by Jim C. Hines
“I think she’s in one of the communications centers, talking to a team of Merraban archivists who want permission to help restore our library.” Khatami got a funny look on their face. “The Merraban in charge said his name was Bob.”
Wolf laughed. “Merrabans change names for the comfort of whoever they’re with. I wonder if any of them know how to cook Tjikko nuts . . .”
“I almost forgot!” Khatami abruptly stopped walking. “There’s one more thing I needed to tell you.”
Wolf braced herself. “What’s that?”
“Welcome home.”
* * *
Mops did her best to keep the amusement from her face as the trio of horrified Krakau technicians looked around at the Pufferfish bridge.
“What have you done?” whispered the lead tech, a green-hued Krakau who went by the Human name Tik Tok.
Grom rose from the tactical station where they’d been disconnecting the silver control sphere. “I made the bridge usable, thank you very much.”
Tik Tok pointed a tentacle toward the back of the bridge. “Is that . . . a cup holder?”
“It’s better than cleaning up spills,” said Mops.
The three Krakau began talking among themselves. Mops picked up phrases like “complete tear-down” and “six separate fire hazards.” All the while, Grom’s spines grew taller, and their grip on the microwelder grew tighter.
Mops moved between Grom and the Krakau before the former lost their temper and tried to weld the latter to the exposed wiring panel at Navigation. “Why don’t you take a break, Grom,” she suggested. “Finish packing up your belongings.”
“If they damage my controllers, I’ll expect replacements,” Grom muttered as they pushed past the Krakau toward the lift.
Mops sat in the captain’s chair, sinking into the cushion for what might be the last time. “How long will it take to extricate Doc from the ship’s systems and synchronize him—them—back into a single unit?”
Tik Tok made a sound that married laughter and despair. “We’ve got an AI specialist coming in tomorrow. We’re just here to try to straighten out the hardware.”
They began at Tactical, tracing cables and testing controls. The main screen flickered once, and Puffy appeared, fully armored and wielding the ridiculous battle mop. “It looks like you’re trying to disassemble the bridge. Do you need any help?”
All three Krakau stared.
“No, thank you,” said Mops. Puffy shrugged and shrank into nothing.
“This ship should be condemned,” Tik Tok declared.
The lift door opened as she finished speaking. Admiral Pachelbel tilted her body to one side. “Are you saying it’s beyond your team’s skills to repair and refit?”
“No, sir!” Tik Tok straightened to attention, followed a half-second later by her two companions. “It may take longer than initially expected, though.”
“Go examine the engine room,” said Pachelbel. “I need to talk to Ms. Adamopoulos in private.”
Mops had jumped to her feet when the admiral entered. As her conscious mind caught up with her training, reminding her she was a civilian now, she settled back into the captain’s chair.
Pachelbel waited for the lift to close, then eased her way to the front of the bridge. The white skin around her eyes crinkled with fatigue. “You’ll be happy to know we’re likely to make it through another day without a civil war and the total collapse of civilization.”
Mops checked the time on her monocle. “The day’s not over yet.”
“True.” She pulled a small, flexible bulb from a satchel around her neck and brought it to her beak, squeezing a stream of clear liquid down her throat. “Sage isn’t talking, except to tell us we’ve damned the Alliance and given the galaxy to the Prodryans.”
“Cate will be happy to hear it.”
“She truly believed she was doing her duty,” said Pachelbel. “Have you ever heard the Merraban saying about good and evil?”
“The true enemy of good isn’t evil, but fear. Evil will battle good, but fear will corrupt it.” Mops shook her head. “If Sage’s work escaped her control, if it spread like the Krakau Plague did on Earth—”
“Sage and her scientists insist that wasn’t possible.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Mops. “If there’s one thing the people of the Alliance fear more than the Prodryans, it’s humans. The idea of becoming like us . . .”
“Humans are smarter than we give them credit for.” Pachelbel looked around the bridge, taking in the various modifications.
