“We don’t have nearly enough ships to threaten a fortress world like that,” Don Kielter observed.
“But he won’t know that. We’ll rotate the IFF signatures on our ships so that the reports will lead them to believe that the attacks are from splinter groups of a much larger fleet.”
The captains studied the map carefully.
“What if he suspects a trick and doesn’t go for it?” Davones asked, doubtingly.
“He won’t have a choice. Druki’Aoi is the seat of his cult’s authority and the site of his ascension. His demonhood is bound to that world. If he allows his enemies to attack it, his patron deity may destroy him.”
The captains shuffled around nervously at her disclosure. Knowledge of demons was forbidden knowledge and could only be gained through contact with them. Nariko could feel their aggression and mistrust toward her.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Captain Davones accused, “And I wonder what kind of person would know such things.”
Nariko ignored the accusation as she took Don Kielter’s data slate and entered a rough timetable for the attacks into it.
“If we follow this schedule I am creating, we will be able to strike at Urum’Dech while the bulk of its defenders are en-route to Druki’Aoi to defend it from an impending attack that will never occur,” she predicted.
Don Kielter was summarily impressed and slapped himself on the knee, as if complimenting his own ingenuity.
“This will work, but slogging through so many targets in so short a time we might be too battered to fight before we reach the end.”
“We won’t have to fight when we strike the targets,” Nariko predicted. “We’ll hit them before their defense barriers even come up.”
The assembled captains scoffed in incredulity.
“And how do ye expect to pull that off?” Davones demanded.
Nariko reached down and picked up a small wrench that had been discarded onto the floor. “With this.”
Chapter Twelve
The Bitter Skies of Jordanus
In each generation of our young, we see a blind belief that all problems can be overcome, all obstacles can be removed, and all goals can be achieved.
That is why we will never allow the young to lead us.
- Councilmen Edward Necros of Fortuna 6612-6701rl
The ether is a parallel dimension to our own, an ocean of energy and thought filled with great eddies and maelstroms of emotion and passion. The sentiments and sensations of all sentient creatures that have ever existed float and exist together in an endless sea of insanity. Time and space are less meaningful in the ether, which means that a ship steered by a skilled navigator can catch a quick current and travel hundreds of light years in just a few hours, but frequent storms can pose a real threat and can throw a ship far off course or even through time.
Only the sails deployed in front of the ship and the rudder fins along the side are exposed to raw ether and so, require frequent replacement. The rest of the ship is protected by the powerful Essence Field, which creates a buffer, a bubble of reality, in a sea of madness and demons. Without it, ships could be warped and twisted beyond recognition and tales of bizarre misshapen hulks bursting forth out of the ether, filled with the mewing fleshy remains of living crewmen, were not uncommon.
Nariko took a moment to adjust the leather eye patch that she had fashioned to cover up her right eye and then completed the ceremony of purification and calibration of the rifle she was working on. She spoke softly, soothing the injured spirit, before placing it in the stack of rifles next to her.
She found it an oddly calming way of spending her time and the need was great since the Carrion’s weapons were in a state of severe neglect. Most of the small arms were unsophisticated weapons such as machine guns and black-powder slug throwers. The economics of warfare made those weapons very common. It was quite often simply impractical to construct a plasma rifle, when, for the same cost, a thousand machine guns could be manufactured. Occasionally she was able to work on something more advanced that kept her interest.
Nariko’s uniform and hair were now so thoroughly soiled that she doubted that she’d ever get them clean again. Then again, she no longer had any desire to maintain her physical appearance anyway. She felt filthy on the inside, so being filthy on the outside didn’t bother her. If anything, it felt consistent with what she really was.
From her position on a catwalk hanging above the Essence Generator, Nariko could look down into the heart of the holy machine. A glowing series of slowly spinning rings filled with liquid goo of ceaselessly replicating single-celled organisms. As the rings rotated, they passed beneath radiation emitters that killed some of the organisms, their life force absorbed by the coils above the generator and projected as the ship’s Essence Field.
Farther down still, the generator flowed into the bulkhead floor, with mighty conduits and pipe works spreading out like the roots of a mighty tree. Around its base, Nariko could make out the miniscule shapes of the ship’s Technologists as they performed their daily rituals of maintenance for their temple. Nariko picked out the rail-thin form of Dargner having trouble with the steam-cleansing ceremony.
Nariko checked her chronometer. “Hurry up, one minute left,” she shouted down as loud as she could. The Technologists scattered in all directions, not wanting to sully themselves with what would come next.
The ship’s navigators signaled down that they were arriving at the target. Nariko pulled out a wrench from her coat pocket and held it out over the edge of the catwalk. Tapping the comm-rune on her slave collar with her other hand, she opened up a radio channel to the command deck. Checking her chronometer, she gave them a countdown to deactivating the ether drive, expertly dropping the wrench from her hand three and two-thirds seconds before the countdown completed.
The wrench spun lazily as it fell, then burst brightly into a widening sphere of atoms as it struck the coils. The Essence Generator groaned and shook, letting off a most horrible shriek as the whole system failed and the field around the ship collapsed. For the briefest of moments, the ether surrounding the ship closed in on it threatening to taste the untainted materials and violate them. It was less than a tenth of a second, but it felt like an eternity and every crewman aboard could hear the whispers of hungry demons as they closed the distance between the edge of the field and the hull of the ship.
