(Photo by Karolina Grabowska)

The inside of the warehouse was brightly illuminated and the furnishings were minimal. There were no internal walls or other dividers that could provide any sort of privacy. A pair of open-air latrines sat in the far corner along with a solitary water spigot. In the center of the warehouse were a pair of long tables where the meager supplies were laid out. There were no beds or chairs.

Conflagrator Fas eyed the tables with suspicion. There was no record of the Ka’Raks being given the tables and the space beneath them was just large enough that a Ka’Rak or two could hide beneath them, out of sight from the cameras. She knew better than to check beneath the tables, though. It was likely that none of the Ka’Raks had thought of hiding there yet and that they simply wanted a space to store their food and clothing.

Turning to Skith, Fas whispered, “Have those tables removed when we’re done and replace them with concrete blocks.”

Skith nodded, his eyes moving slowly from one Ka’Rak to the next, his lips mouthing wordlessly.

“Don’t count them,” Fas warned. “Always assume their numbers haven’t changed.”

For their part, the Ka’Raks watched cautiously as Fas and Skith approached them. It was unlikely any of them had ever seen anything like Fas’ armor and uniform. She wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad to show them such a powerful thing. On the one hand she wanted to impress them while on the other hand she didn’t want to give them any new ideas that could be used against her.

“I bring you tidings from Isarch,” Fas called out to the Ka’Raks in their own language, “and congratulations on your advancement to the rank of Kindling.”

To her side she could see Skith stiffen at hearing her speak their language. As far as she knew, no one else in her battalion spoke the Ka’Rak language. Eventually that would need to change but for now it was beneficial for her plan to have everyone else ignorant to what she was saying the Ka’Raks.

The foremost among the Ka’Raks strode over to Fas. It was heavily scarred, possibly from years of fighting in the war though it was just as likely they were heavily scarred because that was how their leaders were expected to look. The Ka’Rak stopped a few feet away, far enough to not seem too threatening but close enough that they wouldn’t need to raise their voices to speak to one another.

“You are the Spark overseeing these Kindling,” Fas stated. “I commend you on your effectiveness. I am Conflagrator Fas and I’ve been given command over the battalion to which you are attached, and this is Igniter Skith to whom you will report to and receive your orders from.”

Fas paused and waited. She kept her mind calm and did not permit any thoughts contradicting what she’d just said to be entertained. It was crucial for her plan to work that she believed everything she’d said, and in all actuality there was nothing in the laws governing the military that prevented Fas from conscripting the Ka’Raks and assigning them their ranks. It was certainly unusual for a conscript to be elevated to Spark, but not beyond her authority to do so.

A few slow breaths passed before the Ka’Rak shifted its weight, a puzzled look on its face, and then fell into a salute.

“Conflagrator Fas,” the Ka’Rak said, “I am Spark Ka’Rak Li’Ko, and I welcome you to our barracks.”

Fas immediately noted the single orange sash on Li’Ko’s shoulder. A few of the other Ka’Raks now bore white shoulder sashes, though most remained as they had been.

“Our training has been slow,” Li’Ko continued, “due to a lack of supplies and our meager accommodations.”

“I am aware and have taken action to remedy the situation,” Fas assured Li’Ko. “An autonomous supply barge has been sent from Isarch.”

No such supply barge had been ordered and yet Fas was confident that it would arrive, nonetheless. She would need to inform Immolator Gres so that when the supply barge arrived it would be allowed to land.

“The Kindling will be relieved to hear that,” Li’Ko said.

Fas took a few steps forward, closing the distance between herself and Li’Ko, and placed a hand on his, allowing him to stop saluting. Li’Ko nodded and stood at attention.

“I’ll see what I can do while we wait for the autonomous supply barge,” Fas said, stressing that the supply barge would be autonomous. The last thing she needed was an unexpected influx of more Ka’Raks, loyal or otherwise. “Those tables look weak and ready to collapse. I’ll have them replaced first. Have your Kindling clear them off and then place them by the doors.”

Li’Ko seemed to know that their conversation was over saluted once more. Fas tapped his hands then turned to leave. Skith followed suit and together they made their way towards the door. Behind them, Fas could hear Li’Ko giving out orders. A few grunts and shouts made it apparent that not everyone was convinced yet, and it was entirely likely that Li’Ko would forget all about this encounter by the next time Fas paid the Ka’Raks a visit. Still, it was a promising start. Once they were outside, Skith gave the order for the Sparks guarding the warehouse to replace the tables as Fas had instructed.

To Fas’ surprise, Immolator Gres was also waiting outside the warehouse. From the looks of it, she had just come out of Observation as Fas and Skith were exiting the Warehouse.

“I’ve noted the promotions,” Immolator Gres said, her expression dark, “and placed the landing docks on alert for the shipment.”

Fas hadn’t expected Immolator Gres to know the Ka’Raks language. Such things were usually noted in service records and Fas had checked to see if there was anyone here who would know what she was saying. Of course, there were other ways to understand unknown languages and a quick glance towards Observation revealed a fading aura.

