The Mech Touch

Despite the best efforts of Grand Regent Habidas Aaden, his influence was hardly felt in the state that had descended into insanity.

Priests, not statesmen, were in charge these days. Devotion and purity were much more important qualifiers to commanding over people than intelligence and expertise.

Even though many people recognized that the whole premise and motivation of the Statue War was stupid and self-destructive from the onset, the two sides who claim to fight for the correct version of Vulcan did not see it that way.

To them, they were fighting for the true god! If they won, the Vulcan Empire would be saved! If they lost or did nothing, then their enemies would drown their great dwarven state in perpetual darkness as Vulcan's light left the forsaken dwarves.

Against this kind of logic, the dwindling number of non-religious and moderate dwarves failed to persuade their militant brothers and sisters from seeking compromise.

When certain high-placed members of the dwarven society received word of the MTA's resolution, they began to make their own moves, ones that did not involve their maddened cousins.

Two beardless old dwarves looked through the window of a military space station. Several damaged and half-repaired capital ships including the Great Ram were docked onto the arms that stretched out from the orbital base like antennas.

Numerous shuttles and transports flew in and out of the fleet carriers, bringing in cargo and personnel at an industrious pace.

Many dwarven soldiers, of which the men all lacked their distinctive beards, were undergoing their final check-in procedures as they waited to board their respective vessels.

The large amount of luggage bots carrying their bags and trunks signified that these disgraced Ferril soldiers were about to go on a long trip.

General Kebrinore and Venerable Orthox both looked grave, the latter more than the former.

"I received my orders this morning." The dwarven general spoke. "High command reactivated us in order to march against our own brothers."

"Our mission?" The expert pilot gruffly asked.

"The provincial governor wants us to assist the other mobs aligned with the Dwarven God Cult in raiding the rural star systems of the Uriburn Province. If we cannot hold the central authority's territory, we are to burn and destroy any useful infrastructure that keeps the planets working and useful to the province. Think about destroying space stations, bombarding factories, taking out local government structures and so on. We even have orders to raze the farmland wholesale if we have the time. If the Statue War drags on long enough, our superiors think that starving the opposition is a viable tactic."

The more Venerable Orthox listened, the more he lost faith in the Ferril Province. Most of the decision makers had already fallen under the sway of the Dwarven God Cult. They took over its radical policies and ideology and stooped at nothing to gain an advantage over their opponents!

He felt more and more powerless to prevent this maddening war from growing more destructive. His beardless state turned him from a war hero into a loser. Though there were still dwarves who respected his identity, the public had long dismissed his warnings and pleas because they did not align with popular opinion.

The Ferril Province along with many other provinces had completely fallen under the sway of the two polarizing religious denominations!

Thinking about what had befallen his precious state caused Orthox's will to become more depressed. As an expert pilot, he was good at smashing powerful mechs.

It did not turn him into a powerful politician or charismatic leader, though. Even at his prime, his influence only allowed him to command more attention than other expert pilots. The true players of the Vulcan Empire were much more capable of taking control of the population.

At this time, Venerable Orthox would rather be a politician than a high-tier expert pilot. What was the use of extraordinary martial skill when he was helpless to stop his fellow dwarves from slaughtering each other?

It was a dark irony that the dwarven authority figures who possessed voices that were able to sway a lot of people had fallen under the sway of a human enemy. Devil Tongue, indeed.

"How are the men?" Orthox asked with a touch of concern. "These are the last men that are still willing to listen to us. Are there any fanatics or cultists among them that can poison our remaining well?"

"We know our people well enough to filter out the crazies." Kebrinore answered. "It's the allies that we've invited that can pose a risk to us. I have no doubt that there are fanatics among our crew that have dedicated their lives to either the human or dwarven version of Vulcan. However, once we are on the move, we operate under a different environment. As long as our fellow compatriots are of the same mind as us, these fanatics will eventually give themselves away, allowing us to handle them as we see fit."

The dwarven expert pilot looked resigned. "I never want to fight against my fellow dwarves, especially when we are part of the same state. However, we cannot let our fleet descend in the same sectarian madness that is tearing our homeland apart. If we must eliminate a small number of dwarves to protect a larger group of dwarves, then so be it. Anyone who has signed up for our venture has made a promise not to bring the ailments affecting the Vulcan Empire to our gathering. I will not be lenient to anyone that has violated our rules."

"As it should, old friend. Are you ready to speak to the men?"

Venerable Orthox remained silent for a moment. "Do I even deserve to address them? I failed them in the field of battle."

"We all failed on the battlefield that day, Orthox. My responsibility for our defeat is even greater than yours." General Kebrinore said. "We can't dwell on it anymore. We need to look forward, and to help our men do that, they need to pursue a new dream. What we need the most in this dire time is a visionary who can lead them to a new home. Can you do that, old friend? Can you regain your old fire and present a strong image that people are willing to follow?"