“What’s happening to the personnel from Armstrong?”
“Most are cooperating with the investigation. They insist they were simply following orders, but that excuse is unlikely to float. They’ll be spending a very long time locked up in the Basin.”
“Even Greensleeves?”
“She claims to have been unaware of what was happening. Between that and your recommendations, she’ll probably be released after we finish questioning her.”
“She’s good under pressure, and she knows her stuff,” said Mops. “I don’t know who you’ve got running hygiene and sanitation on the station these days, but you could do a lot worse.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thanks. And while we’re on the subject of prisoners . . .”
“I’m working on securing Azure’s release from quarantine.” The Rokkau had been kept isolated since their arrival, a prisoner in all but name. “There are limits to the number of crises I can manage at one time. Most of the Alliance has no idea who the Rokkau were. Most of the Krakau believe the Rokkau are extinct.”
“So you lock up an innocent Rokkau because it’s easier?” asked Mops.
Pachelbel darkened, her annoyance clear. “Wasn’t that innocent Rokkau actively involved in an attempt to destroy my planet four months ago?”
“Not the planet. Just the Krakau living there.”
Pachelbel simply looked at her.
“All right, fair point,” Mops conceded.
Pachelbel took another drink. “Queen Gleason and her retinue will be returning to Earth soon. I’m sending two squads of EMC infantry troops along for protection against the ferals and other threats. It should help them to safely explore and expand their territory.”
“Did she agree to let the Krakau continue curing humans?”
“She did,” said Pachelbel. “Conditionally. She’s sending a representative to supervise. In addition, all reborn humans are to be given the choice to enlist or not.”
“Given what Sage said about the Prodryans, we’ll need all the soldiers we can get.”
“We?” the admiral repeated.
“Prodryans don’t discriminate. They’ll kill my planet along with everyone else’s.” Mops thought back to what she’d seen of the original Marion Adamopoulos, the exhausted determination of the woman in the blue shirt and white lab coat. “I plan to keep fighting to protect my people. It’s what we do.”
Mops leaned toward Pachelbel. “You didn’t come here and clear everyone else off the bridge just to chat. You’re feeling me out. What is it you want, Admiral?”
Pachelbel finished her drink and tucked the empty bulb away. “We found something else in Sage’s files . . .”
* * *
Mops gathered her team in Azure’s new temporary quarters on Stepping Stone. All save Cate and Wolf. Wolf had departed for Earth three hours ago, and Cate was off trying to figure out how to double-bill the Alliance and the people of Earth for his time.
Azure’s quarters were marginally better than the quarantine she’d been in. Admiral Pachelbel had closed an entire section of the station “for repairs and maintenance.”
The small cove was only ten degrees—comfortable for Azure, but making the air a bit chilly for everyone else. There was no human furniture. Mops sat
on one of the rough, synthetic stones at the edge of the water. The others did the same, except for Grom, who coiled in a tight spiral near the wall.
Azure had been swimming in circles when they arrived, watching programming on three separate display screens. One showed the Earth as seen from the observatory; the next was a tactical display of the system. The third showed a Glacidae slalom competition.
“Doc, would you please show everyone the data brief Admiral Pachelbel provided?”
“That’s all I am to you. A glorified remote control.”
A fourth display lit up. For several minutes, the room was silent except for the slalom commentary.
Monroe spoke first. “Tuxatl? Never heard of that planet, but it sounds Quetzalus.”
“It is,” said Mops. “Or it was supposed to be. The Quetzalus launched an exploratory mission to Tuxatl eleven years ago. They found the planet was inhabited by an intelligent, technologically primitive species they named the Jynx.”
“Isn’t that a species of rodent on Cuixique?” asked Rubin.
“It is.” Mops started to say more, but Grom reared up, shouting and rattling their spines.
Everyone turned to stare.
