The Fleet Book Three: Break Through

by David Drake (ed)

  The Khalian raced past their hiding place, imploder blasting. “Cowards! Show yourselves!”

  The twins held their breath and waited until the hallway was silent again.

  Sandera checked her laser pistol impatiently.

  “C’mon, Steve. Let’s go.”

  Steve was making a leisurely inventory of his remaining personal arsenal. He seemed to be in no hurry to resume Weasel hunting.

  “I’m getting tired of chasing him while he chases us. Maybe if we sit here long enough, he’ll come back around again, and then we can just shoot him.”

  Sandera was about to reply that her twin was being silly when a sudden sharp movement from him silenced her.

  “Uh, San, turn around.” Steve sounded peculiar. She did as he said and gaped.

  An odd-looking being sat cross-legged on the floor of the room they were in, oblivious to them, apparently in some sort of trance. He wore a blue robe, tied at the waist, that covered his knees. He was barefoot.

  Looking around, the twins saw that they had invaded what seemed to be living quarters containing a low bed, a blue furred rug, and a wide, flat-based wooden chair.

  The being had not moved the entire time they’d been there. He sat, cross-legged, on the rug. His head was down, revealing an unusual pattern of fine, feathery scales where his hair would have been. The room was silent.

  Then Steve and Sandera exchanged incredulous glances. Was this yet another strange enemy?

  Sandera cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

  There was no response.

  She tried again. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir ...”

  Silence.

  Steve strode over and grabbed the alien’s shoulder.

  “Steve, stop it. You might hurt him!”

  As Sandera spoke, the alien uncoiled in one fluid movement and, taking what appeared to be a lunging dance step, gracefully used one slim, muscular foot to kick Steve across the room. He bounced off the wall hard.

  “Steve, are you all right?” Sandera’s voice was so high she sounded like a little girl.

  “I’m not sure,” he said, gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of him. What a blow! He sat up and, shook his head to clear it. “What was that you were saying about me hurting somebody?”

  The alien faced them impassively. He had a pointed chin, high cheekbones, a thin nose, and dark, unreadable eyes.

  “Disturbing seiza is a poor idea, ganyi. Quite dangerous,” the being said in clear fluting tones. He looked ready to repeat his dance, balancing on the balls of his feet, slim-fingered hands describing small arcs in front of him.

  “I see what you mean.” Steve picked himself up gingerly.

  “Many have learned the dangers, too late,” the alien said with grim satisfaction. He punctuated the comment with a slashing, kicking movement.

  “Listen, I’m convinced. Sorry to disturb you. No hard feelings, okay?” Steve was beginning to get nervous.

  He could hear Sandera unlatching her pistol behind him. The alien appeared to understand that sound as well. He stopped his dance, pulled back, and stood several feet away, watching the twins silently, waiting.

  The alien was taller than the Weasels, almost human height. A biped who was both scaled and feathery? Well, the universe was full of strange sights, Steve thought.

  “You seem to speak Galaxan standard,” Sandera said. He nodded.

  “Who are you? Where are you from?”

  “I am Ndege.”

  “Is that your name?”

  “No. My people’s. I am Egri, of the Hinc Illae nest.” He seemed to be waiting for some response. His imperious manner melted a bit as the twins remained silent. “Have you not heard of Nest Illae?” he asked finally, almost sheepishly.

  “I’m sorry. No.”

  The Ndege seemed a bit crestfallen. When he spoke again, it was with less arrogance. “I would know your names and nests.”

  “We are Sandera and Steve Hayes. We’re from Freeborn.”

  “Ah, then Hayes are your people?”

  Steve shrugged. “I guess so. That’s our family name. Which may be what I think you mean by nest. Bur our people are humans.”

  Egri nodded. “I have beard of these humans. But you are neither so large nor so clumsy as the Panya would have us believe.”

  “Panya?” Steve and Sandera looked at each other in confusion.

