by Scott Warren
Troubling. Best Wishes tapped upon his bone protuberances in consternation. He eyed one of the junior shipmen serving as a bridge runner. Earthen Musk. Best Wishes knew the name of every member of his crew down to the last unranked child. Even the clandestine pets that were smuggled aboard. “You there, Earthen Musk,” he called. The youth shriveled under the attention of his captain. Whether from nerves, or disgust at being forced to serve under one of lower caste, Best Wishes could not be sure. There was plenty of both aboard the Springdawn and within the battle group.
“Run to the archivist, request knowledge of any of the lower empires who use xenon in their propulsion systems.” He looked to the helmsman, “Master handler, take us to the far side of the star, if you would.”
Within minutes the Springdawn was on a smooth parabola, and as the opposite hemisphere of the local star was crested his sensor team detected a vicious tear in local space-time consistent with the interstellar ignition of less evolved drives. Inelegant but effective. So, there was a chance the first prince still lived.
“Master hailman, relay a message to the science team. We have a new destination for them.”
Chapter 3: The First Prince
Comfortable in the protection offered by interstellar travel, Victoria settled onto the bench in the Wheelhouse with a tumbler of whiskey opposite the Malagath First Prince. If this kept up, she’d have to break open her private supply before journey’s end. The First Prince had to twist sideways to fit his long legs on the narrow bench, so Red had squeezed in beside her. Free space was a premium on interstellar ships and the Condor had not been designed with Malagath ergonomics in mind.
“We’re out of the hot water for now. Before we hit Taru, I think we should continue our conversation, Tav.
The Malagath opposite her twitched. “The proper honorific to address me is First Prince.”
Victoria scratched the back of her neck, “Alright, I suppose that was a bit too familiar. Didn’t mean to offend your sensibilities, First Prince. What are you doing in our neck of the woods, crippled, so far from any battle we know of?”
The First Prince spread one slender hand before him on the table, “Human Victoria—”
“Captain Marin. If we’re standing on titles then aboard my ship I will be addressed as such,” Victoria interrupted. She grinned briefly as he recoiled at the interruption. Red kicked her under the table, but she ignored him. Big Three be damned, no one was above manners on the Condor. Except her.
“Very well Captain. Since you have saved the lives of myself and my crew I will offer disclosure. In return though, I would know more of your culture and your own history. In particular, how you came to be walkers of the void.”
Victoria nodded, “Sounds fair. Though Red here is the history buff, so he’ll probably be doing most of the talking. You realize, of course, there are things I cannot tell you, such as the location of our worlds and the disposition of our population. Even though it wouldn’t change anything for you to know.”
“Please explain.”
Victoria gestured to him with her tumbler, “You hold so many worlds and so much territory that information propagates slowly through the empire. Policy change, technological advances, even knowledge of worlds gained and lost. Also you’re so far above us technologically that we aren’t even playing in the same universe. Let me give you an example. There are six instances to date of Human-Malagath contact. Every human astronaut has studied these encounters ad nauseam and entire careers have been built writing about the Malagath history, technical capabilities, fleet tactics, and logistics networks. But half the time you meet a new race you blow it out of the sky and don’t even bother to write it down. Four of those instances you didn’t even know we were there. We’re a bug on the wall to you.”
“An unfortunate shortcoming of our empire, Captain Marin. Though after watching the way you handled the Springdawn I would expect humans will soon become a force among the lesser empires. Truth also be told your tactics resemble legends of monsters in our past, before Malagath came to supremacy. Tales of black beings who walked in the space between ships.”
Victoria stared. “In space so long even your fucking legends are about space ships. Unbelievable. But if the terms are fair, how did you come about needing to be rescued?”
“I was on my way to negotiate with the Dirregaunt Primarch. We were intending to broker a ten year truce, with hopes of perhaps a longer lasting peace between our two peoples. My father, the Emperor, was against it but gave his blessing to conduct the mission. The Lords of the Hunt urged the Primarch to deny me, but for some reason he acquiesced. It seems their loyalty was not absolute.”