“Sorry.” Grom settled back down. “I’m listening. I just got distracted for a moment. Watch this replay. Tarnogoqualin cut in front of Mirnamidalkag, sending Mirn into a wipeout. Tarn used their spines to gouge the ice. It’s called a blizzard turn. It sends bits of snow and ice to blind whoever’s behind you.”
“Doc, maybe find another program?” asked Mops.
Grom started to protest, looked around, and sighed as Doc switched to live footage of an Alliance Economic Subcouncil meeting about inflation rates.
“The Quetzalus didn’t think much of the Jynx,” Mops continued. “Mission logs describe the natives as ‘fussy’ and ‘primitive’ and ‘obsessed with personal hygiene.’”
Azure swam to the edge of the cove. “Like Kumar?”
“You know I can splice a waste line into your water supply in two and a half minutes, right?” asked Kumar.
Azure raised her tentacles in surrender and slid backward, floating on the surface.
“Alliance laws were clear,” said Mops. “Native species take precedence. The Quetzalus started packing up to leave. That’s when a Prodryan war fleet arrived. They blew up the support ship in orbit and turned the landing site, including the exploratory team, into a glass crater.”
“This is what Prodryans do,” said Rubin.
“Yes and no,” Mops agreed. “The Alliance scrambled to pull enough ships together to fight off the Prodryans and protect whatever was left of the native population, but the Prodryans just turned around and left.”
“Maybe they didn’t know about the Jynx,” Monroe suggested.
“They sent a hunting party to the surface to check for Quetzalus survivors,” said Mops. “They couldn’t have missed evidence of native intelligence. Withdrawing without even a token attack on an alien species violates everything we know about Prodryan procedures and instincts.”
“They’re not slaves to those instincts,” said Kumar. “Cate hasn’t tried to kill us.”
“Yet,” added Rubin. “He’s made his long-term intentions clear.”
“Exactly.” Mops zoomed in on Tuxatl. “Cate wants to break the entire Alliance. That supersedes his instinct to kill a few humans. The question is, what happened here to override their need to slaughter the Jynx?”
Monroe blew a bubble of what smelled like cigar-flavored gum, then went back to chewing thoughtfully. “Could have been a coincidence. Another battle needed reinforcements, maybe.”
“That’s what the Alliance believed at first,” said Mops. “They sent a follow-up mission two years later, with heavy security. The Prodryans threw an even larger attack force at them. They destroyed all but three Alliance ships that managed to jump away, then fell back, the same as before.”
“They don’t want anyone else exploring that planet,” said Rubin.
“Why haven’t we ever heard of Tuxatl?” asked Monroe.
“Because all of this is classified. Tuxatl is officially quarantined.” Mops leaned back and stretched her legs, one at a time. Her wounds were healing, which meant they were starting to itch. She tightened her fists to keep from scratching. “Admiral Pachelbel didn’t even know the details until she started going through Sage’s files. Sage was obsessed with finding ways to fight the Prodryans.”
“We noticed,” said Monroe.
“Someone like Belle-Bonne Sage would never keep all her eggs in one nest.” Mops brought up another of the records Pachelbel’s people had decrypted. “She had extensive notes about Tuxatl. They were saved in the same file substructure as her plans for new feral soldiers. The Tuxatl files were named . . . the best translation would be ‘Plan B.’”
“Sage believed the Jynx, or something about that planet, could be used against the Prodryans?” asked Grom.
“That’s what Pachelbel has asked us to find out.” Mops focused on her crew. “This isn’t an order. As of today, you’re all free to start whatever life you’d like.”
“Not all of us,” Azure said bitterly.
“I know.” Mops leaned closer. “I told her I’d only accept the mission if she forced her higher-ups in the Military Council to tell us where they’ve imprisoned the other Rokkau.”
“Europa.”
Mops stared at Azure. “Excuse me?”
“My people are on Europa.” Azure waved a tentacle. “Technically, they’re inside Europa.”
