[Jmenschenfresser]

2417.3
Raehar decided his typing would be more efficient if he got rid of this glass of Praetorian gin. Putting it on the floor, precariously close to his own foot, he went on entering coordinates and codes and technical stuff he was still getting even the most elementary hang of.
Being a rebel, he thought, is a multi-disciplinary job. In the Last months, he's learned how to use several light weapons, pilot an escort class ship, decode transmissions using a juiced up Version of the universal translator coupled with a stolen Xaiti high-intelligence probability program, and preach the sermon of fanatics and outsiders. He'd spent the Last week convincing planetary officials in several eastern systems to feed him a little information now and then, if not join outright. Several old friends who no doubt thought him too idealistic to think him dangerous.
But it was hard talking to them about change. The ones in power benefitted from every corrupt profit the Tribunal's were making, few caring about the billions slaving away beneath the social foundations. Raeghar's rebels controlled all power in the local system, and that despite the fact that the core members numbered only a few thousand among millions. He hated that they had resorted to threats, bribes and even murder in order to keep the other local officials from ratting them out. Raeghar was sure the Counsel knew something. Certainly, some word had reached their ears, but as the galaxy swooned with confusion there was little chance of any sustained effort to root the rebels out.
This was his second transmission. Those faithless god-mongers demanded proof of some kind. Here it was. As before his transmission was being bounced off of a roaming satellite somewhere in the thick of a nearby nebula.
If the Tribunals traced the signal, thought Raeghar, they'd spend till Time ran out combing that soup looking for him. May the Almightly grant favors to the fools who seek to rectify the disgraces of their own people.

Several weeks later...

Raeghar's head still pounded. A small patch of blood encrusted cloak looked back at him in the mirror. He wondered who it was that had attempted to smash his skull back at the local tavern. A disgruntled Sergetti conspirator? A Norak agent? A Farzah mercenary? A Xaiti mercenary? He could have gone on for hours making a list and checking it twice. Probably just a drunk who mistook me for someone else, he concluded. If it really had been someone with a purpose, he wouldn't still be living. No one knew his real name. No one outside of the leaders of their rebellion.
As the pain killers finally kicked in, Raeghar tried to take stock of the Last months. It was in the same bar that he met a Sergetti outlaw, claiming to be a local miner/trader/philosopher. The Sergetti quickly took to Raeghar as they discussed every quirky thing they could think of, and for every odd question the Sergetti could pose, Raeghar, because of his formal training in rhetoric and thought, had an answer...or at least one good enough to impress a novice philosopher. The Sergetti went off talking about how the Sallega Empire had wrong his people, that they had killed his father in the war, and how most of his people have been living since then. He described what he called the Oasis on one of the old Sergetti worlds, where those who refused to integrate themselves into Sallegan society were stuck. If only half of his rants were true, no doubt this was a horrible place. Such a place existed in the Norak Continuum as well. Many Zynarra and Xi'Chung were sent there. No doubt, thought Raeghar, these instant cities, as the populace called them, have been revived for the criminal and for those opposed to the Tribunals. Two populations..divided by too many laws.

The Sergetti was looking to talk to someone inside the Norak rebellion. He claimed he had it on good authority that he could find them here. So he had, thought Raeghar. Raeghar told him to come around to this address the next morning....as early as possible.

Punctual, Raeghar opened the door to the same grinning face he'd left in the bar the previous night.

