The Renegade

by P. M. Johnson

  As soon as the Sahiradin troop transport touched down, warriors filed out and assembled in the courtyard. Kurak and ten of the Empress’ heavy-browed Karazan then descended the ramp. Harken trailed just behind them. The Humani looked around at the simple, but elegant, stone and wood construction of the nearby buildings. Turning his gaze upward, he saw the three remaining troop transports slowly lowering themselves to land in nearby open areas outside the courtyard.

  The sound of heavy doors being opened drew Harken’s attention to the Song Hall. A female Grenn appeared in the doorway. She was accompanied by two powerful looking males who took up positions next to her and folded their thick arms over their massive chests.

  “It is Woldmeer, a member of the Grennafalum, the ruling council,” said Kurak. “Her uncle is Skogg, the leading Elder. Follow me and pay close attention.”

  Kurak motioned for Harken and the Karazan to follow him. They walked toward the steps of the Song Hall. As they advanced, Harken looked to his left and right. Numerous Grenn stood in the shadowy gaps between buildings, silently looking on, bearing witness to the illegal, though not unexpected, Sahiradin incursion onto their Primeworld. The faces of a few curious young Grenn appeared from behind adult members of the species only to be shooed back toward the rear. More and more Grenn appeared along the courtyard’s perimeter. They did not appear to be hostile, but Harken had no doubt that if they chose to, the massive creatures could easily charge forward and crush the unwanted visitors with their massive fists.

  Kurak, Harken, and the Karazan reached the Song Hall and began to ascend the steps. One of the males standing next to Woldmeer held out a hand in a gesture that seemed to Harken to be either a greeting or a warning to come no farther. Whatever its meaning, the Karazan slowly drew their weapons. Five of them charged forward and attacked the Grenn, slashing at the giant in a perfectly coordinated attack. With a deep moan, he collapsed onto the steps and tumbled downward, forcing Harken to leap to the side as the enormous creature rolled by, sloshing copious amounts of blood over each step before coming to rest on the courtyard.

  Woldmeer was horrified by the attack. She shouted something in a language Harken did not understand, but it had no effect on the Empress’ agents. The Karazan slaughtered the second male with the same cold proficiency they had displayed with the first.

  Harken’s attention was then drawn to Kurak, who angrily raised his voice above the female Grenn’s tearful pleas. The Warden of the Citadel and Master of Ships shouted a command. Though Harken could not understand the words, the effect on Woldmeer was as powerful as any blow Kurak could have struck. She stepped back and shook her head. Her eyes were wide with surprise and fear. She looked again in horror at the two dead Grenn lying at the foot of the stone steps, their blood now mingling together to form a single large pool. Kurak shouted once more while the Karazan encircled Woldmeer, cutting off her line of retreat into the Song Hall. She looked at the Karazan around her then reluctantly nodded her head. She turned and slowly threaded her way between two fierce-looking Karazan to enter the Song Hall. Kurak and the Karazan followed close behind.

  Harken followed Kurak into the Song Hall, noting with approval its high ceilings and the bright sunlight filtering through openings in the roof above. It was far different from the narrow underground passages, subterranean cells, and poorly illuminated chambers he’d been held in over the past few years. Indeed, the Song Hall’s interior was quiet, even peaceful, despite the violence which had just occurred on its steps. There was something about the smooth, dark timbers and perfectly shaped gray stones that conveyed a sense of profound permanence and tranquility. It suddenly occurred to him that the Song Hall was not just an administrative building, as Kurak had led him to believe. It was a place of contemplation and likely held some sort of spiritual significance for the Grenn.

  The former Guardian’s train of thought was disrupted by a wave of black-armored Sahiradin warriors running by. They streamed past Harken on each side, carelessly bumping into him, knocking him left and right. The warriors flowed through the halls in groups of six, entering every room and passageway, forcing terrified and confused male and female Grenn out of the rooms. On two occasions, a group of warriors mercilessly cut down a Grenn who protested his treatment. The others saw their fellow Grenn being murdered and began moaning or humming strange notes as the warriors forced them out of the Song Hall and into the courtyard. Once outside, other warriors instructed the confused and frightened giants to lie down on their stomachs with their arms behind their heads and their faces buried in the flagstones. They quickly bound them with heavy wrist and ankle restraints.