Red whistled, “That’d certainly be something, First Prince. You two and the Kossovoldt have been fighting since we were struggling to build barrow mounds, and a stick with a sharp rock tied to it was the pinnacle of technology.”
“Indeed, human Red, it would be an occasion for the histories. The first time in millennia in which the Dirregaunt and the Malagath Empire ceased hostilities. But it is not to pass, we were betrayed from within one or both empires. The Dirregaunt dissenters knew our route and sent their deadliest commander to intercept us, likely against the wishes of the Primarch. Despite his low status, Best Wishes and the Springdawn are known throughout the Malagath Empire. My ship alone escaped, and he followed. He is one of the few commanders to take the oaths of servitude seriously and will only stop pursuit at the direct order of his admirals or the Primarch himself.”
There was a pause as the XO’s voice sounded over the main circuit, securing the Condor from general quarters.
“Well we’ve given him the slip for now,” interjected Red, “scary bastard. Still, when we get to Taru Station I think it best you and your crew remain on board for the most part. If we get some privacy in the bay then at least get out and stretch your legs but it doesn’t need to be getting out that we’re carrying Malagath rescues. That’s one hell of a storm. I’ll be in charge of security, both on and off ship. We’ll conduct our business, take on fuel, supplies, and repairs, and we’ll also need to contact Earth.”
“Earth?” the First Prince asked.
“Our home planet.”
Tavram wheezed, the Malagath equivalent of a laugh. The sound slightly tinny through the breathing mask, “You call your planet Earth? Not Human? Why not simply call it dirt, or perhaps ground?”
Victoria scowled, “That’s the Kosso word for it, yes, but the meaning is the same. We call it Earth because we came from it, not the other way ‘round. Maybe it’s easier to lose sight of that when you’ve been colonizing planets for 10,000 years. We wouldn’t know.”
“My apologies, Captain Marin, human Red. I did not mean to offend. I must admit it is uniquely humble. On Earth, you must contact your admiral?”
“Not exactly, no. Officially we’re civilians. We report to the State and Colony department of the Union Earth government. The human navy is restricted to protecting Earth and her colonies. It’s not allowed any outside contact with xenos unless attacked. Happened a few times, always ended bad for us. So now Union Earth maintains a fleet of privateers. Our mission is to establish human rapport in the local neighborhood and try to close the technological gap by salvaging wrecks from space battles, and in this case by transporting rescues in exchange for material rewards and good will.”
“In other words, you pick the bones of dead ships clean and you steal everything you can get your hands on before someone else gets to it.”
Victoria spread her hands and smiled, “The crew of the Condor ain’t called Vick’s Vultures for nothing. When we made first contact we realized how hopelessly outclassed we were in space. Now we know of almost a hundred other xenos and we’re only mostly hopelessly outclassed by their tech. We’re bottom quarter, maybe. That’s where the other half of our mission comes in, establishing rapport.”
She paused. The first prince gestured for her to proceed so she continued, “We try to maintain a discreet presence on
most of the neutral stations we know of, either through a human office or one of our few allied xeno friends. That’s how we keep the privateers supplied and sheltered in port during storms. We need a good safety net to function well. We’ve also established that humans will never attack on sight, and are more interested in rescue and salvage than slaughter. We place a great weight on the importance of individual life within a unit, and shame for those who put themselves above their comrades.”
“Not asserting strength of arms is an excellent way to have the more predatory empires blast you from the stars, I would think.”
“You’d be right, First Prince,” Victoria. She looked at Red. “By all means, Major, you’re the fucking marine. You field this one.”
He nodded. “Sure, a lot of them don’t give two shits who we are but most of the other xenos learned pretty early on not to touch us, despite our apparent disadvantages.”
“Pray tell, human Red. What caused this amnesty?”
“Well to put it bluntly, disregarding our desire to avoid confrontation of arms and loss of life, and even with our limited tech, it’s been clear to us from the get-go that humans are the sneakiest sons of bitches in the Orion Spur.”
