Ardulum

by J. S. Fields

  “Of which we are certain there were none, correct?” Raek interjected.

  Sald nodded in response. “We received reports from four separate empath Ardulans. There was no life in the debris.”

  “I conclude that the Mmnnuggls value life. Perhaps that is why they are destroying our Ardulans—our database notes numerous instances of species that disagree with genetic manipulation for religious or moral reasons.”

  “I really hope we’re not dealing with religious fanatics,” Sandid murmured under hir breath. “Anything we’d do would be like trying to reason with a Neek.”

  “Whether religious or moral,” Xouy continued, “they’re only after the Ardulans and then us by proxy. I suggest we disclose our current situation to the network of the Charted Systems. Offer beings a chance to stand with us and defend their homes. Be clear about the danger, but offer the various inhabitants a chance to fight for the peace they’ve enjoyed.”

  “What if the Mmnnuggls attack before any additional ships arrive?” Sald asked.

  Xouy shrugged. “I thought you said we were going to die no matter what.”

  Raek scooted hir chair closer to the table and eyed the hologram closely. “You really think that a couple dozen transport ships will make the Mmnnuggls back down?”

  “I don’t know,” Xouy replied, hoping the nervousness xe felt hadn’t seeped into hir tone. “At the very least, it will make them reconsider. If six separate systems choose to take a stand against the Mmnnuggls, are prepared to sacrifice themselves to protect their way of life…it might give the Mmnnuggls something to think about.”

  Xouy watched Sald sit back in hir chair and rub hir neck slits with both hands. Xe let the passing lights of a ground transport distract hir momentarily from the decision before them, admiring the way the light reflected off the window glass and sent small, shimmering dots down the side of the nearby wall.

  “If they just start firing,” Sald started, hir voice wavering, “we’ll have done worse than failed. We’ll be responsible for the death of hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent lives.”

  “That’s why we let them volunteer, Sald,” Xouy responded gently. “I think you’d be surprised at the sacrifices beings are willing to make when they believe in a system—a system that protects them and their families, their cultures.”

  Sandid nodded slowly. “I agree. I think it’s time to ask the Charted Systems to take responsibility for their well-being. We’ve lost approximately eight hundred thousand Risalians thus far in this war. I know the entire population of Risal would gladly give their lives in service of the Systems, and I think there might be some from other worlds that feel the same.”

  “I also agree,” Raek said. “As long as it is only volunteers.”

  Sald sighed heavily. “All right. I’ll send the notice to the Galactic News Network immediately.” The large Risalian turned to stare at Xouy, hir eyes dark. “Then I’m getting on the next cutter leaving the system. If we’re taking a stand together, as the Charted Systems, then I am going to be a part of it.”

  A smile broke out on Xouy’s face. The tension in the room dissipated. Raek chuckled and slapped Sandid on the back. “We’re all going, Sald,” Raek said, smiling broadly. “We belong with our people, in life and in death.”

  Chapter 25: Mmnnuggl Flagship

  I’d now like to read directly from a press release by the Risalian government:

  Dear sentients of the Charted Systems,

  The Markin Council of Risal would like to inform you that beings from outside the Charted Systems have broken through our defensive grid and have taken control of Oorin. These beings—primarily a species called the Mmnnuggls, as well as others—seek the complete destruction of components vital to upholding the framework of peace and prosperity we have built in the Charted Systems. We cannot defeat these forces alone. We invite you now to join us in our stand at Oorin. We Risalians understand that your ships do not have weapons—indeed, that you all abhor violence. The Mmnnuggls are unknown to you and do not have a history of attacking civilian ships; however, we cannot promise that this will last. We ask for your aid, but only if you are willing to give it. Together, we know that our combined presence will be enough to drive back the Mmnnuggl attack. Join us in protecting the Charted Systems, in protecting what is important to all of us—our home.

