McAllister gave Dijjak a chuckle, responding in an I-really-shouldn’t-have-to-explain-this-to-you sort of tone, “What do I think? Um … I think we’ll be the least of your concerns. For starters, I believe you’ve met Master Bek’So?”
From what we can tell, Dijjak felt what could be loosely described as a mixture of pity for such delusional creatures and a sense of satisfying duty at helping to rid the galaxy of their madness; no venrali would be anywhere near enough to Earth to render aid in time, least of all the legendary Master Bek’So. “Of course I’ve met Bek’So, ignorant little ferrshen; earning his personal dislike by name is practically a rite of passage for any aspiring warlord. What does he have to do with thi-?“
As answers to that question go, the sudden emergence from FTL of a few dozen venrali warships is a pretty solid one, especially when said fleet is brandishing an abnormally extensive offensive arsenal.
Another checkmark on the admiral’s clipboard.
Editor’s note:
In a rare demonstration of actual inter-species knowledge, I am surprised that nearly every one of you who calls us about this confirms what you already know; venrali ships, ton for ton, typically have less than a quarter the offensive armament of any other race’s vessels, as they are a deeply defensive species.
The ships in this instance had roughly double that.
Good job. Now stop calling.
As if to entirely eliminate any residual doubt, Dijjak’s viewscreen promptly split in two, with half of its display now devoted to an exceptionally large, navy-blue venrali sporting extensive military decoration, his crab-like features dedicated to efficiently cramming as much disgust as possible into his words. As was customary (per his species’ request), when translated into human languages, his speech was always synthesized with an authoritative, militaristic dialect (Royal British specifically, when translated into English):
“Doom and attrition are upon you, you drooling liars! Today, you perish in your dishonesty!”
Dijjak’s bridge crew visibly winced at the singularly oppressive volume of Bek’So’s introduction, with Nerlin in a near panic as she desperately tried to disengage the audio feed or at least turn it down.
Gratifyingly aware of the acoustic pummeling in progress, Bek’so began reciting a manifesto of sorts that was centuries in the making.
“MESHEL!!
Dijjak, Pokesh, and Soonarin, you witless fleas! This day, we will see the galaxy’s average intelligence increase DRAMATICALLY upon your removal from it!
Hemjokkey! Your deceptions shall now bestow upon you the full weight of their consequences as we rightly stamp your proverbial teeth through your actual skull!
Diyshaar! I will soon have the great relief of finding no reason whatsoever to ever give mind to your misdeeds or those of your father, Diyshaak, or his father, Diyshain, or his father, Diyshamt, or his father, Diyshalk, or …”
Editor’s note:
As is common with older venrali, the length of Bek’So’s litany could best be described as “meticulously obnoxious,” and he wasn’t shy about reciting the whole thing. In his defence, though, when you’ve lived for over 1400 years and have been fighting against several complete bloodlines for over half of that time – and with little chance to get these kinds of things off your chest – you tend to have A LOT to say to their latest generation.
In keeping with the writing style employed thus far, only the portions that were actually heard by Dijjak will be included.
Addendum: if you absolutely must read Bek’so’s entire verbal diatribe, a digital copy is available in our archives, but due to its size, it cannot be reliably transmitted; it must be physically shipped on a purpose-built data unit, and is thus a special-order item only.
Additional addendum: if you want an actual paper copy, you must read and follow Appendix 27: Printed venrali death threats and applicable resource laws. Completing that task will not only answer ANY questions you have on this topic, but will also qualify you as a junior-level legal assistant in all human-venrali embassies.
Additional additional addendum: completing Appendix 27 will also entitle you to a one-local-year discount (roughly fourteen Earth months) at the “Eret’Vollane Premium Port & Polish” chain of starship maintenance yards. Don’t ask.
