Swords Above the Stars

by Roman Zlotnikov

  The six enemy ships that had just been running away from their Scorpions without returning fire, clearly ready to scatter in all directions, suddenly came to a halt as if they had hit a wall. Their braking energy was at least a quarter more than the energy needed for their acceleration, which should not be possible. Yet, there it was. Not being prepared for such a turn of events, for a few milliseconds the weapons sights lost their target, and the Scorpions quickly found themselves within a dense ring of salvos.

  The Enemy quickly moved to boarding positions, leaving no time or space to maneuver. Within minutes they came within a distance at which the protection field was ineffective, and now the Scorpion ships were desperately shaken by salvoes from close range. The enemy ships were acting on the edge of disaster. They were literally teetering on the border of the relative displacement of the power frame, which would destroy all the ships around, but somehow, they managed not to cross the line. After viewing the damage control on his display, Menacing shook his wings in despair. Now he would suffer the same fate that Cleaver had. He felt outsmarted. Even though this was the same enemy that had damned the Seventeen, it gave him some hope that he would not be completely Devoid of Trust on his return, but the fact was humiliating. He again turned to his screen. If it was not so improbable, he would have thought that the enemy ships were going to board the ship, but with such a ratio of manpower … suddenly he roused himself. This can’t be happening! Feverishly, Menacing brought a list of the damage up on screen. The next moment, his wings adopted a posture of panic. The Originally Exiled! They were not firing at the Scorpion ship’s weapons batteries, but at the section containing the Lowest! So, he was left practically without a boarding party! At that moment, the fire stopped, and a few minutes later the Scorpion ship shuddered from the noise of gravity hooks. The ship did not throw out boarding craft, but preferred to engage in hand-to-hand combat on the Scorpion ship. Menacing rose up and spread his wings out in a posture of retaliation. Well, now they would find out what it means to face battle with the Scarlet Trapezium. He pressed a button, launching a poisonous gas in the Section of the Closest and Useful Ones. Then he turned and stepped into a long, pipe like corridor, which passed through the accommodation sections of all four castes gathered on the ship. He walked towards the "wildlings". If that is what they want, then the Conquest can start for them with immediate effect.

  ***

  Yv missed the moment when the ambush fell. Another moment ago, he had been desperately juggling the protection field, trying not to miss the buttons, as the Command and Control Center shook from Enemy volleys. Next moment, catching by some sixth sense, a break in the Enemy's volleys, he started to return fire from all the rear weapons batteries. Then, coming to his senses, he brought an image up on the console. The Ushkuy ships had hit instantaneously and with full force.

  Every bit of calculated force had been engaged in ensuring the effectiveness of the first volley. For this they sacrificed even synchronicity. The result was stunning. A fireball exploded at the site of one of the Scorpion ships. A second one slowly rolled over, belly up, throwing long plumes of steam into space. It was a graphic illustration of what four Culverin ray beams could do even against such powerful ships as the Scorpions, even if the salvo took place in a moment when the protection field was completely down.

  The intensity of their fire had played a cruel joke on the Scorpions.

  The third ship looked almost intact. Well, of course! It was unlikely that any Ushkuy captain would risk redirecting part of his weapons batteries to it.

  Yv grinned. As they say in New City, if you chase two rabbits at the same time, you can miss out on both.

  ***

  Putyata protected himself from a lunging attack with his axe and he caught the kelimit blade in a stainless-steel catcher on the axe. Then he struck out with the axe, taking the troll’s weapon aside, and with his left hand he grabbed a combat knife from his boot. The blade, with a thin line of kelimit on its edge, flashed out and the troll yelped and fell on its back. A Druzhnik warrior fighting ahead of him suddenly dropped his hands helplessly, then he turned to the boyar, awkwardly raising his two-handed sword, and he rushed at Putyata.

  “It’s the Scarlet Prince!” screamed Putyata, as he avoided the awkward lunge, pressed the off button on the man’s exoskeleton, repelled a couple of punches, then slammed his fist on the spellbound man’s neck.

