Talus

by S. H. Jucha

  Briefly, Nata hoped the warriors would set her down. Toward that end, she chose not to struggle, thinking that if she didn’t resist that it would be easier for her captors to escort her rather than carry her. But the eight dark-nailed hands that held her ankles and wrists, with vise-like grips, never relaxed.

  Nata had possessed the mental focus to employ her implant to track their movements so that she could exit the tunnels at the same hatch. However, in a pinch, she’d take any opportunity to reach the surface. Then she tried a comm connection, but she failed to reach her traveler or anyone, human, SADE, or Dischnya.

  When Nata’s journey ended, she was unceremoniously dumped on a hard dirt floor in a room full of nearly empty shelves.

  The warriors struggled to strip Nata of her environment suit. With a few choice invectives against unworthy warriors, Nata managed to shock her captors and halt their efforts. She triggered the releases on her suit, and as she pulled at the components, the warriors roughly yanked off the tanks, helmet, boots, and suit.

  Locked in the primitive cold storeroom, Nata was left with her flight suit and a pair of deck shoes. Carefully, she checked her environment. The door lock was an archaic assembly. There was no door panel to trigger. She’d heard a bolt slide home on the outside.

  When Nata tried the latch, a warrior banged on the door, warning her to cease.

  Next Nata searched the shelves for water, food, and a weapon, but there was little of value. The shelves carried annuals of dust. All that she found were cracked pots, worn and tattered woven rugs, and a few bits and pieces of discarded material.

  There was nothing else for Nata to do but throw a few rugs on the dirt floor and sit down to wait.

  Nata ran through scenarios under which she might escape, but her thoughts were constantly interrupted by recriminations about the mistakes she’d made.

  This time, blaming Alex for her circumstances wouldn’t work. She couldn’t wipe away the embarrassment of her situation by deflecting responsibility — not this time. Landing on Sawa, walking on the surface, and investigating the tunnel hatch had been her decisions — all hers.

  That realization made Nata wonder about the other occasions on which she’d made Alex the culprit for her problems. It pained her to think that she might have been wrong those many times.

  At this moment, Nata, who’d never attempted to develop relationships, except with Neffess, Nyslara, and Pussiro, dearly hoped that she meant something to the fleet. She realized she might not deserve the commanders’ help. Nevertheless, she wished for it.

  Time passed slowly for Nata. With her mercurial personality, her moods shifted rapidly. She was incensed at being ignored. Then she became bored. Finally, thirst drove her to pound on the door for attention.

  “Be still in there, thief, or you’ll be beaten,” the warrior yelled through the door.

  Thief, Nata thought to herself. Of all the things she expected to be called that wasn’t one of them.

  “Maybe you should come in here and make good on your threat. Prove you’re not a worthless warrior,” Nata challenged. She heard the Dischnya’s growl, but he didn’t touch the door.

  Afraid of the queen or wasat, Nata thought. That was the only reason she could think of that kept the warrior on his side of the door after her hurled insult.

  “At least get me some water,” Nata called out. “If I die of thirst, your queen will hold you responsible.” She heard another growl and then quiet.

  It was a while later, when the latch moved. Nata, who’d been near the door, jumped back, intending to take on the warrior. Instead, four Dischnya poured through the door, brandishing wicked knives that looked like they’d been fashioned from finished metal parts.

  A fifth warrior entered next.

  Nata didn’t need an introduction to know she faced a wasat. His bearing and the warriors’ nervousness announced his status.

  “I’m Wasat Sossfass, Tamassa Soma, Sawa,” the gaunt, hard-muscled warrior growled. Then he handed a bowl of water to a guard, who sat it in front of Nata.

  Nata eagerly scooped up the bowl and quickly drained it. The water had an odd taste, but under the circumstances, she didn’t care.

  “How do you speak Dischnya, thief?” Sossfass asked.

  “I’m not a thief,” Nata shot back.

  “You are what I say you are,” Sossfass replied harshly. “Answer my question.”

  “You said this is the Tamassa Soma nest. Where’s Wasat Falwass?” Nata asked, eyeing Sossfass with suspicion.

