by Tim C Taylor
To an uninitiated human, peering through the view-slit in his mount’s armored head crest, it was a large and almost empty stone chamber in which lay a swollen giant ant. Arun knew that the low stone couch upon which Pedro was lying his bulk would have been warmed to the temperature of a warm summer’s day on Tranquility. Smaller attendants, mostly of the scribe mode, fussed over their Great Parent.
When experienced through the medium of scent – which Arun could now glimpse through his pheromone implant – this almost featureless room emerged as an opulent palace woven with complex tapestries of scent art that entwined with each other in an intricate dance. Artisan Trogs were continuously weaving new threads into the artwork, layering new levels over… not just old but ancient threads. This wasn’t static art, this was a performance that had been ongoing for generations!
“Arun!” snapped Springer.
A pair of scribes peeled away to reveal the cause of Springer’s warning. A human child – a girl of perhaps five years old – was burying her head against the protective bulk of Pedro’s abdomen, too shy to look at these strange people she didn’t know. She sneaked a brave peek behind her at the newcomers before pressing her head back against Pedro. She couldn’t have seen anything through her wild brown curls, because Arun and Springer were hidden behind the crests that rose from their steeds.
“Don’t be scared,” said Springer from Trog-back. “We won’t hurt you.”
Arun pushed aside the question of why the hell Pedro would allow humans in the Nest, when it was imperative that the Hardits never discover its existence. Instead, he tried to remember how he had perceived the outside world when he’d been as young as that girl. Springer was a muscular Wolf woman with freakish eyes and covered in bright scales, while he lacked limbs. Was that scary to a kid? Thank Fate the scribes had earlier found some simple tunics to cover their nakedness.
“When you see us, you may think we look strange,” Arun told the girl. “That doesn’t mean we’re bad people.”
Amazingly, his words seemed to do the trick, because the little girl took a deep breath and, with lower lip firmly sucked up into her mouth, she made herself run over to Arun’s Trog. Hands planted firmly on the chitinous head shield, she peered around its frilled edge at Arun.
The girl allowed her hair to fall to one side, revealing her face… her eyes!
Springer screamed in horror and the girl’s head shot back behind the safety of the Trog’s head armor.
“It’s all right,” soothed Arun, and reached around to gently stroke her thick auburn hair.
But it wasn’t all right. Not really. First Grace and now this… The universe was laughing at him. Again. And he hadn’t time for any of it. He had a job to do.
The girl peeked out again, taking care to look only at Arun, and not the other human rider with the scary scream.
“We’ve been asleep for a very long time,” Arun explained, “which makes us confused. And we’re here because the Great Parent has a helluva lot of explaining to do, which he’d better do real quick if he knows what’s good for him.”
The little girl laughed, her beaming smile reaching her eyes, which sparkled with an inner lilac glow. “Hello, Pappa. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up for such a long time. Do you like my nest?”
— Chapter 24 —
Arun McEwan
Nest Hortez
“Will you ever stop interfering?” Arun shouted at Pedro.
“I have your vital interests at heart.”
“Do you really? Didn’t you think to ask me what those interests might be? Did you ask Springer? You know full well what this means… would have meant to her.”
Arun swallowed his angry words and tried to remember that many lives still depended on Springer’s identity remaining secret. Pedro knew, of course, but she was still supposed to be Lissa in this time period. The painful details didn’t need to be disinterred aloud. Arun, Springer, and Xin had all been part of an alien conspiracy against the White Knight Empire – weaponized kids being built inside the Human Marine Corps under the noses of their masters. Maybe against Greyhart too. But the Corps provided a cruel upbringing which many children did not survive, and so Pedro had taken DNA samples as backup in case replacements for any or all of them needed to be fast-grown. When still a cadet, Springer had almost been killed in the Hardit rebellion on Antilles. She had survived her wounds, but her hopes of becoming a mother died in the radiation blast that melted half her skin. Or so it had been until Pedro revealed he’d mixed their DNA to produce embryos.
