits are now particularly sensitive,” Lake said as he pointed to the mentioned parts. “I suggest you start with those points, using the rods that Mr. Brent will provide presently. The drug has made him weak and unable to remain standing up. We have been recording, and we need at least five minutes of good, full-throated screams.”
Though not able to translate Eleto there was no mistake in Konset’s fear-filled mind what was going to happen now. He was visibly shaking as Lake pointed at him again. “Avoid the neck, head, and jaw until Mr. Smiler tells you otherwise. The rest of the body,” Lake made a look that a professor would give when grading a sub-par research paper, “is yours.”
Lake left the office, appreciating that his fellows waited until he closed the doors behind him before commencing. At the elevator, he heard a spectacular scream through those office doors, and one more before the elevator doors closed completely. There was still so much left to do.
*******
30,107 Comensal civilians still lived on Eletoshani Prime. All Axis Army, ASP, and Naval personnel were dead as of the sixth month since liberation. The civilians were in bunkers under their homes in the colonial enclave, 7,815 to be exact. They needed those bunkers, as trying to survive in the wilderness of a planet still inhabited by billions of hostile native inhabitants was not an option. The bunkers serve to keep the Eleto out for one, and to protect them from fallout caused by a nuclear bombardment. No doubt the latter was preferred by the Comensal, wanting the abominations to die from radiation poisoning. They were still confident that the Axis fleet would return before the three year’s worth of rations in each bunker would run out. With claustrophobia practically unknown to their race, and a strict sense of discipline, the civilians patiently waited.
On the other hand, the Eletoshani have considered their patience ended after forty-five years of occupation. The one benefit of capturing the governor’s office intact was that the emergency broadcast circuit, which connected to all bunkers in the enclave, was still active and had the capacity to show which bunkers were occupied by living Comensal. The code was broken, and an announcer spoke over all the speakers in the 7,815 bunkers. The accompanying video showed that it was an Eleto, his voice translated into that of the dead governor. He was a plumber of all things, becoming one after spending ten hellish years in a forced labor camp for Army and Navy personnel, but he spoke with the reserve of a lecturer reciting historical passages. He first advised the Comensal civilians of the fate that befell their defenders, and of the cost of the liberation. Five thousand Eleto soldiers dead, the same number wounded, and 41,000 Eleto civilians killed. The Axis Army units in the field had abandoned their cruise missile attacks on broadcast sites early on and instead went with random targeting of the densely populated portions of Eleto cities within range. Not airports, government buildings, power plants or even factories. Things that would’ve hampered their resurgence. No, said the announcer, the only reason those missiles went into densely packed urban areas was because they could, and done out of impotent spite.
The announcer then spoke about the captured personnel files, and how every Comensal civilian over the age of 8 had killed an Eleto, and the circumstances behind those deaths. Even those that didn’t kill, stated the announcer, his voice becoming graver, it was decided by the government and fully backed by the Eleto populace that the Comensal be condemned to death. With the Comensal’s stated racial goal of genocide against all other sentient life, as demonstrated in their own history, it was unconscionable to leave such a threat festering on the planet. The announcer ended his talk, telling them to invoke their Providence and die in their bunkers with whatever passes for dignity in the time left.
The circuit went dead for a moment and then was filled with the recorded screams of the dead Prime Command Konset. It went on and on for hours, days, then weeks, the only relief coming when the speakers were turned off. When some Comensal became brave enough to turn their speakers back on they heard Konset’s screams replaced with combat recordings of Axis soldiers wailing in agony as they burned to death. It was all… unsettling. It was later found that in some bunkers the speakers inside were smashed, splattered with blood showing they were wrecked by bare hands. That was only the beginning of the torment.
Of the 7,815 bunkers 99% had their hatches welded shut from the outside and their access tunnels filled in with plasticrete. The inhabitants did have the ability to create an emergency exit using explosives at a particular spot in the bunker’s roof. The Eleto knew this, too. Over the course of three years heat lances pokes holes through those spots in selected bunkers, and what followed was broadcasted on the emergency broadcast circuit. Some bunkers were filled with water, others choked with black smoke, flame cloud dispensers, and foaming agents that filled the bunker space with a resulting rock-hard resilience that entrapped Comensal like bugs in amber.
Those Comensal that watched this cavalcade of death, listening to Eleto commentators explaining the processes involved like it was a sporting event… well, it got to them. Unable to use the circuit to contact other bunkers to coordinate, each Comensal family that decided to go down in blaze of glory did so alone. What waited for them were mines placed around their emergency exit point and a squad of Eleto to finish what the mines started. It went on that way into and past the third year. Only towards the end of the fourth year did the final life signs end. Most of the remaining bunkers attempted their breakouts, having run out of food, and there was even proof of cannibalism in those bunkers that didn’t get their hatches welded shut and access tunnels blocked. Just 15 of those bunkers remained intact, becoming a focus of study and documentation by academics and xeno sociologists of not only the Eleto but of other races as well. Some had evidence of violence, mutual suicides, and stoic submission to starvation.
The Comensal on Evergreen didn’t go through what happened in the Eleto colonial enclave. They died in combat in the wilderness of that world. If given the choice, the enclave Comensal wouldn’t hesitate to come to their end in a cold, dark, wet field of bladegrass than in a bunker that increasing filled with resentment, pent-up rage, and pride that rapidly turned into bile. As for the Eleto they removed the governor’s office from the Administrative Complex, setting it up in a new museum and allowed the buildings and infrastructure of the enclave to deteriorate. That ground was now too thick with the ghosts of the damned, and the Eleto weren’t going to present themselves as a target of torment for those ghosts. They earned their eternal torment, and no one else had to be there to acknowledge it.
