“I’m tracking that visually, Gurney,” the colonel answered. “I saw one of your guys go down a kilometer south of my current position. He landed hard, but he looks to be okay. I’ve got a couple carriers of my troops headed out to retrieve him.”
Gurney offered a silent “thank you” at the positive news, but it did little to relieve the tension in his body.
“Great, Colonel, but we’ve got other problems,” he relayed, unable to delay his report. The constant, all-out shaking threatened to drop him from the sky at any moment. “There’s a large force of Minith ten kilometers west of the spaceport. They appear to be entering the Telgoran underground, and they’re heavily armed. I think our green, former friends intend to pay our gray, current friends a visit. And it doesn’t look like a friendly one.”
“Flock me! As if we—”
Gurney didn’t hear the rest of the colonel’s response. An explosion rocked his craft and cut off radio contact.
“Ahh!” He shouted, banged his fist against the canopy that surrounded his body, and struggled against the controls. The propulsion unit on his right side was gone. He could stay in the air using only the left for a short while, and he argued with himself over what to do. If he initiated a landing now, he might walk away from the impact.
Or he could do something about the large force of greenies that were marching toward the Telgoran entrance below.
It wasn’t really much of a choice.
He fought the carrier through a rough banking curve that put him on a course with the traitors below. He was lined up on his target when the left-side engine gave out. He suddenly found himself surrounded by the relative, rattling silence as his dying carrier jet went into a glide.
His fate now sealed, he did the only thing that could make him smile.
He sent the last two plasma drops on their way, then calmly pointed his jet into the Minith soldiers below.
* * *
Oinoo cursed the incompetence of the Minith. His people had traded with the large, green bi-peds for decades before the humans had defeated them. He should have known that they were incapable of keeping their side of any bargain.
Before this “Alliance” had been put in place, the Minith incompetence had been a joke among his pod—a fact to be taken advantage of and exploited at every turn. His agents had routinely shorted their trading “partners” of their full payments. Along the same vein, they regularly made off with greater loads of agsel than what they paid for, and they had never been found out. That should have been an indication to Oinoo that they would be incompetent in all areas, including the one they claimed was their greatest strength: war.
The Minith certainly seemed menacing enough. Giant, angry monsters, always eager to fight and quick to show their aggression and violence. Their reputation as fierce warriors had been the primary reason why his own race had never tried to wrest control of the agsel-laden planet before . . . well, that and the ease with which they could be stolen from. But now, when he needed them—no, when he counted on them—to be strong and wield a heavy tentacle against the much weaker, but smarter, humans, they failed miserably.
Oinoo watched the vid screens before him with rising anger. A fourth of his fighters—fighters that should not have even been needed, if that imbecile Drah had delivered on his contract—were dead or dying on the ground outside the ship. He had some small measure of satisfaction that the three human aircraft had been blown from the sky, but that wouldn’t bring back more than two thousand Zrthn mercenaries. Now he owed a death-rate payment to each of their pods in compensation. Even if successful—Drah claimed it was still a certainty, despite the “minor” setbacks—his costs for this mercantile venture had just tripled. His initial return on the investment would drop, and his influence within the pod would diminish. His head rotated with concern, and his tentacles tangled with anxiety. Hostile takeovers were always a questionable endeavor. Unsanctioned takeovers were even more so.
Unsanctioned takeovers, that were unsuccessful, were often a death’s sentence.
He pondered what to do with Drah when this was over. They had a verbal agreement—not quite a contract, but most would consider it a valid negotiation. He could break it, of course, but that might color his credibility when making future agreements. If anyone found out, that is. Accidents happened all the time that negated agreements.
Oinoo was mulling over the type of accident that he could manufacture when the sound of weapons-fire grabbed his attention. He looked to the vid screens but knew instinctively that the sounds hadn’t come from that direction. They had come from the ante-room on the far side of his personal command center space.
But . . . how? And more importantly, who?
* * *
Eli was pleased. The movement from the portal room to the battle carrier’s command center went quickly and without major incident—for the humans. The Zrthns aboard the ship hadn’t fared too well. Benson was correct. The strange, tubelike weapons the invaders carried did not work against their PEACE armor. They could move virtually without worry. There had been one situation just inside the portal doorway when Ellison slipped while stepping over a dead squid and landed face-first on the floor . . . but that hardly counted.
For the most part, they had found the corridors of the ship vacant, which made sense. Most of the alien force had been off-loaded onto Telgora already. Presumably, only support and command personnel still remained on the battle carrier.
