“You don’t subscribe to this theory,” Tal said.
“No, I don’t. Captain Serrado and I are both in the second group, which calls them the Shippers—because they shipped the original Gaians all over the galaxy and experimented with their development without a thought for their rights. And we certainly don’t believe that any Shippers care about us now.”
“I’m guessing these two groups don’t get along well in philosophical discussions,” Micah said.
Lhyn’s surprise sparkled on Tal’s senses. She hadn’t expected Micah to have a sense of humor. “We can if we’re friends. Unfortunately, the ramifications go deeper than just discussion. They play out in galactic politics, too.”
Tal leaned forward, her attention sharpened. “And now we’re getting to why you fought that second ship.”
“Yes. My world, and Captain Serrado’s, and many others are all part of a confederation called the Protectorate. It encompasses a large part of this quadrant, but not all of it. Many worlds choose to be unaligned, though frankly I think that’s a dangerous way to live, because it puts them at risk from Expansionists. That’s a general term for any race ascribing to a fundamentalist interpretation of the Seeders’ intent.”
Tal thought she could see where this was going. “They believe the Seeders intended for them to take over other worlds.”
Lhyn nodded. “Specifically, they believe that their own technological advancement is a sign of favor from the Seeders, and gives them the right to expand, to seed themselves, as victors in the development race. Terraforming an uninhabitable planet takes two to three generations and a huge amount of expensive technology. Seizing a habitable planet, and exterminating or enslaving the local, less advanced population, is easier, faster, and cheaper.”
“Mother of us all,” said Micah. “We were being invaded.”
Tal sat back in her chair, rocked to the core. “You saved us?”
Lhyn’s enthusiasm dimmed, allowing a residual fear and guilt to come to the surface. “I’m the reason you were endangered in the first place. My research group was supposed to be operating in strict secrecy. None of my staff knew where we were going other than myself and the captain of our research ship, and once we arrived here, there were no communications in or out for the duration of our study. But we were betrayed. One of my own team members sold the coordinates of Alsea to the worst of the Expansionists. We only found out because I have a communications genius on my staff, and he detected the transmission. At that point, all I could do was ask for help.”
She paused, her guilt stronger now. “I didn’t save you, Lancer Tal. Captain Serrado did.”
Chapter 13
Machine on the move
The machine had gone the wrong way up the canyon after recovering from its hard landing. The largely uncontrolled descent had rendered it unable to map the terrain from above, nor even to establish itself on the pre-loaded orbital maps. It had been spinning wildly most of the way down, recovering proper attitude barely in time to avoid smashing into the ground. Had the added depth of the canyon not given it a little more critical time in which to fire its thrusters, it would not have survived.
But it didn’t know which way to go. Only upon reaching a sheer wall that even it could not climb had it turned and made its way back.
After too much wasted time backtracking, it had rounded a blind corner in the canyon and found itself facing a shuttle, hovering thirty meters off the ground. The shuttle was identified as an enemy target and dispatched with a single mortar.
Simple. The Alseans had no shield technology, rendering their aircraft mere toys to knock out of the sky. The ground forces would be no more challenging. The only real challenge was in finding its way back to the fight. With communications knocked out by the Protectorate weapons fire that had sent it tumbling, it had no way of contacting other pacifiers or receiving orders. In the absence of new instructions, it would follow the original set.
Moving past the shuttle’s wreckage and through innumerable turns in the canyon, the machine finally emerged into a broader valley. After a pause it stomped forward, its line undeviating, until it reached the river that ran through the valley’s center. Without hesitation it waded straight into the water, which at its deepest came only halfway up its legs. It stopped in the center, turned downstream, and resumed its march.
Rivers led the way out of mountains. Primitives always settled near rivers. Somewhere along this path, the machine would encounter a settlement.
Then it would begin its mission.
Chapter 14
Empaths and sonsales
When every head in the room turned to her, Ekatya knew where Lhyn’s explanation had just landed. She was preparing herself for a difficult translation session when a light tap sounded at the door. Colonel Micah got up to open it, revealing an Alsean soldier who spoke a few short sentences.
“Lieutenant Candini is back,” Lhyn said quietly.
Ekatya watched the soldier touch his fist to his chest and retreat back down the corridor. “And just in time, apparently. I only got to use your translator for half a minute before giving it up again. It’s been a glaring absence, believe me. Why didn’t you make two?”
“Count your blessings. You’re lucky I made one.”
The Lancer’s medic entered the room with Candini right behind her. Both of them looked grimy and exhausted, and Candini’s spiky red hair was dull with dust. She’d also added scrapes on her hands to the collection on her face.
The medic stood at attention, bringing both of her fists together at her sternum before speaking to Lancer Tal in low tones. Interesting, Ekatya thought. One fist for a superior officer and two for the Lancer?
Candini reached across the table to hand the translator to Ekatya. “Thank you, Captain. I’m sure you missed this, but it was invaluable.”
“You needed it far more than I. Well done, Lieutenant. You helped to save nine lives this night.”
