Homeworld: Genocide, Draft 1

Part 1

4:35:13 Imperial Standard Time
Imperial Border Fleet 327, Carrier Maarzim


All throughout the room, there was nothing but darkness, pitch black, enveloping everything. Unlike light, sound was not completely absent from the unlit room, though it was little more than the sound of steady breathing from the room's sole occupant. Suddenly, an insistent beeping rang out in the darkness, and a small red light blinked on, like a single lonely star in an empty, barren universe.

A muffled groan emerged from the room's occupant, followed by whispering sounds, like cloth moving over cloth, and the creaking of wood shifting as if weight had been removed from it. A calm, steady male voice, with the bare hint of a strange accent, spoke from the darkness.
"Lights, Wake-up mode."

On the room's walls, a quartet of light emplacements flickered faintly to life, glowing dimly at first, and very slowly increasing in brightness until distinct, though featureless, shapes could be made out all through the room. A humanoid shape sat on the edge of a low rectangular object flat against one of the walls which took up close to half the room. On the opposite side of the room sat another rectangular object, smaller, flat on the top and reflecting the dim light of the lamps slightly. Resting on top of this was the source of the red light.

An exasperated sigh rushed out of the man, and he stood, striding across the dimly lit room towards the small red dot, muttering.
"Supposed to hold messages until end of second sleep cycle... what now?"

Reaching out, the man leaned forward and tapped the red dot, and a vid-screen next to the dot blinked on as a result, bathing the man's face in light. The days of youth had long since past for this man, though he bore no signs of the failing of the body against time's ravages. A faint five-o-clock shadow covered his upper lip and chin.

Scanning over what was displayed on the screen, the man's expression flicked through a variety of emotions as he read, from exasperation to surprise, then confusion, followed by a brief moment of astonishment, before he straightened up, shaking his head, all emotion removed from his face.

Turning away from the screen, the man slowly crossed the room to one wall, a previously unseen door sliding open at his approach, the room beyond as dimly lit as the current one. Before stepping through the door, the man tapped a panel on the wall next to the door, and spoke into it.

"Message to all ship captains: New orders. Briefing on Maarzim in thirty."


Part 2</b>

5:20:07 Imperial Standard Time
Imperial Border Fleet 327, Carrier Maarzim

Group Captain Taleros Vayrn ran a hand across his freshly shaven chin as he sat at the head of the briefing room table on the Imperial Carrier Maarzim, his ship. Seated around the table as well were the rest of the fleet's ship captains, save two. Glancing down at his chronometer, Taleros was hardly surprised to see the last two ship captains were easily ten minutes overdue. The two were close cousins and each was in command of one of the fleet's two Model 17 Standard Destroyers. On top of that, both were under the impression that they were deserving of Taleros' rank, though Taleros knew they had only attained their current ranks through family ties rather than competency. As such, they took whatever opportunity they could to subtly disregard orders, or otherwise oppose him, though he had to admit, this was bold even for them.

Almost as if beckoned by Taleros' musings, the door at the far end of the room slid open, and the two captains arrogantly walked through, taking seats at the table without even an explanation. Taleros raised one eyebrow at this, frowning.

"Commander Galar, Commander Hannit, seems you've finally decided to join us. I would have thought you'd be the first ones here, considering the source of our new orders."

The smug grins that had been etched across both captains' faces faltered slightly, vanishing completely as Taleros continued.

"After all, disregarding orders from the Emperor himself is punishable by death."

Before either could open their mouths to object, Taleros flicked a switch on the table's control panel, activating the holo-display in its center. An image appeared in midair above the table, a desert planet, rotating slowly. Hovering next to the planet was a set of coordinates indicating the planet's position in relation to the galactic core.

"This is our target. A fairly insignificant world at the edge of the galactic rim. It has no official name, only the alphanumerical designation of VRX-15, but it is known locally as Kharak. There has been no contact between the planet's denizens and the rest of the galaxy for a few thousand years, but-"

Another voice rang out before he could continue, and Taleros glanced over to stare at the offender. It was one of the older captains in the fleet, Commander Keladn of the Model 43 Frigate Atrya, someone Taleros had rarely enjoyed dealing with. The man often displayed doubts concerning the Empire at its core, but never openly, for that was bordering on treason.

"I apologize for interrupting, Group Captain, but what exactly do you mean by 'target'? If there has been no recent contact between the Empire and these Kharakians, I fail to see why we are being sent there."

Taleros simply nodded. "There has been no direct contact, yes. However, our 'friends' of the Kazzak Clan have recently encountered a ship departing this system, one designed to detect and monitor hyperspace signatures, as well as provide assistance to ships of tonnage close to that of the Imperial Flagship. And as of two hours ago, Imperial surveillance teams have reported and confirmed that a hyperspace jump was made from the planet to the reported location of the ship."

The other officer furrowed his brow in confusion.
"I don't understand...," he began, but Taleros held up one hand to cut him off.

"There is a treaty in place between the Empire and this world. One close to four thousand years old. It states that the Kharakians are forbidden from developing hyperspace technology. Failure to comply was to result in action taken against the planet and its inhabitants by the Imperial Navy."

".....And by action, you mean..." Keladn frowned, though Taleros suspected the man had already figured out what he meant.

"Deployment of Strategic Low Orbit Atmospheric Deprivation Devices against the planet."