  “The overlords—the ones you call Khalians. I am the personal slave to the Panya commander.”

  “You’re a slave?” Sandera asked.

  “Yes. The Khalians conquered our home planet long ago.”

  “It looks like they want to do that to the rest of the galaxy. Where is your home?”

  “I believe humans call it Target.”

  The twins exchanged glances again. That was the reputed home world of the Khalia.

  “Does every member of the crew have a personal slave?”

  “Crew? There is no crew. Only the four overlords. And the sleepers.”

  “Sleepers?”

  “Yes. They sleep in the steel pods. In the ship’s hold.”

  Steve cursed silently. So he and Sandera could have left the ship at any time. With only four crew members awake, the Khalians couldn’t possibly have guarded the airlocks. Unless they had mechanicals. And Steve had not encountered any robot defenses when he came aboard.

  If this was a sleeper ship, then those metal canisters he’d seen must have been sleep pods. He’d been a fool not to notice. And the entire crew was in suspended animation. Until such time as needed. The Ndege’s voice broke into his thoughts.

  “Be aware that the overlord commander has gone to summon his comrades from the sleep.”

  “Are you saying that a Weasel is trying to awaken other Weasels from sleep pods?” Sandera sounded frightened for the first time.

  “Indeed.”

  “We’ve got to stop him! Can you take us to this sleeper room?” The Ndege hesitated. Sandera motioned with her imploder. Their eyes locked. Then Egri nodded and beckoned them to follow.

  The Ndege led them down a dark corridor and through a hatch into the hold of the ship. Through a window of the hold, Steve and Sandera could see row upon row of gray metal sleep caskets. And a Khalian with his back to the window was busy at the control panel.

  Steve reached for his gun, but somehow the Weasel saw him and spun to face him, imploder in hand. The Khalian fired a wide scatter burst that broke the observation window into a thousand sparkling splinters.

  The twins dropped to the floor. Steve glanced up to see Egri standing frozen, in fear or shock

  “Get down, you fool!”

  The Ndege didn’t move. Steve tackled him, trying to cushion his descent. Egri’s eyes were open, the pupils dilated. He remained where he’d fallen, immobile.

  “So much for the cavalry,” Steve muttered. “Cover me, San.”

  “Right.”

  He crawled toward the hold door. There was no response from the control box. The Khalian had locked the door shut. Well, if he couldn’t get in to see the Weasel, he would have to bring the Weasel out to face him.

  Steve pulled a sonic grenade from his belt, keyed in his countersonics, and watched as Sandera did the same. He set the device to detonate in ten seconds, then lofted it through the open window and waited. He could feel the vibrations building up and imagined the Khalian holding his ears.

  The grenade exploded, the door flew open, and the Khalian stumbled out, badly wounded, shooting blindly. Steve cut him down quickly and remained in position, awaiting any newly awakened Khalian reinforcements.

  Two minutes later he was still waiting. Where were they? He could have sworn he’d seen movement in the sleeper chamber. He cut off the countersonics so he could hear.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Steve
muttered, squinting through the viewfinder on his pistol. Behind him, Egri was stirring, shaking his head as if he was clearing away some invisible fog.

  Steve took a look into the hold. The grenade had blasted a hole in the far wall. The sleeper controls looked ruined. There was no sign of other Khalians.

  A dreadful ammonia smell was seeping into the hallway. Steve tried to breathe through his mouth.

  “Sandera, can you do anything with that control panel?”

  He turned to look at his twin. She lay on the deck like a crumpled rag doll. An ugly red-brown stain was spreading across her chest from just below her right shoulder. One of the Khalian’s last wild bullets had caught her.

  “Sandera!”

  Steve punched every button on her suit’s med program, trying desperately to stabilize her vital signs. But he was no doctor—he couldn’t even begin to judge how badly she was hurt.

  A calm voice intruded on his frenzy. It was Egri.

