by Rob Howell
“T-t-they make it harder for us. We—”
“—are going to have to do the job you promised.” Tahzhent didn’t hide his disdain. “In this case, that’ll serve our needs perfectly.”
“B-b-but—”
“Your shuttle pilots will have to risk some dangerous flights. What did you think would happen? Did you think Tahnerif would let you abandon him and his troops on Maquon?”
Kukuluki glared at him.
Tahzhent continued. “Besides, this is better for you. If you simply throw the Stalkers into the swamp, your precious Foresters will take fewer casualties. Or have you forgiven them?”
Kukuluki almost snarled, an impressive feat for a Zuparti. “I w-w-will never forgive.”
“Are any of the Humans who harmed your family still alive?”
“Don’t lecture me, Z-z-zuul. Your c-c-clan hasn’t been your clan in many years.”
Tahzhent bared his fangs leisurely. “Ah, but destroying this littermate will bring me more than mere revenge, though I’ll savor that as much as any part of the hunt. Leadership in the clan may not make me as wealthy as you desire to be, but it has certain…advantages that you have no ability to understand.”
“And you cannot u-u-understand my desires.”
Tahzhent guffawed. “Perhaps that’s just as well.”
“P-p-perhaps.”
“How long until you order the assault?”
“Not long. After all, you s-s-suggested we tell T-t-tahnerif it was an observation contract to get him to agree.”
“I’m just making sure you weren’t thinking of doing something else.” Tahzent’s lip curled. “How many ships are you going to use?”
“Eight.”
“How are they armed?”
“They all have m-m-missiles and heavy ship-to-ship lasers. Any is more than a m-m-match for the Foresters’ ships.”
“I didn’t realize your ships had so much firepower.”
“Many things can h-h-happen in space.”
“Indeed. And you’ll be there, in the Zukalakk?”
Kukuluki sniffed. “Sometimes. I’m v-v-very busy.”
“I assume your subordinate will have all the skill I’ve come to expect of you.”
The Zuparti flicked his ears. “He wants to take my place, so he w-w-will do his best.”
The Zuul’s tongue lolled out. “It is ever so. How will you organize your ships? Keep them together in a squadron?”
“No. We’ll arrange them around M-m-maquon like this.” Kukuluki showed a series of vectors on his Tri-V.
“Will you keep them on these vectors?”
“These are the m-m-most advantageous spots for c-c-covering the whole planet and supporting each ship.” Kukuluki sniffed. “The m-m-mathematics are incontrovertible.”
Tahzent’s ears went up. “Is that so?”
“It is.” Scorn dripped from Kukuluki’s voice.
The Zuul’s ears went back. “I have learned something today. Thank you, Kukuluki, for teaching me something new.”
Kukuluki glared at the Zuul. “You’re welcome.”
Tahzhent bared his fangs. “No doubt. The Starstrider will be in the Maquon system, and according to everything you’ve shown me, she should’ve no issue with the Foresters’ ancient destroyers.”
“Where will you s-s-station your ship?”
Tahzhent glanced at the display. “If your ships cover the planetary orbits, I’ll cover the approach from the arrival point to the planet. That way, you’ll know when a ship comes into the system, and I can hit it from behind, should some mischance befall one of your ‘heavily-armed’ transports.” The Zuul’s tongue lolled, his eyes alight with scorn.
Kukuluki stared back, hatred shining in his eyes.
After a long moment, Tahzhent flicked his ears. “Send me your planned itinerary. I’ll be there before your ships arrive.”
“Will you?”
“I told you once not to doubt my honor, Zuparti,” growled Tahzhent. “I killed one littermate to remove a stain to my family’s honor, and I wish to slay another. Do you think I won’t slay you as well?” He took a step to one side of the table. Kukuluki moved to keep the table between them.
“Honor? The honor of the Z-z-zuul is legendary.”
Tahzhent bared his fangs again. “I’m glad you think so.” He fingered the ceremonial knife at his side for a long moment.
“E-e-enough.” Kukuluki waved a hand. “How l-l-long until the Foresters learn Tahnerif has t-t-taken the base?”
“Hyperspace travel is the same as always and gathering warriors takes time. It’ll be at least a Human month before they respond.”