“We figured it out while you were chasing ferals on Earth,” added Kumar.
“It’s the one place in the solar system the Pufferfish nav systems wouldn’t let us go near,” said Grom. “Once we realized that, Doc was able to dig up all kinds of interesting code. Preprogrammed artificial readings designed to mask Krakau-built security systems, artificial data about the planet core . . . even if a ship happened to take a closer look at Europa, they wouldn’t see anything unexpected.”
“You figured this out . . . in your free time?”
“Yes, sir,” said Kumar.
Pride and gratitude momentarily overwhelmed her. All she could do was shake her head in amazed disbelief.
“In between games of Titanslayer,” added Grom.
Mops laughed. “Well, that certainly gives us additional leverage. I’ll tell Admiral Pachelbel I’ll take this assignment if she frees Azure’s people. What about the rest of you?”
“Why us?” asked Kumar. “We’re not exactly Alliance elite.”
“Because Tuxatl and the Jynx are protected,” said Rubin. “It’s part of the Alliance Protected Species Act. Pachelbel can’t order an Alliance ship to the planet.”
“Speaking of which,” said Grom, “how exactly does Her Admiralness expect us to get to Tuxatl?”
Mops’ smile grew. “I thought we’d take my ship.”
“Your ship?” asked Monroe.
“Pachelbel and I were reviewing the estimated cost of restoring the Pufferfish to Alliance standards. I’m told her accounting staff wept when they saw the figures. So I spoke with a few people. First, Cate dug up the laws about disposal of military surplus. Next, I put in a call to Eliza. The Krakau have had medical facilities on Earth for more than forty years. Eliza had her people calculate forty years of back rent. She was more than happy to divert a small portion of that debt to the legal acquisition of a decommissioned cruiser.”
Monroe pumped a fist in the air and let out a loud whoop. “I’m in, sir.”
“I’ve put too much work into that ship to abandon it now,” said Grom.
Kumar and Rubin looked at one another. They nodded to Mops in unison.
“Azure?” asked Mops.
“The Krakau imprisoned my people for more than a century,” said Azure. “Do you really believe Admiral
Pachelbel and the Alliance will free them?”
“I believe she wants to do the right thing,” Mops said slowly. “And I believe most of the people who know about the Rokkau are more afraid of what’s coming from the Prodryans than they are of your people. If we help them against the Prodryans . . . yes, I believe we have a chance to free your people.”
Azure floated toward the back of the pool. “What’s the plan, Captain?”
“I haven’t worked out the details yet,” Mops admitted. “Here’s the rough version. First, we get the Pufferfish fixed up. Then we go save the galaxy.”
Epilogue
Advocate of Violence: Mission Progress Report
Have successfully completed or made significant progress on objectives 1-5, 8, and 9. Fleet Admiral Sage has been arrested and disgraced. Humans are becoming aware of various Krakau deceptions. Of the ten thousand EMC troops currently in service, roughly five percent have formally resigned from the service. Fewer than I had hoped for, but it will take time for the truth to spread.
I was presented the opportunity to kill one member of the Pufferfish crew: Mozart, Wolfgang A. However, this occurred during a Krakau siege, and killing her at this time would have significantly reduced the odds of my own survival. Since being killed would negatively impact my ability to complete my mission, I allowed Wolf to live.
Leaked information about the experiments conducted under Fleet Admiral Sage have led to seven resignations, eleven separate investigations, and a general sense of distrust among Alliance members.
My preference at this time would be to return home to reap the glory and rewards of my service, but there has been an unexpected change in the wind. Adamopoulos has kept me as part of her team. While I am not a prisoner, neither am I free to leave, nor have I been permitted communications access to broadcast these reports.
The blows I’ve struck against the Alliance in the name of our clan should be more than enough to gain the support of the other warlords, earning our clan warlord the title of Supreme War Leader. Once I am able to transmit proof of my glorious success, I trust my efforts will be fairly rewarded.