  The man passed out. The rest of the Druzhniks had already activated their infrared screens, and Putyata, turning away, hastily activated his own infrared screen and his voice distorter.

  “Take this you red asshole,” he whispered angrily, rushing forward in a fury.

  The men from New City knew that to cast a spell, the Scarlet Prince only needed to make eye contact and start talking. Now, the iridescent red, blue, and purple figure with the shrill, muffled voice could not enchant them.

  At least, not until they killed it.

  Druzhnik warriors ahead of him were already slashing at the Scarlet Prince. This warrior alone was worth ten men. His claws could deflect the impact of any sword, because they were also made from kelimit, and in addition to their unusual abilities, these creatures had incredible strength and reactions. There was a loud smack, and a Druzhnik warrior somersaulted past the boyar with a broken visor, the head inside the helmet twisted unnaturally.

  The Scarlet Prince’s wing tips struck with such force that the exoskeleton suit could not withstand them. Putyata bared his teeth and lunged forward with a roar. The Scarlet Prince’s limbs flashed faster, but more new Druzhnik warriors, with visors covered by infrared screens, appeared behind the fighters.

  ***

  If Menacing could, he would have adopted a posture of despair, but he did not have a single moment, even to deliver a fatal blow. The Lower castes were all dead. He was in no doubt about this because behind the "wildlings" fighting him, more warriors were arriving with their eyes hidden.

  It was unlikely that they would risk engaging in battle with the Lower Ones, if they had such screens interfering with their vision, and even more so, they would not have turned their backs on the corridor.

  Menacing recalled how he had raised his wings in a posture full of contempt when Cleaver’s Swordsman had shied away from attacking this lone enemy. He stopped the pursuit immediately and joined another Swordsman that was under attack.

  It looked like Cleaver had turned out to be brighter than the rest of them. Now he needed all his luck, so at least one of them would escape from this massacre.

  At this moment, a warrior with an axe, fighting in front of him cried out wildly and struck a blow.

  Putyata leaned back, comfortably caught the axe in his left hand and slashed out, while at the same time pulling a combat knife from his boot and throwing it forward. The Scarlet Prince almost managed to deflect the blows. The claws of his left hand had deflected two almost simultaneous strikes from the swords of Druzhnik warriors, and with the right hand he tried to stop and deflect the axe, but the axe managed to cut into him.

  The Scarlet Prince raised his arms wildly as the blade plunged into his body. He suddenly waved his arms around frantically, accidentally hitting the blade of a Druzhnik sword with his right wrist.

  The severed hand fell to the deck.

  With that movement, all the Druzhnik warriors fighting against him, including the boyar himself, were thrown backwards. The Scarlet Prince groaned, and his wings covered the knife in his chest in a graceful gesture. His body showed purple, turquoise, and orange tints, then literally flushed scarlet, but a second later everything went dark.

  All that was left near the wall was a gnarled and blackened figure, like a burnt mummy.

  For some time, everyone looked on dumbfounded at what was left of the Scarlet Prince, then Putyata recovered.

  “Chop off the claws and the horns. Send a message to the boarding party on the Scorpion ship. I think we should use this opportunity to figure out what they have that is new since their last invas
ion fifty years ago.”

  The invasion is what New City called the first attempt to capture their system.

  ***

  Stubborn Bull jumped to his feet and yelled something utterly obscene. Two Ushkuy ships had boarded a Scorpion.

  Beer Keg roared. “They must be crazy! The Scarlet Prince will enchant them.”

  Yv pressed a button and said quietly without emotion, “I don’t think so.”

  Everyone turned to him, and Lucky nodded at the screen.

  “I think they have already boarded three Scorpions.” He turned the image from his console onto the main screen.

  Everybody’s eyes widened.

  At this point, the door to the Command and Control Center opened with a quiet rustle, and the cardinal appeared on the threshold. In the total silence his voice sounded unusually loud and plaintive.

  “What’s happened? Why are we not shooting back? Have we already been captured?”

  Silence hung for a moment, then the walls of the Command and Control Center shook with thunderous laughter.

