CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Imperial Palace
Kilrah
"I assure you, my Lord, you have nothing to worry about."
Even as Gilkarg uttered these words to the Emperor, his father, he wished that he believed them as much as he sounded.
The Kalralahr of the Imperial Fleet was highly aware of his surroundings, including the cold stone of the floor that he was kneeling on, and the piercing gaze of his father as he continued to recline on the throne. Only one of the liege's eyes was natural, and the other was mechanical, but to Gilkarg, they both felt as if their gaze was penetrating deep into his soul, seeing all of his insecurities and uncertainties.
It had been two whole eights of days since Gilkarg had stood alongside the Emperor before the gathering of Barons and declared that he would lead a strike force to seize control of Centrepoint Station, so they could use it against their enemies. The motivation behind the plan was that the Galactic Alliance would be distracted by the Sivar-Eshrad taking place on Naboo, and thus would not notice the Kilrathi taking control of this ancient weapon until it was too late.
Unfortunately, the Supreme Commander had not foreseen that another problem would arise within the Station's host system itself; an insurrectionist group calling itself the Five Worlds Liberation Front launching a coup across the entire system and taking control of the Station for their own purposes. This had caused Gilkarg to suffer what would best be described as a mild panic, causing him to fluster and unintentionally delay the attack; actions that only served to earn him his father's ire.
Which was why the Kalralahr was now abasing himself before the Emperor, trying to assuage any fears and uncertainties that they might be feeling with this sudden turn of events. Gilkarg could only pray to Sivar that the Emperor would buy his assurances, even when he himself could not be completely certain.
The Emperor gave a deep rumble in thought, leaning forward slightly, his gaze never wavering from his son. He glanced sideways at his black and crimson clad Drakhai bodyguards. "Leave us," he uttered simply, and the imposing figures quickly shuffled out of the room.
Once they were alone, the Emperor leaned back. "Stand," he ordered his son. Gilkarg did so, only reluctantly raising his eyes to his father.
The Emperor addressed his son and Supreme Commander of his forces in a carefully neutral tone. "There was no way for you to forsee that this little insurrection in the Corellian system was to occur. I am simply interested in whether or not you are still capable of achieving what you set out to do. You stood up beside me in front of all those damnable Barons and promised that you would take Centrepoint. And now, you are uncertain. You do know that it will not only reflect bad on you, but it would not look good for me if my own Kalralahr were unable to do what he promised." He lowered his voice. "Especially since you are my own son."
Gilkarg fought to clamp down on the nervous gestures that threatened to make themselves known. For his whole life, he had fought to earn his father's approval. It was a trait not uncommon in the Kilrathi, particularly among those in the noble classes. It was also not uncommon for the leader of a hrai to execute their own offspring if they shamed them in any serious way. That was part of the reason that Gilkarg's own brother was dead. And to top it off, his father was not just any high-ranking noble. No, he was the Emperor of Kilrah himself; the ruler of their entire regime! If Gilkarg were to fail him, then there was no doubt that he would be killed in order to relmove the taint, lest it cause the people to lose faith in their leader and pitch the Empire into anarchy.
Almost as if his gaze could indeed penetrate into Gilkarg's mind, the Emperor could practically read the turmoil on his son's face like an open book. He knew that Gilkarg had done his best to make him proud, but he always seemed to be lacking in certain regards. No, perhaps the best thing to have come from this whelp of a son of his was his grandson.
Thrakhath. Now there was someone who would make a fine Emperor some day, the current ruler mused. Cunning, ruthless, bloodthirsty; all of the best traits of the Kilrathi species, but not a trace of hesitance or uncertainty. And yet, he was occupied with running the Sivar-Eshrad. No, he had his own task to perform, and Gilkarg had his.
Still, the Emperor was more than willing to give his sole surviving son the benefit of the doubt. After all, he had not been too much of a disappointment, unlike that worthless brother of his.
"Explain," the Emperor inquired, hoping that his curious demeanour would put Gilkarg's mind at some sort of ease.
It worked. The Kalralahr visible relaxed and started to explain. "From what our spies can tell, it seems that the system was only lightly defended before, as it was still a significant distance from the front line of the war, and the Alliance is not one to impose martial law on its citizens."
"Weak fools," the Emperor murmured.
"My sentiments exactly," Gilkarg agreed. "However, there was still a presence at each of the planets in the system, and a slightly larger one for the Station. However, this insurrectionist group, the Five Worlds Liberation Front, had agents all over the system; some in positions of power and influence, others who were simple civilians, and some were military personnel. Since their coup, they have marshalled their forces, combining them to make one whole fleet. Unfortunately, they have positioned them at one single location, which they feel is the most vital for them to defend."
"And that would be Centrepoint Station," the Emperor guessed, his comment being a statement and not a question.
"Correct," Gilkarg admitted. "Now, I will admit that when they are all combined, the collective Five Worlds fleet is strong enough to rival any one of ours or even the Alliance's. However, by doing so, they have left their planets virtually undefended. They have, in a sense, put all their resources in one place."
"Making an optimal target for us to strike."