"Would you like a cup of Praetorian tea?" Raeghar asked.
"No, I can't stand the stuff."
"I really can't offer you much else. It seems a bit early to do any drinking. I'm quite a poor man, but I get by. Since we're neglected by the Continuum, about all we find in the markets have the stamp of the Praetorian systems."
"I'd rather just get this meeting on. Where's the rebel leaders?" he asked as they sat down.
Raeghar just stared back him.
"You mean.... You're head of this operation? But...you're...a..."
"Priest," said Raeghar. "I used to be one. Escaped from Xiban in a military freighter."
"I wasn't expecting a....."
"I am all that you will get. I am as high as you will get. I am the only one you will meet, so please, say what you came to say."
"I am not comfortable with you, priest. I know priests don't think like regular people. They're about the most unpredictable type to deal with. However, we seek the assistance of your...rebellion, if you even call it that."
"We do, even if do so lying down."
"How shall I start? The Sergetti have become a bitter people. I would even venture to say that we only still breath because one cannot stop one's chest and still curse the Sallega. As I am sure you know, the Sergetti have never had much of a problem with the Norak. We allowed you to colonize in our homesystems, mingle with our people, trade.... But we cannot abide the prosperity of our enemy, the Sallega. It is because of taking our homeworlds, our space, that they stand in the glow of their wealth today. Without our lands they would be stuck in their own system. We've moved on in space and worlds, but not in time or spirit. And finally, after years of waiting, hating, biding out time, the hour, nay the minute has come for action. That is why I am here. To enlist your help, to bring down the Sallega."
"I have no quarrel with the Sallega. My quarrel is with Norak, the Tribunals, to be precise."
"Hear me out. Our agents have infiltrated the Sallegan military, especially their eastern fleets, and subsequent commanders, to such a degree we can move fifty ships without any knowledge of it reaching the Sallega High Command."
"Impressive...but still I fail to see your reason for enlisting me."
"In fact, this very moment, our plan is in action."
"So you plan to use Sallegan ships to attack the eastern Sallegan empire, hoping it will fall and in the ensuing chaos the Sergetti retake their homesystems."
"No."
"I see."
"Do you?"
"Yes." Raeghar said slowly. "No that wouldn't do would it. It's not complete."
"That would do, were it possible. You see, the ships we control in Upshada and Nizzarum are not the best the Sallega military has to offer. They hold other larger, more modern fleets elsewhere. After such an attack, these fleets could easily chase us from these systems. No, we are attempting what is dictated by ancient Sergetti wisdom--'Be late to a battle that is not your own.' It means if two others war against each other, march slow into battle...allow them to weaken one another first. No, priest, with these ships we will attack a third race...the Norak. So, do you now see why I am here?"
Raeghar nodded, still running over all the outcomes.
"You see, priest. We watched your Last war with the Sallega intently. At that time, we hoped your Norak would destroy enough of the Sallega that we might have a chance of pushing them back as well, but you prematurely made peace with one another."
"Even the Tribunals don't want the destruction of every society in the southern quadrants, and that is what you would have had! You must understand, the Tribunals when they infiltrated the High Counsel knew nothing but the dusty caves of Xiban III. Those who paved their way were skilled in diplomacy, but they were just agents, the real Tribunals are backwards monks. It was like having your mind expand to the size of a room. They were lost, so they attempted petty wars with the Jraenar and then the Farzah, ultimately sparking the conflict you refer to. They've changed. They are now reverting to their xenophobic ways. They have turned inward. The Tribunals don't understand the sublties of galactic negotiation and diplomacy. I have it on good authority that many of the old diplomats, those not slaughtered in the cleansings, have been reinstated....just to act as machines...machines of state."
"We could help you bring down the Tribunals."
"I fail to see how. A few Sergetti ships are useless."
"But fifty Sallegan warships...and once we have control of the empire, regain our lands, we will be in a perfect position to strike the Continuum."
"Hopeless," muttered Raeghar. "The Norak have ships, the like, you've never seen."
"Ah, but those ships could be persuaded. And I haven't told you of what we've acquired. Tectonic bombs. Ever heard of them?"
"Yes, they can reduce a planet into just a bunch of asteroids in a matter of minutes."
"If you help us plan our attack against Norak defenses, we'll sell your organization all the ships and tectonic bombs you need, at a reduced price...to be paid once you regain you former places. All we ask is that you talk to your friends and help us plan an attack against a Norak world. We will then make the rest of the eastern Continuum well aware that if they take you as their leader, we will not destroy them."

Not long after that the Sergetti agent left. It was noon and Raeghar sat in his sparse kitchen thinking over the Sergetti plot. He was to meet the Sergetti outlaw in two days time...at the bar in which they had initially met. Countless doubts and questions moved over his mind like clouds, but one remained, and it was really more of a statement than a question--'perhaps this is the only option.' Realignment just might require total destruction. Tectonic bombs? Sallega fleets? Raeghar wondered if this actually was a Sergetti plot, or was there someone else behind it. He thought only the Norak and the Praetorians had such weapons. Possibly the Sallega, but certainly not the Sergetti. Killing Norak civilians, he muttered to himself. And that was the first time in which he considered that possibly, everyone of the more than 30 billion Norak still working, slaving for the Tribunals were guilty, deserving death.

--To Be Continued--