Field Marshall Tanya Von Degurechaff
World Unknown, New Berun
I wasn't sure I made the right decision today. A rare thing for me to think, but as I looked across the field of corpses and the recovered weaponry of the animal-headed attackers, I was deeply worried about that possibility.
My responsibility lay with the people of Berun, millions of people, and we had no real defensive preparations. We had plenty of soldiers and arms, but a raid like this up against our vulnerable perimeter could kill hundreds through panic alone.
And here I was taking foolish actions against an unknown foe, making myself an enemy that I knew nothing about. I didn't like killing for butchery's sake, but what had I gained from helping a pre-industrial nomadic society? Sure, morally speaking, I'd stand by my actions, but I was a Field Marshall, morally speaking, I also shouldn't go starting wars at all if I could help it.
This put me in a bit of a situation.
As I sat on a rock while my men did the best they could to treat the wounded, I had to wonder how to turn this to my best advantage. I'd put myself in a position where I had now saved a tribe from extermination, and they were now calling me the "Messiah". Other than making my skin crawl, I'd failed to get any more information out of them.
The big problem was they weren't speaking Arabic or any sort of language I knew, although it sounded very similar. So I'd summoned some of the language doctorates back in New Berun to get over here ASAP. I thought I caught a word here and there as they talked with each other and tried to help my men as best they could with the wounded.
There was a group near me, locked in prayer up to the heavens, but other than that, I had no idea what they were saying. I could read and write Germanian, could understand Francois if I listened closely, and knew how to order a drink in Benelux. In my first life, my English was conversational at best, and the only reason I still knew katakana, hiragana, and kanji was diligent practice once a year when I went on holiday. I had bits and pieces of a few other languages. But other than vaguely Arabic sounding, I knew nothing.
"Something wrong, Ma'am?" Weiss asked, sitting on the rock next to me.
I chewed my lip, "I made a mistake. Kicking myself for not thinking this through." I idly said more to myself than anything else, "Any idea on what they're saying?"
Weiss breathed out and shook his head, politely ignoring my self-doubt, "Nothing much verbally. I get the feeling these people are used to this and that this is just one tragedy of many."
I leaned back, "We don't understand enough about these people to know what we've stepped into. When will Captain Meybert get here with the trucks?"
Major Weiss shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine. It's what, fifty miles across untamed wilderness via truck? Probably within the hour if he found some good deer trails, days if he has to cut his way here. Longer if he has a full load on their backs. Longer, if it rains and washes out any good trails."
I looked up to the tumultuous sky, as clouds gathered and swirled, "Welp… Great." I noted. I could only hope the old artillery commander would be here sooner or later, he'd gone through it all back in the various campaigns, the Rasputitsa, the mud of Verdun, the aerial bombardment of Allied aircraft, the stunningly effective American counter battery.
He'd get here. He'd get here.
Other than Weiss, Captain Ahrens, and Lieutenant Wüstemann, Meybert was one of my most trusted colleagues. A lot of men I'd come to respect over the last few years, and now I probably just tossed them into a new war.
Looking at Weiss, I lingered for a solemn moment, "I'm going to have to deal with a lot of questions back home. Everyone's going to have one."
He shrugged "You did the right thing. Yes, it may not have been the smart thing, but that's why we trust you."
"You think that now," I shook my head, "but let's see if you're still saying that a few months from now, when who knows what comes over the horizon."
Weiss shrugged, unconvinced of my pessimism, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Far as I'm concerned, we did the right thing, and the right thing will see us through. We did the right thing throughout the war, the legal thing, and what did the universe repay us with?"
"A siege, which was going to see us all die," I announced automatically.
Weiss frowned and shook his head, "You found a way for us to escape to a paradise full of new opportunities. Yes, we aren't as prepared as we really should have been, but what was the alternative? I'm not worried about it, I'm sure of that. Now that we know that there are people on this planet, we might have a bit of a problem."
"Great. It's going to be homesteading all over again, just like the American West." I groused.
"Oh, and that was bad?" Weiss asked ignorantly. I sometimes forgot that I was dealing with people who remembered the opportunities the Wild West gave and didn't care about those trampled and murdered to have them.
I looked over but said nothing. Instead, I unscrewed my canteen. My thoughts were dark right at this moment, but at least Weiss had sparked a few flickers to keep me going, "What's your take on the captured energy weapons?"
