Planet Killer
There was something inherently appealing to Commander Zahub about the way planets shuddered under the force of his ship's Lambda ray bursts. Each successive pulse set buildings to trembling, and he had the front monitor screen zoomed in tightly enough that he could see the frightened expressions of those who lived on the planet running for cover – as if that would do them any good.
The Assembly had tried to negotiate with the fools below, but they and their leadership refused to recognize the sovereign claim that Zahub's people had to their world. As a result, talks had stalled a cycle ago, and no further common ground could be found.
Zahub had begun preparing the crew as soon as he heard that the new planet had been found – very few negotiations ended well for those on the surface, and in many cases the Assembly found it more expedient to take what they wanted from a planet's remains, rather than populate its surface. Zahub's people had no need of more space; they reproduced only once every five rotations, and what they needed were raw materials to keep an almost immortal population alive and satisfied. The last death Zahub could recall had been of a male so ancient that he remembered what the home-planet was like before space flight.
So long as Zahub wasn't murdered by his own men he had a long, glorious career ahead of him.
“Perhaps that is enough, Commander?” That was Talzib, his second – a spineless whelp if ever one existed in the fleet. His sire sat at the Assembly table, which allowed Talzib access to whatever section of society he wanted. For some reason, the shorter male had chosen the military, though Zahub couldn't say why, as Talzib had virtually no killer instinct.
“No,” he said curtly. He was given discretion over the use of the Lambda cannon once the Assembly had issued permission, and could choose to give those below another option, another opportunity to save themselves. He wouldn't, of course, and Talzib should have known better than to ask.
Zahub had been across the galaxy, from the civilized center ring to the barren outer reaches, and he had discovered one, simple truth: no species was as worthy as his own. Some had culture or technology that he wished to appropriate, some had resources that the Assembly could use, and some he simply wanted to destroy, but he had never found an equal, never found another set of beings that came close to the power and pride displayed by members of his own species in their prime.
There would be no mercy for the planet tearing itself apart under the weight of his cannon's fire, and he would not give them a chance to alter their fate. They had made their choice when they refused the first offer of the Assembly; their death was sealed, and he was simply the messenger.
“Keep the cannon on them, Talzib, or I will gut you like a Pou fish, here, in front of real officers and males of the military.” He turned to stare hard at the simpering dupe. “Do you understand me?”
Talzib nodded. “Of course, Commander.”
He smiled as the looks of those on the screen became more desperate, as the ground tore open underneath them, great gaping chasms that swallowed up city blocks and saw thousands of their kind plummeting to the planet's burning core.
There was a detonation felt even past the ship's armor, and Zahub knew that the planet had been destroyed. The Assembly could sweep in with its picker ships and take whatever raw materials they needed, and he could move on to his next target.
A low beeping told him the Assembly was on the comm-line, and he slammed a fist into the control panel at his side.
“What have you done?” Chairman Mulob's face was dark, and his normally orange skin was a deepening crimson.
“I -” Zahub began, confused.
“Who gave you orders to destroy that planet, Zahub?”
He frowned. Was this some kind of trick? Some kind of joke the Assembly had decided to play on him?
“The Assembly, Chairman,” he responded slowly, “the order came two spans ago, hand-delivered by -”
Zahub cut off, then spun in his chair to face Talzib.
“By no one!” The Chairman bellowed. “That order was never given, and I don't care who you say brought it to you – you've become far too reckless in the last few rotations. We were on the verge of a breakthrough with the inhabitants of that fool world, and now you've sullied our name across the sector, making it that much harder to get what we want.”
Zahub turned, and fixed his superior with an icy glare.
“We take what we want, Chairman. That is the way of the galaxy. The cannon under my ship gives us the right to do as we wish, when we wish.”
The Chairman sighed, and put one hand to his forehead.
“You truly are a blunt instrument, aren't you, Zahub?” He said. “You really don't understand. That cannon you're so proud of costs a rotation's worth of resources to fire – even once. Each time you destroy a world, we don't come out ahead, we break even. Or worse.”
Zahub straightened in his chair.
“Those who are lesser than us must know their place, Chairman. We must rule all.” He would not be lectured by a bureaucrat on his actions, no matter how high their station.
“I know the lines, Commander,” the Chairman said, then pointed a thick finger at Zahub. “You will bring your ship back to the home-planet, and stand before the Assembly. You have violated our orders, and will pay the price. If you refuse, your men have my full permission to mutiny and take your place with no consequence to themselves. Will you comply?”
Zahub forced a snarl back down his throat.
“I will,” he said, throwing another glance at Talzib. Perhaps there was some hope for the little male after all.
- D
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