  A rough hand pushed Harken from behind. He looked over his shoulder to see a high ranking Sahiradin officer, one of Khadiem’s Murhatta, forcing his way past and catching up with Kurak. The Murhatta fell into step just behind the Master of Ships. A number of warriors took up positions behind Harken, giving him a push now and again to ensure he maintained the brisk pace Kurak had set.

  The female Grenn led the group through a door in the rear of the Song Hall and into a beautiful garden of flowing water and small, rolling hills. Various species of plants, many of them in full bloom, covered the ground. A winding stream brought water from the nearby forest to a small lake. In the middle of the lake was an island connected to the shore by a stone footbridge. Harken saw a group of older looking Grenn on the island. They rose from their stone benches as Kurak and his retinue approached.

  After crossing the bridge, the Karazan formed a ring around the Grenn, who Harken realized must be members of the Grennafalum. The male warriors assembled themselves just behind the Karazan.

  The Grenn in the center of the group lowered his head and said something in a deep voice like distant thunder, but Kurak had no patience for it and immediately cut him off. He pointed to the same Murhatta officer who had pushed past Harken then addressed the Grenn in the short, staccato sentences of the Sahiradin tongue. Although Harken did not understand the words being spoken, he knew from personal experience that Kurak was issuing an ultimatum.

  When Kurak finished speaking, the Murhatta officer stepped forward and began dictating additional orders. Though he couldn’t be certain, Harken had the impression that the officer’s thick tongue and crooked teeth had the effect of slurring his words, giving it a hissing sound different from the terse, clipped manner of Kurak’s speech.

  When the Sahiradin officer finished speaking, the old Grenn in the center responded in the rolling language of the Grenn. As Harken listened, he realized that the Grenn must be Skogg, the leading Elder Kurak had mentioned earlier. As Skogg spoke, he slowly raised a conciliatory hand and took a step forward.

  In a flash, the Murhatta drew his sword and cut off Skogg’s hand at the wrist. The Grenn bellowed a mournful howl that reverberated throughout the vast garden. It was so loud and powerful that it forced several Sahiradin to take a step backward. The other Grenn immediately moved forward to offer their wounded comrade aid, but the Sahiradin officer pointed his bloody blade at them and shouted an order which caused them to halt. He swung his sword several times, driving them back to their original places. Then he looked at Kurak and gave a quick, satisfied nod.

  Kurak glowered at Skogg, who had fallen to his knees. The Grenn leader was cradling his wounded, bleeding arm and producing a low moan that seemed to flow like a river from somewhere deep in his broad chest. Kurak leaned down in order to place his sallow, scale-covered face directly in front of Skogg’s. He growled some sort of threat to the old Grenn. Then he stood upright and led the warriors and Karazan back across the bridge toward the Song Hall. When they reached the building’s tall doors, Kurak motioned for Harken to be brought forward. A warrior grabbed the Humani by the arm and dragged him ahead.

  “I assume you understand what just transpired,” said Kurak as he strode down the hall to the front of the building.

  “Yes,” replied Harken. “You issued a number of demands and warnings to the Grenn leadership. The det
ails escape me, but I have done similar things to various groups in my time. I can’t say that I’ve ever sliced off a hand, but it certainly got their attention.”

  “The Grenn have declared in the past that they will not take up arms in defense of Earth or the Alliance,” said Kurak. “However, we know a Humani diplomat and a rogue Grenn, Skogg’s nephew named Agrom, came here seeking to change their minds. The Empress sent us here to ensure the Grenn did not reenter the conflict. Old Elder Skogg repeated his commitment to neutrality. He also assured us that he is not offering Agrom support of any kind. Garrison Commander T’schuk took his hand to emphasize the need to honor his promise.”

  “Do you think Skogg will betray you?” asked Harken.

  “Not at all,” said Kurak. “The Grenn are an extremely predictable species and always keep their word. These acts of brutality are more for the benefit of the Empress’ warrior children and her Karazan. If they are to be prevented from committing even greater acts of brutality, they must be given a taste of blood from time to time.”