Weiss sucked into a cheek and squeaked, "Grants did some testing on the side. A lot of it is garbage. I don't know much about weapons like these, but he says they shoot an energy ball that's visually impressive and likely very dangerous to unshielded people but is archaic to the point that he thinks it's deliberate. There's a big staff that you can shoot from the hip or shoulder, and neither are really comfortable. The other thing he found is that electricity gun, he didn't want to test it on people, but he said that at least fits into the palm of your hand and is generally accurate."
Grants' clear voice nearly made me jump, "The staff is very inaccurate and slow firing. Slow enough to be dodged at range."
I turned in my seat to look at the man, "Good, we're going to need every advantage we can get. Anything else you've learned? Maybe figured out what kind of armor they're wearing? It seemed pretty decent."
Grants shrugged, "It's armor plates over chainmail. I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm not exactly a metallurgist. It's metal, and that's all I know. When we pulled the plates off them, we saw that most of the rounds we fired into them did their job and penetrated, with often pretty nasty exit wounds. I think it's the people themselves. They all have a pouch with worms in them. All the locals were killing those worms as soon as they tried to slither out, and are burning bodies with torches." He looked sheepish for a moment, "I don't blame them ma'am, the worms gave me a bad feeling."
I raised an eyebrow at that, "Alright, take me to the bodies, let's see what's so impressive about them." He nodded and led me to where we had piled up most of the bodies in preparation for incineration.
My men who weren't able to provide medical aide were going through the bodies, stripping them of their usable equipment, much to the visible worry of the natives around them. The natives gave way when I marched through, mustering as much confidence and power in each step that I could.
The first body I examined was a lion-headed commander. Grants got down on one knee and indicated injuries and killing blows, pulling the plate away to show the bruising, contusions, and bullet holes. The armor had protected him, but we had been firing rifle cartridges, and what would have stopped pistol rounds dead and slowed intermediate assault rifle rounds, the full bore rifle rounds had done their gruesome work. Despite that, it looked like coagulation and healing had been near instant, a worrying development.
"Strange." I said aloud
Grants nodded in agreement, "And here's the pouch." He indicated with a long stick, so my eye caught some sort of scar on his stomach. It was a flush "X" on the stomach, like some marsupial flap slightly dilated to show a worm or snake half emerged and seemingly dead.
"Some kind of surgery, you think? Some sort of symbiot?" Weiss suggested. That didn't seem likely, but there was always one way to find out. Reaching out to the dead man's arm, I pulled off his metal glove and vambrace. It was oversized for my petite limb, but I ignored it as I inserted my armored hand into the pouch and felt around. I grabbed hold of the tail of the worm half sticking out and pulled it free, firmly gripping the slimy thing. No blood emerged from the pouch, and we got to see the worm close up, "This is... something I don't understand." Weiss admitted, and I couldn't help but agree.
Around us, the superstitious locals were murmuring and growing agitated at the sight of the worm in my hand. Best not whip it around for just anyone to see, "Get me a jar, we'll study this thing later when we have no witnesses."
Grants nodded his head before saying, "Could it be some sort of ritualized body modification? Maybe they do this to keep something secret inside of them."
"Maybe, but now's not the time for speculation." I answered, putting the thing into a jar, "Whatever it is, the locals don't like it, and these hostiles look human except for that pouch. Good enough reason for us to be wary."
"Continue the operation. Once we get all the equipment off of them, I want them burned. I don't want to risk it with these things. If the locals are using long sticks to kill the worms, then do the same, don't let them touch your bare skin, alive or dead."
"Yes, Field Marshall." Grant and Weiss agreed with a salute as Weiss moved to my bodyguards and Grants to his patrol group. I looked curiously into the jar before shrugging and putting it in my satchel bag.
I was absorbed with the process of ensuring it wouldn't shatter should the worst happen, so much so that when I looked back up, an elderly man with a long beard, a strange hat, and a carved wooden staff peered at me curiously. He spoke in his native tongue, and I sighed and crossed my arms, "I don't understand you. We likely have thousands, if not tens of thousands, of years of linguistic drift between our two peoples." I explained in Germanian.
The man paused for a moment before saying in extremely accented English, "Do you perhaps know the language of the gods?"
I blinked slowly. Well well, my college English courses in my first life were paying off unexpectedly, "Unbelievably, yes apparently." Everyone looked over at me.
