The Requiem of Steel

by David Adams

  “You really wanna trust these guys?” Jiang whispered, her scepticism clear. “You really think they have… her?”

  “The Telvan are different from the Toralii Alliance,” Iraj said. “They fought alongside us against them. Saara is one of them. If they have Liao, they’ll turn her over.”

  “That was then,” Jiang said. “This is now.”

  True enough, but they didn’t seem to have much choice. Iraj straightened his back and raised his voice so the room could hear. “Commander Jiang, you have the conn,” he said then stepped out of Operations.

  Docking Umbilical

  TFR Beijing

  Kamal Iraj and a squad of the Beijing’s marines waited patiently by the airlock.

  “Did you know,” said one of the marines, her finger tapping on the side of her Dragon’s Breath rifle, “some Toralii Alliance weapons have a secondary firearm in the handle of the weapon, so they can shoot their enemy when they fake a surrender?”

  “Naw,” said another, a tall, dark American marine—yet another transfer. “That’s a myth. We haven’t recovered anything like that from the Toralii we’ve killed. I heard about it, but I haven’t seen it.”

  “It’s true,” the female marine said, gripping her rifle tightly. “I heard about it from the Knight. They say that the crew have been rounding up Toralii engineers, trying to steal their knowledge. They said one of them had something like that when they captured her. They also said they put bombs in prisoners sometimes. Implant them, wait until they’re being treated, then… boom. Human hand grenade.”

  He had not heard anything like that, but he could not possibly read every report the Knight put in, much less every report from every ship in the fleet. There weren’t enough hours in the day.

  “Docking complete,” Jiang said into Iraj’s ear, the radio signal slightly too loud for his comfort. “The airlock should be opening momentarily.”

  The marines raised their rifles cautiously as the thick metal door opened with a faint hiss. Standing on the other side, wearing a drab prisoner’s uniform, was a Human woman with dark skin and a buzz cut. She carried herself with a slight stoop, her flesh sickly and gaunt. She looked as if she might throw up at any moment.

  For a moment, just a moment, he thought it was Liao. Perhaps it was hope more than anything else, a trick of the dim, slightly purple light of the Toralii ships, but she was another Human he did not recognise.

  “Who are you?” Iraj asked. The marines kept their rifles raised.

  “Warrant Officer Trish Sanders. United States Marine Corps. Request permission to come aboard, Commander.”

  He evaluated her briefly. “Fetch a corpsman,” he said to the marines beside him, then he turned his attention to the woman. “Permission granted.”

  With shaky knees the woman stepped through the threshold between Toralii and Human vessels, then slumped down onto all fours.

  Iraj crouched beside her. “Warrant Officer? What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Not sure. Something bad. Real bad. Feels like there’s a knife in my gut. Been going on for almost a day now, more or less. Hurts like hell, and it’s getting worse.”

  “We’ll take you to Dr. Saeed,” he said, troubled.

  Sanders waved him off. “Wait, sir, before you do, there’s something very important I have to tell you about Captain Anderson. He’s a legit blue falcon, a collaborator, and—”

  “Anderson’s dead,” Iraj said, with as much neutrality as he could muster. Sanders was an American. There were US Marines standing just behind him. The fleet had, more or less, accepted Anderson’s role in betraying Liao, but the memory was still fresh. It had not yet begun to heal, let alone scar. “He shot himself.”

  “Good,” Sanders said, grinding her teeth together, visibly in pain. “He betrayed us. He called the Toralii Alliance. He—”

  “I know,” Iraj said. “We all know. But like I said… he won’t do that again.”

  The door behind them opened, and medical staff poured in, Dr. Saeed at their head. Two men extended a collapsible stretcher and quickly loaded the wounded woman aboard.

  He wanted to go with Sanders, to help the sick crewman recover, and to find out what she knew about Liao and all the other missing Humans. But at the other end of the airlock, two Toralii appeared, their hands raised to the level of their eyes. And that was his responsibility. The medical staff would take care of the details.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said to Sanders then straightened his back. “Please,” he said to the alien guests, one male and one female, “come aboard. We have much to discuss.”