Then, with a bump and a whimper that sent the occupants reeling to keep their balance, the ship dropped back into realspace.
Normally, when a ship returns to realspace, the dispersion of the Essence Field sends out an ether ping that is instantly detectable for light years in all directions, but since their field had dispersed while still in ether space, the ship slipped in silently and undetected.
Nariko dropped her head and allowed herself to breathe again.
Was I holding my breath like an amateur? Nariko knelt down and begged forgiveness to the spirits of the ship. Her technique for forced dispersal was wreaking havoc on the entire system.
At her command all ship systems were powered down and it coasted along silently toward its target. For two agonizingly long hours the crew looked out of frost-covered portholes, looking at the ether listening post and the two warships that guarded it, searching for any movement or disturbance. Anything to indicate that their approach had been noticed.
Nariko refused to look. Instead she serviced more weapons and passed them out among the crew, who begrudgingly thanked her. The pair of warships were very close now. Nariko caught a glimpse of them through a porthole as she wrapped a blanket around herself, shivering in the cold. They were so close she could make out dark flickering towers carved with the symbols of their loathsome masters. She wondered about the people inside, if they could still be called that. What lies or threats led them to that place, serving on those ships?
I wonder if their path into the dark was quicker than mine.
The Scavenger rumbled deeply as its plasma furnace came
to life. Fresh warm air flushed out of the vents. Nariko imagined the panic ensuing on the traitor vessels as their augers and alarms began blaring as an enemy ship appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
The first volley breached the side of the lead traitor ship. Without the protection of its barrier system, the blasts tore clean through and came out the other side. Atmosphere and bodies vented wildly out from the openings, causing the ship to begin slowly spinning in place.
Under the whips of their gang-masters, the gunnery crews on the Scavenger worked mightily to reload their cannons, pulling on their heavy winches and pulleys used to maneuver the enormous shells into the open breeches, while others used cargo-lifters to shove the spent shell out of the way.
Don Kielter called out for the second volley over the intercom and the Scavenger lurched from the recoil. The shots blazed out, striking the second traitor vessel, which had not yet manage to bring its defenses up. The vessel buckled inwards and then came apart in a fiery explosion as its plasma furnace ruptured. The ball of fire washed over the first traitor ship and it blew apart.
The crew of the Scavenger cheered aloud and Nariko couldn’t help but cheer inside along with them. A third volley was called for, which tore the listening post to shreds. Watching the whirling corpses and debris sailing through space brought a smile to Nariko’s face. There was a time not too long ago when this level of excitement would have brought a shout to her lips, but there were scars in her heart that dulled her reaction. A few came close enough for her to make out their bloated purple bodies as they froze and cooked in the vacuum of space.
You are taking immense pleasure in the death of your kin.
My kin? It was a strange thing Nariko had never considered before. Are these horrible misshapen things my people? Nariko thought for a moment.
You have more in common with them than you do with any human. They could understand you in a way no human ever could.
Nariko hardened her resolve. That may be true. But I decide who my people are and I decide who my enemies will be.
You actually think that you chose your enemies? Just wait, when these humans find out what you really are, you’ll see that your enemies choose you.
Nariko grabbed her slave collar and signaled up to the command deck.
“Targets destroyed,” Don Kielter announced magnanimously, as if it had been his doing personally.
“That was the final listening post in this sector,” Nariko called back. “Next we rotate our IFF one more time and rejoin the fleet outside Jordanus.”
After a few tense hours of looting the wreckage of the destroyed ships, the Scavenger slipped back into ether space rather roughly. Nariko could tell that the navigators were recklessly entering swifter currents to make better time toward their next target.
Nariko declined all the ale and grog that was offered her and instead went back down alone to her place on the catwalk over the generator, pushing a fresh crate of weapons in need of service.
“You are a strange cog,” Kathlair said as he slowly hobbled up to her, his mechanical legs whirring noisily.
“I get that a lot,” she admitted, grabbing a rifle and beginning the Cheksum Ritual.
You used to hold your tongue back a lot more around superiors.
“At times, you show so much respect for the spirits of the machines and at other times, you show such great disrespect,” Kathlair observed.
“Disrespect is often the result of miscommunication,” Nariko opined. “In the last five weeks we have destroyed over thirty traitor listening posts and warships. In other words, these weapons around us have fulfilled the measure of their creation more completely than at any other time in their lives. I like to think that gives them great joy.”
Kathlair shook his head in unbelief. “You use the words of our scriptures, but you twist and writhe around them until they appear to mean the opposite of what they do.”
“It’s a gift of mine,” Nariko said as she disassembled the weapon carefully, laying each piece out gently on the silken cloth before her.
See how effortlessly their holy writ unravels before you?
“So, let me ask you then, what do you do with a cog that does not fit?” Kathlair asked.
