2954-03-11 – Tales from the Service: The Emissary’s Message 

The Kyaroh are a curious people, made hard by at least two generations of conflict with The Incarnation. If this account is accurate, I wonder whether the hard-hearted attitude toward death and the affection for remembrance and sacrifice which this account demonstrates is a part of their ways even in peacetime. 

The attitude which “Vasili” remarks on is, as far as I know from my own brief experience talking with Kyaroh, and idle comments in conversations with those of greater experience, is quite correctly portrayed. This gives some credence to the story, but again, I have no way to confirm it. 

Vasili M. was disappointed in how little of the vaunted redoubt he was allowed to see. The mixed group of towering Kyaroh and watchful hoverdrones which surrounded his group on all sides blocked their view down lit side-passages as they were marched down through a maze of broad, intersecting tunnels, most of them noticeably sloping down. 

Bel’itec, apparently unfazed by the silence with which his comrades had greeted him, walked serenely at Vasili’s side, while the Marines followed them close behind, their grim silence matching their hosts. Their carbines had been confiscated, but, Vasili had noticed, the xenos hadn’t searched beyond that; each Marine had been permitted to keep his sidearm and Nine, and of course Vasili’s boot gun remained in its tiny holster. Either the Kyaroh weren’t particularly concerned about such small weapons, or they simply hadn’t realized the group might have backup weapons. 

Vasili was inclined to think the former explanation more likely. The Kyaroh had scanned them using acoustic-sensing drones capable of seeing implants within their bodies, so these weapons were probably not secret. Most likely, this was some sort of test, but he couldn’t figure out what sort it was. 

As long as nearly a dozen Kyaroh surrounded them, of course, there was little a few pistols and knives could really do. No doubt there was another group of defenders either going ahead of them, or following behind, and unseen cameras probably tracked every move. 

The path they were led along seemed purpose-built to bewilder human senses, and Vasili soon lost all track of direction, except for a certainty that they were now very deep below the shattered streets. After fifteen minutes of silent march through so many gray passages, he began to imagine they were looping back and forth over the same ground over and over again, in an endless spiral through a mad anthill bored into the skin of this bruised world. 

At last, the Kyaroh leading turned abruptly into a brilliantly lit cross-passage, and the sudden blaze of artificial lights directly overhead stung Vasili’s eyes. This passage opened out into a huge open space, and the ceiling soared away above in a gigantic fluted dome. There were walls – structures – on both sides of the path, and in an irregular grid ahead, but Vasili still could see little beyond cold gray walls, hard-edged corners, and staring, porthole-like windows. His escorts seemed to cluster together to deny him a view of anything particularly interesting, though obviously there was no way they could be doing that on purpose. 

The leader turned aside into a narrow doorway shortly after entering the dome, and the group found themselves in a small, square room, lit by a single round electric light in the center of the ceiling. Most of the guards and drones remained outside, and the two who filed in after the humans took up station beside the door as it shut. 

The Kyaroh leader addressed Bel’itec in their rapid, growling language, and Bel’itec responded in turn with an extended, uninterrupted speech, his hands eerily remaining at his side the whole time. 

“What do you think is the problem?” Sergeant Ver nudged Vasili. “I thought Bel tipped them off that we were coming.” 

“It’s possible his message didn’t get through.” Vasili responded, voice low. “He’ll sort it out.” 

“He’d better.” Ver nodded, folding his arms in such a way as to put his right hand just above the grip of his Nine. 

After a few more barked questions, which Bel’itec answered only with single words, the pair of Kyaroh turned to Vasili. “The warden wishes to know our message for the leaders of this redoubt.” Bel’itec prompted. 

Vasili nodded. “I will summarize. But the detailed plans I carry are for your leader only.” 

He expected Bel to translate, but nothing of the sort was attempted. As the silence grew, Vasili cleared his throat and went on. “Force Seventy-Three intends a full-scale attack on the Incarnation flotilla defending this system. If orbit-space is mastered, Kyaroh infantry forces traveling with the fleet will be landed on this world to assault the garrison, and I bring proposed plans of campaign to liberate your world.” 

The warden’s cold, black eyes remained on Vasili for a long moment after he finished speaking. Vasili wondered how much the xeno understood; perhaps he was being fed a translation in an earpiece, or perhaps the summary was being viewed remotely by the redoubt’s commanders. 

After nearly half a minute, the Kyaroh spoke again. Bel’itec took it upon himself to translate. “The warden wishes to believe in this message of hope, but this world has been liberated by uprising once before, and the return of the oppressor proved worse than it was at first. He asks what guarantee of protection the Force of Seventy-Three will offer against this eventuality.” 

Vasili nodded. “I cannot predict how the war will progress after this world is freed, and neither can my superiors. I can only say that as long as Force Seventy-Three remains at large in this region, the enemy cannot devote enough ships to reconquest without exposing his own home-worlds to attack on the Sagittarius Gate axis. If your world is reconquered, it will hasten the downfall of the Incarnation, and your valiant sacrifice will be remembered by your people and by mine.” 

This, of course, was not the sort of message one might give to a human, but Vasili had sat long with Force 73’s ASWO and Naval Intelligence chief, and they’d coached him to lean into such grim blaze-of-glory language. This was, according to them, far more persuasive to a Kyaroh than it would be for those of his own species. 

The warden made no response, and again silence stretched in the room. Just as Vasili opened his mouth to ask Bel’itec what the matter was, though, the warden pressed his huge, dark hands together, and dipped his head, making a brief guttural remark.  

“The warden wishes to welcome you.” Bel’itec rumbled. “To Redoubt Kirznha's unconquered halls. If this hope should prove false, he hopes its name shall always be remembered among your kin.” 

Vasili nodded, and tried to mimic the pressed-hands gesture. “Your people’s valor thus far is already the talk of my people.” He was glad this was only a slight exaggeration, and one he could do smething to make even smaller. “And when we all have peace, it will be a matter for story and song.” 

The warden barked again, then turned to open a door in the wall behind him. 

“He finds your manners unexpected in one who is distant kin of the oppressor.” Bel’itec again translated. 

With a sigh of relief, Vasili gestured to his comrades, then led the way onward.