  Conference Room

  TFR Beijing

  The conference room aboard the Beijing was much smaller than similar facilities, such as those aboard the former Cerberus Station or planetside. It was a little too small, the chairs were uncomfortable, and the walls were bare metal. But it would do.

  In the cramped quarters, he sized up the two Telvan Toralii who had been sent to talk to him. As was typical, the female was the larger of the two. Strong and broad, she had orange fur and arms that ended in powerful, sharp looking claws. However, the brown-furred male seemed to have some reason to be there, too, which made Iraj even more wary of him. Rather than uniforms, they wore civilian garb with pouches and computers. Iraj swore he saw the occasional glint of metal beneath their fur. Cybernetics?

  [“Thank you, Commander Iraj, for seeing us.”] The male inclined his head respectfully. [“I am Warbringer Kalla of the Telvan Toralii, and this is Airmaiden Nolina, also of the Telvan Toralii.”]

  He mirrored Kalla’s gesture, similarly dipping his head. “You seem to know my name already, but just so you know… I am Commander Kamal Iraj of the Islamic Republic of Iran Navy.”

  [“It is an honour to meet you, finally, face-to-face.”] Kalla shifted in his too-small Human-sized seat.

  To have aliens speak of him so familiarly was odd, but Iraj put it out of his mind. They were meeting as allies. “I want to firstly thank you for returning our injured crewman to us. She is receiving medical treatment as we speak.”

  [“The honour was ours.”] Nolina’s felinoid tail curled into her lap. [“The Alliance asked, and we complied. Our crew have no love for the Alliance, but their reach is long. We are being well compensated for our efforts, do not worry. It is good to take the Alliance’s currency.”]

  “That is welcome news,” said Iraj, as diplomatically as he could manage. “But I suspect your desire to meet with me meant there is more you have to do here. Something beyond the return of our crewman.”

  [“You are correct,”] Nolina said. [“Our ship was specifically contracted because our cargo is typically food and perishables. Today, sadly, we bring the bodies of those killed in your recent… struggle on Qadeem. We did not know how to prepare them, nor your customs for burial, so we did our best to be respectful.”]

  That would be a welcome relief, especially for the American portion of their fleet, who had suffered the most losses. Some good news for them after Anderson’s disgrace and subsequent suicide would do wonders. “I anticipate that the effort will be sufficient. As long as the bodies are being treated with care and decency, I cannot imagine that your handling of them will cause offence.”

  That answer seemed to mollify their concerns. The posture of the two Toralii relaxed somewhat; although, given their alien nature, it was difficult to know for sure. Perhaps he’d made them mad.

  [“We also have some supplies to deliver to the Telvan on the surface of your world. A regular shipment, nothing unusual. A full manifest has been provided, should you need to examine it.”]

  It felt strange to hear that phrase: your world. Velsharn had been a Toralii research colony before it became a refuge to humanity. It would be like describing Somalia as a country for aliens. “Inspection of the manifest won’t take long,” Iraj said. “Then you can deliver your cargo to your people.”

  [“There is one more thing,”] Nolina said. [“The Alliance sent some pe
rsonal effects with us, to be returned. They are in our hold, too, although there was one they wanted us to deliver in person.”]

  She opened a leather pouch on her hip and withdrew a pistol.

  The marines leapt into action, bringing their rifles to their shoulders. Iraj had a split-second to decide—have them end the threat or risk being shot. The whole world seemed to slow down. Nolina’s fuzzy hand on the weapon’s hilt. The scraping of steel on leather. The gleaming barrel of the pistol, rising up to meet him…

  “Wait!” he shouted. “Stand down, marines!”

  Confused, Nolina slowly, carefully, slid the pistol back into its holster, then spread her paws. [“My apologies. I did not mean—I was merely—”]

  “Slowly,” said Iraj. “Please.” He focused himself, taking a breath. “We’re all a little on edge here, as I’m sure you can understand.”

  Behind the Toralii, the marines guarding the door slowly stood down. Iraj nodded.