Weiss spoke first, saying, "Wait, Field Marshall, you speak Brittanian?" I slowly looked at everyone, and I fought to make myself blush.
Clearing my throat, I lied, speaking defensively, "I really like the Buckaroo Saga, and hated the Germanian translation." I kept my arms crossed, "So I learned Brittanian on the side while reading the books." The Buckaroo Saga was a series of nonfiction historical dramas set in the Unified States' Wild West Era about twenty years ago. The publisher was headquartered in Brazilia, so they got around the copyright blockade when the Unified States joined the war.
I hadn't actually read them past the first two books, both in Germanian when I was in the orphanage. But the lie would hold for now.
There was a general murmur from everyone around me, the locals and my men now. Some had the smug smiles of learning a mildly embarrassing secret from a social superior. Weiss had the look of "Oh" when I talked about the Wild West earlier. The locals resumed their worshipful chants.
"Good, good. Whatever you may call it, I guess we are linked in that regard to being plagued by the terrible snakes." Being X, his accent was atrocious, but I guess I should be grateful we could even have a dialogue. Damn you Being X, "I am Adlai, I am the priest of our commune." Adlai titled his head, trying to read my rank badges and uniform, "You come from the gate, correct? You come from the gate of the stars?"
I stared at the man for a long time before concluding that lying would get me nowhere, "Yes, we came through the gate of the stars."
The man clapped his hands and bowed, "Wonderful. You match the legends."
My hand slowly reached up to pinch my nose, "Legends?" I limply asked, knowing I would regret it.
"Old stories from the ancient times when we were first brought to this world as slaves by the Gua'uld. In those old legends, the people of that first world, the Tau'Ri, would come and liberate us in a grand revolt from the Gua'Uld, just like they had done on the mythical homeworld of Aegypta! Freeing our people from thousands of years of terror. They would come, and we would know they are foreign by their dress and manner, led by a young man who had lived many lives!"
Oh no, "Let me guess, this legend refers to this person, or people, as the Messiah?"
"Yes!" the old man cried, now starting to openly weep, and using his beard to brush away the tears, "And you match these legends. People from our world do not have pale skin like you or blue eyes, and I've never seen a person with golden hair that matches the fields and plains. You are, as we call, Asgardian, of the mythical Aesir, who had long been enemies of the Gua'uld!"
My skin turned clammy at that declaration that I had lived "many lives" but no one could know or figure that out, but this prophecy seemed easy to dispel, "Not to disparage you, old man, but I'm not male."
"You're not?" He leaned in and squinted, and stepped up to poke my chest, "I guess you're not." He stepped back and bowed when I gave him a dirty look, "Apologies for the intrusion into your space. My eyes are not what they once were, but the old legends are greatly embellished from time and speaker. If you forgive me, perhaps we are taking the cart before the horse. We have not even asked which star you dance around."
I bit my lip and held my hands up in a disarming manner, "I am not the Messiah. I'm just a military commander for my people. We fled through the gate to escape enemies on…" I took a deep breath, "Earth. A world, I know for a fact, is the birthplace of humanity." I couldn't lie to him, he was going to be working wth my anthropologists back in New Berun. They'd tell him that truth anyways." But I needed to dissuade him, "I don't want to depress you or your people, but we're not exactly what you think, we're not a pure and perfect people. In fact, we have just concluded a world-spanning war amongst ourselves, I doubt we have the ability or will to destroy these 'Gua'uld'. My loyalty and purpose lie with my people whom I brought through the gate, and we intend to leave in less than a year." I chewed my lower lip, "You and your people would be free to join us back through the gate, to freedom, to safety."
The elderly man simply stared at me before saying, "The old legends do not imply that the Messiah would be the greatest and purest of people, just that they would free us from the slavery we now exist in. If you so wish to deny your messianic status, then so be it, but fate often comes to those who seek to avoid it." He wiped away the last of his tears, "Regardless of what you say, I chose to believe, even if it's my last act in this world. Give that to an old man, please."
I sighed, "Alright, as long as you're not expecting me to do anything in particular." I looked around for a more comfortable place to sit besides a rock, "Please, let us sit and discuss, I'm sure you have many questions, since I certainly have some."
I didn't expect him to have many satisfying answers, but any answers would be good in this situation. A pair of villagers brought in some collapsable wooden stools, and we sat down as the camp and my troops slowly returned to work. I started small, "What world are we on? Who are these people that we fought? Why are they attacking you?"