Arun’s mind stopped rubbing its nose in the memory of dark consequences that had flowed from Pedro’s interference. Instead, he watched wide-eyed as Springer dismounted and walked with tears in her eyes over to the giant Trog. She reached up on tiptoes to his antennae.
Arun couldn’t breathe. Was she going to rip them out? He felt his mount tense, but it was too late to protect the Great Parent now.
Springer stroked Pedro’s antennae as gently as caressing a baby. The great bulk of his thorax shuddered. The big guy still liked it.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Why do you thank me, Human Lissa? Your eyes… Mine are dim but I can see you have Springer’s lilac pigmentation.” Was that a slight curl of amusement to Pedro’s antennae as he directed them at Arun? “Your aide and consort has colored her eyes to better resemble the woman you once loved. That is a powerful gesture, Lissa.”
Springer laughed at word consort, but Arun just hung his head in his hands. “Can we just get on with the war and deal with all this drent later?”
“As you wish. I shall brief you, and then we must resume contact with this Lance Scipio.”
Before Pedro could get started, the chamber was invaded by a score of children, all with lilac eyes.
“I told you to wait,” Pedro admonished. “We have downstream lifecycle business to discuss before you can meet your father.”
“We’re sorry,” the children chorused, and proceeded to mob Arun, laughing and singing, skipping and staring.
“As you see,” said Pedro, “being a single parent to so many of your kind is a challenge I have not yet mastered. It is good that their father is here to help out.”
Arun flicked a glance at Springer. She was in shock, her soul melting before his eyes.
It was obvious she’d already opened her heart to these clones, but Arun couldn’t. And he feared Springer was allowing herself to become vulnerable just when he most needed her to be strong.
These Nest humans had been created out of his and Springer’s stolen DNA, but they weren’t their children. They had been grown in a lab, not born. Were they even real people?
Do I really have to put you straight on that point? said Barney.
What you need to do, replied Arun firmly, is to leave me be. I need to kill Tawfiq. I can’t deal with this now.
I would have agreed with you, if not for one thing. Springer has clearly accepted them as her children. And that’s the woman you love, Arun, like you’ve never let yourself love anyone before. Not even Xin. Don’t forget that Saraswati and I have been riding your brains through every embrace, and felt you pine every time you’re apart for more than five seconds. Arun, you’re a soldier. You’ve stayed alive by adapting to situations as they unfold, not blindly following the scenario you originally planned for. Springer’s not the person she was an hour ago. Deal with it and adapt!
Adapt? I can only stretch so far, Barney. I have a battle computer in my head, and an AI riding shotgun in my neck. My bloodstream is patrolled by nano-scale EMTs, and my body design is optimized for extended zero-g campaigning. I’m at least half cyborg, but most of all I’m a Marine. We were bred to train, love, fight, and die, Barney. Nothing more. We weren’t supposed to have choices outside of the battlezone. We weren’t supposed to have a life. Don’t tell me to adapt to anything that doesn’t lead to Tawfiq’s death.
Easy, Arun. I know. I grew up with you, remember? Springer understands this life drent b
etter than we do. Stick close to her, because when we’ve kicked Tawfiq’s ass and the war is over, I think you’ll go to pieces without her, and you’ll take me down with you, buddy. You talk of leaving the military to Aelingir and Indiya and walking hand-in-hand with your love into the sunset as if it will be easy. You have no frakking idea. Trying to become a civilian will be the most difficult campaign either of us have ever fought, and you need to prep now. Go to her.
But Arun couldn’t move. This was too much.
“Your children have many talents,” said Pedro, “as I shall soon demonstrate. Amongst Springer’s many fine characteristics, they share some of her foresight. Individually, this ability is weak, but they can combine as nodes into a powerful array. Look, they are exhibiting signs now.”
The eyes of the clones began to glow. Weaponized children. The sight horrified him. They all joined hands in a circle, stared just like Springer used to at something Arun could never see, and then collapsed into a heap of weeping children.