  Much more slowly, Nolina once more reached into the pouch and took out the weapon, a Chinese Type 9 pistol, well cared for, but obviously weathered on one side. Faint traces of rust marked the weapon’s edge. [“This was taken from one of the soldiers who was taken captive. Decker-Sheng. He said it belonged to Captain Liao, the Butcher of Kor’Vakkar.”]

  Iraj took the pistol and examined it carefully. It was indistinguishable from others of its type, but if it truly was Liao’s gun, then it belonged back in her hands.

  Or in a museum. This Type 9 had seen action in every battle Liao had been a part of.

  “Thank you,” he said, casually resting it on the table. “I’ll make sure that it gets back to her.”

  There was a brief silence as the two parties regarded each other.

  [“Thank you for your cooperation,”] Kalla said, his tail swaying beside him, sticking out from the human-sized chair, which had no space for such appendages. [“Is there anything you wanted from us? From the Telvan Toralii?”]

  There was a lot he and the fleet wanted, but nothing they specifically needed. The gratitude of any people was not infinite, and when one’s resources were limited, it was best to save requests for something truly important.

  “No,” he said at length, his response as measured as it could be.

  [“Did you want us to ask the Toralii Alliance for anything, then, on our return?”]

  This answer, however, did not take long to come to. “Ask the devil for help, and everyone burns.” Iraj folded his hands on the table. “I would sooner fire on Velsharn myself than ask the Toralii Alliance for aid.”

  That answer seemed to disturb both of the Toralii. [“Are you sure?”] Nolina asked. [“A small request might help strengthen your posture with them. Help mend some of the hurt that has come between your peoples and, frankly, our own, as well. This position seems… petty.”]

  “Human pettiness can find nourishment in even the most important of situations.” He affixed a firm stare on each of them. “Humans tell the story of two of our creatures. A scorpion, which is a venomous creature, and a frog, a harmless aquatic species. A scorpion asks a frog to carry it across a river. The frog refuses, afraid of being stung. The scorpion argues that if it did so, they would both drown. Considering this, the frog agrees, but midway across the river, the scorpion does indeed sting the frog, dooming them both. When the frog asks the scorpion why, the scorpion replies that it was in its nature to do so.

  “Many humans have heard this story. It’s a common parable. However, ‘The Scorpion and the Frog’ is a lot better if you remember that the scorpion dies, too. The moral is, roughly speaking, don’t associate with evil; it will drag you down with it.” He tapped a finger on his opposite hand. “I have no desire to find the end of my life at the business end of an Alliance plasma rifle.”

  The two dipped their heads respectfully. [“If that is your firm position,”] Nolina said.

  “It is.” Iraj pushed back his chair. “If there is no further business, I have an injured crewman I would like to visit.”

  [“Of course,”] Kalla said, standing as well. [“We should return to our vessel.”]

  He almost let them go, let them walk out without saying anything, but a thought, an impulse to strong to ignore, came over Iraj

  “Actually, there is one thing I will ask of you.” He withdrew a pen from his breast pocket, along with a small notebook. “On your return journey, can you deliver a message to the Toralii Alliance?”

  Kalla and Nolina exchanged a brief look. [“This is possible,”] Kalla said.

  The words went from his head to his hand as quickly as they were formed; he barely managed to keep everything in order. The simple ball point pen slashes across the page as he put in whatever came to mind.

  When he was done, or the awkward silence punctuated by scribbling grew to uncomfortable levels, he tore out the page and handed it to the two aliens. “Please relay this message to Captain Liao.”

  Nolina took the scrap of paper and nodded. [“I will, Commander. We shall be prompt.”]

  “Thank you.” Kamal smiled as politely as he could, holding the expression as Kalla and Nolina stood and made their way out of the room to return to their ship, the marines following them.

  “Operations, this is the CO. Get me Knight actual.”

  A brief pause, then Farah Sabeen’s voice came through the tiny speaker. “This is Knight actual. Send it.”

