Vorpal Blade (ARC)

by John Ringo

  "How do they learn their jobs?" Lady Che-chee asked, aghast. "It takes at least that long for a queen to become accustomed to her position! Most of her decisions in her first four years are awful if she doesn't listen to her advisers."

  "They serve in lesser capacities prior to that job," Miriam said. "And . . . they are not born to it. They are chosen by the full body of the citizens in a process called democracy. They contest for the job and then are voted upon."

  "So they, too, are warriors," Lady Che-chee said. "The best warrior is not necessarily the best leader, miss."

  "Clarification," Miriam said, grinning. "They don't physically fight for it. They give speeches, participate in debates, things like that. Some have been, as you would call it, warriors, others not."

  "Your society is very confusing," Lady Che-chee said.

  "As is yours," Miriam said. "So only female can be leaders?"

  "Once they pass through the Change, yes," Lady Che-chee said. "Before that, they are Breeders. Only Mothers can be leaders."

  "The Change?" Miriam asked.

  "Young females are only Breeders," Lady Che-chee said. "We are . . . very dumb. They can barely speak, but when you are a Breeder you hear and remember much. Families such as mine, in fact, instruct their Breeders despite the fact that at the time they understand very little. Then when we stop breeding, we go through the Change. It's a very strange time. Suddenly, things begin making sense. Or make less sense. It is said there is nothing more intelligent than a Mother just post-Change nor more stupid. I know that was how I was. My Mother was a Lady of a small farm, my father a priest. I was instructed in many arts as a Breeder but didn't understand them until I passed the Change. There was no position for me so my Mother obtained a commission for me in the queen's forces. All of my lands accrued from my service with the queen and other positions I took over the years. But all of that was after the Change."

  "And your son?" Miriam asked.

  "He was kept by my Mother and father until he grew large enough to obtain a commission as well," Lady Che-chee said. "By then I was a general and prepared to retire. He has been posted to one of the cavalry regiments. That was shortly before I purchased the estates. He is a sheshar, a junior cavalryman. Most of the soldiers are males, the officers are all Mothers. I know of only two males considered both wise enough and fierce enough to be officers and they are both very low rank. Good fellows, but not someone you'd make a general."

  "I see," Miriam said, trying not to grin.

  "Okay, I need some of that translated, obviously," Miller said. "I can tell when there's something somebody doesn't want to tell me."

  "It's sort of complicated," Miriam said, still trying not to grin.

  29

  Now You Think of That

  "Third's going on initial deployment," Sergeant Jaenisch said. "They'll be on the ground for two weeks with the science team, then we'll drop for two weeks. After that, we have to go home. The boat's running short on spares and our CO2 filters are about shot."

  "Sounds good to me," Guppy said. "Let grapping Third take the heat this time."

  "I heard that, Guppy," Sergeant Samson caroled from down the compartment.

  "First and Second took a hammering on Runner's," Tanner pointed out. "Time for us to earn our pay."

  "Hey, we were on Runner's too," Lance Corporal Revells said.

  "Yeah, and Two-Gun saved your ass," Sergeant Jaenisch said. "This time, though, you're on your own."

  "We're going to be dropping a Barrett for the SEAL chief," Revells said. "That should take care of any old demon."

  "Anybody asks me about it on the after-actions report," Tanner said, "I'm going to recommend bigger guns. Screw these damned 7.62 mm Gatlings."

  "And rocket launchers," Sergeant Samson said, making a "whoosh" sound. "And claymores."

  "The ship needs a cannon mount, too," Revells said.

  "Yeah, and we need a tank while you're at it," Hatt said. "Couple of F-18s with JDAMs wouldn't be turned down. Make that a carrier. Oh, wait, that won't fit. Where, exactly, are we going to put a cannon on the ship?"

  "We can put it in the bunk area for one platoon," Guppy said, gesturing at the empty bunks. "Plenty of room there," he added bitterly.

  "I'd rather have the troops," Jaen said. "But I agree on the heavier firepower. We definitely need .50 calibers. 7.62 mm just don't cut it."

  "We've got 'em," Sergeant Samson said sarcastically. "Old Two-Gun will always save the day!"

