Humans

by A. G. Claymore

  Hill gave her an absent wave, already consumed with the details on a holo-screen. Blocks of nanites were already rushing to overhead locations from various damage-control points around the tiny ship.

  Hela watched as they began forming a triple-walled tube, roughly a hand’s breadth in diameter. It hung from narrow nanite-pylons and it was growing toward the point on the starboard side of the engineering compartment where Hela would be stepping into Sandrak’s flagship.

  She could see what he was up to and she approved. Still… “Make sure that vents aft, not ‘forrard!”

  She tore her attention away from Hill’s project and moved up to crouch behind her pilot. “I want you to put us at the main companionway, just outside the bridge-entrance. I’ll see you there.”

  She closed her eyes…

  Sandrak glared at the central holo. He couldn’t understand what he was seeing. There appeared to be losses on both sides but now, both fleets were sitting peaceably inside Kish’s protective minefield.

  Can’t rely on anyone! he fumed. Whatever peace they’d arranged would fall apart pretty damned quickly once his own fleet came into firing range.

  His eyes nudged his brain, which protested dumbly at first, but then it threw his body into a half jump backwards. Somebody was crouched in the middle of his holo-table, dappled light playing off matte armor.

  Before he could work his way through the sheer impossibility of someone appearing apparently out of the ether, the figure cast him an ironic salute and…

  Disappeared!

  He saw a warning on his HUD from behind and he spun to find the figure with its dagger embedded in the sensor officer’s neck. A Human!

  Even as he realized this, the Human was gone again, simply gone. He couldn’t even put his hand to when the figure had disappeared. He simply came to realize the attacker was gone after the fact.

  Another warning and he turned to see the intruder behind the navigation officer, the knife at the Quailu’s throat.

  Fear had fully infected the bridge crew by now. Death, inexplicable death had been sensed and some had seen how it had happened.

  Sandrak had seen it as well and he had no way to explain what he was seeing. He could explain the death of the navigation officer, however. One of the junior ops officers had drawn his sidearm and he shot at the intruder, failing to account for the presence of the navigation officer held between them.

  The round might have gone through both but the intruder was already gone again. Sandrak spun wildly, catching glimpses of carnage – suits slit, torsos stabbed through armor seals – and he started to back away toward the hatch leading to the main companionway.

  He felt a vibration in the deck-plates, felt the brief pulse of outrage and horror and turned to see one of the two guards who stood post outside the entry-hatch lying dead on the ground. The second guard flared a similar mix of emotions and then his mind went silent.

  He fell forward, revealing the intruder, knife still held out where it had penetrated the back of the guard’s brain. Or had it just appeared there, inside the guard’s head when the Human re-appeared?

  The Human lowered the knife and stepped aside waving toward the exit hatch. “This way, Lord Sandrak.”

  He was absolutely mystified. He had no explanation for what had just happened but that didn’t change the fact that he’d been captured. He couldn’t deny it and so there was no advantage to resisting at the expense of his own dignity.

  He stepped through the hatch to find a new opening on the port side of the hull where it formed one of the companionway walls. Though the ship was rigged for combat, he could see what looked like atmospheric interference in the light of the curved hallway.

  A long tube appeared to have sprouted through the opening and it seemed to be venting air. He had no idea why they’d be doing such a thing, wasting precious atmosphere by pumping it into a combat rigged ship, but it still didn’t change the fact of his capture.

  An approaching provost did seem to have other ideas, however and he came around the corner, weapon up. Sandrak was certain the intruder would appear behind the provost and kill him with his knife but it proved unnecessary.

  The approaching security rating passed in front of the tube’s end and his helmet seemed to glitch. The nanites realigned to close off the holes that had seemed to appear but the new helmet was now a featureless surface entirely devoid of the various modules that handled the sensors and HUD.

  The crewman threw out waves of agony and fell to the deck writhing in pain.

  It seemed a strange weapon for a species of the intruder’s obvious abilities but he put his thoughts aside for the moment and stepped through the opening and into what looked like a slightly enlarged shuttle’s engine-bay.

  “How are we looking, Hill?” Hela guided Sandrak over to the locker she’d napped on and motioned him to sit.

  “We’ll make it back to dock with Scorpion at anywhere up to three quarters pitch,” Hill told her. “But we don’t have any atmo left so we’re gonna have to keep the suits buttoned up.”

  He spread his hands out when she turned her helmeted face to him. “Don’t think at me like that,” he protested. “I needed a heat-transfer medium and our atmo was all we had!”

  “We do have two-hundred litres of drinking water,” she reminded him.

  “Yeah, well…” He put a hand to the back of his armored neck. “Actually, that would have worked pretty damned well!”

  She laughed. “I’m just tweaking your code. You made a call and it payed off.”

  She turned to look forward even though it made no difference in audibility. “Vel, get us to the Dibbarra, three quarters pitch!”

  Mishak gazed calmly at his half-brother. “So, here we all are. Three separate forces and shots fired in anger. You know how that ends.”

  Memnon reared his holographic head. “It means that two factions will agree and a third will suffer the consequences.”