  ***

  Two months later, they landed on the concrete slabs of Warang port. The only Scorpion ship that managed to escape from the battlefield passed close by Zovros and fired a few volleys at the deserted camp. Since the Ushkuy ships were not equipped with mining equipment, and what was left on the planet had been destroyed by the Enemy, Putyata decided to return home.

  He was cheerful, excited, and proud. One set of horns he split up, and donated to Don Diaz, Beer Keg, Grey Mustache, and Lucky, saying that if it had not been for them, the victory would not have been so complete. Stubborn Bull was somewhat offended that he, the captain, did not get everything, but then spat and reasoned that, in general, it was fair.

  Pip often begged Yv to see his piece of horn. He huddled in a corner, and the young man looked at the blackened horn with deep reverence, carried away with dreams of a distant future when he could stroke his own mustache, and carry such a souvenir in his own pocket.

  After the battle, Beer Keg literally pinned Putyata against a wall, extorting from him the secret by which they could protect themselves from the spell of the Scarlet Prince. Learning that this was no more than a standard infrared screen and voice distorters, Don Kior shook his head in disbelief, muttering to himself.

  “How can that be … they are the children of witches … I swear by Saint Eaton, it's unbelievable … and so simple.”

  ***

  They parted with regret, but it was clear to everyone that their paths would now take them in different directions. Before saying goodbye, the boyar once again invited them to visit New City at any time, then abruptly, the Ushkuy ships shot away and disappeared among the stars.

  Their path together, which had begun almost a year ago, had ended. The cardinal paced around his cabin. He could not wait to get to the closest mission, as he did not venture to entrust such sensitive information over even the most secure channel.

  Lucky smiled to himself, imagining what a shock was waiting for His Eminence when he learned that all his secrets were already being traded on every street corner by hawkers. Once they had checked through quarantine, the cardinal immediately jumped ship, and without saying a word, he paid the bill given to him by Stubborn Bull for services rendered and repairs.

  Apparently, he was in a hurry to present himself before the Pope. The rest of the Dons’ boarding party leisurely packed up their things, and Don Diaz sadly watched as Yv emptied his personal effects from the drawers in the console.

  Lucky had refused to stay with the team, so once again he needed to look for a new gunner, but where could you find a good gunner in this backwater?

  They were paid a large bonus for the raid, so the friends decided to stay in a decent hotel. When they got to the reception, Beer Keg showed his temper and let out a tirade, the essence of which was that, although they were now in the money, he wouldn’t allow anyone to rip them off as if they were some simple civilians. The receptionist at the counter smiled helpfully.

  “Don’t worry gentlemen, the prices are at a discount. One gold coin for a triple room or one gold coin for three separate rooms.”

  It was strange. In the past they had paid the same money in the old tavern.

  “Tell us, my dear friend, why are you being so good to us?” asked Grey Mustache politely.

  The receptionist waved his hand in the air and smiled back sourly.

  “Prices have fallen through the floor. We have no clientele.”

  The Dons looked at each other, and Beer Keg asked cautiously, “I swear to

  Saint Jacob, only a year ago you could not help but bump into a Noble Don. Where have they all gone?”

  The receptionist stared back at them in amazement. “Where have you dropped in from, gentlemen? We have been hearing this trumpeted from every street corner for at least a month. Something turned up in Tair … uh … Bearded Mug is putting together a squadron of almost four pennants.”

  Part III

  THE JOURNEY TO OUTPOST

  1

  Barking dogs could be heard close by.

  Tera stuck her spurs into Leros’ flanks.

  The horse snorted indignantly and took its mistress to the top of the ridge. Below, in a valley, surrounded by a pack of hounds, stood a magnificent Alossky bull, his rear pushed into a thicket of thorny bushes.

  He was a marvel of the Aldilerski foothills. His saber-like horns spanned almost five meters. With its head lowered menacingly, he looked through bloodshot eyes at the pack of raging dogs.

  Tera held Leros back a little, admiring the power and magnificence of the animal, then turned and galloped along the ridge, coming down the rise.