At that moment, instead of the thunderous assault being lavishly doled out, Dijjak’s ears were filled only with a solid ringing and the sound of Nerlin’s frantic breathing, frantic muttering, frantic … everything, really, even her sweating. Turning to administer a glare to cancel all of her MEALS until further notice, Dijjak beheld an expression of shock and bewilderment on her face as she lifted her finger off a button on her panel, saying, “… THAT … worked?!” Noticing that she was on the verge of being terminally looked at by her warlord, she tried – still frantically – to concoct a less suicidal report on the situation, “S-sir! Wa-warlord! M-m-m-my control panel has somehow been sabojac-overtage-hiturn-GAH!!! It’s bipola– I mean it’s BYPASSED! I-I-I-I have no control! I-I-I-I don’t know how it– who di– what hap–?!”
Through no fault of his own, Admiral McAllister effectively rescued her when he mockingly congratulated Dijjak at a mercifully reasonable volume, “Wow, does Master Bek’so know ALL of your names? Now that’s special! Just how far back do you guys go?”
Then, before Dijjak could respond, McAllister sounded almost concerned as he added, “Oh, but seriously, you really need to wipe your mouths; you may have noticed that even Master Bek’so felt compelled to say something.”
At this point, Dijjak felt that his patience and elevated status had been sufficiently demonstrated, “Enough of these insults! You and your cursed kishen friends will flee or be destroyed; we will delay no longer!”
He then opened a channel at his command podium to his forces, “Warlord Dijjak to all ships: proceed to Earth and, as was agreed by all clans present, enjoy a full, system-wide Weshkell!”
Editor’s note:
For an in-depth explanation of a Weshkell, see Appendix 19: Anomalous instances of katneral societal wisdom.
We both know you won’t do that, though, so here’s the simple version:
- No non-verbal infighting
- All plunder is shared, as is all credit for noteworthy deeds.
- No prisoners taken and no offers of surrender accepted.
In practice, it usually means they actually cooperate instead of constantly sabotaging each other, which in turn means the target’s odds of survival are roughly equivalent to those of a fresh meatlovers pizza in a frat house on game night.
A moment after Dijjak finished, his tactical officer Habsh reported, “Sir, I don’t think they caught that.” Indeed, the whole time Dijjak had been speaking, McAllister had had a confused look on his face, and he kept looking off to the side, pointing at his viewscreen.
McAllister followed right behind, “Sorry, we didn’t hear that. Hang on a sec,” as he reached over to a console and started pressing buttons.
Meanwhile, Dijjak turned to Habsh and growled, “I don’t care if those puny koashen are fully clueless or only nearly so! Why would you bother me wi-“
In keeping with established protocol, McAllister interrupted, “Sorry, could you repeat that last message?”
The admiral noticed in artificial horror as his request was delivered at such volume as to give every member of Dijjak’s bridge crew a thoroughly wind-battered look.
“Sorry, wrong button!”
Same volume again.
As the admiral somehow maintained his fa?ade of severe remorse and started pressing more buttons on his console, the warlord commanded his bridge crew:
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Helm, keep us at the head of our forces, let none surpass us!”
“Tactical, ready all defenses and weapons; set them for human contact levels plus ten percent! Have Meshel and his hunters deal with the kishen Bek’So and his filth! And keep your chatter clear of rubbish!”
“Bartender, prepare to commence standard battle rounds for all senior officers on the bridge except comms!”
“Chronicler, make sure you feature me in at least 20% of all footage! Watch for choice moments to captur-“
Habsh felt he should clarify, “Warlord, I was referring to our own forces earlier; I don’t think they received your commands.”
“What? Why not?!”
“None of them have moved, and their weapons and defenses are only at standby levels, sir.”
Editor’s note:
Many of you rightly wondered why the other katneral hadn’t attacked by now, or why Dijjak didn’t just charge forward and expect the others to join him.
Well, the answer is quite poetic, and is a good reminder of why you humans chose us as your primary collaborators.
Due to a combination of his own self-centeredness and our influence, one of Dijjak’s most adamant demands during the planning for the attack on Earth was that no attack would commence without his explicit VERBAL command; this was to feed his desire for power and glory as well as the opportunity to have a truly epic moment in the footage in which he dramatically orders the “Attack!”