  “As it has always been in such a case,” Mishak agreed. “Our father arrives late, of course, so that the fighting would be over and his would have likely been the strongest force present when the decisions were made.”

  He gestured to himself. “In the present scenario, I have the second-strongest position, having emerged as the victor in our skirmish.” He paused for a moment.

  “What if that were all wrong?”

  “You mean to suggest that I’m the strongest?” Memnon quipped.

  “Let’s not get crazy!” Mishak waved the idea off. “But if I’m the victor here, if we agree to make peace – just a brotherly disagreement – then there’s still a third party for us to leave out in the cold…”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Then listen very carefully, brother.” Mishak glanced at a boarding notification. Sandrak was already aboard the Dibbarra. “We only have time to sketch the rough outline before father steps onto my bridge.”

  Sandrak was angry but he had to admit he was proud of how Mishak had played this. That didn’t mean he would just lie down and take humiliation. Mishak couldn’t hold him on the Dibbarra for long and, the moment he was back with his fleet, some harsh lessons would be administered.

  Magical Humans or not…

  He stepped into the bridge to find Mishak standing next to a holo of his brother.

  Time to remind them who’s in charge. “I don’t know what you two fools have been doing but…” He stopped in shock at the sight of Mishak’s hand, palm toward him, accompanied by a mental demand for silence.

  His attitude was even more shocking. He was displaying his preoccupation with opening another channel rather than attending to his own father’s words!

  This was unprecedented. Sandrak couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever dared to treat him like this.

  And his own son?

  He was shaken, confused and that would never do. He had to reassert control. “Did I not teach you the value of loyalty?” he grated.

  This time, Mishak did turn to face
him but Sandrak didn’t like what he felt in him.

  “All too well, father,” he assured him smoothly. “I’m displaying your particular brand of it right now. My first loyalty will always be to the future emperor.”

  He stepped closer to Sandrak, almost driving him back a pace with the gesture. “You should be pleased to see how well your sons have learned from you.”

  Sons? Sandrak darted a glance at Memnon’s projection. Sons?

  “You have appeared, unannounced and unexpected,” Mishak said gravely. “Your warships sit outside our defensive grid, rigged for combat. I view this as naked aggression from a lord well known for it and I demand mediation.”

  A second holo appeared, showing a senior Varangian officer.

  “You will remain aboard the Dibbarra while Commodore Ingolf…” Mishak gestured toward the new hologram. “… looks into this transgression.”

  “Insolent young buck!” Sandrak flared with rage. “I’ll do no such thing. By all the gods, I’ll…”

  He froze, but not of his own accord. He knew who was doing this, but he still had no idea how it was being done. He struggled to bring his fear and anger under control. This moment was almost certainly being recorded and he didn’t want to appear as helpless as he really was.

  “You will do as I have said,” Mishak said serenely. He looked past Sandrak, his head bobbling oddly.

  Sandrak felt the oppressive control lift away from his body but he remained quiet. To do anything else was to invite further damage to his reputation. How long until these creatures decide they no longer need your protection, my foolish son? The Human behind him was not the one who’d captured him. This one was a male. How many of these abominatinons are there?

  But Mishak had already turned his attention back to Memnon’s holo. “A fine skirmish, brother. I do enjoy our little sparring matches.”

  Memnon bowed politely at this pleasantry. “I should be away, brother. There’s much to do.”

  “Indeed,” Mishak agreed. “Before you go; Commodore Ingolf has brought a rather large fleet to this system. It was his intention for some of his ships to embed with local forces. Would you consent to taking a few of them with you?”

  “I could be persuaded to take perhaps a dozen small formations,” Memnon confirmed. “I’ll just jump out to where they’re waiting.” He shimmered out of view.

  Sandrak may have been played by his sons but he wasn’t such a fool that he couldn’t see what was coming. He thought to voice a protest but he knew it would serve nothing and he could feel a warning in his mind. It came from the Human behind him.

  The protest would die before he could give it a voice.

  Memnon was taking Varangian ships for one reason. He intended to make himself into an elector and the whole thing would be over and done by the time Sandrak could escape his son’s spurious accusations.

  He looked down and to the side, simmering with anger. Not entirely spurious, I suppose. The difference between the righteous and the wicked is usually a matter of which side has assembled the best lies.

  Memnon would be able to snap up enough systems to elevate himself while the arbitration dragged out. As long as Sandrak stood accused of aggression, as long as he was being held by his accuser, his right to dispute Memnon’s actions would be severely limited.

  To make a fuss about it, weeks after the fact… Well, there was looking weak and then there was looking weak.

  But how long will Mishak drag this foolish accusation out? He wondered. When word gets out, there’ll be dozens of neighboring lords eyeing my systems.

  Lords with well-honed grudges and impeccable claims…

  “Memnon’s forces are pathing out of Kish orbit,” the sensor officer announced.

  “Very well,” Rimush said and, after a long pause, he continued. “Signal the fleet. All ships to initiate path-drives at ten percent of threshold and open any sealed orders that may be in their possession.

  “Dibbarra,” he carried on, “emergency override. Lockout all systems to my voice-print!”

  Sandrak looked over his son’s fleet-captain. This has the scent of treachery to it!