She’d meant it as a commendation, but Candini was too sharp. “Nine? Oh, no. Who else didn’t make it?”
“Trooper Shelley. The Alsean doctors did all they could, but she lost too much blood.”
Candini shook her head and began to walk around the table, but was stopped by the medic. This time her voice was loud enough for the translator to pick up. “I have to get back to my unit, Telorana. You’re making the flight in the Lancer’s personal cabin.” She leaned closer. “And I’m red with envy about it.”
“I’ll tell you what it was like,” Candini said, and they clasped each other’s forearms briefly before the medic vanished out the door.
As Candini pulled out the seat next to Lhyn, Ekatya caught her eye. “Looks like you’ve been our best diplomat so far. You’re on a first name basis already.” It was odd, hearing the translator begin speaking before she’d finished. What she wouldn’t give for an Alsean language chip in her node.
The two Alseans looked on with interest as Candini shrugged. “Kind of hard to stay formal when you spend six hours climbing through a wreck together. Especially with people who are risking their necks to save people they didn’t even know existed before now.”
“Guard Dewar is one of the best medics in the Alsean Defense Force,” said Lancer Tal. “We lend her out on a regular basis to emergency response teams. And Guard Corlander was a firefighter before he was sponsored into the ADF. Your people have been in the best of care.”
“I never doubted that,” Ekatya said. “We’re deeply grateful, and impressed by Alsean courage and compassion.”
“It seems that you and your people make the greater claim to both this day. Why would you risk your ship to save a planet that is not part of your Protectorate?” The Lancer’s gaze was suddenly intense, and Ekatya had a feeling that she was being tested.
“Because it was the right thing to do,” she said. “Why would you risk your people to save a group of aliens?”
The Lancer smiled. “Because it was the right thing to do.”
Ekatya sm
iled back, drawn to this woman despite herself. Her experience as a Fleet captain told her one thing, but her instincts were telling her another, and Lhyn seemed to be in love with Alsea in general and the Lancer’s leadership in particular. Perhaps it was time to trust her instincts.
“Prepare for liftoff,” said a male voice over an intercom, and Ekatya heard the unmistakable sound of shuttle engines spooling up. Somehow it didn’t matter what the engineering or fuel source, all shuttle engines were recognizable. She glanced over at the wide seats by the windows, wondering if they should be belted in.
“Continal is a smooth pilot,” Lancer Tal said, apparently reading her mind. “We’ll be fine here. Tell us, what would have happened this night had you not interfered?”
Ekatya took another sip of water before beginning. “The ship we destroyed in your atmosphere belonged to a race called the Voloth. A long time ago they were signatories to the Protectorate, but they were impatient with our rate of territorial expansion. So they seceded and established their own territory, and took the easy way of doing it.”
“I told them about the Expansionists,” Lhyn said.
Ekatya felt a slight jar when the transport left the ground, but almost no sense of acceleration as it began to move. Lancer Tal was right, her pilot was smooth.
“The Voloth are the most…aggressive of the Expansionists,” she continued. “We’ve been fighting them since my grandfather’s days, trying to push our boundaries out and protect as many planets as we can. What happens to the planets they take over is sickening, because they aren’t content with corralling the natives on reservations or establishing an apartheid government and employing them as servants. They enslave them. Sometimes, if the planet is rich in resources but not in a good strategic location, they force the natives to strip their own worlds of all resources and then leave them there to die. But if the planet is suitable for colonization, the Voloth kill as many natives as they feel necessary and ship the rest off for slave labor, usually in mining and manufacturing operations.”
The Alseans were listening carefully to the translator, which finished a few seconds after Ekatya stopped. They shared a brief look of horror before Lancer Tal said, “And do they consider Alsea…suitable?” She almost stumbled over the word, her disgust palpable.
Ekatya hesitated, trying to find the right words, but there was no way to make this seem any less dire than it was.
“Alsea is located right outside the border of Protectorate space. That plus its pristine environment make it extremely desirable for colonization. With this planet, the Voloth would have an outpost practically in our backyard.”
The Alseans looked at each other again, then at her with matching expressions of understanding.
“They’ll be back,” said Colonel Micah. “Won’t they?”
Ekatya nodded reluctantly. “Your planet is an enormous prize. They thought they could take you with a single invasion group, but they weren’t expecting me to be here. When they—”
“A single invasion group?” Lancer Tal interrupted. “There was more than the ship you destroyed in our atmosphere?”
“A group consists of an orbital invader and two destroyer escorts,” Ekatya said. “We took care of the destroyers first. But we didn’t get to the orbital invader until it was nearly too late.”
“You destroyed three ships.”
“Yes.”
“Are there any other ships in your group?”
“No.”
Lancer Tal nodded, gesturing for her to continue.