  —Priority broadcast from The Galactic News, November 12th, 2060 CE

  “I’ve never seen so many ships in one place,” Nicholas breathed. He stood next to Neek in front of a floor-to-ceiling window in the sleeping area of their shared quarters. Neek surveyed him, pleased to see his skin take on a healthier hue despite all his recent wounds.

  “Neek, do you know which species those ships belong to?” Nicholas asked softly.

  Neek returned her attention to the window. The dim, green lighting sent wobbly patches of glare across the glass, but it was still easy to see the massing ships. She could just make out the edges of the Risalian fleet if she moved to the far right side of the window. Filling most of the view, however, were ships completely foreign to her. There seemed to be an infinite number of designs, from perfectly round spheres that reminded her of Mmnnuggls, to disc-shaped saucers. She saw an array of colors—mostly gray, but with blue, red, and purple undertones. Lasers and armor plating abounded in shapes and forms she’d never considered possible. The only thing the ships had in common, as far as she could tell, was that they all appeared to be made from the same cellulosic metal hybrid that the Charted Systems used for their spacecrafts.

  “I don’t have a clue, Nick,” she responded finally. “There are Risalians, sure, and plenty of Mmnnuggl pods, but the others…they must be from outside the Systems.” She pointed at a flattened disc—roughly the size of a Mmnnuggl pod-frigate—as it spun around a star-shaped vessel. “I know that’s not a Systems design. That ship can’t have ceilings more than one meter high. We don’t have any species that could fit inside.”

  Neek reached back to scratch an itch lingering just between her shoulder blades, cursing the coarse, brown tunics she and Nicholas had been given hours earlier. It was an absorbent fabric, designed for a persistently moist species, and its wicking properties pulled at Neek’s stuk and left her feeling dehydrated and irritable. “If we’re going to do something, now is the time.” She gestured towards the window. “No one is going to pay attention to a couple of bipeds in the middle of all this.”

  Nicholas pulled his attention from the window and turned to face the pilot. “Captain Lug said our ship would be ready in two hours. I think it’s been almost three. We can get out of here any time we want, but what are we going to do about Emn?”

  Neek closed her eyes and placed a hand on the window, steadying herself. Five days. For five days, she’d been trying to come up with a plan on how they might sneak the chrysalis off the ship. No matter what ideas sprang to mind, the sticking point was always the sheer size of the thing. There was no way to get it, undetected, onto a ship—especially when the chrysalis was poked and prodded hourly by a Mmnnuggl medical team hoping to sedate Emn at the moment of emergence.

  “I don’t see how we could leave with Emn,” Neek said quietly. “She’s too well guarded. We’re too well monitored.” She tapped the edges of the curved knife in her hair. “We don’t even know if we’re on a small pod or one of the big ones. We could maybe slice and dice our way out of a small one, but something cutter-sized…that’s a lot of Nugels to impale.”

  “I’m not leaving without Emn,” Nicholas said adamantly. “What about our plan?”

  “Nicholas, we need to be reasonable about what we can accomplish. Getting Emn off this ship before she emerges is our number one priority, but we won’t get anywhere if people are shooting at us.” Neek ran a sticky hand over the irritating fabric, silently cursing the rough texture. Nicholas continued to stare at her, frowning.

  She threw her hands up in exasperation. “We’ve been over this plan repeatedly. Yes, we have a chance—a small chance—if
the ships outside start firing. There will be confusion and damage. Nugels will be stuck to those weird panel interface things. They don’t really seem to understand the concept of hands, so if we can manage to convince them that bipeds need things in their hands at all times, we’d be marginally less suspicious if we tried to carry Emn’s chrysalis out of here, but only marginally.” She tapped the knife again, fidgeting. “If things do get rough, we will have to fight. We will have to kill. Do you understand that?”

  “I’ll kill if I have to.”

  Neek looked at Nicholas skeptically. “I thought morality wasn’t negotiable.”

  “Shut up, Neek.” Nicholas grinned. “If one of them disconnects and see us, and we can’t talk our way out of it, we fight. I’m okay with that. She’s just a kid, you know? She deserves a shot at life.” He lifted his tunic off and laid it experimentally on the chrysalis. “Here, give me yours. Let’s see how best to cover it. If we’re going with the ‘bipeds need walkies and things in their hands’ ploy, we’d better at least cover this up.”