Dijjak started turning VERY slowly to face Nerlin, who in turn was staring blankly right through her quite non-transparent panel, mumbling softly about how truly unfair life could be. Given that she was going to be punished for the failure of a channel she hadn’t tried to open, she had in all likelihood become convinced that the universe itself was utterly determined to destroy her that very day.
Once again, in a moment of extreme graciousness, McAllister saved her life with a fresh twist, his tone now carrying an air of mild condescension, though at a humane volume, “Sorry, Warlord, I have no idea what you were saying just a second ago, but it looked to me like you were upset and were giving battle commands, correct? Now, don’t be too hasty, let’s not start the party until everyone has arrived, yes? We wouldn’t want to be rude, hmm?”
From the expression on his face, the stiffness of his fur, and the positions of his ears and upper lip, one could easily surmise that Dijjak was trying to decide what angered him more: that he was apparently unable to speak to his forces at that time, or that he currently could not NOT talk to Admiral McAllister.
While he allowed himself a moment to fume over this, Habsh announced a rapidly-approaching complication, “Sir, more incoming FTL signals! They’re … they’re huge!”
“Well, out with it! Just how large a fleet are you seeing?”
“No, sir, definitely not a fleet; I’m only seeing a small … there are three ships, sir, but they’re enormous!”
Dijjak quickly sifted through his encyclopedic knowledge of warships in the known galaxy and he quickly eliminated all possibilities except one, “Wait … they wouldn’t … !”
And then, in a truly unprecedented show of force, THREE TISHARI WARSHIPS ARRIVED!!
Historic checkmark.
Editor’s note:
Judging from the call history of our service department, it’s a safe bet that you haven’t the slightest clue why that matters, so I’ll save us all some trouble – and a pile of antacids – by explaining.
The tishari completely control over a dozen systems and have various installations in many more, and their logistics, resources, and technology are such that they could easily field vast, well-rounded battlefleets. For societal and neurochemical reasons, though, they instead focus all of that capacity into exactly eight gigantic warships, no more and no less. They also exclusively (and very effectively) use orbital platforms and starbases for system defence, meaning that these leviathans are purely for offense and in that role, they have no equal nor even a close rival; there is no record of ANY target, be it a ship, a city, or anyone’s ego, that has survived a volley from one of these behemoths.
They are deployed very carefully, as they rely heavily on their cataclysmic alpha strike to offset their abysmal defences, and thus it is rare to see one outside of tishari space and live to tell about it; seeing more than one at a time anywhere at all, never mind survival, is all but unheard of.
As such, you can probably imagine that seeing three – seriously, let that sink in: THREE of the eight apocalyptic tishari monsters – pointed at you in particular would lead all but the most deluded of fools to wonder if maybe, just MAYBE, you may have gotten just a wee bit carried away.
As with the arrival of the venrali, Dijjak’s viewscreen was again re-arranged almost immediately and without his permission, now adding the stocky, badger-like appearance of Lady Cabben on the bridge of the rightly-dreaded tishari flagship, the Witness Now The Full Depth Of Your Failure. Like Master Bek’So, Lady Cabben started naming names right away, but that’s all she said. Each of the five names was said slightly more slowly, deliberately, and quietly than the last, and with each one, the rest of the tishari crew – and, it seemed, the ship itself – grew quieter.
“Penkalliss of the Frenzied Sneer.
Lukin of the Bloodied Maw.
Dukar of the Unseen Stalker.
Dijjak of the Hooded Claw.”
And the last one was practically ground out through clenched teeth, “Meshel of the Dawn Hunter.”
And with that, there was a total and profound silence from the tishari.
Editor’s note:
Again, to save us both some trouble and hair loss, I’ll clarify for you.
Normally, the audible component of tishari communication is absurdly rapid (even while they’re listening attentively) but for neurochemical reasons, it slows with extreme anger. Actual, full-on silence from a tishari means one of three things:
- They didn’t hear you, but with their hearing, I wouldn’t count on this one.
- They’re aggressively ignoring you, which is probably your best-case scenario, sadly.
- They’re about ready to end you, and … well, frankly, that’s the most likely one.