“You melt it down and reforge it to one that does, imbuing it with purpose,” Nariko said, completing the common catechism. “However,” she added, “not all devices are as simple as a cog. A filter cannot simply be melted down into a neural mesh, for example. In those cases it is better to retain them for future use. Just because I do not fit does not mean I do not have a purpose. Disuse is one of the three great sins, after all.”
See how you can bend it say whatever you will it to?
“You’re doing it again,” Kathlair said, his voice growing harsh. “Stop twisting my words. What you are doing to the Essencia system is heresy.”
Nariko huffed and placed the rifle down in the finished stack. “I remember when the Scrolls of Navicul were discovered, do you remember that? It was an enormous event at the time.”
“I have read the history, it happened over three centuries ago.”
“Right, me too, that is what I meant. Anyway, I remember my master at the time, Preot Sousuke Iwwata wanted to begin using the advanced welding techniques described right away to try them out, but he couldn’t. He had to wait for the Technossiah Council to codify the rite before it could be implemented.”
“I fail to see your point.”
“My point, Kathlair, that the difference between heresy and faithfulness can be as small as a signature on a piece of paper. And I don’t have time waiting for a bunch of old men to make up their minds about this.”
Kathlair straightened himself indignantly before her, his cybernetics humming angrily. “You may share our communions with the machines, but you are clearly not one of us. You are a lumsec!”
“Do you have my wrench or don’t you?” Nariko shot back. Kathlair spat on the ground and dropped the wrench to the floor.
She watched him sadly as he walked away. Being accused of being an unbeliever hurt her more than she thought it would.
Not long ago, you would have reacted the same way. See how far you have come?
She was not overly fond of the Carrion, but being around them made her less self-aware of her own sins. Being surrounded by men who were, by trade, thieves, murderers, and liars, made her own guilt seem manageable by comparison. In a strange way, she had felt at ease among the Carrion.
The next day, in what was becoming surprisingly routine given how dangerous it was, Nariko tapped the comm-rune on her collar and released the wrench in her hand. The wrench burst apart and the ship groaned and shrieked as its Essence Field collapsed and it slipped silently into realspace.
Nariko made her way up to the command deck, which was bustling with runners coming and going with hand-written notes, giving orders, and making reports to and from different areas of the ship, some quite distant to get to by foot.
Spotters positioned on the observation deck had confirmed that the other Carrion ships had managed to cheat death again as well and all twelve ships were coasting along in formation, dark and silent as tombs.
Nariko walked up to the pile of discarded foodstuffs with a chair sitting in the center of it that comprised Don Kielter’s command booth. They had been fortunate this time and had dropped out of ether space almost right on top of the target. Jordanus was the primary munitions fabricator for the Archfiend of Tauros and was the largest target they had attacked so far. This would be their final raid before attacking Urum’Dech itself and the crews were getting restless. Morale was always bad when the ale stocks ran low.
“Looks like we’re only half an hour from the target,” Don Kielter boasted, as if his skills had somehow made it happen that way. “But the garrison is far stronger than we thought. Passive Ethernet counts six destroyers, three battlecrusiers, and two Măşsacra-Class Battleships, the Huntsman and the Scourge.”
Those nearby fell silent at the mention of the
Măşsacra-Class, the largest battleships ever constructed, irreplaceable cathedrals from the old Ashtari Empire.
“That’s good,” Nariko optimized, excitedly brushing a greasy wad of hair out of her face, “That means that they have already begun redeploying the fleet away from Urum’Dech.”
“No, that’s bad,” Don Kielter retorted. “It’s too many targets, even with the element of surprise. We focus on the ships and the ground targets have time to bring up their defenses. We focus on the ground targets and the ships annihilate us. We split our fire and we don’t do enough damage to either.”
Nariko motioned for him to be quiet and closed her eyes to analyze the situation, running simulations in her mind the way she had been trained. In her mind she imagined a perfect sphere, representing all of the possible options available to them. First, she removed the options that would leave her stranded, captured, or killed, then removed the options that were too complicated for uneducated brutes like the Carrion to execute. She then compressed what remained into a pie-shaped wedge and analyzed each one, searching for that sweet spot that maximized enemy damage and minimized friendly casualties.
Nariko opened her eyes and began writing instructions on the hand-drawn layout of the system in front of them.
“When we reach weapons range, we’ll have the Vulture and the Brannigan power up. The Vulture will focus on the battleships and attempt to cripple their gravity-drivers, while the Brannigan will target the foundries on the surface. After letting loose three volleys each, they’ll make a maximum burn toward the edge of the system and make an ether slip as soon as they’ve recharged. The Archfiend’s ships will make chase while the rest of us continue to slip in...”
“But we’ll have lost surprise,” Don Kielter argued, “and we won’t have a strong enough bombardment to bring down their defensive barriers.”
“Just listen,” Nariko said. “We’ll have the Vulture use incendiary rounds and set everything ablaze. After the Archfiend’s ships chase off the Vulture and the Brannigan, the foundries on the surface will bring down their barriers and begin a full-phase damage control. When the rest of our ships power up, we’ll catch them not only with their defenses down, but also with the majority of their forces out in the open fighting the fires. Once the factories are ash we burn to the edge of the system and slip away before any of the defending ships get back to us.”
Heart of a Traitor Page 9