Scars
© 2021 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  rabbi-tom


The Pilot glanced from their console to the tactical plot. “Entering the Wangguan System, Gartabin. Transponders running.”

“Very good,” Varan said. “Communications?”

The kam replied, “System traffic control is acknowledging us. We are directed to the following coordinates to rendezvous with the rest of Cruiser Division Six.” A small white dot appeared in the holographic map, and the Pilot altered course. “Further message from the division commander, Frelen-min k’Daridh, inviting all captains and command-seconds to a meeting prior to dinner.”

It was traditional. Varan gestured affirmatively. “Please acknowledge, Communications, and let the Admiral know that Subcaptain th’Ner and I will attend.”

“Understood, Gartabin.”

Varan settled back in her command chair, watching as the Bōank, still in hyperspace, moved across the system’s ecliptic to the division’s staging area. The smaller ships that had accompanied it from Point Mu diverged from the course, moving to their own staging areas. On her repeater, she enlarged the view of the planet, and her ears went back.

The locals had started calling it The Scar, a huge crater that had once been one of the many Terran settlements on the planet until someone had detonated an antimatter charge under the arcology. The death toll, in shlani and Terrans, had been quite high. The crater extended below the local aquifer, and the floor of the depression was already awash. There had been talk of rebuilding the settlement elsewhere and preserving the crater as a memorial.

Terrans didn’t have eidetic memories, so such things were required.

Varan recalled Wangguan and the battle around it, knowing that Lalande was a mere double handful of kīvarmi away from this system.

The memories were there, but their fangs had been drawn and their claws blunted.

The cruiser outphased at a discreet distance from the rest of the cruisers in its new division, with a small group of maintenance vessels moving toward it to provide resources if any repairs were needed. Several more cruisers came out of hyperspace shortly afterward, filling out the full thirteen-ship roster.

The Communications Officer cocked his head at his earpiece. “Admiral k’Daridh aboard the Terzhin XXX is sending a bendār to all ships, Gartabin.”

Varan gestured. “Understood. Duty Officer, you have command until Subcaptain th’Ner and I return.” The vir stood and left the Command Section as the Duty Officer sat down.

Th’Ner met her at the airlock as the shuttle docked. “Have you ever met Admiral k’Daridh?” he asked as they took their seats. The flight crew began to cycle the locks closed.

“I haven’t,” Varan admitted, “but I’ve heard of her. She had an impressive record of enemy ships in the early part of the hostilities.”

Th’Ner agreed. “She made Admiral-Second in almost record time for her aggression and tactical efficiency.” He smiled. “Someone to learn from, would you agree?”

Varan laughed softly. “Yes, indeed. Not necessarily emulate, though; I hope we remain at peace for many years.” She gave him a sidelong look. “Are you changing your mind?”

The kam laughed. “No. I’m still retiring.”

“Aka, I had to ask – and I am going to reserve a hall on the Support station for a party.”

“I’m honored.”

“You deserve it.”

The Terzhin XXX was an older ship than the Bōank but of the same general characteristics. It showed a remarkable amount of hull repairs for a divisional flagship, however; clearly, Admiral k’Daridh preferred to lead her ships from the front. Varan had heard of a few commanders like that.

Usually in after action reports, as casualties.

The interior of the cruiser was like her own ship, maximized for crew comfort and amenities in accordance with standard Imperial design imperatives. The layout was different, however, and the vir found herself looking around as she and th’Ner were escorted to the conference room. It wouldn’t do to get lost on the way back to their shuttle.

Several of her fellow captains were already present, and drinks and snacks were available. The meeting was meant to get everyone acquainted; any tactical data was secondary since the fleet wasn’t in an actively hostile mode.

Everyone in the room stood and saluted as the captain of the Terzhin and Admiral k’Daridh entered. Varan couldn’t help staring, and she was not the only one.

The left side of Vesan k’Daridh’s face was missing fur in random patches, the exposed skin a mass of ropy scar tissue that dragged the left corner of her mouth upward in a frowning rictus. The left sleeve of her uniform tunic hung loose and empty from the shoulder, with the fabric pinned up to the shoulder to display her rank flash. Her bright yellow eyes appeared undamaged, but her left ear was shorter than the right.

For a fraction, nearly everyone in the room was staring at her, speechless.

“Be at ease, everyone,” and ears flicked. With all of the visible damage, one could have assumed that her vocal cords would have suffered as well. However, her voice, although it had a slightly rough edge to it, was almost melodious to Kashlanin ears. “I am pleased to meet all of you,” and the scarring on her mouth gave her an odd half-smile. “I am Frelen-min k’Daridh, the division commander.”

The others blinked at her before realizing that she was waiting expectantly, and offered their own introductions to her as she made her way around the room. “Varan g’Raf, of Bōank,” Varan said.

“Aka, g’Raf,” and k’Daridh smiled widely. “I was very pleased to see that you had requested transfer to the Second Fleet.” Varan’s ears flicked and the Admiral said, “I have heard good things about you, and you are a young and aggressive commander.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” K’Daridh moved on to another officer, and Varan caught herself taking far too large a swallow of her henal as she usually did. Fortunately, there was plenty laid out.

For several fractions, there was some rather forced talk, with more than one shlan glancing at the new commander’s ruined features. Finally Varan spoke up. “Excuse me, Ma’am.”

“Ulnt, Gartabin?”

Aka, she said I was aggressive, Varan thought, let’s see what she makes of this. “I was wondering about your injuries.” At her blunt statement, a few others glanced in her direction.

K’Daridh chuckled. “You wonder why I haven’t taken regen therapy or morphosurgery?”

“Yes.”

“I did, but only to a certain extent – my eyes, ear and larynx.” She favored her empty left sleeve with a long look. “These are honorable wounds, gained in battle. Quite a number of shlani are remembered in these wounds, Captain g’Raf, and when shlani see them and ask, I will tell them about those who fell in battle.” She smiled. “I was injured at Xinjia, my ship nearly destroyed. I was very fortunate to have lost only my arm, when so many lost their lives.” She held up her own glass of henal. “Let us drink to those who have been lost. May we honor their memory.”

The others murmured similar sentiments, and drank.