  "Sergeant, with all due respect," Berg said. "Take a flying—"

  "Third Platoon!" Gunny Hedger said. "Get your ass down to the missile bay! We need to prep load out!"

  "On the way, Gunny," Samson caroled. "Hold that thought, Two-Gun. I'm interested to see how it ends."

  "How were you going to end that without ending up on report?" Sergeant Jaen asked. "Because if you were going to end it the way I think you were going to end it—"

  " 'Take a flying jump on a squealing chinchilla,' " Berg said. "What did you think I was going to say, Sergeant?"

  * * *

  "We appreciate your offer, Commander Beeel," the queen squeaked. "I understand that you must return to your homes soon. But if the Demons attack, we are united in defense, this is agreed?"

  "Agreed," Bill said through Miriam's translation. "We normally try to coordinate with local forces in something like this, but we are hampered by language. But in the event of attack, we will respond. We do need some things, however, to remain. Our doctor has determined that some of your food is partially edible. We cannot survive on it, but we have had no fresh food for some months. We would like to get some food from you. We also would like to establish a ground base near the palace so that we can help in the defense of your city. So we will need a spot of land. And it will be dug up because we intend to build a small fort for defense. We will put tents in there that will allow us to come out of our armor. We will put some of our ground forces in that fort. Some will remain on the ship. It will then withdraw into the air. From there it has weapons that can fire down to attack the Demons and also drop the remaining Marines in places where they are needed."

  "This is a wonderful ability," the queen said. "But can they not use boards?"

  "We do not have boards, Your Majesty," Weaver said. "We are, in fact, interested in how they work. But until we understand them, we must use the ship."

  The queen had brought up one of her commanders to stand equal with the high priest on her other side. She waved him down and there was a whispered colloquy before she turned back, her nose wrinkling.

  "They have fourteen boards they're willing to let us use," Miriam said. "In fact, if all goes well, we can keep them."

  "Go for it," Miller said. "Hell, the Wyverns might be able to drop from orbit on those things."

  "We don't know if they'll take Wyverns," Weaver said. "We need to experiment. But, yes, Miriam, offer her our thanks."

  "General Chuk-tuk also points out that we have a disused barracks," the queen said. "It is based on an old fort. You might wish to look it over and see if you can make of it a sanctuary for your fighters."

  "Thank you, Your Majesty," Weaver said. "I will communicate that to my commander."

  "We will meet in privy counsel at sunset," the queen said. "Please discuss this with your commander and if you must use open space, by that time we will find it. We appreciate your willingness to aid us in our time of need. Though we do not have your wonderful devices, we Cheerick are strong, able and courageous. Never will we forget your aid, win or lose."

  "Thank you, Your Majesty," Bill said, bending over as far as he could in the armor. It was as close as he could get to a bow.

  * * *

  "There's no place to effectively drop the ship on palace grounds," Weaver said. "The commander of local forces, though, is preparing a cart caravan. It will bring out some fresh food and pick up the materials for the base. In the meantime they suggest staying here with Lady Che-chee."

  "What about this fo
rt?" Captain MacDonald asked.

  "It's in good condition," Bill replied. "I'm not sure if we can perfectly seal it, though. And we'll have to decontaminate the interior."

  "We can always use ID Ten T decontaminator," the CO said, blank-faced.

  "That's only effective on neenion contamination, sir," the first sergeant said.

  "What in hell is a neenion?" Captain MacDonald asked.

  "Never mind," Spectre said, grinning. "Okay, Captain, I would suggest taking your boys to the barracks and seeing if we can decontaminate and seal it. If Dr. Chet clears it for occupancy, and if there's enough room for gear, you can move in there."

  "We'll leave Second Platoon in place and take Third," Captain MacDonald said. "When's this caravan arrive?"

  "This afternoon," Bill said.

  "Make sure that food is thoroughly decontaminated," the CO said. "I'm not going to sit in quarantine for a month because the med board says we violated quarantine. No matter how much fresh fruit is involved."

  * * *

  "Oh, this is quite wonderful," Dr. Becker said, looking at the astronomy laboratory attached to the palace. "It takes me back," he added, looking at the lens-grinding area.