“That’s cruel,” Arun growled. “Look at them. They’re sobbing their guts out.”
“Friend McEwan. I am reluctant to correct you on matters of your own species, but I have considerably more experience with human children. Those are happy tears.”
Happy? Arun looked again. Damn that ant, he was right!
As one, the kids lifted themselves off the ground and swarmed over Springer, knocking her over in a cloud of laughter.
“Mamma!”
“You’re alive!”
“It’s Mamma!”
Arun sighed. Springer’s secret was breached and venting atmosphere, and the implications would be vast. But it would have to wait. He needed to know what had happened to Grace, and he needed to loop in Scipio.
Springer had raised herself out of the sea of her children and was glaring at Pedro, her fists shaking in rage. Anger? I thought she was deliriously happy. “You played God,” she spat at Pedro. “You had no right!” She cooled slowly and spread her hands over the children. “These are people, Pedro, not Nest drones. They need to love, to feel human society. They need to meet outsiders.”
“I agree,” said Pedro. “And they will, but we are cut off here in Australia.”
“Australia?” said Arun. “I thought we were in England.”
“Not safe. We transferred you and the remains of the Saravanan here many centuries ago. There are large underground aquifers in this region. We buried beneath them. They shield us from observation and from the gamma beams that scoured Australia when your species was first fought over by regional interstellar powers.”
“And the ants with speech?”
“We are a new stage for the Nest people,” said a voice from behind.
Four more of the Trogs with the armored heads had entered the chamber. An adult purple-eyed human stood high in her stirrups, so her head was visible over the armored frills. The humans carried lances tipped with glowing blue crystals.
“We are dragoons,” said rider and steed together.
They looked at each other.
“No, we are dragoons,” insisted the human. “You’re a dragoon steed.”
“Steed?” The ant waved his antennae furiously. “It is you, human, who are the detachable and expendable auxiliary attachment, interchangeable with any of your kind.”
“You can’t possibly mean that. Interchangeable? We’ve been a pair all our lives.”
! Q U I E T !
Arun flinched, same as everyone else there, including the kids. Everyone but Springer. To the members of Nest Hortez, Pedro was the drill sergeant from hell, and they’d just disappointed him. Big time. Which is why he’d bellowed, though not with his voice; he had none.
Arun tried the same trick.
! B R I N G M E T H E S P E A K I N G C U B E !
Moments later, a scribe offered up the comm cube, and Arun felt a wave of relief at the prospect of speaking with another human without lilac eyes.
But before he spoke with Scipio, there was something he needed to know. “Grace,” he said and looked straight at Pedro. “What happened?”
“The Nest tried,” he replied, “but we couldn’t get close enough. We dug vast military staging areas beneath Tawfiq’s bunker, centuries before the White House was built. But the Hardits discovered them and filled them with their own birthing chambers, and then set defenses around them. We were discovered but covered our tracks through swift killings and the triggering of an earthquake that led to a partial collapse of our caverns.”
“Did she die? In 2719 without your support… the mission obviously didn’t succeed, but did my daughter survive?”
“I believe so.”
Arun let out a deep breath. He’d barely had time to speak with Grace, but the prospect of a universe without her seemed such a barren place.
“We helped in more subtle ways,” explained the Trog. “If we had risen openly against the New Order, they would have detected our movements and put their defenses on a high state of alert before Grace arrived with Karypsic. Instead, we sowed confusion, disrupting their communications even more than the Cairo attack could achieve, and sending false mission orders that dispatched New Order mobile reserves to the far corners of this world. Tawfiq was injured but survived. I believe the same could be said of the Karypsic. Since then, we have remained hidden from Tawfiq, the Legion, and everyone. With you to lead us, Friend McEwan, now is the time to fight with mandible and claw.”
