by Scott Warren
Two years after the fall of Iran, Aesop left the Israeli Special Forces and began studying engineering and xenotechnology in London, in hopes of enlisting in the Union Earth Navy and seeing the stars. The privateer corps noticed him first, and he found himself aboard the U.E.P. Blacksail, learning that the greater expanse was not so different from the rat race down on Earth. Instead of America, China, and India, it was the Malagath Empire, the Kossovoldt, and the Dirregaunt Praetory shaping the local galactic theater while the rest scrabbled for what the Big Three could not be bothered with. Sometimes peacefully, sometimes with a knife at the throat.
And yet, as he clamped down the tiny sensor nodule, it was not all bad. Altruism and idealism existed in the universe, albeit as the exception. The Thorivult allowed human cohabitation on their developed worlds, for no other reason than a shared need of oxygenated atmosphere. The Jenursa had seen the families repaired by the privateer’s refugee initiative, and offered full safe passage through their territory and a support network to the Privateers, so long as their mission remained unchanged.
Aesop’s radio clicked in his ear, bringing him back from his thoughts. Aurea had remained onboard the Condor to assist with the repairs.
“The node is interfacing, Human Aesop. My screen shows full integration with all two-hundred and thirty-one sensors installed, with five still nonfunctional,” she said. His retinal implants confirmed the report, but it was always nice to work with a partner, and the Malagath engineer had proven as congenial as she was brilliant. He would miss her when they reached Kallico’Rey
“That close call baked us pretty good, what did the First Prince have to say about it?”
“The Prince does not discuss matters of strategy with such as I. But I felt he was impressed with your captain’s actions. She has a mind like the enemy, it has allowed her to survive him, despite these primitive means.”
“That’s my Condor you’re talking about, Aurea. Even if you have made her your pet project until we get you back home. Sometimes I think you’d marry the GSD if you could.”
“Human Aesop!” said Aurea, sounding scandalized, “The Malagath do not marry inanimate pieces of technology! I simply see additional … applications … for your primitive technology that you have not considered.”
“Oh? Those applications being?” he asked.
A lilting chirp flowed through the radio, not unlike morning birdsong. The female equated form of their laughter. The male version sounded somewhere between a frog’s croak and a bull’s trumpet. “You will see, Human Aesop,” she said. Her tinkering had already net several improvements, albeit at the cost of an increased electrical demand. They devised a workaround for the GSD breaker box to accommodate the extra voltage. He had no idea how she was doing it with no knowledge of circuitry. In fact, she tended to ignore most of the computerized aspect of their equipment, dismissing the green silicon boards as junk while she made fundamental changes in line with Malagath design philosophies. Even his chief engineer was humbled by her results.
He sighed, maneuvering the skiff to the next damaged sensor node to be replaced. A soft green corona had begun to appear over the polar regions of the planetoid. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be out here with me than cooped up on the ship?”
“Once in the void was quite enough, Human Aesop!”
Victoria woke suddenly and fully. No period of fatigue, no instant of transitory confusion. Dreamless sleep was replaced by a softly blinking light on the atmospheric monitoring panel in her quarters, and the soft snores of the marine next to her, one of the Huxley’s. Even having not slept since before the Malagath refugees were taken off the Dreadstar, it took copious amounts of whiskey and the substantial efforts of the marine to finally exhaust her to the point of sleep. Her retinal implants winked on, showing six hours had passed by, no alarm for another two. And yet she knew that sleep would not return, only the insistent demand for attention from the blinking panel. She hated that damned light.
She attempted to slide out of her rack, swearing softly as she accidentally planted an elbow in the stomach of the marine, James? Jayce? J-something, as she crawled across him. A painful grunt was her only answer, but he simply rolled over and resumed snoring. His fault for being in the way, she decided as she noiselessly pulled on her uniform with the practiced motions that had aided many stealthy escapes over the years.
