Terminal Uprising

by Jim C. Hines

  “They won’t find anything,” Mops said wearily. Reuniting with Wolf and the librarians had lanced her fears, leaving her exhausted and impatient to bring this game to an end, one way or another. “Not from my team, at any rate. Like I said, we’re just here to deliver a message.”

  Only after the other Krakau had been removed did Sage speak again. “Marion Adamopoulos. You and your crew have lived your lives safe in the shell of Krakau protection. Do you know what the Prodryans would do to this planet if we hadn’t deterred them?”

  Cate perked up. “I do.”

  Mops double-checked the time, then cleared her throat. “Advocate of Violence, didn’t you have a message for Fleet Admiral Sage?”

  Cate straightened. Despite the patchiness of his wings, the flakes of mucus that clung to his limbs, and the strong odor of sewage and mold, he somehow projected a fair imitation of dignity as he reached into a pocket compartment of his armor.

  “Slowly,” said Sage. “My people won’t hesitate to shoot a Prodryan.”

  “Normally, I’d applaud such enthusiasm.” Cate removed a small, low-quality memory crystal. “In this situation, however, hesitation would be best for all involved.”

  Sage tapped one of the guards with a tentacle. The guard picked up the memcrys and dropped it into a small rectangular scanning unit. “No sign of malicious code or active AI.”

  Mops glanced at Eliza. “Paranoid, aren’t they?”

  “War criminals often are,” said the librarian.

  Sage ground her beak but accepted the crystal from the guard. She touched the edge to her visor, allowing the two systems to interface.

  Cate ruffled his wings. “Fleet Admiral Belle-Bonne Sage, you are hereby served notice of the following civil and criminal charges: trespassing, destruction of property, attempted kidnapping, attempted murder, and murder. This is an initial list of charges, subject to—”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Sage snarled. “You think a Prodryan and a human deserter can bring charges against me?”

  “We aren’t,” interrupted Mops. “These and additional charges to come are being filed on behalf of Eliza Gleason.” Her mouth quirked. “Duly elected Queen of Earth, and Head of the Library of Humanity. Charges were witnessed and affirmed by Nancy Pearl, Vice-Queen of Earth.”

  Eliza had argued for “President” or “Prime Minister,” but according to Doc, the word “Queen” translated better into Liktok.

  Eliza squared her shoulders and stepped toward Sage. The Krakau guards shifted uneasily. “On behalf of my species, I intend to request full membership in the Krakau Alliance. But first we need to negotiate the unlawful presence of this station in Earth space, as well as the matter of your unauthorized facilities on the surface. I’ve spoken with literally every sentient, unmodified human being on Earth, and strangely enough, not one of them recalls granting permission for this incursion.”

  “This is absurd,” said Sage. “Take them all into seclusion. Nobody speaks with the humans until I’ve had time to—”

  “Before you lock us up,” Mops interrupted, “you might want to check in with Tactical.”

  One of Sage’s tentacles went to her visor. She murmured quietly, then turned back to Mops. “What are you talking about?”

  Mops sighed. “Grom never has been the most punctual member of the crew . . .”

  Sage’s body flattened in alarm. The bay lighting turned green as the entire station went on alert.

  Mops checked the time. “Twenty-three seconds late. Not bad.”

  “What have you done?” demanded Sage.

  “On order from Queen Gleason, the EDFS Pufferfish just destroyed your facility at Armstrong Space Center,” said Mops.

  “EDFS?” asked Rubin.

  “Earth Defense Fleet Spaceship,” Mops explained. “Currently, the EDF is a fleet of one.”

  “As a token of our desire for peace,” Eliza added, “we will take no hostile actions against your other settlements on our planet. For now.”

  Sage began shouting orders into her comm. “What do you mean you can’t trace the source of the attack? Blanket the area with A-gun fire, and launch a wide spread of— On whose authority?”