  Nata’s question had hit the mark. The guards’ muzzles twitched nervously between their wasat and Nata. She could read their concern.

  “Oh ... did something mysterious happen to Falwass?” Nata prodded.

  Sossfass barked a command, and the guards retreated, swiftly closing the door behind them.

  “Who are you, hairless one?” Sossfass demanded, as he advanced on Nata, towering over her.

  Unfortunately for the wasat, Nata wasn’t intimidated. She snorted her derision in the Dischnya manner. The wasat’s head snapped back, and his head cocked to the side, as he regarded her. Then he too left.

  According to Nata’s chronometer, she spent another half hour on her rugs. Then the door opened again. This time, the wasat entered with his queen. Her youth was evident. However, the anger that blazed in her eyes and the animated tail warned Nata to be careful.

  “Hairless one, why have you returned?” the queen demanded.

  There was so much to unpack in the question that it took Nata by surprise. She’d heard the stories from the Omnian queens and wasats of the encounter of the Sawa Dischnya by Alex and his companions. They’d only met soma from one nest.

  Nata realized the queen knew she wasn’t from Sawa, and of all nests to encounter, she had to stumble into the one that Alex had angered.

  Other things clicked for Nata. The queen was young. She was probably Ceefan’s heir, and the wasat had replaced Falwass.

  Knowing the Dischnya used single names and identified themselves by their heritage and nests, Nata stood erect and stated defiantly. “I’m called Nata, and I’m the adopted pup of Queen Nyslara and Wasat Pussiro.”

  “Answer my question, Nata,” the queen said angrily.

  “When you’ve stated your name, as custom requires,” Nata retorted.

  The young queen flinched, and Nata knew she’d caught her off guard.

  After a moment’s hesitation, the queen used her hocked legs to lever herself to her greatest height. She growled out, “I’m Chona Neemtasa, Tamassa Soma.” Then she whip-cracked the air with her tail.

  Keeping her wits about her, Nata tipped her head just the slightest to acknowledge the greeting of a queen. It must have mollified Neemtasa because the young queen eased her legs and chuffed.

  Nata attempted a conversational opening that she hoped would get her released. “I was curious about Sawa, Chona Neemtasa. That’s why I landed my ship here. I meant no disrespect by trespassing onto the Tamassa nest’s territory. If you’ll return my suit, I’ll leave you in peace.”

  Nata could have kicked herself. Her gambit had been a mistake. She’d forgotten one of the key statements of Pussiro, who often said, “Let your adversaries speak first. They’ll tell you of their weaknesses.”

  Now, the queen’s eyes glowed with appreciation for the opportunity that she’d been presented. She focused on Sossfass. In turn, the wasat opened the door, barked a command, and closed it.

  Nata knew what had transpired. The wasat had sent warriors to locate her ship. Lookouts would watch to see if anyone else visited the ship or walked the surface.

  “Who came with you?” Neemtasa asked.

  Then Nata made her second mistake or third, if you count her decision to walk Sawa’s surface. She replied, “Others will be coming for me, Chona Neemtasa. They won’t let you keep me imprisoned here.”

  “Thank you for sharing that information, Nata,” Neemtasa said. Her muzzle opened, and her long tongue lolled along its
side.

  Nata’s fists clenched, and her face burned.

  Neemtasa barked a laugh at her captive, cracked her tail, whirled, and exited the storeroom with Sossfass.

  In the tunnel, the queen and the wasat were silent, and warriors, females, and pups leapt aside to let the pair pass unobstructed.

  Neemtasa compared the bodies of her soma to that of her captive. Nata’s flesh was plump and healthy. Whereas, her soma were gaunt to the point of appearing stringy.

  Sossfass watched his queen eye those who demonstrated their obeisance. He could imagine the workings of the young queen’s mind. She was plotting a dangerous course, but under the circumstances, the risks might be necessary. There was every possibility that Chona Neemtasa might be the last queen of the Tamassa Soma nest.

  The nests’ myriad tunnels often exited onto a deep pool of water. These cisterns had saved the last of the Sawa soma. Only the strongest nests were able to defend these critical resources.