The old man listened patiently and nodded once I finished, "We call this world Canaan, we know it as two halves. My tribe has not explored it all, for there are oceans that block us and mountains that shield us. One half is the city and towns and farmlands of Pa'Shannah, in the north, all under the thrall of the evil goddess Nirrti. The other half is us, the Canaanites. We live a nomadic existence under the trees and cover of mountains, so we hide from her death gliders and can more easily fight her Jaf'fa warriors. We only bed down when winter and the monsoons come, when her death gliders cannot see and her slaves and soldiers must tend to their own needs of home."
He took a deep breath, "The Jaf'fa I mentioned earlier are Nirrti's slave soldiers. They are stronger, faster, tougher, and meaner than any man we know. We know this because they have the spawn of evil, the Gua'uld, in their gut. You have one in your bag right now. Those worms are evil, and they infect people, turn them to their will. One time, in legend, a Jaf'fa warrior, tired of the evil he harbored, joined us, forgoing his worm. Soon after he died of disease, he declared it was the curse of his people, they must have the worm to live, or they die. In that time, he shared everything we now know of Nirrti and her evil."
He paused, slowly starting to get weepy again, "He was a brave man, and we only know him as Iahona. This was many, many years ago, before even I was a boy. These Jaf'fa are warriors, they are who you killed. They must fight for evil and are evil in their manners, but they are born that way and know no other way by teaching and survival." He searched for words, "They are strong, granted by their blood, and tough, granted by their worm. They wield terrifying weapons like the staff and the Zat'nik'kil. The staff is the weapon that unleashes a ball of light and fire, the Zat'nit'kil fires thunder itself, one shot stuns and incapacitates, two shots kill, and three shots disintegrate the body as if it were not there. I believe you have examples of these armaments yourself, and we ask if you will share them with our warriors. We have long expended our captured weapons."
I looked at him and his warriors, "We will consider your request. We have many weapons back at the gate and would be willing to share and educate them on your use." We couldn't stay here on this world, I realized. Not with those 'Death Gliders" able to see New Berun from miles away. We would likely abandon all material and just take the people, just escape.
"Now for your last question, Messiah." He smiled, "Won't you share your name before I tell dark stories?"
That was fair, "My name is Tanya Von Degurechaff, Field Marshall of Berun and its people."
"Well, Von Degurechaff. They sought to extinguish our people and take our men and woman folk as slaves. We have engaged in war against the Jaf'fa in retaliation for their attacks two years ago into our mountain homes. That is why our captured weapons are extinguished. Too many were born, and many volunteered to fight to bring the sight of Nirrti away from our homes. Pa'Shanah, to the north, sends regular Jaf'fa expeditions to the south to gather us, taking my people as slaves. We will either be used to build extensions of their grand city or sold as slaves if we're lucky. But we, as holy warriors against her evil, would not be lucky. That is why they sought to kill the young and old."
"What would happen to you?" I asked, curious.
The old man sighed, "The false god has her ways. The most terrible evil is when she infests you with her evil snakes, either in your head or your guts. If you're losing your head, your soul is lost, and you are nothing but another demon, another false god. They say they elevate us into divinity, but instead, they retract us into hell, a prisoner within your own mind."
He looked into the far distance, tears dewing his eyes again, "I've lost my only son to that, as I killed him. Sometimes those taken are returned, as spies, and we seldom trust those who return anymore. They, if they are free, leave us as outcasts forever. But the worst she does is evil experiments, and that is what my people's destination would be. Nirrti uses her foul magics. That is what Iahonas was disgusted enough to die and tell us. Before, Nirrti expected regular tribute of our men, preferably fit and able, but she would accept the sickly, the deformed, and the strange as well, saying they are tribute, and would protect us all from her wrath and would be cared for. We did so gladly knowing that to resist her would instead invite the fires of the Pharaohs upon our homes. If we were in famine, she would shower us in food, if we were ever in drought, she would bring the rains, if we ever were infertile, she would make us fertile. She expected us to give her people, and many, many people, as many as our woman folk could give birth to. She told us, as god told us, be fruitful and multiply, for I have need of your multitudes." He began to weep now, "Many still live and serve her in the farms and towns and city, for they are well taken care for, as long as we have many, many children. Better to live in comfort than in terror, our kinfolk say."