“When the Voloth realize the invasion failed, they’ll send another force, but so will the Protectorate. There will be another battle; the only question is which force gets here first. I hope and believe it will be the Protectorate for two reasons. One, my ship was sent as an emergency response to Lhyn’s call for help. The Protectorate knew Alsea was in danger eight of your days ago. Two, I sent out a call for additional assistance before the battle began, the moment I realized the Voloth had already gotten an invasion group out here. But the Voloth had no idea that they would meet any resistance until I blew up their first destroyer. Even then, the captain of the orbital invader had every reason to believe his mission would be successful. By the time we could get past that second destroyer, the orbital invader was already in position. His ship almost certainly notified the Voloth homeworld of the battle, but I’m not sure it ever had a chance to relay the news of its failure.”
She stopped to let the translator catch up and marveled at the calm of these two Alseans, who were hearing information that would send most people running for the exits. Then again, why was she surprised? They apparently hadn’t batted an eyelash when the Caphenon had nearly dropped on top of their heads.
But perhaps the Lancer was more disturbed than she let on, because she picked up her water flask and drank for the first time since their meeting had begun. Ekatya, who knew something about hiding emotion with action, watched in sympathy.
Lancer Tal set her flask down. “This…orbital invader, you call it. I assume the name refers to an orbital insertion of the invading force?”
“Yes, it’s designed specifically for a hostile planetary takeover. It carries four wings of fifty fighters each, but those are usually reserved for the second wave. Its drop bays hold five hundred mobile heavy weapon platforms that we call ground pounders. They call them pacifiers.”
“Pacifiers,” Lancer Tal repeated. “As in, pacifying a resistant population?” She turned to the colonel and added, “Well, at least we know the Voloth are capable of irony.”
“Conquerors can always afford humor at a victim’s expense,” Colonel Micah said.
“And that’s exactly what they are, conquerors.” Ekatya had seen the aftermath too many times to keep the anger out of her voice. “Their pacifiers ruthlessly destroy not just any resistance, but also all infrastructure and even large population centers. Each one of them is nearly the size of your medical transport. They’re heavily armored, shielded, and loaded with a small ship’s worth of armaments. And from what Lhyn has told me of your weapons capability, I don’t think anything on Alsea could take one of them down.”
Colonel Micah visibly bristled. “Do not underestimate the skill and courage of the warrior caste.”
“I assure you I do not. That was merely a technological assessment, not an aspersion on your people’s courage.”
“Micah,” said Lancer Tal quietly. “Five hundred of them.”
They looked at each other again, and the colonel seemed to deflate. “Great Goddess,” he said in the same low tone.
After a pause, Lancer Tal asked, “What happened to the rest of your crew?”
“They evacuated when our fusion core overloaded. The only way to prevent a core breach was to shut down the reaction, which meant shutting down our engines. But we were already deep inside your gravity well at that point; shutting down the engines meant a certain crash. So I kept a skeleton crew to ride the Caphenon down, and ordered everyone else off.”
It took an exercise of will to not look at Lhyn. Oddly, it was the Lancer who looked over, watching Lhyn for a moment before returning her gaze to Ekatya. A tiny smile played over her face, and Ekatya felt a chill run down her spine. If she were a betting woman, she’d lay good odds that Lancer Tal knew exactly what Lhyn had done. But that was impossible.
The smile vanished as the Lancer leaned forward, crossing her hands in front of her on the table. “We haven’t found a sustainable means of fusion, though it has not been for lack of effort. But I know enough about it to understand that a reaction strong enough to propel a ship the size of yours, at faster-than-light speeds, would have to be the energetic equivalent of a small star. And shutting down such a reaction would not result in instant cooling. Am I correct?”
“Yes.” Ekatya wished now more than ever that she’d had time to be fully debriefed on Alsean science and technology. They were clearly more advanced than she’d realized.
“Then wouldn’t it have been safer
for you to evacuate as well, and get far out of range of a possible detonation, than to ride it down and hope to survive a crash?”
“Safer, yes. But the orbital invader was still in action, and I could not allow it to drop its ground pounders. I kept my best weapons team on board, and they managed the kill shot. At that point, I would have abandoned ship if we’d had time, but…we didn’t.”
Lancer Tal’s gaze never wavered, but something in it made her nervous.
“Captain Serrado, you are not speaking the truth. You never had any intention of abandoning ship.”
“What?” Lhyn burst out. “Ekatya! Is that true?”
Ekatya could not look away from those ice-blue eyes, which seemed to know everything about her whether she wished it or not. Her throat blocked her voice, preventing any response, but the silence in the room grew louder and more crushing until she was forced to break it.
“Yes,” she said.
“Oh my fucking stars,” said Lhyn. “I cannot believe—yes, I can believe it. And you were mad at me? This is why I stayed!”
“I couldn’t leave!” Ekatya’s voice was loud enough to stop Lhyn in mid-rant. “The Caphenon was headed straight for their largest city; it would have killed a million people. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“She’s right.” Lieutenant Candini spoke for the first time. “If we’d abandoned ship then, the Caphenon would have gone nose-first right into the middle of that city, and probably blown the armories in the process. The fusion core was still hot, too. We’d have done the Voloth’s work for them.”
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