Dijjak would have known full well what the tishari were effectively saying to him, but he was likely also aware that allowing themselves to be seen in this way before striking would probably be extremely unnerving for their crew, so he decided to test their resolve, “… yes? Is your audio feed broken? All those guns and not a working transmitter among them? How about a shield projector, or did you forget that too again?”
There were a few nervous laughs from his bridge crew, but that was abruptly ended by Cabben when she robotically extended one arm and dropped a small piece of metal on the floor. In doing so, she proved that their audio transmission was indeed quite functional, since it allowed the katneral to essentially hear a pin drop …
… if by “pin”, you mean freight train …
… dropped from orbit onto another freight train loaded with nitroglycerin …
… during Mardi Gras under a full moon.
For the next seventeen seconds, Dijjak’s head was fully convinced that it was nestled in the warm embrace of a pair of premium body pillows, rendering him only distantly aware of shouting, multiple gunshots, several minor explosions, and finally, a hearty koussal from everyone around him.
Editor’s note:
A koussal is the katneral equivalent of applause, and is best described (for a human) as a combination of a coyote howl, a pig squeal, and a full-bodied drunken Serbian belch.
As his senses got their jurisdictions sorted out again, Dijjak became aware of three very concerning developments on his bridge:
- Every wall panel looked as though it had been thrown off a cliff at least once and then re-installed, and some additionally had large, sparking holes in them.
- In the middle of the bridge was what appeared to be a piece of the bridge computer that looked like it had personally insulted the head of the Yakuza from about ten feet away.
- His whole bridge crew seemed positively thrilled about all this and were celebrating with their sidearms drawn.
Seeing the concern on his face, Habsh excitedly explained, “Warlord, Nerlin figured out what was going on with our comms! Someone installed hidden speakers all around the bridge that were isolated from our control, but Nerlin traced the incoming commands and found them, and we shot them all to pieces! She also found the signal inhibitor and, well,“ he added with a laugh and a nod toward the remains in the middle of the bridge, “we returned the favour!”
Dijjak would have known that not recognizing and rewarding important contributions by subordinates – even when you’re ready to throttle them – was an effective means of discouraging said efforts, and this had been the downfall of many a warlord. He therefore announced, “Bartender, amend my previous orders; prepare standard battle rounds for ALL senior bridge staff, BUT FIRST, a shot of kutch each for Comms Officer Nerlin and one crew member of her choice!”
Editor’s note:
To this day, I find it paradoxically disheartening that despite there being no explanation given, none of you have ever called us to inquire what “kutch” is.
Of all the things and concepts in these chronicles that are foreign to you, KUTCH is the only one that instinctively makes sense to you.
Seriously, how did your species ever make it off your planet?
It was customary to choose either the ship’s captain or one’s direct superior on such occasions, but Nerlin had visibly aged about fourteen years during the previous twenty minutes, so her response was a taste of triumph on the verge of a nervous breakdown, “I choose Comms Officer Nerlin, and leave the bottle!”
The entire bridge went deathly silent for a moment.
It then filled with roaring laughter, and they all cheered when she downed both shots in one gulp.
Admiral McAllister, however, was not laughing, but appeared more disappointed than anything as he sighed, “You couldn’t even wait just a few more minutes for everyone else to arrive, could you? Nothing but a bunch of childish hooligans, the lot o’ you!”
His sense of control renewed, Dijjak calmly and happily retorted, “First off, we don’t answer to you, little ferrshen; the party starts when WE say it starts.” That got a cheer out of his crew. “Secondly, I admit that I’m impressed at the tishari being here, but you and I both know they’ll die quickly along with all your friends if they don’t leave. Thirdly, I … wait, why is this comms line even open? Nerlin, please mute him so I ca-”
Once again, Habsh chimed in, “Warlord, another round of incoming FTL signals! Apologies, I can’t be more specific than that yet … I… I can’t get a clear reading for some reason …”
McAllister decided to do the neighbourly thing and kept them informed, “Oh, Lady Cabben and I agree that the tishari definitely would not fare well in this situation, so what you’re seeing is the solution on its way,” and he finished with an excited nod and smile.