The Taste of Defeat

[Cptn Corizon 0]

As the Excalibur crew celebrated it’s great victory over the Scorpiads, the taste of defeat came upon the mandibles of General N’Karittt, Commander of the Scorpiad Fleet stationed at the wormhole. It was a taste the general had never had in his nearly 3,000 years of service to the Empire, and it was a taste he found—unpleasant.

 

“This is unacceptable,” he seethed, as he compressed his body allowing a hiss to escape. “A human vessel defeated one of our most powerful warships?”

 

“Perhaps it was simply a matter of error on the Commanders part,” an Androcot standing at the opposite end of the tabled that had formed between the gathered Scorpiads.

 

“A reasonable suggestion General,” another, darker completed Scorpiad chimed. “Surely the humans could not have developed the ability to defend against our superior technology, given our encounters with them.”

 

“They could barely defend themselves against a mere scout in our previous encounters.”

 

N’Karittt thought carefully before responding, allowing his lesser peers to speculate widly before formulating his own theory. “Perhaps,” he finally said, quieting the room. “We have underestimated the humans.”

 

Shock and amazement were palpable, followed by a round of sound denials that would have caused a less seasoned General to react violently, quashing the veiled insinuations of his loyalty. N’Karittt, however, stood in silence knowing none of the them had the claws to challenge him; instead he stood prostate allowing the venting to go forth once more before speaking.

 

“Simpletons,” he said firmly. “We did not underestimate their technological inferiority, relative strength or any such rubbish. What we underestimated was their cunning and their will to survive.”

 

A much more acceptable alternative, one they should have considered themselves, N’Karittt reasoned. “Consider ourselves for example,” he said neutrally. “How many times through out our long history have our adversaries underestimated the determination of our will? And what of them now? They are but dust upon the arena of the galaxy faded into the lost memories of dead powers.”

 

“We will not die so easily though,” N’Karittt was in rare form. “Gentlemen I do not wish speculation over the past; I seek solutions to the problems facing us now and in the future. The humans have presented us a new problem, now we must solve it.”

 

The various Scorpiad leaders conferred amongst themselves for several moments before any responded. The first to respond was a younger Emri; up-in-coming, the young Brigadier came from a noble family with ties to the Royal Line, for several years now he’d been attempting to establish himself with N’Karittt as to gain his favor and to possibly gain the ear of the Crown Prince, whom N’Karittt had mentored since birth.

 

“Is the solution not clear enough to all in the room,” Ei-Kii’h`n bolstered. “We must destroy them now before they gain more strength. We must marshal our fleets and strike their base. Decapitating them.”

 

Silence. But was it consenting silence? N’Karittt waited for a challenger to emerge. Finally the smooth, eloquent voice of the one N’Karittt had hoped for came forth to challenge Ei-Kii’h`n.

 

“Strike them with what Ei-Kii’h`n?” The deeply colored Leperatus looked across the table to see the twitching mandibles of his opponent and rival. “Well?”

 

“Our forces here would be sufficient enough to wipe them from existence.”

 

“And leave our base here unguarded?”

 

N’Karittt smiled inwardly. The Leperatus, Krit’nka was as brilliant as any the General had met. And though not of warrior stock, he’d risen quickly though the ranks as one of the brightest tactians of his generation. This would prove to be entertaining.

 

“Krit’nka has a point,” N’Karittt interjected himself. “The wormhole takes precedence over all—the future of our race depends on our ability to harness this energy source and maintain control of it.”

 

“In deed,” Krit’nka said with a hint of victorious bragging. “The Mari have estimated that it won’t be viable for another three months though, you cannot possibly suggest we leave it venerable to attack before we begin maturing the pods.”

 

Hissing, “Then what do you suggest?”

 

“Perhaps we should attempt to bring the Humans on our side,” he said flatly. “They seem to be a rising star.”

 

“The Leperatus predilection of inferiors is troubling, as is your lack of will to do what must be done.”

 

“And the Emri failure to use their brains is equally troubling.”

 

Ei-Kii’h`n acted instinctually, raising his claws and caudal. “What did you say?”

 

“See, all claw no brains,” Krit’nka jeered. Given that most of the room was of non-Emri linage, the subtle sounds were likely of laughter. N’Karittt on the other hand sighed, for he knew who’d already won the debate—sadly.

 

The day would belong to Ei-Kii’h`n, at least partially. Perhaps in a few thousand years, Krit’nka would prevail; N’Karittt was not prepared to open that dangerous door. He would not be the first to go against hundreds of thousands of years of ancient dogma.

 

“That is enough, both of you.” He said heavily. “There is an old saying credited to G’Jak the Great: The Hunter doesn’t make friends in the morning with those he intends to eat later in the day.”

 

Krit’nka sighed knowing that he’d been rejected.

 

“However,” N’Karittt said. “G’Jak also said that the hunter should wait for the proper time to go for the kill. We will not attack the Humans just yet. We are too venerable. And our proxies are to busy with the Dominion…I will not risk what ships we have left.”

 

“And our orders?” Ei-Kii’h`n said incredulously, feeling his victory had been lessened.

 

“Continue to maintain our defenses, but increase our surveillance of the human base…on both sides of the wormhole.”

 

“As you wish, General.”