She thumbed the door panel, making her way aft through the eerily quiet ship and towards the connection ring that married the Condor to the Pilum Forel listening post. The soft orchestra of the privateer ship lulled as she climbed the ladder. First, the sounds of the artificial gravity generator faded. Then the electric bus, then finally the motor generators. It was all replaced by the hum of the station’s ventilation and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights. The station smelled of dust. It was sometimes months between privateer and resupply visits, and the station was otherwise unmanned to conserve resources.
There were seven such stations scattered across the Orion Spur, hidden away in otherwise unremarkable systems where caution and subterfuge might keep them secret. Three more were being constructed from prefabricated modules, to be placed as close as possible to the Kossovoldt front towards the galactic core, on the other side of the human’s current reach. Humanity’s ever expanding dominion over the stars had been her life’s work. God, if they just weren’t so hopelessly outgunned at every turn she might actually get somewhere.
Victoria finally found herself in the observation ring at the top of the station, not even knowing it had been her destination. She leaned forward against the composite window and watched showers of sparks fly from vacuum-suited welders making repairs to the Condor. The ship itself she could barely make out, a slightly darker patch on the perfect midnight black of the planetoid below. Only the silhouette of the hot-work defined her ship’s narrow profile.
The hatch to the observation deck slid open, and Victoria turned to see First Prince Tavram stooping to fit through the entrance. She turned back to the Condor, allowing him a moment to compose himself before joining her.
“I greet you, Human Victoria,” he said in a passable English. He nodded slightly in answer to her questioning stare. “Your station is equipped with a small library. Within I discovered a Kossovoldt-Human dictionary, and some small history volumes.”
“Shit, I probably should have blocked your access to those. We’re not used to hosting xenos at the listening posts. I suppose most history books are short compared to yours,” she replied. Victoria paused. “You learned English in six hours?”
“But of course. Is that not the purpose of the dictionary?”
She shook her head, realizing only after that the subtleties of the gesture were probably lost on him. Speaking English with a xeno seemed to have disarmed her somewhat.
“Captain, the degree to which your people have wounded each other is both astounding and terrifying. It seems your home planet does not need the lesser empires; it is constantly at war with itself. Do you know that few, if any, cultures survive to colonize after turning the power of atomic weapons upon themselves? When you first told me of this I will admit I did not believe you, just as I did not believe in beings that walk in the void.”
“War is a habit we just can’t kick. We’re trying to do better. We’ve got unified colonies, a non-nationalistic government under no currency and no dominant local earth language.”
“And the privateers, extending a hand to starfarers caught in most dire straits.”
“Mixed bag, that. It seems like every friend we make; we end up with twice as many enemies. How many more are we going to have before Earth is ready to step out of the shadows?”
She turned back to the Condor. The First Prince remained with her, his back reflected in the polymer window as he gazed out the other side of the ring towards the expanse of stars.
“One more, at least, Captain Victoria. He is out there. Waiting? A certainty. He will not stop until he knows I am dead. It is why he was chosen,
despite his low birth.”
“Low birth?” asked Victoria.
“Best Wishes is of the servant’s caste, believed unfit to hold position or command even a shuttle, let alone a strength battle group. His success is worrisome to many, and more still hope for his failure.”
“Shit, if he were from Earth we’d have made a movie about him. A real feel-good underdog popcorn flick.” Victoria paused. “I guess the fucker has a lot riding on this.”
The First Prince nodded. She wondered if he’d picked up the gesture from her crew or from his reading. Just that simple bob twisted her guts, knowing she was to condemn him to death or worse at the hands of the Dirregaunt. Her hands sweat on the rail as she watched the corona blossom into a full, green borealis around the planet’s poles. She couldn’t stab him in the back like that. Not without looking him in the eye while she did it.
“Prince Tavram, my government has ordered me to hand you over to the Praetory,” she said.