The Zuparti considered the information. “I wish it w-w-were faster.”
“Do you lack patience? The longer my littermate has to prepare, the more he’ll hurt the Foresters. It would be better for me if it happened sooner, but while I am mighty, I cannot change hyperspace.” Tahzhent’s tongue lolled.
“I’d rather they s-s-suffer sooner.”
“Don’t destroy the Foresters before they can deal with Tahnerif. You must weaken them or force Tahnerif to surrender. That is your part of the deal.”
“I’m aware. Did many Stalkers perish on P-p-peninnah and Cimaron 283133-6A?”
“Less than two full companies. And there are fledglings who are undoubtedly replacing those as we speak.” He raised a paw. “It is true this has hurt Tahnerif, for the clan doesn’t have many fledglings, but that hurt is, as yet, small.”
“Have we not lived up to our side of the b-b-bargain?”
“For now.”
Kukuluki eyed Tahzhent for a moment. “And you h-h-have lived up to your side?”
“We heavily damaged the small unit of Foresters you told us would go to the Lyon’s Den.”
“N-n-not eliminated?” The Zuparti fluttered his paws.
“No.” Tahzhent wrinkled his muzzle. “I’ll admit I’m not entirely sure why, only that something unexpected happened.”
“D-d-do your kin not have eyes?”
“My sister in the ambush died when someone triggered the emergency charges.”
“What? W-w-why?”
“I’ll ask my sister when I see her in the Great Hunter’s Hall.” His tongue lolled.
The Zuparti’s hands continued their anxious waving. “This is m-m-most distressing. W-w-worrisome.”
“Why?”
“T-t-the Foresters will know of the threat.”
“Yes, and that’s what I want. A prey that fears for its life is much more enjoyable to hunt.” He bared his fangs. “Don’t you agree, Zuparti?”
“Most d-d-distressing.” Kukuluki fluttered more. “Especially s-s-since…”
“Since what?”
Kukuluki didn’t answer, but he typed something into the control panel before him. Tahzhent’s pad pinged.
Tahzhent looked at the report Kukuluki sent. “So. It seems the Foresters have stumbled onto something. Interesting. I wonder where the money for that came from.”
“I believe a P-p-peacemaker is too arrogant.”
“Aren’t they all, but why do you say that?”
“One of those is sized for a C-c-cochkala.”
“They’re training a Cochkala?”
“Not j-j-just any Cochkala.”
“Who is it?”
“It is the nephew of the P-p-peacemaker on Cimaron 283133-6A.”
The Zuul lolled his tongue out. “Interesting. That explains some things, don’t you think?”
Kukuluki fluttered his hands. “It is n-n-no coincidence that the Cochkala and the upgrade to the new armor h-h-happened at about the same time.”
Tahzhent watched with obvious amusement as Kukuluki flapped his paws about.
“Tlanit was a part of the W-w-wathayat,” spat Kukuluki. “He m-m-made this happen. He too must suffer.”
“My, my, Kukuluki. That was almost a proper snarl. Be careful, or we’ll have you joining a merc unit. Did your contact in the Foresters tell us anything
else?”
“N-n-no.” The Zuparti’s hands fluttered again. “But the Cochkala n-n-needs to die.”
The Zuul bared his fangs. “I’m not going after a Peacemaker unless I have a better reason than the vengeance of a Zuparti.”
“Not him. The n-n-nephew.”
“Why would I care about him?” Tahzhent curled his lip. “He’s nothing. He’ll die soon enough when he sees combat.”
Kukuluki stared at him. “We could e-e-ensure the Stalkers never return to Tahv. You could c-c-claim your place with ease.”
Tahzhent clamped down on his anger. Finally, he growled, “One doesn’t claim clan leadership amongst the Zuul simply by moving in when the previous leader is not present unless he was already dead. None would accept me as the leader of Clan Tahverian should I attempt it. All Zuul would despise such cowardice.” Tahzhent leaned forward. “And they would be right to do so. I must prove my fitness as a warleader, else the clans won’t accept my claim.”
Kukuluki fluttered his hands. “You’re b-b-barbaric.”
