The king called up his jet fighters

He said you better earn your pay

Drop your bombs between the minarets

Down the Casbah way

As soon as the Sharif was

Chauffeured outta there

The jet pilots tuned to

The cockpit radio blare

As soon as the Sharif was

Out of their hair

The jet pilots wailed

The Clash - “Rock the Casbah”

The projected four days to assemble the Khonhim fleet had stretched to five, and then seven before Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz pronounced it ready. Given how badly the Task Force had been mauled at Gzuj he was taking no chances, pulling in every ship available to give them an even greater edge.

But the time had come, and they could wait no longer.

In truth he was glad for this chance, to take to the ships once more and battle. For twenty years he had led his people into a new future, weaning them from the Path of War. The two failed attempts to conquer the old Triumvirate and new Human foes had both ended in disaster for the Khonhim and once he had reclaimed the title of Dhyaksh from the late and unlamented Chugaz Uydan, he realized his people must change if they were to survive.

It had not been an easy process, and it was still far from complete. But the Tetrarchy had kept their promise, helping to rebuild the worlds shattered during the war, and by doing so had given the Khonhim pause. Seeing the races they had feared and hated for millennia give their all to aid and assist their people had caused many to reconsider their long-held beliefs, and Jiyazh had done everything in his power to encourage that. Though they still had far to go, he grew more confident with each passing day that this new path they had chosen was the correct one.

His own deputy was proof of that. Chikkij Kowzhach had been a child when the last war had ended and had grown up embracing the new realities. She was an intelligent and occasionally brilliant administrator, much better suited for the world he was trying to build...but not a warrior. Jiyazh knew if forced to fight she would acquit herself, but her blood did not cry out for battle as his did. In his heart, he knew his people would need her, and those like her, in the years to come. Should he fall, she would lead the transition to the next Dhyaksh, and he had done all that he could to ensure they would name her as his successor.

But today, it was the old warriors like himself that were being called upon to save the Khonhim race, as it had been in the past. There was comfort knowing that his kind was not yet obsolete.

“I wish I was going with you,” Chikkij said, as he prepared to board the ship he had chosen to carry his banner, Harbinger.

“I am glad you are not,” he told her. “The Khonhim will have need of you, and those like you, in the long years to come.”

She shook her head. “Your people still require their Dhyaksh. I expect to see you return when your mission is complete, so I urge you to remember your duties, and not do anything foolish.”

“Foolish? I?” He grinned at that. “What would give you that impression?”

“Every tale told by your adoring legions, to start,” she snorted.

“Bah...you cannot trust war stories told by old men deep in their cups,” he chuckled. “Lies and exaggerations, all of them.”

“Ah...then it must have been another Jiyazh Ghuuyaz that led his warriors when they boarded Resolve, during that final battle,” she smirked. “Are you certain it was not you that fought their way through the hanger bay, taunting Death at every turn?”

“Of course not,” he grinned. “Whoever did such a thing must have been a far greater fool than I ever dreamed of being.”

“No doubt,” she observed, before placing a hand on his arm. “I am serious, Dhyaksh. Your people need you yet. Do not rob them of your leadership.”

“Leadership comes in many forms,” he reminded her, “and sometimes...it also requires sacrifice.” He held up his hand before she could object. “I assure you; I am in no hurry to perform such an act. But until I return, I charge you with the safety and security of our people.”

Chikkij Kowzhach bowed at his words. “I will endeavor to lead as you have trained me, Dhyaksh. The Khonhim people will notice no difference in your absence.”

“No,” he said, catching her off guard. “You must make your own decisions...even if they differ from mine. For that is the mark of a true leader.”

“...it shall be as you say,” she murmured, as he clasped her shoulder.

“I never doubted it,” he smiled, as he boarded his ship.