“Got it. You’re right about one thing. This is the time, Pedro. It’s now or never, and not just for you. Greyhart’s supplied us with unexpected reinforcements. I hope.” Arun spoke into the cube. “Scipio, you can’t reach us directly. Tawfiq’s erected a corrosion barrier around the Earth. You’d never make it through. Indiya’s main fleet might have a solution by now, but even if she has, I doubt she’ll be able to retrofit more than a handful of ships to get through. We’ll have to deal with Tawfiq using the forces we already have on and under the ground.”
“Not a problem,” said Scipio. “Greyhart warned us about the corrosion shell.”
“You mean he fixed your hulls?”
“Not exactly. But he explained that the barrier the Hardits have erected is not their tech. It was extracted from Tranquility-4.”
“Tranquility-4? But we left it dead, except for Nhlappo’s retrieval mission to uncover the Marines buried beneath Detroit.”
“Turned out there was more than one sleeping legion, plus a host of other buried surprises. The tech comes from a long-dead race called the Makoni. Tawfiq stole their tech for her barrier and we used it for our ships, and that includes our dropships. They’ll punch through the barrier, no problem.”
“You’re very confident.”
“I am. Way I see things, General McEwan, someone’s gone to a whole lot of trouble to get me and my friends here and now with the specific equipment we have at our disposal. I don’t need to tell you that there are entire universes filled with easier ways to kill us. So, yeah, I’m confident. I have to be. I’ll be riding down with the first wave of dropships.”
“Nhlappo here, General. This Trog army, who will lead them in battle?”
“Me.”
“Yes, but your commands will be heard by scribes who will then pass on your requests to the soldiers who will issue pheromone commands. Too many intermediaries. I learned the hard way not to trust allies unless they’ve earned it.”
“Then trust me. I can issue pheromone commands directly. Pedro is the big boss, but I’m number two. I’m the Queen Ant, Nhlappo. You’d better believe it.”
Nhlappo hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. “Oh, I do,” she said, and Arun could almost believe the old drill instructor was smiling. “I would believe anything of you.” The humor left her voice and she ended, “But I do not trust this Greyhart person. He requested we stay cloaked until we spoke with you. We’ve complied even though the main Legion fleet has attempted to contact us. Do we now liaise with Indiya?”
This was exac
tly the sort of decision Arun had learned to offload to Indiya, Aelingir, or Xin. Even Nhlappo had proved the better field commander than Arun. But his gut told him that he was to lead his forces into battle one last time.
He looked over at Springer who returned a cautious smile that made his heart leap. Hell, this plan hatching in his mind… deep down, was this intended to impress her?
You know what I’m thinking? he asked Barney.
I do.
Do you think I’m mad?
No more than normal.
Arun grinned. “Maintain maximum stealth stance,” he ordered Nhlappo. “Quantum-entangled comms only. Keep a running summary of our plans and narrow beam it to the main fleet as soon as the New Order detects you. We have ten days to kill Tawfiq. And I’m going to lead you every step of the way. Here’s what we’re going to do…”
— Chapter 25 —
Nest Hortez Strike Team
New Order anti-air defenses, Australia
The New Order Hardits had built tunnels throughout Australia, but Nest Hortez had been there long before, and dug deeper, circumventing Hardit concentrations wherever possible. The Hardits had no idea the Trog nest was there. However, the downside of keeping its distance, was the Nest’s poor intelligence on Hardit deployments.
Seventy-five years ago, in 2664, human biologists had begun rebooting the Australian biosphere, which had been scoured of all life during the Tusker invasion of 2155. With the conquest of Earth at the turn of the century, the Hardits had driven away the bio-scientists and declared the continent off-limits for all humans.
However, a few brave souls had refused to abandon the continent, and had risked everything to covertly keep the repopulation projects active. Discovery by the Hardits would mean certain death, and so in order to survive, the human bio-engineers had secretly mapped the sparse Hardit military presence in order to keep their distance.
Nest Hortez members had discovered these humans hiding away in the vast continent’s interior, and made contact, scaring the life out of them. After convincing the humans that the giant insectoids were Legion advance forces, the Nest recruited the scientists to help pinpoint the locations of Hardit activities throughout the continent.