  “Rimush?” Mishak turned to face his senior officer. “What the hells are you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Eth told the assembled holo-Humans. “I’m not holding any sealed orders but let’s start recalling the scout-ships back to the corvettes. If the path-drives are online, we may be leaving here in a hurry.”

  Something was nagging at him. Rimush often delivered orders to the fleet but there had never been sealed orders before. Who was he keeping secrets from?

  None of the Human captains had the orders.

  “Gods!” he whispered. It couldn’t be! He knew he couldn’t afford to indulge his incredulity. “Recall at maximum possible pitch!” he urged the holographs before him.

  The icons in the main holo showed the sudden acceleration of the scout-ships but then Colm turned sideways, throwing out his holographic arms before he shivered out of sight.

  On the holo, the Reason We Can’t Have Nice Things was updated to read ‘destroyed’.

  “They’ve turned on us!” He raged. “Don’t hang around! Once you’ve recovered your scouts, jump to the backup RV point.”

  “Sir,” the ops officer called out. “Both of our scouts were already docked.”

  Dammit! Eth seethed. I can’t run off while my people are being shot at! He blew out hard from pursed lips. His people were on this ship as well. He had no business risking their lives so he could play the heroic leader.

  “Sometimes, leadership means tucking tail and pulling a skedaddle…”

  “Dammit, old man! I know!” Eth whispered harshly. “Helm,” he snapped, “path us out now!”

  “We’re docked,” Chief Warrant Officer Carol announced on the Falcata’s bridge channel. She could feel the slight vibration caused by the corvette’s path-drive as it translated through the nanites connecting to her tiny scout. It was the most reassuring thing she’d ever felt.

  The vibrations receded as the Falcata’s main drive cycled its power level high enough to negate whatever caused the ship’s signature quirk.

  Carol was just starting to feel the uncomfortable spatial anomalies of path-entry, something the chief-scout would never admit to feeling, when a stream of point-defense rounds lanced past her scout. It sliced a swath of destruction across the Falcata’s hull, nearly severing her in half.

  Of course our ‘own side’ would know how to track us, she thought bitterly, reaching past her pilot to stab at the docking release. They know what they’re looking for…

  “Set a course for the bastard who fired on us,” she ordered. She touched an icon to show which ship she meant.

  “Benk, start tossing warheads their way.” She turned to the engineer. “Let’s see if we can’t do some damage. Might draw attention off the other ships long enough for them to get away.”

  They all knew the fate they faced. With the Falcata destroyed, they weren’t going to ask another corvette crew to risk their lives to save the four of them.

  Benk dragged a copy of the enemy cruiser’s icon to an opening in the hull that was closest to his weapons lockup. Every warhead he tossed out the side had a miniaturised pitch-drive and it would pick up the targeting icon on its way out.

  “We’ll shift targets now,” Carol said. She selected a new cruiser. “Keep your patterns irregular.”

  “Aye,” the pilot confirmed, his voice shaking slightly. “Irregular patterns.”

  “There goes the Kopis,” her ops rating said in disbelief, though it was followed quickly by the destruction of an enemy cruiser.

  “That’s a start,” Carol snarled. “We’re the only ones focusing on shooting back, people, so let’s make this count!”

  She targeted a new cruiser but the destruction of the first had already yielded the desired effects. Someone had identified them as a threat and rounds streaked out from multiple ships at once.

  The crew of the Foo
t up Your Ass never even noticed the moment when death came for them.

  Mishak was outraged, shaken to his very core, but he couldn’t just stand there, spluttering. He forced himself to speak in something close to a normal voice. “Rimush, what in seven hells are you doing?” Aside from committing treason, that is…

  He darted a quick glance at his father. Were the two colluding against him?

  “I am doing what had to be done, lord.” Rimush said heavily. “The other electors would never have voted for you if you commanded a native force more potent than even the Varangians.

  “And we’re kidding ourselves if we say those Humans would have remained loyal indefinitely. They may have been only a few hundred, but they were the sharp point of a wedge that would have cracked the empire into fragments and all under your rule!”

  Mishak cast a desperate glance at the central holo. Of the original seven corvettes, only the Yatagau remained active in Kish orbit and, as he watched, the icon went red. His shoulders slumped.

  All that effort to build a rapport, to build a reciprocal bond of duty and trust. All gone. He was more alone now than he had ever been.

  He could only imagine what his Humans thought of him, if any still lived…

  “So, you did this for the empire, did you?” he asked, turning back to face Rimush.

  “And for my lord,” Rimush insisted sadly. “This was a decision you could never have made, not with your honor intact.”

  Mishak drew his pistol but they were interrupted by a deep, gravelly laugh from Sandrak.

  “Unbelievable!” he chortled, looking at his son. “You can’t do anything right! Even when your people betray you, they do it out of loyalty!”

  “Well, there’s one tough decision made,” Mishak told his father.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m going to put you on a small pension, because I’m not letting you go until your last system is gone and you’re nothing but a beggar émigré.”

  He drew himself up to his full height, reveling in the shock from Sandrak. It gave him the strength to deal with Rimush.