The First Prince’s reflection stilled as his breath caught, then resumed. “I thought as much, Captain Victoria. Human Red was recalcitrant after the parley with Captain Jackson, I knew it to be ill portent. May I ask why they have decided to do so?”
“It’s not so tough to puzzle out. War means the humans advance. Taking you home means less salvage, less stolen tech, less progress and more risk as humanity slips further behind the competition.”
The first prince was silent for a time.
“Captain Victoria, would you die for the Vultures?”
“Come again?”
“After we escaped from Best Wishes, my crew witnessed several injured engineers returning to the engine room despite the danger, many sustaining further bodily harm. I did not understand why they subjected themselves to such risk instead of tending to their own needs. Examining your literature illuminated a trend of those who put others before themselves. Among the Malagath, a captain is expected to put himself before his crew. The value of a skilled commander outweighs any number of the peasantry. Would you do the same, were you weighed against the sum of your Vultures? Or would you do as your soldier did at Forel?”
Victoria stood a moment before answering. “Any of those history books of yours mention a place called Chernobyl?”
The First Prince joined her at the rail, admiring the Aurora. “An electrical facility, the power of the atom escaped your people and caused severe damage in the place called Chernobyl. Radioactive particles contaminated the local ecosystem.”
Victoria nodded, now sure the First Prince would understand its meaning. “Ten days after the accident, the disaster crews discovered irradiated water pooling beneath the reactor. Left alone, the fuel would have burned its way down and caused a steam explosion that could have killed millions.”
“Obviously this did not occur, else the shape of your history would be very different. How did they stop it?”
“Someone figured out the only way to drain it was a valve at the bottom of the pool. Three men volunteered to swim in irradiated water to open it. They knew it was a one-way trip. They never hesitated. They swam down to that valve with nothing but a broken lamp, and they opened that fucking valve, and they stopped one of the biggest potential disaster’s in Earth’s history. All three of them died.”
“All three sacrificed themselves instead of retreating to safety?”
“Sacrifice is who we are. It defines us as human. We take bullets for each other, jump on grenades, lay down on the wire. You want to know if I’d die for my crew? Aw hell. I’d like to think I wouldn’t. I’d like to think my rational mind would stop me, shake me, ask me what the fuck I’m doing. But I know the score. The answer is yes, and I’d be kicking myself all the way down to hell.”
First Prince Tavram clasped his hands behind his back and stepped to the opposite side of the observation ring. “Join me, if you would, Captain Victoria.”
Tentatively, she approached the tall, slender figure.
“My home system lies in this direction,” he said, indicating a quadrant of the sky. “It lays just inward of the leading edge of our galactic blade. We are close enough that several of our constellations can be discerned, named for great Malagath war vessels destroyed by the Dirregaunt and the Kossovoldt in this endless war I sought to at least forestall. Many, many starfarers died to bring me this far, as was my right as their captain and their First Prince to spend their lives like currency. It is the way of the Malagath, and I have not known another until now. Perhaps the Malagath insulate themselves from the lesser empires to their detriment. Or perhaps your people’s altruism affects me to mine.”
The First Prince turned to Victoria. “In accordance with the orders of your government, I will turn myself over to Best Wishes, willingly, on the condition that you continue your course to take the survivors of my crew to the Malagath frontier. I will lay down on your grenade if you take the last of my starfarers home to finish my work.”
Chapter 10: Unto the Dark
“This isn’t right, girl. Ain’t no one would think less of you tossing on those orders.”
Victoria could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen Jax in a rage. His crew was daisy-chaining the last of the Malagath tech from the Condor to the Huxley.
“It’s a good deal, Jax. The First Prince for the Condor and the crew of the Dreadstar. If that Dirregaunt Commander will make a deal, that is,” said Victoria.
“Yeah, well you better hope he hasn’t made a white whale out of you.”
“Just cause I can’t keep my figure as I get old don’t give you leave to be an asshole,” teased Victoria. Jax didn’t laugh.