  “The Pufferfish also transmitted a copy of the charges against you to Stepping Stone Station,” Mops explained. “And to the EMCS Taipan. And directly to Admiral Pachelbel. We included preliminary evidence. The recorded confessions from your scientists were especially damning, as was the video of the poor souls you transformed into mindless monsters.”

  “The Alliance Military Secrecy Act supersedes these charges.” Sage flung the memcrys to the ground.

  “The hell with your secrecy act,” said Mops. “Fleet Admiral, did you ever visit your secret laboratory? Did you inspect the work your mad scientists were doing? Did you look your victims in the eyes?”

  “You’d lecture me?” Sage slid closer. “You just ordered the death of everyone down there.”

  “I know.” The Krakau had said their work—their butchery—was irreversible. Whoever those people had been, they’d died long before Mops ever heard of Armstrong Space Center. None of it changed the guilt over issuing that order. “I killed them. It’s what soldiers do. What you created us to do. It’s what the Prodryans want to do.”

  “True,” said Cate.

  “What you did to those people is worse,” Mops continued.

  Cate tugged the edges of his wings around his shoulders like an overly-starched cape. “Fleet Admiral Sage, I earned a Superlative rating in my certification exams and am distinguished as one of only seventy-three advocates with the right to practice beyond Prodryan borders. I easily passed your Alliance legal exams, and I have full confidence in my interpretation of the AMSA and all related case law. In my professional opinion, you should stop talking until you’ve hired an advocate to defend you.”

  “I imagine security will be arriving shortly to take you into custody, Admiral,” said Mops.

  Sage turned her attention toward Mops, openly pleading now. “You’ll destroy the Alliance. When Earth is overrun by the Prodryans and humanity exterminated, remember this moment.”

  “I will remember and treasure it always,” chirped Cate. He paused, then said, “You were addressing the humans. My apologies.”

  “How does she expect you to remember this moment after you’ve been exterminated?” asked Doc.

  Mops didn’t answer. She knew Belle-Bonne Sage’s record. Sage wasn’t used to losing, and didn’t handle defeat well.

  Sage’s tentacle whipped toward the weapons cuff holstered at her side. Before she could pull it free, Mops threw her entire weight into a punch to the admiral’s face, directly above the beak.

  Sage’s body bobbed backward, straightened, and slowly sagged to the floor.

  Mops turned to the guards. “When you’re done staring, we’ll need an escort to your communications station.”

  “Communications?” one repeated. “What for?”

  “To send a message to the soldiers of the Earth Mercenary Corps,” said Eliza. “An invitation for them, if they choose, to come home.”

  Pachelbel touched a tentacle to the comm panel on her console. “This is Admiral Pachelbel. Please have the hygiene and sanitation team schedule a complete flush of my office. The sooner the better.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Clearing the lingering taste/scent of Belle-Bonne Sage from the water wasn’t the most urgent thing on Pachelbel’s list—it wasn’t even in the top twenty-five—but getting her office back to normal would help her to focus on the real priorities. Like arranging for Sage’s transfer back to Dobranok, where she would be officially court-martialed and punished for her various crimes. Or facilitating negotiations with the Queen of Earth.

  Not to mention trying to figure out what the depths to do with Mops and her crew. Half the Alliance wanted them exe
cuted as traitors; the other half wanted to give them medals for discovering what Sage was doing to Alliance citizens.

  The door slid open. The sight of a Prodryan on her station made her limbs tighten. She did her best to keep that instinctive reaction from showing. “Advocate of Violence. Come in.”

  “I’ve spent much of the past twenty-four hours conferring with my client, the queen.” He managed to drop the phrase “my client, the queen” into every conversation. He extended an antique bound book. A flap of paper marked a page near the middle. “We have a proposal for you.”

  Pachelbel hesitated, then carefully took the book from his claws. She set it gently on the console, moving slowly so as not to splash the paper pages. She secured her monocle to her left eye and waited for it to translate.