  Kurak looked at Harken and said, “What Garrison Commander T’schuk did was a kindness. Earth can expect no such generosity. We will not restrain our warriors and Karazan. The soil will be drenched in Humani blood. The streets of your cities will be chocking with the dead. And you, Harken, should harbor no illusions about your future status; you will not be given a position of authority over your foul species. If it pleases the Empress you will be among the few who are allowed to live in order to serve her, but that is all. What do you say to that?”

  Images of death and destruction filled Harken’s mind as he stared into Kurak’s baleful blue eyes. Harken was no stranger to brutality or war, but he had always acted out of reason to further some objective. Though indifferent to the suffering of others, he’d never derived personal pleasure from it.

  “Why do you hate us?” he asked. “What is it about Earth that you so despise?”

  Kurak pushed his lower jaw forward as though tasting something vile. “You are the contemptable whelps of the Alamani,” he seethed, “and all Alamani must die. Your existence is an affront to the Law.”

  Kurak’s threats did not frighten Harken. They merely focused his thoughts on acquiring the other Aenor so he could turn the tables on the Empress and her offspring. Until then, he must continue to play the role of the submissive servant.

  “You have lived on Earth,” he said. “You know we can be loyal servants of the Empress. I can see the value of setting the example through a few acts of brutality, but not genocide.”

  “Do not doubt me, Humani,” said Kurak.

  The Master of Ships looked disdainfully upon Harken then indicated for him to be pulled to the back of the line.

  When they exited the Song Hall, there were hundreds of Grenn lying on their stomachs in the courtyard. All around were warriors with guns and blades drawn. In the center of the courtyard, a group of Sahiradin were using a machine to fell the ancient, orange-leafed tree. As the machine dug its teeth into the smooth bark, the branches above shuddered as broad leaves drifted to the ground.

  Kurak walked toward his gunship with his chin up and eyes forward, paying no attention to these activities. Once inside the ship, he quickly strapped himself into one of the seats. Harken did the same. Moments later the gunship lifted off and quickly accelerated upward until it reached an elevation of a few hundred meters.

  “Drejhu,” said Kurak to the pilot, who nodded his head and swung the gunship’s nose toward the Song Hall.

  “Brohuda t’chestohin,” said Kurak.

  “Ta, Rahisik,” responded the pilot.

  A salvo of missiles sprang from the portals in the gunship’s underbelly and slammed into the central portion of the Song Hall. The resulting explosion sent wood, stone, and tile flying high into the air. Several more missile salvos struck the other portions of the building, quickly reducing it to a ruin of shattered stone and burning timber.

  Kurak looked over his shoulder and stared into Harken’s eyes.

  “The time of the Sahiradin has come,” he said bluntly as though the proposition were as incontrovertible as the law of gravity. “No one can stand in our way. Not the Alliance, not the Grenn, not the Humani.”

  The gunship completed a slow turn over the scene of destruction it had wrought then pointed skyward and roared toward Havoc in orbit above.

  Chapter 41

  Very little is known about the Sahiradin drone because there is very little worth knowing.

  - Cila Gannado, Myr Ambassador to the Dewar

  Ravenwood and Beth calmly watched as the female Brevian rapidly entered commands into the semi-transparent panels of the holographic interface. Along with Cap and Lena, they had arrived on Tyseria that morning in order to witness the Dewar vote in favor of Earth’s admission into the Trade Federation. It had been a quick affair, lasting only a few minutes. There had been no ceremony whatsoever or words of congratulations after the vote. None of the other species appeared to have been particularly pleased that the Humani were now full-fledged members of the Federation and would enjoy favorable trade terms for a long time to come.

  “It is most unusual for anyone other than a Brevian to interrogate an enemy agent, especially one of such high value as a Karazan,” said the Brevian. The corners of her mouth turned slightly upward into the inscrutable smile so common among Brevians.

  “I’m not interested in speaking to the Karazan,” said Ravenwood. “I’ve seen the recordings and I doubt very much that I could glean anything more than the Brevian interrogators. I am here to speak to the drone who was captured with her.”