“I may be the asshole, but that crypto smells like grade-A horseshit. We’re handing this junk off to the Chesapeake and then maybe we can come back and find you. Assuming there’s anything left…”
Victoria gave him one final hug, then slid down the ladder while he sealed the airlock above her. The warm noises of the Condor welcomed her, and she made her way to the conn with only the buzz of the engines for company. Huian and Tavram were there as she arrived, the First Prince moving aside that she might take her command couch.
“Huian, cast off. Take us round the southern pole and accelerate to point-two.”
“Aye Skipper,”
The sounds of the engine increased as the Condor pulled away from the listening post. The view rotated as Victoria’s pilot accelerated through the orbit of the planetoid and brought the star into view. The horizon jump would take six hours.
“Somewhere on the other side of the star, death left the light on for us. Let’s not keep him up too late.”
Beneath Tessa, three Dirregaunt sailors padded softly through the path. The messenger was obvious by his sense of urgency and flanked by two armed sentries, but no Grayling. Best odds she’d seen all day, which was good because the battery on the tranquilizer unit was running low, even staggering the refrigeration unit to keep the round ready. She had no way to charge it once it was dead. It was now or never. She sighted the messenger on her optics, switching the unit back into charge mode.
One of the security team stopped. “Did you hear that?” he asked? Tessa cursed. The sedative attachment had a telltale whisper of a whine, so low her suit could barely pick it up. The other two perked up, ears swiveling to listen for her telltales. No choice, she was made. She stilled her breath and fired, causing the messenger to jump.
“Something bit me!” he shouted. Lasers were raised.
“The space walker is here.”
“Where?”
“Ahead, in the trees to the left of the path. Cook it on my mark”
Shit! Dirregaunt hearing. She jumped down from the tree just as it exploded, landing badly and rolling into the thick foliage. The lasers cut off, and her vibration sensors told her something was on the move towards her.
“Not going for help,” she murmured, “Time to see who the best hunters in the galaxy are.”
She caught side of a stalk swaying to her right 2 o’clock. D
amn but these bastards were fast. From where she lay she could still see the messenger, standing idly haven taken two or three steps towards the way he’d come. She had to move, now.
She slid her combat knife out of its sheath as quietly as she could, but cursed when the vibration sensors stilled for an instant. They didn’t have a scent, but they sure as hell had her sound. Well, she might be able to do something about that. Being quiet had failed, maybe it was time to try being loud. Dirregaunt ears would close to protect them against loud noises. She held her rifle above her head and fired a single round, then dashed towards what she hoped was the Dirregaunt security detail. Time was even more a premium now, her rifle would travel a long way in this ship, and there were Graylings to worry about.
She came upon him before she’d expected to, and from his startled posture, he hadn’t expected her to go on the offensive. There was a moment’s hesitation in his eyes as he took in her black face mask, enough hesitation for her to put a gloved fist into his midsection. An armored knee followed it, and a stomp to what would have been his solar plexus once the security officer hit the ground. Before she could finish the job a weight hit her from behind, bowling her over onto the soft deck of the ship. The wind was knocked from her, and a claw twisted around her arm and flipped Tessa’s belly upwards.
Claws raked against the composite plating of her chest piece, and a mouth full of tiny, sharp teeth snapped at her throat as she got a hand around one of two bony protrusions on the Dirregaunt’s chest. The xeno was larger, but not heavier, and she was able to keep his jaws away from her even as the Dirregaunt’s claws probed for a weak spot. It found one, on her side, punching through a layer of Kevlar to puncture the suit’s inner wall. Her suit’s computer blared alarms as it self-sealed, but she could feel where the claw scored across her hip. Time to return the favor.
She angled her knife up and jammed it into the Dirregaunt’s side, pushing him off as he spasmed. She kicked her way to her feet, hand against her side. She wasn’t equipped to self-medicate, and between the pain causing stinging tears the threat of blood loss she hoped the scratch wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. Christ, it felt like he’d hit bone.