  "We believe we saw your wonderful ship floating above," Master Jadum said. "Journeyman Agoul actually spotted it first. He has very good eyes."

  "He must have been using this," Dr. Becker said, peering through the lens of the telescope, which was about a sixteen power but so distorted as to be nearly opaque. "But you don't have optical coatings. Hmmm . . . I think I remember some very low-tech optical coating recipes from when I was in high school. Those, alone, will double the clarity of this scope. And if you add a mirror, a clear one, you can double your focal length. But using a bigger aperture diameter is the key . . ."

  "I'm not sure I can translate all of that," Miriam said.

  "Of course, my dear, sorry," Dr. Becker said. "And what's this? An electric spark generator?"

  "We are just beginning to explore these properties," Master Jadum said enthusiastically, pointing to the complex arrangement. "This has some of the same properties as the puffiness from fur in winter."

  "Yes," Dr. Becker said, nodding. "And with a bit more tinkering and by hooking it up to, oh, a water wheel, you can have full-scale power generation. Electric lights, even . . ."

  "Dr. Becker," Chief Miller said. "We haven't been using flashlights around them since they say that is one thing that always brings the Demons."

  "But they're already here," Miriam said. "So it's not our flashlights that are causing them."

  "True," Becker said, then frowned. "Is it the light or the . . ."

  "Oh," Miriam said, her eyes flying wide. "Electromagnetism?"

  "Radio signals," Becker said, his face going white.

  "Particle emissions?" Miriam whispered.

  "You mean it's just the electricity?" Miller said. "These things track in on electricity? Like, you know, the generators on the boat?"

  "If we're right, the boat is a giant smorgasbord to these things," Becker said.

  "But the boat's in orbit, right?" Miller pointed out.

  "Chief Miller," Miriam said, hoarsely. "Do you remember the tapestry?"

  "The . . . Yeah," Miller said, frowning.

  "Those figures in the corner," Miriam said rapidly. "The ones that looked like fighter planes? What if they can reach orbit?"

  "Marine One, Marine One, this is SEAL One . . ."

  30

  Okay, So Sometimes It Is

  Two-Gun Mojo

  "Mother," Cha-chai said, calmly.

  "Yes, my son," Lady Che-chee said, not looking up from the report she was writing. The Chrans might or might not be friendly. So far, all seemed well. However, the queen and General Chuk-tuk required daily reports on their activities. Unfortunately, Lady Che-chee had no real idea of what such activities as driving spikes in her lawn actually meant.

  "I know that I became somewhat overwrought when the Chrans arrived," the young Cheerick said. "However, I believe it would be wise for you to look at the spaceship."

  Lady Che-chee looked up at the male, then turned to look out her window. She turned back quite calmly then pointed her muzzle at the ceiling.

  "TO ARMS!"

  * * *

  "What the hell is that noise?" Sub Dude asked, yanking on the nut to get it to break free.

  "You're gonna break it off," Red warned. "Then we're gonna have to back it out."

  "Hand me the damned liquid wrench, then," Sub Dude said. The two were trying to get a recalcitrant diesel engine to work. The CO had powered down the ardune reactor to cut down on both heat production and ardune use. The latter was very expensive fuel. So the diesels had to be run to keep the ship going and one of them had quit. So, Gants and Red had been dispatched to fix that little issue. After which they had a list of "honey-dos" that was longer than their arm. It didn't help that the damned things were nearly in the bilges. "If the CO would just open up the ship and vent it, we wouldn't even need this thing."

  "I'd rather fix the engine than spend a month in quarantine," Red said, frowning as he handed over the liquid wrench. "I dunno. I hear it, too."

  "Well, I could do with a nice breeze on my face," Sub Dude said, just as there was a gurgling sound underfoot followed by a blast of air.

  "You just got one!" Red yelled, shaking his head. "Damn, my ears are ringing!"

  "Hit the alarm!" Michael said, backing away and looking down through the grating underfoot. "HOLY MAULK!"

  * * *

  "INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!"