"But Iahonas came to us and told us that those taken in her floating babylons were subjected to the greatest tortures of magics unfathomable, disease so terrible. I cannot recount them all, things I dare not mention in the ears of children." He looked down, clearly distraught at having to recount all of this.
I wasn't sure exactly, not without him being more forthcoming, but I think I knew what happened to those taken away. Medical experimentation, mass medical experimentation of some type. For what purpose I didn't know, but considering what he was saying, they clearly needed a lot of people over centuries, maybe even thousands of years, and were willing to invest resources to ensure that people kept having children at inflated rates. I called one of the nearby women over, a hollow-eyed looking youth who looked to be about in their late teens and examined her. I didn't notice it at first, being too preoccupied with killing the enemy and stripping their corpses of value.
But her hips were… wide. I called another lady over, the same thing bore fruit, very wide. Wider than mine for certain. I looked to Weiss who had been coordinating the men, and I immediately called, "Get a doctor here immediately, whatever means necessary. I." I swallowed, "I think this planet is dedicated to eugenics on an unprecedented scale."
Nirrti
Karnataka, Nirrti's Palace
Nirrti loved nothing more than waking up to her experiment results. Bathing in mineral waters as she sipped the latest vintage of wine grown in her personal orchards. She'd been stripped of most of her worlds for centuries by this point, including her status as System Lord, but she remained too useful by Ra and the others to extinguish, and she knew it.
They came to her with requests to tailor future hosts to their specifications. Never their own hosts, they didn't trust her with that, but underling's hosts? Hosts for traitors, captured Tok'Ra, for spies destined for other realms?
Oh yes, they trusted her with that, and she was paid handsomely for the efforts.
Occasionally, though, the requests would dry up, and she'd need to embark on her practice of espionage to get her fill of test subjects. But she'd found an equilibrium and used it to full effect to get her test subjects and scientific equipment.
It had cost her, though. She could only have one fleet of Ha'Taks, that could never number more than four, and had a small disparate domain of worlds that she could administer across the galaxy. As much as it annoyed her, as it did now, Ra had found the perfect way to satiate her lust for subjects while controlling her worst impulses. She'd never admit it, not explicitly, but it worked.
She was leashed, but it was a very long, very thin, leash.
But she did take Ra's requests, like the two before her, to create a new breed of Jaffa bodyguards for his empire, and more delectably, an Asgard clone host for his own secretive purposes. How he'd gotten Asgard clone data was far beyond her, and she didn't want to know how lest it risk the warth of the insufferable gray-skinned aliens, but she was one step closer to the Hok'Taur of her dreams thanks to him, and she both loathed and celebrated him for it.
"My lord." Her chief bodyguard, Kra'nor, announced his entry demurely.
Nirrti looked over, away from her slate, "What is so urgent that you disturb my peace?" Kranor had lived long enough to know, that he was only to disturb her with the most important of news. She did not have time to micromanage her empire and, unlike most System Lords, delegated the more unsavory aspects of rulership.
"My lord, I bring splendid news." He repeated bowing, down so that his forehead touched the ground, "Commander Jo'nah of Canaan reports that a patrol will crush the rebels against your will on your world, and will be ready to deliver a special shipment of specimens before the end of the month."
Nirrti sipped her wine, letting Kra'nor stew on it, "Does Commander Jo'nah still only have the one Tel'Tak?"
"Yes my lord. It is awaiting your command to bring your will to Canaan." Kra'nor explained obediently.
"Fill it with the sleeping chambers and a delivery of silphium. Extract from the populace a tribute in addition to their unruly kinsmen." Silphium should replenish the lost numbers by getting the test subjects to breed. She'd need more, she would always need more, to produce the perfect Hok'taur.
"You are wise my lord. It will be done before night falls." To translate for Kra'nor, the Tel'Tak would return with news and subjects in two months. Nirrti checked over her slate's projections for stored test subjects. She had a healthy buffer, but more would never hurt.
"Empty the Sarcophagi and clean them for their next victims. I shall enjoy punishing these unruly Canaanites. You are dismissed Kra'nor." Kra'nor rose and marched away.
She smiled. Canaan. Her crown jewel. She was due to visit it soon for the census of the populace's health. Recent additions to reduce mother mortality to increase output had taken well, now she needed to observe the rest of her additions to the populace and test out Lord Ra's newest breed of bodyguards.
"Let the games begin." Nirrti sang to herself as she reclined in her bath and looked across her domain.