Perhaps I should have heeded her warning, after all, Jiyazh mused, as the fleet neared Gzuj. Long-range scans showed a planet far different than the one he remembered, with new orbital structures in place and a flurry of activity on the surface. Despite their repeated attempts there was no communication from the system, either by the invaders or from fellow Khonhim caught behind the lines. Either they were somehow jamming any attempts to make contact, or…

...or there are no Khonhim left alive on the planet, his mind whispered, giving voice to the thoughts he had tried hard to deny. Before he could chase down and throttle that errant notion a chime pulled him from his reveries. He tapped the icon on his display, as Azhum Ganakh appeared on the screen, calling him from Vanguard.

“All is ready, Dhyaksh,” he informed him. “We may begin our attack at your command.”

“I do not suppose I could convince you to exchange roles?” he grinned, earning a scowl from his subordinate.

“Chikkij Kowzhach would have me flayed alive were I to place you in danger,” he shot back. “I must therefore decline.”

“How poorly you know my deputy,” Jiyazh chuckled. “She would never touch a blade if she punished you...though you might wish she had. No, I suspect she would do far, far worse. Perhaps requiring you to complete all the forms pursuant to an investigation into the details of my demise...in triplicate...followed by weeks of testimony before a panel. In a public forum, of course.” His grin grew wider as Azhum shuddered.

“I would rather have the flesh stripped from my bones and served to me as my last meal,” he grumbled, “but since I have no intention of allowing you near the planet, we need not worry.”

Jiyazh sighed. “I could order you, but then I would face my deputy’s wrath. Very well...begin your attack, Azhum Ganakh,” he said at last, as his subordinate smiled.

“Victory will soon be ours,” he vowed, as he disappeared from the screen.

The fleet assumed attack formation as it began its run, presenting a broad front to the enemy that allowed them to bring all their weapons to bear. With Azhum Ganakh in direct control of the fleet during the attack, Jiyazh found his role relegated to that of an observer, which chafed far worse than he had imagined. Still, at least he was here, and not on another system light-years away.

Given that the enemy’s forces were in orbit over Gzuj, had hoped to open far at long range. It pinned them, with nowhere to go, which should have ceded him the advantage. Given the strength of their beam weapons, however, the only way they could defeat them was to overwhelm their defenses...and that meant getting in close.

Assuming they gave them the chance, of course.

The Dhyaksh held his breath as the fleet entered medium range, and he could only wonder why the enemy had not yet opened fire. He had the range, so what was he waiting for?

As they neared close range, Azhum Ganakh could wait no longer. “All ships…Fire!” he shouted, as the fleet exploded with a swarm of missiles thick enough to blot out the sun. Every ship had gone to rapid-fire to give those terrible beams far more things to shoot at than they could manage...and if they concentrated on the missiles they would not be firing at the ships.

Thousands of missiles screamed towards the enemy forces, who replied with those same beams, tearing great holes into their swarm. How can they throw around that much energy? he wondered as the Khonhim fired a second wave, close on the heels of the first.

The enemy did not seem to panic. Their beam weapons shredded the incoming missiles with deadly accuracy just as they had before when Azhum Ganakh’s image appeared on his display. “We are still too far out,” he snarled, as the fleet fired a third wave. “If we are to have any chance of swamping their defenses, we must get closer!”

The risks were great, and both knew it. But they had not come this far to turn tail and run, so with great reluctance, Jiyazh nodded his assent. “Do what you must,” the Dhyaksh ordered, as Azhum acknowledged the command. “Gzuj will be ours once again,” he vowed, as he took the fleet in.

The missiles began having an effect as they drew nearer to the planet. They still died by the thousands, but here and there enemy installations began to explode in balls of flame, under the weight of fire they were throwing at them. Jiyazh held his breath as they pressed their attack home. Surely the enemy would fall now!

In fact...the enemy had other plans.

As the Khonhim closed in, Gzuj seemed to blaze with light, the enemy beams doubling in number and strength...and then doubling again. Jiyazh stared in horror as they tore apart the fleet, screaming into the mic to pull out, to escape, to flee for their very lives...but far too few ships survived long enough under that withering fire to obey his frantic command.

Vanguard, with Azhum Ganakh at the helm, was not one of them.