  “May I give assistance?”

  “What kind of assistance?”

  “I am of the Sinsei Guild, the healers. My people have many healing arts, some of which may help your sister.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Why would you not trust me?”

  “You weren’t very helpful when we were under fire. And you kicked me pretty hard a few minutes ago.”

  “I regret this. You touched me in seiza, and my instincts reacted before my intellect. As for a moment ago, well there is an explanation for that, but we do not have time. Your sister is dying. I may be able to save her. With your permission?”

  “Go ahead. But I’m watching every move you make.”

  The Ndege knelt and opened Sandera’s suit. He prodded her chest, her arms, felt her pulse, then covered her head with his hand and closed his eyes. A moment later, he nodded as if confirming a diagnosis.

  He reached into a pouch at his neck and removed several strange geometric objects that glinted with a dark, metallic glow. He placed them in a circle around the unconscious young woman, sat back on his haunches, and bowed his head as if in prayer.

  As Steve watched in amazement, Sandera’s breathing rate aligned with that of Egri, and her bleeding slowed. After a few minutes, the Ndege came out of his trance and produced another pouch which yielded ingredients for some kind of salve. This was pressed against the wound, and formed a dressing and bandage. The birdman again checked the patient’s vital signs and nodded one last time.

  “She will sleep now and awaken healed.”

  Steve knelt down and felt his sister’s pulse. It seemed steady. She was breathing regularly. Maybe she would be all right after all. He stood up and turned to Egri.

  “Thank you. Could I learn how to do that? It would sure come in handy.”

  The thinnest hint of a smile passed over the avian’s face. “Perhaps. It is a difficult discipline to master. Few among our people manage it.”

  Steve got up, helped the Ndege to his feet, and watched as he sadly inspected the damaged sleep pods.

  “You have saved yourself, but at great cost,” Egri said quietly.

  “What cost?”

  “The most precious of all.”

  “Huh?”

  Egri shook his head sadly.

  “Young human, we are speaking here of life.”

  “We are?”

  “The sleepers will now sleep forever.”

  “You mean they’re dead?” Steve felt dismayed. But only for a moment. “Well, they were Khalians.”

  “Not all.”

  “What do you mean?” Steve watched, his uneasiness growing as the avian fell silent. “Tell me!”

  “Some were my people. And yours.”

  Steve felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

  “I thought those caskets only held Weasels!”

  “Some of them, yes. But the rest were slaves.”

  Steve staggered away from the alien, blinded by guilt. So those stories of slavery were true. He and Sandera had blundered upon a Weasel slaver, brimming with “cargo,” which he had managed to dispatch without hesitation.

  He and Sandera had intercepted a Khalian slaver, heading for home. But where had it come from? And how long a journey would require sleepers?

  Steve didn’t feel like asking those questions. He felt like jumping out the nearest airlock. He had killed human captives. And this gentle being who had saved his sister ... his comrades were now dead as well.

  “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know ...”

  “Khalians. Humans. So wasteful of life.”

  Egri shut his eyes in grief, slowly opened them, and turned toward the canisters. “Come. Some may yet live.”

  “How?”

  “I made contact with them before the explosion. In trance state.”

  Steve didn’t want to leave Sandera alone, but his guilt compelled him to follow the Ndege into the ship’s hold.

  * * *

  As awful as the smell was, Steve preferred it to the sight of the dead. They had not died peacefully, and their death throes had left their bodies twisted, teeth bared in grimaces of pain.

  He and Egri spent a grim hour inventorying the sleep capsules. Most of the sleepers had perished when the controls were destroyed. The Khalians were particularly contorted. Steve was privately grateful not to have met them in life.

  The human and Ndege casualties were worse. Some had obviously come awake in their canisters and fought to escape as the support systems failed. They had suffocated.

  Steve watched sadly as Egri turned away from the sight of his dead fellows. Only three of the Ndege sleepers had survived. These he helped out of their canisters, embracing them in a curious manner, rubbing nose to neck.