  Surprised, Neek took hers off and handed it to Nicholas. They’d talked about this course of action, sure, but she hadn’t been serious about the bluff. Neek supposed it wasn’t the absolute worst idea for getting off the pod. She helped tuck the tunic around the edges of the chrysalis and then glanced out the window. Her eyes caught a familiar ship design, and the untucked edge of the tunic fell from her hand onto the floor.

  “Nick, isn’t that a Terran shuttle? One of the new ones—not an antique like the Pledge.”

  Nicholas followed Neek’s finger. “Yeah, I think it is! There are other Charted Systems vehicles now, too. Look! I see a Minoran Galaxtic liner, like, six different classes of Alusian ships, and there is a whole fleet of the Oorin mining ships. They’re all flying into that big gap!”

  Neek watched, amazed, as Charted Systems vessels began to exit the wormhole en masse. A Minoran galactic liner slid up alongside the Terran shuttle, two Oorin mining ships just behind. Moving to the far right of the window, she could make out even more vessels—a luxury cruiser from Craston, its bright lights flashing, and four short-range news skiffs. Nicholas whistled.

  “There’s a Risalian governmental transport ship over there too,” Neek said, moving her finger and pointing emphatically. “The Markin are here. What is going on?”

  A vibration began to build under their feet, causing Nicholas to momentarily look away from the window. “Neek…” he began uncertainly.

  “They’re powering their weapons,” Neek said. “We’re out of time. Looks like walkies it is.” She hastily arranged the tunics over the top of the chrysalis and wrapped her arms around it, hefting one end into the air. It wasn’t any heavier than when she’d picked it up from the cutter, but the weight distribution had changed dramatically. She could feel movement just underneath the surface.

  “Come on, Nicholas,” Neek said, nodding to the end nearest him. “Pick up your end and let’s go. Now is our chance.”

  Chapter 26: Callis System

  Only the andal can guide you to your path. As the Ardulans move from first to second don, from juvenile to adult, so too must the Neek journey within themselves. It is not enough to emulate. You must become.

  —Excerpt from The Book of the Ascension, first edition

  Captain Llgg hovered against the black interface panel in her quarters, the connection sending packets of data directly into her brain. She curled the tips of her ears into perfect ovals and then released them, trying to send her frustration away. The Risalians had made a surprising move. She had not anticipated it. The Alliance rulers had not anticipated it, either. That the sentients of the Charted Systems would go to such lengths to protect the genetic mush perpetrated by the Risalians was obscene. They were idiots, the lot of them. Blasphemers, heretics, idolaters. They didn’t walk in the light of Ardulum.

  If the construct were her own offspring, she would have simply killed it. The Ardulans did not tolerate imperfection; therefore, the Mmnnuggl people did not tolerate it, either. Yet the Eld, rulers of the Alliance, waffled—made the Mmnnuggls wait. The longer they waited, the bigger the battle became. More lives would be lost to rectify the mistakes of previous generations. Llgg was not pleased.

  An unexpected turn of events, her second-in-command messaged from his post.

  An unfortunate turn of events, she responded. Their numbers are not inconsequential. We have waited too long.

  Should we avoid the civilian ships or strike them down? another queried from Tactical. Our maneuverability is superior. They are unarmed. They cannot offer resistance.

  Captain Llgg spun around quickly and then made contact again with the interface, accidentally clipping the lobe of her ear as she did so. Their mere presence is resistance. They do not understand what it is they protect. There is no way to make them understand. We must rectify the transgressions of the past.

  We will fire only on Risalians if ordered, her second responded. It is not of Ardulum to kill peaceful sentients.

  Weapons are charged, Tactical sent.

  The Alliance ships report that their systems are also ready, came the response from Communications. The Eld have given permission to proceed. The constructs are to be destroyed—all but the girl in our custody. They have given no guidance on targeting the unweaponized ships.

