Date Point:16y11m6d AV
Starship Destroying Fury, Mordor system
Daar, Great Father of the Gao
It was only Daar’s unbreakable discipline that kept him afloat. All he wanted to do was rip and tear and pillage and destroy, over and over again, endlessly, until everything was a haze of red and he’d stacked a pile of corpses big enough to avenge…fuckin’ everyone.
But Daar couldn’t do that. He was the Great Father. He couldn’t enact revenge for its own sake. His actions demanded purpose for more than himself. He could only act on behalf of the Gao.
There could be no weakness. Only strength.
Nothing in his demeanor, his tone, his posture or his bearing could ever betray any hint of softness. His body, his words, his every action had to be perfectly fatherly and perfectly unyielding, every single time no matter where he was or who he was with. Any affection or playfulness with almost anyone had to be in that context, it could never be otherwise. Nothing could hint to any conflict of purpose. Daar had to radiate confidence and strength at all times. He could never waver. He could never show the slightest hint of hesitation, to anyone, ever. If he did, if his people noticed… the Gao’s willpower could collapse like a wet tissue.
He had never felt such blinding, all-consuming rage. And that could not be allowed.
No weakness. Only strength.
So, Daar did what he had to do. He allowed himself to mourn in private. First stoically with the HEAT, and then more personally with Regaari, the single deepest friendship of his life. Daar saw to their medical needs before the two of them fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
He woke in the ship’s early hours, as was his well-trained habit. Then he remembered what he saw. One of his Brothers, an incredibly rare, talented, quirky and beautiful man he was proud to call a friend…peeled apart like a gods-damned onion. The rage and pain returned manyfold.
Most of the time, strength was more of an ideal or a metaphor than a hard requirement. Oh, he prided himself in being a unwavering, stoic father for the whole of the Gao, and of course he was proud of having the most hugest bestest muscles of anyone. But the one time his real strength had been called upon…He, the fastest, hardest, strongest, toughest damned critter in the entire fuckin’ galaxy, a ‘Back good enough to crush tank-Hunters in his paws, he against whom nobody could stand…failed. He failed because all his vast strength was useless against a star-powered forcefield suite. None of his power in any sense of the term could have helped.
And someone he dearly loved had died horribly because of that. Because of his weakness in the face of a clever, determined foe. Because in the rush to destroy the superweapon, he had not the wit to see what else might be done with it. He were too gods-damned focused on the objective and not nearly fuckin’ enough on how to achieve it! They should have just boarded, dropped a huge fuckin’ nuke, and left immediately! In, out, a minute tops! Why the in the balls-licking fuck did they insist on doing what they always did!? Did nobody in either his or the Human’s staff think that maybe, just maybe a fuckin’ forcefield ship in space might possibly have something nasty in store? Were they afraid to voice objections? Did nobody think in time?
Daar certainly hadn’t, and he was inarguably one of the most intelligent people alive, too! And a Master of fuckin’ War! What in the ever-lovin’ Keedafuckin’ hells were they actually fighting?!
Daar was far beyond enraged. He was pissed. At everything. But mostly, at himself.
Even the simple act of thumping over to his wash basin had him unconsciously clawing gouges in the steel decking, which he only noticed when one of the floorplates finally squealed. He looked down and growled at such a pathetic lack of discipline. A brownfur’s claws naturally wanted to sit partially extended to better grip into the ground. Hard surfaces normally caused them to retract, but these days his grip was so fierce, if he wasn’t actively holding them back…
Unacceptable. With the level of political and physical power he wielded, losing control of himself like that for even a moment could have serious consequences. He couldn’t lead anyone in such a state. Some part of him, the part insisting at the edge of the blood-haze that he act like a Gao worthy of his station, slapped him inside his own head and told him to get a fuckin’ grip.
No weakness. Only strength.
There was only one thing to do. Daar growled an update to his aide then thumped off to his gym. He spent many strenuous hours there, exorcising his rage as best he could. He broke a whole bunch of things, tied some other things into knots, crushed yet more in his paws. Burned out the gravity plating, too. By the time he was done, his body was so pumped up, lathered up, and amped up, he felt powerful and fit to fuckin’ burst if he pushed himself even the tiniest bit further. Combined with Adam’s coaching and all the sports science available, Daar would be feeling like that until he finally let himself let go, and that might end up being…well, never.
Just like his soul.
His personal aide knew his moods well and didn’t even bother to comment like he usually did. Instead, Tiyun silently picked up the good brush and set to work, slicking all the copious lather down through Daar’s fur. No point in all that ex ertion if Daar didn’t look the part, after all. It was about more than his ego. Daar represented an ideal for the Gao to strive toward in all dimensions of his being, even if certain allowances had to be made for personality; he was no anodyne king. He had to be real. All of that could add up to a hell of a burden, but that task was one he could never fail. His darker feelings must have been bleeding through though, because while Tiyun wasn’t usually much perturbed by Daar in any of his moods…
Just then, Tiyun smelled of awe. And fear. And melancholy. But mostly fear.
Daar shook his neck out and asked as politely as he could, “How do I look?”
Tiyun answered with the meekest voice Daar had ever heard him use. “…Mighty, My Father.”