  Although he was relieved to see that no Khalians were among the survivors, Steve was sick at heart over the carnage he’d caused. He could imagine how Sandera would feel. He remembered that he’d left her alone and unconscious. He felt twice as bad.

  “Egri?”

  The Ndege turned to face him.

  “I must go see about my sister.”

  “I believe that she will awaken soon.”

  “You saved her life. I owe you for that.”

  The Ndege shook his head.

  “No debt. You have freed me from the overlords. A terrible price was paid, yes. But you have freed the others as well. Khalian slavery is not pleasant, and Khalian slaves do not live long.”

  “Do you want to return to Target? You can take the ship.”

  “No. That would only mean enslavement again. I would prefer to make a home with my fellow outcasts away from the concerns of the Khalians and their war with the humans.”

  “So would I, but I’m afraid that there’s no place in the known galaxy where you can remain untouched by Fleet activities. Or Khalia. Why don’t you come back to Freeborn with us? We’re about as remote as you can get this side of Port Tau Ceti.”

  The Ndege nodded slowly.

  “We will consider your offer. Perhaps you should see to your sister now? We desire to mourn our comrades privately. And the rest of the innocent dead.”

  Steve could not find his voice. He left them in silence.

  * * *

  When he entered the hallway, he saw Sandera sitting up, wide awake, resting her back against the corridor wall.

  “Hi. My shoulder’s sore.” She smiled. Steve almost hugged her. She pointed to the bandage. “Did you fix this?”

  Steve shook his head and sat down next to her. “No. That’s Egri’s handiwork. Turns out he’s some sort of doctor, too.”

  “I thought so. This bandage looked too strange to be something you would cook up.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Shaky, but all right.”

  “That was close. You’d better practice ducki
ng, or learn to shoot faster,” he said, teasing her.

  She punched him weakly in the arm and smiled. “Did you get rid of the Khalians?”

  He nodded. “Egri said there were four crewmen, but I’ve only seen three. All of them are dead. There may be one more hiding out. I doubt it.”

  “You look upset.”

  Steve took a deep breath before replying. “That grenade I tossed? It blew away all the sleepers in the hold.”

  “So what? They were Khalians. They would have killed us first if they could have.”

  “They weren’t all Khalians, Sandera. Some were Ndege, like Egri. And humans.” He watched her eyes widen as the impact of his words hit home.

  “Humans? How?”

  “San, this is a slave ship! No wonder they didn’t respond when you hailed them—they didn’t want anybody to know they were out here. The Khalians probably sneak around in Fleet territory like this all the time.”

  Sandera fell silent. Her eyes glistened with tears.

  “I didn’t know ... How could I have known ...”

  “I’m not blaming you. I guess it’s better that they’re dead than enslaved in some Weasel city. But I wish we’d never seen this ship. And what are we going to do with it now?”

  Sandera’s eyes stopped glistening with tears and started narrowing—a clear sign that she was thinking about business. She stood up abruptly.

  “I’ll bet this ship could make us rich, Steve. The Fleet will want to study her. And there’s all kinds of weapons in the armory here. We’ll make more than we ever could have made on that scavenge run to Delta Station.”

  “What about the Ndege?”

  “They can come with us, or we’ll drop them off wherever they’d like to go.”

  “Maybe we’d better go ask them what they want to do.” They walked back into the battered hold to find the Ndege emerging from the sleep chamber. Egri brightened when he saw Sandera walking next to Steve.

  “I see the patient has recovered.”

  Sandera smiled. “Thanks to you. I owe you my life.”

  The Ndege shook his head. “As I have told your brother, you owe me nothing, Sandera Hayes. You have given me and my fellows freedom. And with that freedom, we would like to accompany you to your home world. If you will have us. We have nowhere else to go.” His comrades nodded sadly.