  Military personnel learn to count a "day" as the period from one sleep to the next. Naps do not count. Berg's "day" therefore, had been somewhere on the order of twenty-two hours long. His "night" might not count since he had only been asleep for three hours. And it was sodden sleep. He'd run back and forth to the palace twice, helped Third Platoon with their load-out, taken in supplies and had to work on his Wyvern for two hours. He was a bit tired when he finally hit the rack.

  But when his eyes flew open his actions were practiced and he had his skins out of their wrapper and on before he really woke up. The Marines had learned to sleep in them. You could leave them on under your uniform or in the Wyverns. They even made halfway decent pajamas. But his had been rank, so he'd "laundered" them with a nannie pack.

  They were still a tad ripe as he pulled the top over his head. But you put up with it. Welcome to the Space Marines. Talk all you will of heavier firepower, his suggestion was going to be two sets of skins, minimum.

  "SECOND PLATOON, GROUND MOUNT!"

  On went the trousers and the bunk opened up as he snatched at his boots and slid on his top at the same time. He could seal both on the way to the armory.

  "THIS IS NOT A DRILL!"

  It took him until he'd cleared the sleeping compartment for that one to sink in.

  "BREACH IN CONTROL SECTOR! ALL TEAMS TO DEFENSE STATIONS!"

  "Holy grapp," Hatt muttered as they reached the doors of the gear station.

  "DRAW LIVE ROUNDS! BRAVO TEAM TO AUXILIARY DIESEL COMPARTMENT!"

  "Is it the grapping Cheerick?" Sergeant Jaenisch asked as he dropped into his seat and mounted his gear.

  "How the grapp do I know?" Staff Sergeant Driscoll snapped. "It's probably neenion contamination." The staff sergeant was having a hard time getting his gear on and Jaen stood up and slapped it into position.

  "Well, if it is, you're our neenion expert, Staff Sergeant," Jaen said, slapping him on the shoulder. "But you need to get into your spot, with all due respect."

  Staff Sergeant Driscoll lifted his M-10 out of the rack, then looked over at Guppy and Chuckie.

  "Guppy," he said. "You've got point."

  "Got it, Dreen-Man," Guppy said, darting out of the compartment. "Follow Me!"

  "Did he just call me Dreen-Man?" Driscoll asked as he cleared the compartment.

  "Yes, Staff Sergeant," Chuckie said, jacking a round into his grenade launcher. "And your p
oint?"

  "Nothing," Driscoll said. "Just trying to make sure I know my team name."

  * * *

  "Demons!" Sub Dude shouted as the three Marines reached the hatch to recycling. There was banging on the far side of the hatch and then a scratching. "They just ripped their way up through the bottom of the hull!"

  "Grapp," Guppy said, backing up.

  "Out of here," Driscoll said. "We've got it. Chuckie, grenade through the hole as soon as they dig through. Guppy, frags if it clears. I'm going to stay on the M-10."

  "Got it," Chuckie said, flipping the safety off his grenade launcher. "Keep it open for me, Dreen-Man."

  "I'll do that little thing, Chuck," Driscoll said, taking position so he was peeking around the corner of a reinforcing member. "Command, Two-Alpha. Reported Demon breach. We are about to engage."

  "Roger, Two-Alpha."

  * * *

  "DEMON BREACH IN AUXILIARY PLANT! ALL DEFENSE TEAMS TO POSITIONS!"

  "Demons," the CO said. "Pilot, lift us. Lift us now."

  "Sir," the pilot said. "Two minutes to warm up the drive."

  "Engineering, Conn," the CO said. "Get that drive up. We need to get off the ground!"

  "Roger, Conn," the Eng said. "Warming up the ball. Ninety seconds to full power."

  "Lieutenant Berisford," Spectre said. "Status?"

  "Reported Demon breach in auxiliary engine spaces," Berisford said, panting. "Two mechanics mates were working in there when they broke through but our guys made it out. Two-Alpha is holding the corridor but the Demons dug right through the hull so I'm not sure they're just going to stay in corridors."

  "Roger," the CO said, hitting the enunciator. "Seal all watertight doors. Report any suspicious sounds to conn. Demons in recycling. Engines warming. I intend to break contact with the ground as soon as the engine is up, then clear the ship."