  She read the text twice to make sure she understood. Prodryans weren’t known for having a sense of humor, but this . . .

  “The practice has existed on Earth for thousands of years, in one form or another. The precedents are all there. My implant is transmitting a list of noteworthy precedents now, along with the official petition from Queen Gleason.”

  “This rule would grant your clients total freedom to commit whatever crimes they wanted!”

  “It’s a little more nuanced than that,” said Cate. “The queen and I submit that Captain Adamopoulos and her crew have been acting as part of the queen’s de facto service staff. Bodyguards, janitorial consultants, and so on. The rules of immunity are different, but still provide legal protections, particularly for actions taken while discharging their responsibilities to Queen Gleason.”

  Pachelbel settled back in her cove. She’d have to consult with Judicial, as well as with the Alliance Cultural Relations branch, but the stories spreading through the Alliance had made Queen Gleason a highly sympathetic figure. “What about the crimes Mops and her team committed before coming to Earth? Is this diplomatic inoculation supposed to apply retroactively?”

  “Historically, no. But given the circumstances, the queen and I feel a pardon wouldn’t be inappropriate.”

  “If I decide to grant this outrageous request, what will Her Majesty give the Alliance in return?”

  “To begin with, the queen has indicated she’d be willing to let you maintain a presence in this system. With human oversight, naturally.”

  The Prodryan was enjoying this a little too much. Pachelbel tapped her console. “This list of names to be granted full pardon. I notice you’re not on it.”

  Cate’s antennae flattened. “Excuse me?”

  Pachelbel suppressed her amusement. “Everyone from the Pufferfish is here, including Grom, Kumar, and Azure. There’s no mention of Advocate of Violence.”

  “An oversight, I’m sure,” Cate stammered. “I’ll file an amended request—”

  “You do that.” Pachelbel floated back from her console. This could solve one of her immediate problems. Soon she’d need to turn her attention to the larger ones. “Before you go, would you mind answering me one question?”

  “Certainly. My rates are—” Something in Pachelbel’s body language made him stop in mid-sentence. “What would you like to know, Admiral?”

  “Can you conceive of any outcome to the conflict between Prodryans and the Alliance that doesn’t involve the utter destruction of one side or the other?”

  “I don’t understand,” said Cate. “How else could conflict truly end?”

  Pachelbel settled back, letting her tentacles float on the water. “Thank you. That’s what I thought.” She flicked a tentacle over her console. “Please tell the queen I’ll forward her petition along with my recommendation it be granted.”

  * * *

  WOLF PACED THE CIRCULAR walkway around the edge of the observation dome. Intellectually, she knew a curved sheet of thick synthetic crystal would stop her from falling through space to the planet below. Slick tentacle prints showed where various Krakau had sat on the dome itself to watch the Earth. But Wolf’s hindbrain insisted that if she put the slightest weight on the dome, it would shatter, dropping her back to her home world as an extremely dead corpse.

  A door slid open behind her. Uneven footsteps approached. Mops was still limping from her injuries at Armstrong. “I would have gotten here sooner. Pachelbel is working on finding next of kin for Sage’s test subjects. She needed to review my data downloads to help with identification.”

  Wolf nodded, her attention fixed on the fiery arc of sunlight spreading across the edge of the planet. She’d spent the past two days coming to a decision. Now that she’d finally made it, she struggled to get the words out.

  “Command changes you,” Mops said gently.

  “You could say that.” Wolf remembered a puddle of red spreading across the floor. She forced the memory down and blurted, “I want to stay here.”

  “Here in the observation dome?”

  “On Earth.” Wolf realized a second too late Mops was joking. She turned around. “With Gleason and the librarians.”

  Mops’ expression didn’t change. She wasn’t surprised. Had she expected this? How the hell could she, when Wolf had only decided today?

  “What happened to Melvil wasn’t your fault,” said Mops. “It was—”

  “You weren’t there.”