Daar almost keened at that. Tiyun was one of the last people he wanted to scare, but there wasn’t any way around it. Daar was the creature he was, and he wouldn’t be the Great Father if he was anything else. Even if he couldn’t save a friend.
No weakness. Only strength.
He took a couple of calming breaths, and tried to find a serene place from which he could work his retribution. He knew he wasn’t going to find it on the spot, but sometimes the journey itself was worth the effort. A little trickle of calm found its way into his soul. It was an icy calm, a place from which Daar would do very much indeed to avenge Blaczynski and all the rest. It wasn’t what Sister Shoo would consider ideal, but…serenity didn’t need to mean peaceful.
“Thank you, Tiyun.” He gave a slight nod of thankfulness. ”Take the rest of the day off, ‘kay?”
“Yes, My Father.” There wasn’t even a hint of protest in his tone. No matter. It was late afternoon by then, and Tiyun deserved a break. If he was maybe a bit eager to get out of Daar’s presence…well…
Daar could hardly blame him. No. Weakness. Only strength.
Enough self-indulgence. His staff was of course competent and wise, and could handily manage affairs in his absence, but Daar had a war to win. They would need guidance and direction; it was his will that caused all this, after all. Daar growled to himself and prowled purposely down the corridors of his ship, the deck shuddering underpaw and announcing his presence before his heavy musk ever could. He resumed command of the war effort from his battle room.
The room went dead silent when he prowled in. Many even backed away from him from wherever they were standing. He ignored that and commanded his staff, “Brief me.”
They did. Daar called a meeting of his generals. Plans were made and approved. Things were set into motion. Daar praised as appropriate, gently educated on the finer points of a thing here and there, and learned considerably more in return. He made sure to convey that, too.
Top of the list of things to learn was how they had lost the element of surprise. Daar was pretty sure they either tipped their hand too early, or the Alpha-of-Alphas had anticipated a boarding action, and successfully predicted their tactical approach. Either seemed likely, and frankly: there wasn’t much they could have done differently. Fire a gigaton-class nuke again, maybe…
Calm, collected. Cold. An ideal he needed. Think the problem through, don’t spend anger where it would be fruitless. There could be no weakness, especially not of reason. Only strength.
With his generals and staff directed, encouraged, and productively wielding their competence toward the goal, Daar went around to each of them, thanked them for their understanding, and left them to their work.
The implications of all of this were going to have serious repercussions. This new Alpha-of-Alphas possessed considerably greater tactical acumen than his predecessor. He’d weaponized forcefields in a novel way that had previously been functionally impossible on a anything but an (obviously) purpose-built vessel…but having shown the terrible possibilities when insanely powerful fields could be wielded internally…
HEAT was grounded until they knew more, and could nullify or counter the threat. So was First Fang. Balls, depending on just how much could be done with less powerful fields…
The rage hadn’t left him. At all. In fact it had only grown worse, but he was a predictable ‘Back and pushing his body to the brink seemed to help contain it a bit. Time for round two. He sent a message to Regaari and more or less commanded him to come train. Daar needed to be forceful because Regaari was doing what he always did in terrible personal tragedies. He tried to suffer his hurts alone, as if none of his cousins should be burdened by his pain. Noble, but…
…The little genius was really, really balls-damned stupid about these sorts of things. So, Daar did what a brownie did best: he dragged the tough lil’ guy back to the gym and more or less beat the crap out of him. Nowadays that took a long damn while too, which was honestly impressive, but this wasn’t really playful like it would normally be. It was more…needful. Regaari needed someone who could take the worst he could give and egg him on to give even more. Daar took it, and even gained a neat lil’ scar or two. Regaari also needed to remember that he wasn’t a one-man Army. Daar… reminded him of that point. And got his own frustrations out, too.
Besides. Grim though they were, it wasn’t like they didn’t enjoy it. There was just something satisfying about a good fight, about breaking the rest of the gym with his most bestest cousin. Those barbells looked better in a bow-tie, anyway. Regaari didn’t have that kind of brawn, but that was okay. He was a good spotter and knew the iron game as well as anyone these days.
Dreamless sleep was so much easier when a man was dead exhausted. Once they were both running on fumes, they ate big, cooled down, curled up together and passed right the fuck out.
The next morning they ate again, recovered, got in one last quick workout, then took a shuttle down to Mordor’s surface. It was time to take the field and exterminate the Hunter infestation. But something much more difficult had to be done first.
No weakness. Only strength. The strength to crush evil.
They lined up on Caledonia’s deployment deck, Gaoian and Human alike. They kept their backs straight and their eyes open, even filled with tears, as a coffin draped in red-and-white stripes and a blue field of stars proceeded along the length of the deck and was laid, reverently, on the jump array.
A Gaoian would have had a pyre, there on the world he died to liberate. Daar would have had the finest, hardest, most fragrant and expensive wood jumped in to honor him… but Blaczynski had been Human, and Humans went home, because to them, home was much, much more than just a place to sleep, or a place to keep their things. Home was where their soul lived.
Somehow, that black flash and a thump were harder to bear than lighting a pyre would have been. It felt too abrupt, to Daar. He vowed two things, in its aftermath:
First, that he would be there when the time came to honor Blaczynski properly.
And second… that the payback to come would only be the beginning.