Victoria continued, “We thought everyone else was so alien and it turns out we’re the weirdest of the bunch. Everyone else we’ve met put away their differences before they launched their first satellite. But human tribes have been warring with each other our entire history, with stealth and subterfuge playing a bigger and bigger part. Hell, even our first moon landing was a type of war. As far as we can tell we’re the only ones that turned atomic weapons on our own kind not just once, but three times and managed to get past it. No one wars like humans do. Our tactics, weaponry, everything is such an utter mystery to everyone else in the neighborhood. You saw some of that yourself. Our greatest battles were victories against overwhelming odds, and now we’re more outnumbered than we’ve ever been.”
“Indeed, even your tribalism is unique. By all accounts, species that turn nuclear weapons upon themselves fail to colonize before total destruction. But if you are so effective in combat despite your shortcomings, why avoid conflict? You must know it is faster to seize colonies with existing infrastructure than to build new ones.”
“We have a saying, If you want peace, prepare for war. We don’t fuck with anyone, nor do we tolerate being fucked with. It helps that we can only colonize worlds with heavily oxygenated atmospheres. Not many xenos seem to like those.”
The first prince settled back on the bench a moment, apparently considering her words. She already told him more than she was comfortable discussing about humanity. What he would do with it she didn’t know. Probably nothing, all accounts placed the Malagath Empire at almost 8,000 worlds. Once delivered, the First Prince would likely never think of her again. She had to do some consideration herself. An empire of 8,000 worlds and their second in line for the seat of emperor was on her ship. What were the odds on that? He was the hottest cargo she’d ever transported, and would bring them either ruin or fortune. She couldn’t say which was more likely.
Victoria stood, “We’ve got a few hours before we hit Taru system. Rest if you need it. You and your crew are not confined to the passenger quarters, though I do have to make clear that I don’t want them interfering with the duties of my crew. With the exception of the sensor compartment, the operations center, and the server cluster, you have the run of the ship. Hell, I heard one of your technicians is assisting with some repairs in the engine room. It is good to have you aboard, First Prince Tavram.”
The first prince stood as well, considerably hunched over, “It is good to be aboard, Captain Marin, human Red. I find it very preferable to being atomized.
The Condor used the gravity distortion of what the locals called Taru star like a wide net to slide out of horizon space. The Vultures slipped from the blue-black irrational shapes of the interstellar corridor back into the pure dark sky somewhere outside the orbit of the fourth planet, a good clip closer to the star than her last navigator had been able to manage. Victoria grudgingly admitted that Huian was learning her business, though she’d yet to see how the girl handled herself in a fight. From outside the orbit of the fourth, the navigator stealthily made her way towards Taru station in orbit around the first. They avoided revealing their presence until almost within the planet’s gravity, hailing for permission to dock with the natural satellite.
It started life as a large asteroid networked with a warren of tunnels and caverns. The Salvesei launched a massive operation to integrate airlocks, power, artificial gravity, and other infrastructure necessary to support a neutral station. Ultimately to their financial advantage, as dozens of species made Taru station a way point on their interstellar journeys for business or exploration. Docking fees, fuel, and trade tariffs were the primary sources of profit for the Salvesei, and more than offset the upkeep of the huge station.
Though the Salvesei staffed and ran the station, it was considered a truly neutral site, and outside the secured areas all visitors were responsible for their own safety once landed.
After a brief negotiation between Victoria and the docking coordinator on watch, the Condor landed at a private berth and the crew prepared for a rushed refit.
Chapter 4: Taru Station
Victoria descended the ramp from the salvage bay airlock, ablative vest secreted beneath her jacket and sidearm strapped to her hip. The marines wore their armored vacuum suits, absent the hard shell helmet in favor of a more inconspicuous hood that could be secured on a moment’s notice. Half of them would stay in the bay and guard the ship, the others would guard crew where needed.
Each crewmember had a tube running up to their nostrils, supplying the needed oxygen in an otherwise pure nitrogen environment. The nitrogen prevented most types of fires, important when xenos hurled plasma at each other. The rounds in the marine’s rifles carried their own oxidizer, and could even fire in a vacuum or underwater.