A feral grin appeared on Gilkarg's face. "Exactly," he enthused. Seeing the faint traces of a similar grin appear on his father's face, he knew that he had just earned some points in his favour. "These rebels may not be as strong as the Alliance is, nor any of their allies, but they have the potential to become a nuisance in the future. Not only that, but they are in possession of perhaps the dealiest weapon the galaxy has ever seen. And I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we cannot allow this to continue." He paused to let the effect of these words sink in.
The Emperor narrowed his one good eye in thought. "I don't suppose there is any chance of them joining us in our crusade?" Though the Kilrathi were generally hostile towards all outsiders, there had been instances in their history where they had actually entered into formal alliances, or at least nonaggression pacts with them. However, these tended to last only until the others had outlived their usefulness, after which they were either slaughtered or enslaved.
"I would not waste my time with such a venture," Gilkarg answered. "From what we have been able to determine, the leader of the Five Worlds Liberation Front is a Human called Thracken." At the Emperor's surprised look he added, "Yes, I have noticed the similarity of his name with that of my son, but have since dismissed it as mere coincidence." The Emperor accepted this explanation with a simple nod.
"Anyway," Gilkarg went on, "this Thracken seems to hold very xenophobic views towards anyone who is not a Human like him. It does appear that he may have worked with the invaders in the last war, these Yuuzhan Vong, but his servitude was one of mere convenience for both sides. Simply put, if we approached him with an offer to work with him, it is highly unlikely he would accept."
"Which leaves attack as our only viable option," the Emperor concluded, not sounding the least bit upset over the prospect.
Gilkarg nodded in affirmation. At the same time, he discretely felt a sense of both relief and pride that he had managed to stave off his father's anger, and at the same time provided him with something that allowed him to get back in his favour. Still, he had another issue to address, and he mentally prepared himself to deliver it.
"With our attack on the Corellian system, there are two options available," he began to outline. "The first is that we take advantage of the low level of protection around the five planets and launch silumatneous attacks on each of them. However, doing so will require a fair bit of coordination and a considerable number of forces, which will be spread thin across the system. At the same time, it will allow the insurrectionists to remain in control of Centrepoint Station."
The Emperor hummed deeply. "An unacceptable outcome," he grumbled.
"I agree," Gilkarg continued. "The other option is that we launch our attack on the station itself, as we originally planned. Naturally, this will result in greater casualties for us, but will also provide several benefits. Firstly, it will allow us to secure the station for our own uses. Secondly, it will enable us to effectively control the system anyway and will remove the Five Worlds Liberation Front as a potential threat. And thirdly, it would also provide us with a staging area from which we can launch more attacks on the Inner Rim, and even the Core Worlds themselves!"
The Emperor allowed his good eye to widen at the prospect that the Supreme Commander had just presented to him. It was indeed an exciting one; to be able to launch strikes at the Core Worlds, the very heart of the Galactic Alliance itself! Such an opportunity was far too appealing to simply let it slip through his claws. He allowed his mind to be teased and tantilised by images of Kilrathi fighters and capital ships dropping into orbit over the most vital worlds of their enemies, dropping through the atmosphere, raining blasts onto the surface, like a cleansing fire from above.
Gilkarg saw the excitement in his father's features, and he knew he had just presented himself with the greatest opportunity he could have ever hoped for.
It took a minute for the Emperor to shift his features back into their usual ways; both casual and regal. He leaned back in his stone chair and levelled his steely gaze firmly at Gilkarg once more.
"You know what to do, Kalralahr Gilkarg nar Kiranka," he intoned, enunciating his son's full title. "You will take as many forces as you can manage, you will go to the Corellian system, and you will sieze control of Centrepoint Station for the Kilrathi Empire. You will destroy any who oppose you, and you will show the galaxy the true might of the Kilrathi!"
Gilkarg got back down on his knee, bowing his head, and only just managing to contain the excitement he felt at the prospect.
"But remember," the Emperor continued in a low voice, "that you are my son, and as a result, your actions reflect upon me. You have managed to get by in your career and your life mainly through my good graces." He leaned forward once more. When he spoke again, his voice had a dangerous and threatening edge to it. "But that will not be enough to save you should you falter in this task. If you fail in this undertaking in any way, make no mistake about it; your life is forfeit. And if it were in my power, I would condemn you to Nargrast for all eternity."
Gilkarg knew that his father meant every single word of this threat, and it took every ounce of willpower that he possessed to keep himself from showing even the slightest tremor of fear. He cleared his throat to get rid of the sudden blockage he felt, then spoke again. "Yes, my Lord. Ek'rah skabak erg Thrak'Kilrah maks Rag'nith."
For those of you who are confused about the 'two eights of days' comment at the beginning, allow me to explain: we Humans have five fingers on each hand (including the thumb), thus equalling a total of ten. Because of this, our math system is base ten – we count in tens, hundreds, thousands, millions, etc; all of which are multiples of ten.
The Kilrathi use the same formula, except they possess only four fingers on each hand (again, including the thumb), resulting in a math system of base eight. This means they reach double digits as soon as they get to eight, so the numbers of nine and ten effectively do not exist for them. It would be as if we met an alien with twelve fingers who used base twelve mathematics.
The instance used in this chapter ('two eights of days have passed') would amount to a total of sixteen days by our standards.
Kilrathi glossary:
Nargrast – The hell of Kilrathi mythology. It is believed to be a barren, frozen wasteland where there is nothing to hunt.