  Captain Llgg swayed back and forth against the interface. The Eld needed to protect themselves. They needed to protect Ardulum. If the ruling council would not make the decision, she had no problem doing so herself.

  Attack, she sent. Avoid the civilian ships to the best of your ability. However, you are authorized to take the steps necessary to neutralize any who get in the way. The Alliance has made its wishes clear—no Ardulan construct will leave this battle alive. Charted Systems lives are of no consequence to Ardulum, but the Alliance does not wish to begin a larger war.

  There was a momentary break in the feed as Llgg’s statement was transmitted across the Alliance fleet.

  Your message is received and understood, her second sent back finally. The battle begins.

  * * *

  Xouy, along with the rest of the markin, stood at attention on the bridge of their official government transport cutter, Risal’s Promise. Their rigid posture as they raptly paid attention to the viewscreen did not go unnoticed by the ship’s crew.

  “Pull the Promise away from the front,” Sald commanded. “We want to watch first to see how events develop.”

  A blast rocked the cutter and caused the markin to stumble into each other. Xouy grabbed Sandid’s tunic for support. The neck seam ripped loudly.

  Sandid shot Xouy an amused look when Xouy muttered an apology. “Relax, Xouy,” Sandid said as xe squeezed Xouy’s arm. “We’re all new to this. Since I doubt we’ll make it out alive, I don’t think my tunic matters all that much.”

  “No damage from the impact,” a third called out to the Markin. “Our shields are holding. We’ll be out of the battlefront in an estimated two minutes.”

  A spattering of small laser bursts impacted the viewscreen as a ship Xouy didn’t recognize made a swooping pass. A small Risalian skiff vaporized just to the left of the screen, leaving the telltale gas signature floating across the space in front of the cutter.

  Xouy continued to watch as the Promise navigated her way through the combat zone. The ship listed hard to port when a Mmnnuggl pod dropped a hydrogen bomb on their stern.

  “Oof,” Raek let out as xe picked hirself up off the floor. An alarm klaxon began blaring faintly in the distance. “We can’t take too many more of those hits.”

  “Shields absorbed most of it,” the third replied. “But the stern plating just chipped away. We’re vulnerable in that area.”

  Xouy stepped from the line of markin over to the communications console. “Third, switch the viewer to show our stern.”

  The resulting image showed the protective shield plating scattered behind the cutter, several pieces still loosely attached and flapping ba
ck and forth against the hull.

  “Would you look at how many there are,” Sandid called out and gestured at the screen. Xouy looked past the stern and, amongst the impressive collection of streaming laser lights and explosions, saw an increasing number of civilian ships taking up defensive positions.

  “They figured out that the Mmnnuggls won’t fire on them,” Xouy breathed. “They’re shielding our ships!”

  “Now, if only our ships could do some significant damage,” Sald responded, hir tone sour. “Even with the civilian ships, we’re outnumbered. Judging from the pieces of metal that keep floating past our screen, I’d say we’re taking out one of their ships for every four of ours.”

  “Markin, we have a problem.” A third looked up from hir console and pointed towards the front of the ship. “There’s a Mmnnuggl pod directly ahead of us. It’s preventing the Promise from moving any farther from the battle.”

  “Maybe someone should tell them that there aren’t any Ardulans onboard,” Raek suggested. “Just a bunch of government officials on an unarmed cutter.”

  “Markin, the pod is hailing us.”

  “Answer it,” Xouy advised. “If they’re talking, then they’re not shooting.”

  The third tapped commands into the console. A series of loud clicks and whirrs sounded through the bridge, barely louder than the klaxon.

  Sald raised an eyebrow and turned to Xouy. “How’s your understanding of Mmnnuggl?”

  “Terrible,” Xouy responded. “I think the Capital Sector position would have a stronger foothold in xenolinguistics, Sald, than the Science Sector.”

  “Markin,” a third called from the communications console. “May I offer a translation?”