“Alright, Cohen you take point to get whatever engineering parts from UE storage we need. I’ll talk to Hibbevox and get us some credit so we can take on some food stores, coolant, and EM for the Alcubierre and horizon drive. Red, that’s you, get ready to start moving it on board. After that I’ll get that message routed through the Union channel. I don’t like how far they put us from the square, but at least we’re not sharing the damn bay.”
“It seem quiet to you, Vick?” asked Red. He was sliding a gloved finger up and down the manual safety switch of his rifle.
“No, but something doesn’t fucking feel right.” She looked at her gathered marines. They were all in various states of alert, scanning corners and exits. “You’ve all got your plugs in. No one goes alone, not even to the shitter. You all know the drill.”
She led the way. The halls of Taru weren’t crowded this far from what most privateer crews referred to as New Times Square. What xenos they did see quickly made themselves scarce at the sight of armed humans.
“They avoiding us even more than usual, Red?” she asked. They’d come through almost a mile of pock-marked tunnels, eerily quiet aside from the rhythmic clacking of atmospheric scrubbers.
“Seems so. Almost like they know we’ve got hot cargo. Hell, I don’t even like having them on board. They’re plenty cordial now, but you know if they’d come across us they’d have blasted our ship to dust without even thinking about it.”
They stopped, letting a pair of marines check around a corner before continuing. “I don’t think it’s that, Red. If anyone knew who our honored guests were we’d be getting fucking swarmed. Not a soul on this station what hasn’t lost family to the Malagath, and not a soul wouldn’t kill for that tech. No, it’s something else. Like we’re an unholy walking shitstorm they don’t want dragging into.” The tunnel began to widen, the noise of gathered voices beginning to win out over the hollow footfalls and rush of nitrogen. “Come on, the square’s up ahead. At least there’s security there so we can unpucker a bit.”
Foot and cargo vehicle traffic increased as they entered the thoroughfare leading to New Times Square. The Salvesei had their own name for it, but the towering stone pillars honeycombed with various offices inside the cavernous space bore a striking resemblance to the American namesake. Once you discounted the materials, temperature, lack of oxygen, and thousands of bustling xenos.
“Testing, testing, one two,” said Victoria, tapping the transmitter stuck to her throat by a minor adhesive. Her voice sounded in her own ear through the receiver, and to the other members of her crew. It was the second time she checked them, but damned if she wasn’t feeling nervous for some reason.
“Alright,” she continued, “You all know what you’re about, so be about it. Anything off, you put it on the shortwaves. Red, I want two of your boys with me.”
“I bet.”
She snorted, but Red detached a small detail of two men to accompany her so she bit back on a retort. Shouldn’t put too much pressure on his squad, he still had six with him and Sergeant Cohen had five. Odd one, that Cohen. An engineer what was also a marine. Damned if he wasn’t useful though. Pleasing to look on as well, if not the flavor she usually preferred. Hands that knew their way around a wrench.
She took her detail of two marines in the direction of the closest thing they had to an ally in Taru Station, a Jenursa by the name of Hibbevox. His office moved around a lot. Jenursa were migratory by nature, shuffling about the ocean floors and marshes of their planets. They made good cohabitators with a few of the human colonies, an effort by Union Earth to share the burden of defense.
“Let’s check the fifth deck cantina, maybe he’s sipping on a brine shake.”
“HUMANS.”
Victoria froze, hand hovering over her sidearm. There was that other shoe dropping. She turned as the marines raised their rifles, safeties switching off. Security forces nearby reacted as well, and high-pitched whines filled the air as Salvesei guards primed the capacitors on their small arms. Striding toward her on six legs came a creature halfway between a rhinoceros beetle and a nightmare. It spoke in an impossibly deep hissing Kosso common, but behind it was the twisted chirp of creepy crawly. It was a Grah’lhin, or a Grayling as the humans called them. Whenever she heard it she was brought back to the summer the cicadas hatched in her home town, drowning out the rest of the world in their ear-piercing, constant choir. She motioned for her marines to lower their weapons, but she noticed the Salvesei kept theirs raised.