  Sossfass hadn’t repulsed an aggressive force in annuals. It was his thought that the adjunct nests might have succumbed to thirst or starvation.

  The cistern walls glowed with thick growths of bioluminescent fungi, and the pools held algae. It was the duty of the females to carefully harvest the fungi and the algae for their various uses. Some of what the females collected went into Dischnya pots. The cuttings weren’t tasty, but the nutrients were necessary for the diet.

  Some fungi clippings were given to warriors, who shared them with the pups. Every Dischnya who was able hunted the tunnels. Traps existed everywhere, and the bait was the fungi, which was considered delectable by the various vermin that roamed the tunnels.

  Sossfass snorted in derision at the harsh times that had befallen the nest. The soma were reduced to eating creatures that many annuals ago would have been considered pests. In those times, the vermin would have been caught, killed, and used as fertilizer for cultivation.

  In Neemtasa’s quarters, the queen dismissed her attendants to allow privacy for her conversation with Sossfass.

  “I scent opportunity,” Neemtasa said, rounding on Sossfass and daring him to disagree with her.

  “It’s there,” Sossfass allowed, “but the path is fraught with hazards. Recall the stories of your matriarch.”

  “The strangers have power,” Neemtasa acknowledged, “but that’s exactly what we require. A raid on another starving nest does us no good. How many times did my matriarch send Falwass to raid the adjoining nests only to discover they had fewer resources than we did?”

  “What do you expect the strangers to do in exchange for the return of their hairless one?” Sossfass asked. He was worried that his young queen might be hoping for too much.

  “That’s the challenge, isn’t it?” Neemtasa replied. “What would do us the most good?”

  “To leave these tunnels and return to the light,” Sossfass retorted. He wasn’t serious, but he sought to demonstrate his despair with their present circumstances.

  “Unfortunately, Sawa doesn’t care for the needs of the Dischnya any more, Sossfass,” Neemtasa said.

  Sossfass was surprised by the gentleness of his queen’s remark. It was obvious that they faced the impossible task of saving the nest. As the wasat, it was his duty to advise the queen of potential successful endeavors. As such, he dismissed the unsettling concept of the stranger’s presence. The hairless one was an asset who could be traded. The unknown was the captive’s value. The moment Sossfass thought that, he chortled.

  Neemtasa’s eyes brightened and her tail rose. “Tell me,” she directed.

  “We’re asking the same question, which is the wrong one,” Sossfass replied. “We don’t have to determine Nata’s worth. The strangers will tell us that.”

  Neemtasa’s brow furrowed. She approved of the idea, but it didn’t solve a fundamental issue.

  “The strangers can’t understand our needs unless they witness our soma, these tunnels, and our cisterns,” Neemtasa mused.

  “You’d invite the hairless ones into our tunnel?” Sossfass asked in surprise.

  “We’ve been playing this opportunity as Ceefan and Falwass would have done,” Neemtasa replied sharply. “What good did that do our soma? A gift has fallen into our claws. We either grasp it firmly or let it slip through our digits as if we were mewlings.”

  “What are your orders?” Sossfass asked, elevating on his legs.

  “You’ve set the guards to watch and report. That’s good,” Neemtasa replied, “but we need to prepare the soma.”

  “Direct announcements or whisperings from muzzle to muzzle?” Sossfass inquired.

  “Something in between,” Neemtasa replied. “We must let the soma know that the stranger is an opportunity for the nest, not a danger. Be subtle, but ensure there isn’t confusion in the transmission.”

  “Understood, Chona. When do you wish me to begin?” Sossfass asked.

  “It starts when you leave,” Neemtasa replied. Her jaw dropped open, exposing rows of sharp teeth.

  “Yes,” Sossfass declared. “Upright, confident, and hopeful.”

  “One more thing. See to our guest. She’ll need a comfortable pallet, food, water, and a bucket for wastes. Now, go,” Neemtasa directed, flicking a dark-nailed furred hand toward the cloth-covered entrance.

  When Sossfass exited and Neemtasa’s attendants returned, she lay on a pallet to think. She tried to imagine the first contacts with those who searched for their comrade. There would be no more crucial moment for her and for the nest.