Taleros' statement prompted an uprising of whispered conversations between the other captains, hardly unexpected considering what such an act meant. As the others talked, Taleros noted their reactions. Some, like Keladn, seemed concerned, reluctant to proceed with such an act. Had he been in their position, he would have shared their misgivings. But, orders were orders. One small group worried him, though, and he wasn't surprised to find Galar and Hannat among their ranks. They seemed almost eager to proceed, to set fire to the world, though Taleros suspected they saw this as only an opportunity to improve their standing, nothing more. For a moment, he found himself sharing Keladn's sentiments towards the Empire, disgusted that such people could buy and manipulate their way so high up in the Imperial Navy. Only for a moment, though, before his pride in the Navy reassured him that this was hardly common... it had to be.

Clearing his throat to draw the attention of the other officers, Taleros glanced around as the whispering died off, then motioned towards the holographic image of Kharak.

"Resistance is expected to be light, but that is no excuse for tactical incompetence. We will divide the fleet into three strike groups..."


Part 3</b>

07:14:01 Imperial Standard Time
Imperial Border Fleet 327, Carrier Maarzim


"Advance Strike Group Two reports probe successfully deployed, sir. Receiving telemetry......now."

The Maarzim's main display flickered in a wash of static, then resolved into a slowly rotating image of local space, as seen through the probe's camera, mired only by a small amount of visual 'noise' from stray cosmic radiation.

As the probe spun, the point frigates of Strike Group Three, which included the Maarzim itself as well as both destroyers, came into view for a moment at the edge of the camera's vision, before the probe rocketed onwards towards the massive structure orbiting the planet. As it approached, two corvette sized ships, identified as some sort of heavy salvage vessel, swept out to meet the probe. Their movement triggered close-proximity sensors within the probe, and as it passed, the high-explosives packed inside detonated, showering the corvettes with a hail of shrapnel.

This was hardly enough to destroy them, but it wasn't expected to. That was the job of the oncoming flight of Model 193 Interceptors which had launched from the docks of Strike Group One's Model 9 Support Frigates, which had just hyperspaced in nearby.

Fighters of an unknown design began launching from the massive structure to engage the Imperial ships, so Taleros nodded to the helmsman. "Take us in."

As he listened, he could hear the com-chatter of the Interceptor pilots as they wove through space, blazing away at the enemy fighters with their mass driver cannons. "Group Three moving in... Alright now, stay together..... Ready.... Spread!"

As the Maarzim rumbled past the huge structure towards its main target, disgorging another flight of Interceptors into the battle at the same time, alarms began blaring throughout the carrier, and a calm voice spoke over the intercom. "Incoming missiles..."

Taleros was pleased with the speed at which the crew of the Maarzim reacted, the sensor officer shouting over to the helmsman, "Evasive maneuvers!" As the carrier's captain could hear from the fleet channels, the efficiency of his own crew was not a representation of that of the fleet in general.
<43SF-01>: "What the....?"
<73ICF-03>:"We're hit! Damage report!"
<43SF-07>:"There's another one!"
<17SD-02>: "Prepare for immediate surface bombardment!"

Upon hearing the last transmission, Taleros frowned, and triggered the Maarzim's com.
<04CC-01>: "We fire on my order, Commander Galar, no earlier."

Cutting off the comms before he had to deal with Galar's response, Taleros pushed himself to his feet and gazed out at Kharak. The gunnery officer frowned, glancing up at the captain with a look of confusion on his face.

"Sir, we are well within range. Should we not launch?"

For a minute, Taleros simply stood there, staring out at the obscure desert world that had been condemned to death, simply because they had violated a treaty so ancient that none but the Imperial bureaucrats and the Emperor himself even knew it existed. Was this truly the right decision? Did this planet's inhabitants really deserve this? Millions of aliens, sentenced to death in the most horrific way imaginable, simply for daring to reach for the stars?

Another minute crawled by as Taleros struggled with his emotions. The orders came from Emperor Riesstiu IV himself. Were he to disobey them, it would not only be the end of his career in the Imperial Navy, but likely his life as well. No, this lonesome world, this...Kharak did not deserve this fate... But orders were orders.

"Sir?"

Taleros sighed and dropped down into his chair. He hardly moved his eyes away from the screen and the doomed planet as he gave the order, a heavy weight settling on his heart as he did so. The Emperor would be pleased, yes, but Taleros knew deep inside that history would mark him only as a murderer of millions.
"Commence surface delivery."




Epilogue

10:11:27 Imperial Standard Time
Imperial Border Fleet 327, Destroyer Garux


Commander Galar raged inwardly. How dare that impudent fool show him up in front of the fleet! That bastard didn't deserve to be Group Captain! Not in this age, where money determined status. He was probably from a lowly second-class family, not one of prestige like Galar's own.

A voice nearby drew him out of his thoughts, and he snapped angrily, "What is it?!"

The navigation officer stood next to Galar's command chair, and he bowed. "Sir, the fleet is getting ready to jump.... Your orders?"

Galar frowned, gazing across the devastated world and the ruined space station. His eyes came to rest on the three pairs of gray rectangles floating next to the shipyard ruin, and he grinned wickedly. They had been left alone, as they had born no signs of life or activity, by Galar suspected they were something more.

"Send a message to Commander Naxin of the Duheyn. Have him delay his squadron's jump for a few hours and take care of those six objects in orbit before rejoining the fleet."

As the navigation officer strode off to send the message, Galar smirked inwardly.
Take that, Taleros, you bastard. Mercy has no place in the Imperial Navy...