“I didn’t know there were mages assigned here,” Fas noted.

“And I didn’t know Ka’Raks had autonomous supply barges,” Immolator Gres replied, “let alone that you’d ordered one here.”

“May we speak in private?” Fas asked.

Immolator Gres glanced to the soldiers nearby and then motioned for Fas to follow her. Together they crossed over to the administrative offices where Immolator Gres led the way until they reached a small conference room. Fas shut the door behind them and then stood at attention while Immolator Gres situated herself in a chair at the front of the room.

“First,” Immolator Gres said, “I want it clear that any future shipments, promotions, or anything else that’s going to affect this base be cleared with me ahead of time. Second,” Immolator Gres pursed her lips, “I want you to tell me how you just turned those Ka’Raks into our soldiers. One minute they’re a bunch of captives and the next they’ve got rank sashes and are observing proper protocol.”

“You’ve read the report I gave after leaving Isarch?” Fas asked.

“I did,” Immolator Gres replied, “but either you or the recorder were in a crazed state since nothing in there made any sense. Just a bunch of ramblings about believing and willpower.”

“I apologize for the confusion,” Fas said, “I’ll see if I can explain it better for you. The Ka’Raks are creatures of belief and willpower. If they believe something, it tends to happen. If there are conflicting beliefs then it comes down to whichever side has the greater willpower. What you saw in Observation was an example of that. My belief that they were loyal soldiers conscripted into the military was in opposition to their belief that they were prisoners of war. For those whose willpower was less than mine, my belief became true.”

“So, I could go and take those Ka’Raks and stick them in with the rest of the soldiers and they’d all just, get along?”

“Not quite,” Fas said. “Belief is flexible, as you just saw, and its especially true for Ka’Raks. It will take quite some time for them to reliably remain loyal. But it’s not just the Ka’Raks belief that matters. Those around them also need to believe. If our soldiers don’t accept the Ka’Raks, then the Ka’Raks will revert.”

“And once you’ve got them all convinced to be on our side,” Immolator Gres said, “then you’ll get them to explain how their tech and magic works?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Fas said, “they don’t have either.”

“What do you mean? How else are they sending supplies from Isarch?”

“Everything they do,” Fas explained, “is based on belief and willpower. That’s it. No amount of taking apart their devices will reveal how they work. That’s why we can’t figure them out. Their weapons, their ships, all of it works because they believe it works. Any new invention on their part is just the result of a Ka’Rak believing it.”

“Why don’t they all just believe they’ve won the war, then?”

“They wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not? Seems like an easy solution to all their problems.”

“They aren’t self-aware of how their beliefs affect things. I don’t know if that’s because they aren’t capable of it or if they just haven’t figured it out.”

“Belief,” Immolator Gres said after some time.

“Yes, Immolator.”

Immolator Gres did not look convinced and spent quite some time mulling it all over in her mind.

“It seems to me that they’re highly magical creatures,” she finally said at last. “Plenty of species access magic in different ways.”

“All magic, no matter its source, produces the same auras and functions within the same boundaries,” Fas countered. “The Ka’Rak’s never produce auras and they’re never limited to what magic can or can’t do.”

“Then it must be technological, then!” Immolator Gres spat.

The anger and fear Fas saw in Immolator Gres was becoming a familiar sight whenever she tried to explain Ka’Raks. Being confronted with a confusing and hard to understand opponent was one thing. Being told the opponent can do anything it wants as long as it believes it is something else entirely.

“I’ll have dampeners installed surrounding the warehouse,” Fas said. “If there’s any magic, the dampeners will show it. As for technology, they have no tools in that warehouse, no access to electricity or fuel or anything else, and yet they have a table. They have rank sashes. There are thirty-one of them. And I guarantee you, even with dampeners in place they will continue to manifest whatever changes they believe in.”

“Then you best be careful what sort of things you tell them,” Immolator Gres warned.

“Understood,” Fas replied.

Immolator Gres dismissed Fas with a curt wave of her hand and Fas turned to leave. As she was stepping out of the room she glanced back and noticed Immolator Gres’ eyes had glazed over and she was mouthing wordlessly; she had contacted someone over the neural network. Fas wondered who it was that Immolator Gres was reporting to. Which member of the high command was she in contact with? Even though a united front is always presented to the people, Fas knew well enough that there were factions in the upper echelons. It was impossible not to have some disagreements when rulers for countless worlds were involved. Countless wars raged throughout the galaxy at any given time, and resources were fought over and bargained for. Fas had seen firsthand what happened to a world whose ruler decided they weren’t worth the effort to maintain, in favor of more profitable worlds. If it hadn’t been for the Ka’Raks sudden appearance and surprising resilience, Fas wondered if the various factions would have split the galaxy in pieces. Such a civil war hadn’t happened in centuries but it seemed only the threat of the Ka’Raks were holding things together for now, and not for the first time Fas wondered whether or not there might be factions looking to use the Ka’Raks as a means to gain leverage over the others and effectively gain what they would have done through civil war without having to sacrifice their own people and resources to get it.