  “Farah,” Iraj said, taking a deep breath. “The Knight’s computers haven’t been replaced with Human variants yet, have they?”

  “Correct,” Sabeen said. “My apologies, Commander, these things are embedded in the ship’s systems so tightly, disentangling them is proving very difficult.”

  “That’s good,” Iraj said. “That means they still have the Telvan communications codes, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So you can still have your ship interface with the alien ship, yes? And read their ship’s jump logs?”

  During a brief pause, Iraj could imagine the gears turning over in Sabeen’s head. “Sir, are you suggesting that we track that ship and see where it goes?”

  “Correct,” Iraj said. “It’s likely they’re going to go straight to Liao. But, Commander—we’re only going to have one chance at this, so I’m going to ask you a very important question. Do you think you can get together a rescue op before they leave?”

  “We have everything we need on board already,” Sabeen said, her tone charged with energy. “We’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this since Qadeem, sir. We’re ready.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment. The Knight was untested. Fresh. He was making a rash decision… but he had no time to consider the consequences. But life was always a risk.

  “Follow that ship,” he said. “Get our people back. Nobody gets left behind.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sabeen said, and closed the link.

  Iraj fiddled with the radio, calling up Operations. He patched himself into the surface. In minutes, he was speaking to Mayor Shepherd, on Eden.

  “Can I help you, Commander?” Shepherd asked groggily. Of course. It was the middle of the night on the surface.

  “Yes,” Iraj said. “It might be something; might be nothing. Two Telvan are about to deliver bodies and supplies to the surface. Keep an eye on the little one… Kalla. Male. Brown fur, got some hardware inside him. Real small. His friend’s a giant, but I’m not worried about her.”

  Shepherd yawned into the microphone on the other end. “Shouldn’t we watch the big one?”

  “Them both, but I'm more scared of the little one. He doesn’t say much.”

  A slight squelch on the radio indicated Shepherd had nearly closed the connection. Probably an accident. “Why?”

  “It might sound strange, but… it’s human nature. Weak people talk constantly about how tough they are. Tough people don't have to prove anything to anyone.”

  “Maybe he was a bodyguard.”

  “Bodyguards are meant to scare and intimidate more than fig
ht. Besides, there’s no difference between one and two; if we wanted them dead, we could have done it.” Iraj settled back in his chair. “No, I think our friend Kalla is with whatever passes for Toralii Intelligence.”

  That seemed to grab Shepherd’s attention. “You think he’s here to plant a bomb or something?”

  “Absolutely not,” Iraj said. “A bomb, we could detect. No, he’s gathering information, and using a humanitarian mission to do so is the oldest play in the book.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Shepherd asked. “Arrest him on the surface?”

  Iraj tapped his finger on the talk key. “Let him complete his mission. If we arrest him, we’ll tip him off that we’re onto him. Just act normal.”

  “You called me up at oh three hundred to tell me to act normally?”

  It was a strange request, but Iraj had to make him understand. “Yes. Because I know you are a terrible liar, Mister Shepherd, and your nervousness will make him reluctant to do anything more than observe. Wheels within wheels, my friend.”

  “Okay,” Shepherd said. “I’m going back to sleep. If I can.”

  That was wise. “Don’t worry. The Toralii could, if they wanted to, wipe us out. They choose not to. If they’re sending spies, it means they have a different goal in mind.”

  “Interesting philosophy.” Shepherd yawned again.

  “With a big enough gun, all problems become philosophical. Good night, Shepherd. Remember: act normal, but not too normal.” The radio hissed slightly as the communication channel was cut, and Iraj was left in the room with nothing but his doubts.

  CHAPTER IV

  Knight in Shining Armour

  *****

  Operations

  TFR Knight

  One hour later

  HER FIRST OPERATION WAS GOING off without a hitch, so far. Commander Farah Sabeen leaned up against the railing at the edge of the raised dais that was the Captain’s position in the centre of Operations, watching Flowing Water Over Smooth Pebbles sail into the Lagrange point. Once inside, it jumped away in a flash of light, leaving the Velsharn system for destinations unknown.