  “It was mine,” Mops finished.

  “Huh?”

  Mops sat down and folded both arms on the low rail, letting her legs hang over the edge. “That’s how command works. I chose to leave you and Cate behind to hold off the Krakau. That makes it my responsibility.”

  Wolf scratched the healing wound on her shoulder. “Why not Monroe? He has the training and experience.”

  “The mission wasn’t to win. It was to keep the Krakau busy long enough for the rest of us to take Armstrong. I needed Monroe for that.” Mops smiled, but the lines by her eyes suggested sorrow. “And I knew you were too damn stubborn to stop fighting.”

  Wolf tilted her head, conceding the point. “Are you saying that’s a good thing? ’Cause I remember what you said when I got into that brawl with Grom . . .”

  “Nothing like getting shot to make you miss the good old days of quill punctures,” Mops said, grinning.

  “It’s not that I want to leave the Pufferfish—”

  The grin vanished. “The Alliance might have decided to let us off the hook, thanks to Cate and our friend the queen. That doesn’t mean they’re going to let us keep our very own EMC cruiser.”

  “EDF,” Wolf corrected.

  That got another smile. “I’m supposed to head to the ship in half an hour to go over the various modifications we’ve made.” Mops paused. “I don’t know what’s next for the crew, but I have no objections to you staying here, if it’s what you want. Have you talked to Gleason about this, and about what you’d be doing?”

  Wolf sat down. A part of her had hoped Mops would refuse, would order her to stay with the crew and the Pufferfish. For one anxious heartbeat, she was tempted to change her mind, to stick with the chaos and madness she knew. “I asked Khatami some questions. All hypothetical. I figure I could help them out with security work. And someone’s gotta look after Cindy and the other ferals. Who better than someone who’s half feral herself, right?”

  “You and Cindy seemed to get along well.”

  “Yes, sir.” Wolf’s throat tightened. “I’m sure I’ll be doing a lot of reading, too. I mean, I’ll be living in a library.”

  “When you find good books, I expect you to transmit copies my way.”

  “I will.” Wolf stood to go. “What about you? I mean, we’ve all been given a clean slate to do whatever we want. If you won’t be staying on the Pufferfish . . .”

  “That’s a good question.” Mops laughed quietly, almost to herself. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “None of us are part of the EMC anymore,�
�� Mops said. “You don’t have to call me sir. For that matter, you didn’t have to ask my permission to stay, either.”

  “Respectfully, sir? Yeah, I did.”

  Mops stood up and faced Wolf. With a small, strange smile, she offered Wolf a half bow, the gesture they’d learned from Khatami. Wolf returned it.

  “See what you can do about upgrading those bathrooms in LockLand,” Mops suggested. “They’ll need someone who knows modern plumbing.”

  “Thank you, sir. For everything.” Wolf hurried out of the observation dome before the knots in her throat and gut could get any tighter. She ran directly into Khatami, who was loitering in the corridor outside the door.

  “Well?” asked Khatami.

  “Well what?”

  “What did your captain say? Are you staying with us?” They snorted. “Or didn’t you expect me to see through all your ‘hypothetical’ questions?”

  These humans were smarter than most of the ones Wolf had known. That would take some getting used to. “She said yes.”

  Khatami whooped and pulled her into a quick embrace. After a moment, Wolf returned it, albeit stiffly.

  “Sorry,” they said, releasing her. “I didn’t mean to presume. I’m just happy you’ll be joining us. You know Junior’s going to follow you around until you tell her absolutely everything about space and other planets and the different aliens you’ve met, right?”

  “Nothing’s official yet.” This was really happening. She was going to live on Earth. With plants and weather and sunsets and ferals and skunks . . . She felt dizzy. “I haven’t talked to Gleason—Queen Gleason, I mean.”

  “I may have asked her about it already,” Khatami admitted. “Hypothetically, of course.”

  Wolf snorted and gave them a gentle shove.