  The Brevian cocked her head slightly to the side. Ravenwood knew this gesture was not truly an expression of the Brevian’s thoughts and emotions. It was intended to emulate the common gesture used by many Humani to indicate confusion and curiosity. But to Ravenwood, the gesture coupled with the strange intensity of the Brevian’s eyes suggested alarm. No one had ever asked about the drone since it and the Karazan were captured by Logan’s soldiers on Tuska IV. Why would they? Drones were unthinking creatures that acted almost entirely out of instinct. Ravenwood sensed the Brevian’s mind beginning to spin with possibilities, none of which made any sense to her.

  “You wish to speak to the drone?” asked the Brevian.

  “That is what I said.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What is there to understand?” interjected Beth. “We simply want to speak to the drone. Open the security door.”

  “Their means of communication is extremely limited,” said the Brevian, grasping for anything to dissuade the Humani from pursuing this unorthodox interrogation, or at least delay them until she could refer the matter to her superiors. “Very few Brevians are trained in their language, if it can be called that. You will have to wait until I can arrange for a translator.”

  “No need,” said Ravenwood with a smile. “I will speak with the drone myself.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Allow us to satisfy our curiosity,” said Ravenwood with a pleasant smile. “I have seen most of the recordings of the Karazan interrogation. She is quite uncooperative, though I have no doubt that in time you will pick apart her defenses and information will flow like a river. But until that time, I would like to learn a little more about drones and the role they play in Sahiradin society.”

  “And you, Consul Styles,” said the Brevian. “What is your interest in the drone? It seems strange that you should both be here to satisfy Ambassador Ravenwood’s curiosity.”

  Ravenwood resisted the urge to speak. He could not appear to be coming to Beth’s aid.

  “I’d like to know as much about the enemy as possible,” replied Beth without hesitation. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Here the Brevian was on her guard. By responding with a question, Beth risked coming across as defensive.

  The Brevian paused a moment and regarded Beth. “I observe and report, Consul Styles,” she said calmly, though with a hint of warni
ng. “Observe and report.”

  Strange for a Brevian to try to intimidate Consul Styles like this, thought Ravenwood. And obviously, she did more than “observe and report”. She was testing Styles’ responses to pressure.

  “Consul Styles and I have seen recordings of the Karazan’s interrogation, which Ambassador Barka graciously provided,” interjected Ravenwood, risking giving the Brevian additional information to assess. “But there was no footage of the drone. As you know, it was a Humani, General Logan Brandt, who captured the drone and the Karazan. He informed us of how different the two behaved, which has sparked our interest.”

  The mention of Logan Brandt had the hoped for effect on the Brevian. Beth was known to be very close to the general, and he no doubt shared the story of his mission to subdue the Sahiradin base on Tuska IV. The Brevian’s guard was still up, but at least she now could see a plausible nexus between the drone and the two Humani who now wished to see it.

  As the Brevian pondered his words, Ravenwood recalled the holographic records of the captured warrior-priestess. She was best described as a raging devil, full of venom and hatred for her captors. She snapped at her Brevian interrogators, cursing them to the pits of Permidian and threatening to take their lives in the cruelest ways imaginable. Yet, as threatening as she was, she was also ashamed that she had been captured. Although she revealed no details of her mission, at least not consciously, the theory was that the captive Karazan, a daughter of the late Queen Pashira, was part of a group sent to spy on the nearby Lycian star systems. This belief was driven in part by the presence of the drones, which are of no help in a fight but are quite useful when constructing a listening post.

  But Ravenwood knew this was not the case. The Karazan had been sent as an emissary with a message intended for him. During several of the recorded interrogations he’d seen, the Karazan invoked a variation of an old Sahiradin word, etidisch, meaning to listen, followed by the phrase duli re’beitar nuntius. The first two words, duli re’beitar meant “worker” in the Karazan’s native tongue, but the third word, nuntius, was old Earth Latin which meant “message”. She repeated the phrase a number of times. Of course, the Brevians understood everything the Karazan said, except for the Latin word. In the recordings Ravenwood had seen, the interrogators kept coming back to these three words, hoping to discern the prisoner’s meaning, but they were unsuccessful.