  5: Another Signal

  Hector was in another meeting with the admirals and Lydia. This one reviewed the mock battle that had recently taken place.

  At the conclusion of the review, Hector signaled the holo-vid to display the latest information from the probe at Vinium. He’d compressed the imagery to shorten the time span.

  “Can you provide perspective, Hector?” Alphons asked. “How big is the ship?”

  “The probe lacks sophisticated telemetry, and, coming from the dark, there are few indicators as to the ship’s dimensions,” Hector replied. “However, either the ship’s velocity is extremely low on approach to the system, or the vessel has tremendous dimensions.”

  In an eerie sense of déjà vu, Hector received a second signal while attending the admirals’ meeting. Immediately, he replaced the imagery from the Vinium probe with that of Miriamette, a sister on Toral.

  “Greetings,” Miriamette said. “As I’ve no idea as to who might be in receipt of this message, I’m making a general appeal. Talus has been inundated by a mass of battleships. Most of them are lead ships or colony protectors. Only two of the less technologically developed races have arrived aboard wedges. At this moment, there hasn’t been fighting. Apparently, that’s not the purpose of their visits.

  “The races’ missions to Talus, which seem to have been well-coordinated, are about many things. However, one subject seems to be on everyone’s lists. Leaders are demanding reparations from Talus for the damages caused by Artifice. They blame Toralians for creating the entity and letting the AI loose on federacy space. Another frequent request is that they wish proof that Artifice is defunct, which the AI is not.

  “Negotiations are ongoing. However, the Talusian battleship wedge and the Trident fleet are no match for the forces arrayed against the system if talks fail. The president, Sargut, wishes me to communicate that whatever aid might be extended to Talus from Omnia Ships would be much appreciated.”

  Hector froze the message on Miriamette’s face. The sister, a SADE, was the Sisterhood’s envoy to the Talusian president. She’d been directed by the Sisterhood to adopt an avatar that closely resembled the genetic style of Renée de Guirnon, Alex Racine’s partner.

  The purported purpose of the avatar choice was to influence Alex Racine to the Sisterhood’s benefit. The design had annoyed many of Alex’s close associates, but he’d seen through the pressure that had forced Miriamette to accept the choice. Renée had no problem with the avata
r. She considered it a compliment to her own image.

  Hector surveyed the table. It was quiet, while the admirals considered the problem.

  Alphons and Adrianna regarded Ellie. Hector did too, and Ellie was well aware of their eyes. However, Ellie also knew that Hector was responsible for strategic decisions, and she stared quietly back at Hector.

  “Three simultaneous problems,” Hector said, responding to Ellie’s unasked question. “Do we have the forces to manage all three, Admiral?”

  “No,” Ellie quickly replied. “We can accommodate the problem at Sawa and one of the greater challenges, but not both.”

  “Then I must choose between Vinium and Talus?” Hector inquired, acknowledging that the Sawa problem could be handled with minimum forces.

  Ellie slowly nodded. “I would have Commodore Descartes’s command accompany the fleet, except for the twins’ Tridents.”

  “It should be noted that the Vinium situation represents a first contact event,” Lydia said. Her comment clearly pointed to a preference for Alex and Julien to deal with the massive ship approaching the Ollassa system.

  “We’ve the greater experience with the Talus system, President Sargut, and the Sisterhood,” Ellie opined.

  “Then that’s our target,” Hector decided.

  “The NNEMP weapon has proven reliability, and we can adjust parameters on-site,” Alphons said, “but we’ve only built a single device for each test.”

  “Admiral, how many devices do you want the fleet to carry?” Hector inquired of Ellie.

  “What’s the quantity that can be produced over what period of time?” Ellie returned, and she regarded the SADEs.

  Hector let Lydia calculate the numbers. She’d been the individual managing component production and weapon assembly for the tests.

  “If the fleet is to sail in the shortest amount of time, we can transfer the material we need to the Our People within two days and assemble them on the journey,” Lydia announced. “In that case, we could supply nineteen weapons. If more are required, we must remain at Omnia. Then we can complete the components at the rate of ten weapons every eight days.”