“And honor is a concept foreign to your race.” Tahzhent wrinkled his muzzle. “That is why you need me and my brethren. We can do what you haven’t the stomach for.”
The Zuparti stared back. Finally, he pulled out a pouch and slid it over. Tahzhent opened it and saw the brilliant shine of red diamonds.
“I’m no assassin,” he snapped, fangs bared and ears up. “I’m a hunter of the Tahverian Clan, no mere hired killer.”
The Zuparti shrank back. “S-s-surety,” he stammered.
“Surety for what?”
“Surety that you’ll have my help wounding the S-s-stalkers in the Stars.”
Tahzhent curled his lip. No, this won’t be surety. There is no surety when dealing with one without honor. He glanced at the pouch. But there is enough, here, that when he fails to fulfill this promise, I can hurt him greatly.
“I’ll see if there is an opportunity. I won’t risk the whole plan for the nephew’s death. It’ll come soon enough.”
Kukuluki fluttered, but finally hissed, “That will do, and I can help. I also want you to d-d-destroy the armor.”
“All they have gotten so far are new training modules. It’ll take them time to train with the new CASPers. That armor won’t be important to the coming fight.”
“No!” snapped Kukuluki. “T-t-this cannot be. Y-y-you must—”
“I must what?” snarled Tahzhent. “Either the Foresters don’t get trained on their new armor before we fight them, in which case it won’t matter, or if they do, they’ll do more damage to Tahnerif’s pack, which suits me fine. Don’t tell me what I must do, Zuparti.”
Kukuluki’s agitation increased. “I don’t wish them to have a-a-any chance to have the new armor! You agreed to eliminate the e-e-entire unit.”
“So I did,” snarled Tahzhent. “But I have no doubt that whoever produces that armor has excellent security. I can only send so many of my brethren to Earth before the idiot Humans begin to wonder, and I won’t throw them away.”
“There are Humans who’ll h-h-help.”
“Oh?”
“Humans are easy to c-c-corrupt.”
“You would know corruption, to be sure.”
Kukuluki tapped more buttons, and a long list of details began scrolling on his Tri-V.
Tahzhent watched the list of spies and traitors Kukuluki listed and considered.
It wouldn’t hurt to have a hold on the Zuparti. He’s covered in marsh mud, but something dramatic would probably suit Streetho’s needs, and she’ll help me with the Zuparti.
“Give me these contacts, and I’ll put some of my brethren in place. If your information provides an opportunity to attack successfully with a decent chance at extraction, we’ll do what you ask.” He held up a paw. “But you’ll owe me.”
“Good. Forget not the n-n-nephew.”
“Why? If he ends up in combat without powered armor, he’ll be more of a liability than an asset to the Humans. Cochkalas are merchants, despite their claws. There’s a reason they’re not a merc race.”
“T-t-tlanit must suffer.”
Tahzhent wrinkled his muzzle as he studied the Zuparti. “Why don’t you have the Humans you’ve corrupted kill him? Or have them deal with the new armor?”
“I trust them not. They’re a d-d-detestable race and without one of your b-b-brethren, they would likely fail while giving the Foresters more warning.”
“Very well, Zuparti. I’ll set things in motion, if there is an opportunity.”
The tension in the room increased until Kukuluki spoke again. “Shall you have n-n-need of our ships for your next phase?”
Tahzhent curled his lip. “No, Zuparti, I shall not. You know as well as I that Zuparti transports are barely tolerated in Zuul space. I have made arrangements already. Ships, crews, and warriors.” He panted, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “I don’t know what opportunity you perceive, but you shall not be able to wring further treasure out of my folk.”
“A-a-are we not allies? I m-m-merely am offering to help.”
“Forgive me, Kukuluki, for thinking ill of you.”
“Zuparti are often m-m-misunderstood.”
“No doubt.”
“We’re planning the d-d-details of shipping Tahnerif’s warriors. Do you wish to assist?”
Tahzhent pondered that for a moment. “No, Zuparti, I think not. You know the best arrival sequence for your ships that’ll allow Tahnerif to strike the Foresters.” He curled his lip again. “Since that is what you want to happen, I believe I can trust you to ensure the success of what you desire.”