"...I shall make an attempt."

Kebrinore smiled and patted Orthox's shoulder. "That is all I am asking from you. Your people need you. Go out there and make yourself heard."

Time passed by as the fleet carriers that nominally belonged to the Molten Hammers finished stocking up on goods and personnel.

Venerable Orthox stepped onto the bridge of the Great Ram and nodded to General Kebrinore before he stood at the center.

He looked down at the deck. A large hammer had been painted on this exact spot. It conveyed both strength and resistance to many dwarves. Now, the high-tier expert pilot sought to draw strength from this same symbol as well!

A tech held out his outstretched hand at the side. "Broadcast going online in three, two, one, you're live!"

Lights shone on the beardless expert pilot from above as he attracted the attention of tens of thousands of Vulcanites.

"Men, each of you have made a choice." He began without much thought. "I made a choice as well. Due to the civil war that has erupted throughout our entire state, our superiors sought fit to pull us out of the dog house."

His lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. "Yet rather than calling upon us to protect our civilians and seek a resolution of this conflict, we instead received orders to bully and rob the livelihoods of other civilians! No matter which province they live in, they are still fellow dwarves. To treat them as our opponents just because a bewitching statue told us to do it is madness! I don't know about you, but I will not allow myself to be a part of his dwarf-on-dwarf violence!"

Venerable Orthox spread his arms. "I am immensely pleased that you share my sentiments as well. Each of us has pledged an oath to protect the Vulcan Empire from threats that seek to undermine it. We may not be able to fulfill this oath on a literal basis, but we can still fulfill the spirit of our duties! The greater population of the Vulcan Empire may be lost to us, but the people we have gathered in our evacuation fleet can still be saved! Through our efforts, we can preserve some of the best parts of our culture while off-loading the rotten elements that have put our once-great state beyond redemption."

Though the dwarven expert pilot sought to phrase his point in an aspirational light, he and many other dwarves knew full well what they were truly trying to do. They were deserting their own state and absconding with valuable military assets while they were at it! Instead of trying to save every Vulcanite that still wanted to be saved, the former soldiers were turning their backs on these dwarves!

The deserting dwarves could only do so much with the power and influence they had left.

Still, the evacuation fleet was able to bring away enough dwarves to keep the essence of their state alive!

"Each of you knows where we are heading." Venerable Orthox said as he lightened his tone. "Smiling Samuel has no place for us anymore. The rest of the Fermi Star Cluster hates us. I seriously doubt that any other state in the galactic rim will welcome the arrival of close-knit dwarves like us. There is only one good destination available to us, and that is the Red Ocean."

The dwarf paused and closed his eyes as he imagined how their dwarven evacuation fleet would fare in the new galaxy.

"It is in this new region of space opened up by the MTA and CFA where we can truly do dwarvenkind justice. The old galaxy is already occupied by an endless amount of human polities. Setting up a dwarven state in this environment constantly forces our people to resist the greedy humans. I have no doubt we will encounter the same treatment in the new frontier, but the territories there have yet to be divvied by all of the pioneers. It is there that we shall found a proper dwarven state."

Talk of founding a potential new state finally prompted Venerable Orthox to smile.

"Our people's first attempt at erecting a sovereign dwarven state has failed. Our society was flawed and our culture was too beholden to religious influences. We shall address these vulnerabilities and seek to build a more tolerant and open-minded state. As much as we hate the tall folk for mistreating our fellow dwarves, we cannot cling to this grievance if we wish to build a healthy culture. Our second dwarven state shall cast out the darkness and lead us to a brighter future. Not as an empire, but as a republic. A true enlightened state where dwarves like us will be at the forefront of this age! For a brighter tomorrow!"

"FOR A BRIGHTER TOMORROW!"

The feed ended at that point as Venerable Orthox had spoken enough.

The man felt lighter now that he had expressed his thoughts and shared his vision with the men that were willing to take part in this new adventure.

"Good job, Orthox." General Kebrinore complimented. "Your speech wasn't as professional as most, but you spoke from the heart, and that has touched our men. A brighter tomorrow indeed."

"I merely wish to prevent the darkness that has swept over our state to be kept at bay when we make our second attempt."

"True, true. We will need your leadership and vision in the times to come."

"Shouldn't you be speaking to some of our dwarven Masters in order to secure the ludicrous amount of MTA merits required to pass through the beyonder gate?"

"Ugh, don't get me started on that." The beardless general palmed his face. "We need their merits and funding, but they all want to take charge of our evacuation fleet. Each and everyone thinks they should become the next Ves Larkinson."

Venerable Orthox scowled. "Tch. That is enough of a reason to push back against this notion. Mech designers must never be in charge!"