  Killing an Alossky bull with a hunting spear was only possible by powerfully striking the soft folds of flesh in the neck, which wasn’t protected by the prominent bones of the skeleton, or the multiple layers of flat muscles. These muscles could even withstand arrows from a hunting bow or a crossbow.

  From the crest of the hill, other hunters with their packs of dogs hastened to the valley, attracted by the barking of the dogs. Through the bushes, many different colored plumes on hunting hats could be seen. Tera cast a worried look at the orange-purple plume of the Duke of Amalia’s hat approaching the edge of the bushes and whistled to the dogs. The hunting pack went quiet for a second then immediately exploded into frenzied barking.

  Tera moved her hunting spear into a more comfortable position, then sent Leros downhill. At this moment the bull, brought to a mad fury by the dogs, took a giant leap, and with a loud trumpeting noise, skewered two squealing hounds on its horns. Tera rode into the gap formed between the bull’s rear and the thicket of thorny bushes, and threw forward her arm with all her strength, driving the spear into the back of the animal’s head from a mere yard away.

  The bull roared wildly, and with incredible speed for such a powerful body, it turned and shook its head, trying to reach the horse and hunter with its monstrous horns. But Tera was already racing up the hill to the ridge, where the hunters had dismounted and stood ready with beam rifles in their hands. The bull lunged after her, but his every jump was weaker than the previous one, and just as it reached the crest it collapsed on its chest. For some time, its hind legs raked the ground with their huge hooves while bloody foam bubbled from its mouth, then its eyes closed.

  Finally, the giant horns twitched one last time, and the huge animal went quiet.

  “A perfect strike, your majesty!” Duke Amalia stood with her by the prostrate giant. “An excellent blow and an excellent catch.” Tera smiled happily.

  Then she frowned.

  At her age, it was time to learn not to react to flattery. However, from the duke, it was most likely to be sincere admiration. What would Tera’s closest friend hope to achieve by means of flattery?

  Not to mention the fact that they had been through so much together, and got to know each other so well, that any falsehood would be obvious immediately.

  More and more hunte
rs appeared on the crest, loudly expressing their admiration, but Tera paid no attention. She dismounted from Leros, and, glancing at the valley, she pointed out an extensive clearing in front of the thicket of thorns to the chief steward of the hunt.

  “We will make camp there.”

  The chief steward nodded and raised a hunting horn to her lips. A stringy, bass-like sound swam over the thickets, summoning all the hunters to the campsite.

  Disc flyers quietly buzzed above their heads and landed behind the hill. Soon afterwards, carpets had been spread out in the valley and seating arranged. Nearby, on a huge fire, grilled pieces of meat cut from the juiciest

  parts of the Alossky bull were cooking.

  Tera sat on a folding armchair with a goblet in her hand and looked on with a smile as the hunters—in high spirits—eagerly told each other about their hunting successes, often exaggerating them considerably.

  Her catch today was recognized as outstanding, especially since to kill an Alossky bull with one blow from a hunting spear—and no need to use a beam rifle—was an event worthy of entering the annals of hunting. The chief steward, Duke Amalia, and Count Elmeyda even began arguing as to when something like this had happened before.

  Count Elmeyda insisted that it had been done by the mother of the present Duke Amalia, nineteen years ago, on the first royal hunt after the rebellion, but the Duke insisted that time the bull damaged the leg of the hunter’s mare, so one of the rangers shot him in the head with a beam rifle.

  Later examination, which Duke Amalia insisted on, showed that at the time the bull was shot it was already almost dead. Nevertheless, the event could not be considered to be absolutely perfect, so it would be better to recall the actions of Tera’s grandmother as described in the annals of hunting that occurred seventy years ago.

  Tera was happy for two reasons. Firstly, she had once again proven that, despite her annoyingly fragile physique, she was not inferior to those who were bigger and stronger while of the same age.

  Several years ago, evil tongues, many of whom were then still under the influence of the Edict of Disenfranchisement “for aiding the insurgency,” had spread malicious rumors that Tera was painfully frail and weak, that her chest was too big, and that you could surround her waist with two fingers.