Kukuluki glared. “Will you sample our h-h-hospitality until that planning is complete?”
Tahzhent wrinkled his muzzle. “I thank you for your generous offer, Kukuluki, but I’ll decline that also. I’ll return to my ship and make my own preparations. I wouldn’t have you doubt whether my kin will be ready to assist you in Maquon.”
“As you wish, Z-z-zuul. We’ll send the d-d-details over presently.”
Tahzhent didn’t reply. He disdainfully turned and prowled out of the room. Kukuluki watched him go with open hatred in his eyes.
Tahzhent had seen the hatred and contemplated it on the shuttle flight to his ship. They’ll betray me if they can, but they’ll ensure the Stalkers get to Maquon in working order. How do I make sure the Foresters deal with Tahnerif?
He answered the question just as his shuttle touched down in the Starstrider’s shuttle bay.
“Welcome back, Kal’shin!” A mar’shin saluted as he exited the craft.
“Thank you, Mar’shin Olashan. Do me a favor. I might need to send a signal to someone, but I don’t want it obvious to everyone in the system. Something few merchants could decipher. Can you come up with some ideas?”
“Yes, my lord. May I ask why?”
“Because ambushes are much more interesting when the ambushers are the ones who are surprised.”
“Yes, Kal’shin!”
Tahzhent strode back to his duties with a jaunty bounce.
* * * * *
Chapter 9 – Recruit Pvt. Rhan’Kiial’Tala
West Rocks Recruit Depot
Owen Sound, Ontario
Kiial’s platoon jogged along the trail. Their packs seemed like they had been filled with rocks, in part, because they had. After placing all of their usual equipment in their packs and giving each recruit an ancient, heavy AK-47 with five full magazines, the platoon’s cadre had taken sarcastic enjoyment in filling every other nook and cranny with pieces of the dolostone that made up a significant portion of the Bruce Peninsula.
Since the AK-47 was too bulky for Kiial, he carried a short iron rod that actually weighed five kilograms, which was significantly more than the venerable Kalashnikovs.
Cadre had given them a carrot to go with the rocks, though. If the platoon could run the trail quickly enough, they could graduate to full CASPer training. McWhorter smiled nastily when he promised that, so Kiial ha
d no illusions about how much they would enjoy that section of training.
But at least I won’t have to carry fucking rocks. His brain, in that runner’s zone, started musing about the work “fuck.” Amazing that Humans could come up with such a useful word. And it’s one we Cochkala can pronounce easily enough. Definitely something to use when I get back home.
The klicks passed as the platoon chugged along. Kiial’s mind continued to wander.
Do Humans get this bored when running?
His mind suddenly focused when he realized something wasn’t right. He glanced about as much as he could without falling out of the platoon’s rhythm, then without realizing he had done so, blurted, “Contact at 10 o’clock!”
He dove for cover and instinctively pointed the iron rod as if it were a rifle.
Most of the platoon had stumbled with confusion at Kiial’s warning, and McWhorter bellowed, “Recruit Private Kii—.”
Then shots ripped through the column.
McWhorter changed his bellow, “Recruit Platoon Alfa-29, take cover!”
Kiial realized just what he had aimed with. Stupid. He dropped the rod, shimmied out of his backpack, and started crawling obliquely toward the enemy. He moved none too soon, as a grenade landed where he had just been. A piece of shrapnel whizzed over his head.
He reached the base of a tree out of the main line of fire and looked around. The rest of the platoon had organized on the downhill side of the road.
McWhorter was bellowing something about the AK-47s.
He saw muzzle flashes as some of his platoon fired back. More grenades landed around them, and he could see pieces of one of the rifles, and its recruit, fly toward Georgian Bay.
He started moving around the flank. It didn’t look as if there were many ambushers, but they had completely surprised McWhorter and the platoon.
For the first time since he had come to Earth, Kiial blessed his small size. He didn’t have to work to keep low, though he certainly had incentive to do so.
He almost walked right into an ambusher who must have been changing his magazine, because no fire had come from that spot in several moments. His three-round burst two meters in front of Kiial startled the Cochkala so much, he barely kept control of his bowels.