Eli marched into the command center of the carrier, scanned the area, and held his fire. None of the dozen or so squids seemed to be armed, or if they were, they kept their weapons lowered and out of sight. Smart.
Seeing the situation was under control, Eli asked to have Aank brought forward.
As he waited, a door on the far side of the large area opened. Eli and the rangers with him pointed their weapons in that direction, but a diminutive Zrthn stepped through the doorway, unarmed. He was the smallest squid they had encountered yet. Where the rest of the Zrthns stood roughly two meters tall, this one fell a good half-meter short of that mark. Interesting.
Even more interesting, at least to Eli’s mind, was the coloration that decorated the Zrthn’s body and tentacles. Brilliant swirls of various blue and purple hues covered every inch of the alien’s features.
“If the coloration is any indicator,” Eli announced to his fellow rangers, “this guy must be the leader of this armada.”
You are correct, Aank informed Eli. The Waa engineer had arrived.
“You are correct,” the multi-colored Zrthn answered, speaking Earth Standard language. “I am Oinoo, a senior member of the Thmelia Pod. What are you doing on my ship?”
Eli was surprised the alien spoke their language. The words carried a heavy dose of the squeak-squeal that Eli had come to expect, but they were easily understandable. The current of arrogant superiority that accompanied the words was also easily understood. The urge to squeeze the Ginny’s trigger and silence that arrogance was intense, but he refrained.
“I’m Captain Eli Justice of the Shiale Rangers” Eli replied, through gritted teeth. “What the flock is your ship doing on our planet?”
The senior member of the Thmelia Pod—Oinoo—moved forward, closing the distance that separated them. Unlike the other Zrthns Eli had encountered, the small leader of this Zrthn venture seemed graceful in his movements. Instead of the wriggle-walk movement he had come to expect, Oinoo’s leg-tentacles moved in a short, fluid motion that seemed to float his body across the floor. His subordinates, which were a mix of the higher-ranking, blue-tinted squids and the standard, pale gray, moved quickly aside to accommodate his passing. He stopped three meters from Eli, certainly aware that every Alliance weapon in the room was pointed in his direction.
“I’m here to complete agsel negotiations with the supreme Minith commander, who now controls this planet,” Oinoo stated. His enunciation was improving, Eli noted. “If you and your . . . people . . . exit the ship immediately, without causing furth
er damage or harm, I will speak to him on your behalf. You may receive a lesser degree of punishment for your deference. Do we have a contract?”
What the flock? There were more than a dozen weapons aimed at his overly large head, and he thought he held the upper hand. Eli considered pointing out the obvious.
“How about you recall your soldiers to the ship, and I won’t pull this trigger,” Eli countered.
“I understand your position, human,” Oinoo said, his voice like honey—sugary sweet and full of promise. “Here you stand, on my ship. You have me at a momentary disadvantage because of your weapons. But you should think long-term. What is going to become of you and your . . . men . . . when you leave this ship? You are surrounded by ten-thousand Zrthn mercenaries, who are backed by one hundred and fifty thousand Minith. Surely, your force cannot stand up to those odds. Accept my advocacy and I will ensure your wellbeing. Do we have a contract?”
They had swapped less than two hundred words in their short time together and Eli was already tired of that question: do we have a contract?
His Zrthn forces have been cut to just over seven thousand after encountering Alliance carrier jets, Aank inserted his thoughts into Eli’s consciousness. Eli welcomed the Waa’s mental presence, happy for his ability to see into the Zrthn’s thoughts. The number of Minith backing Drah is also greatly exaggerated. He is uncertain of the true number, but it is a fraction of the total population.
Not all Minith are on Drah’s side?
No, Eli. Most are sitting by, waiting for a victor to emerge. Again, Oinoo is unsure of the exact numbers, but it is a majority. He is not pleased with Drah. Apparently, the colonel promised a full rebellion.
So, he’s trying to bluff me?
Eli, we both know you would not accept his offer. But the Zrthns, by nature, are masters of trade and business. They are skilled negotiators who value contracts and agreements. This one places much value on his negotiation abilities. Bluffing is merely a tactic he uses to sway issues in his favor. Also, he is highly intelligent and has already surmised how we arrived on his ship. Because of that, he believes you aren’t aware of the events happening outside.
Interesting. And he has no clue we know what he’s thinking? Eli considered the value in knowing what your enemies and your trading partners thought. No wonder the Waa ability to read minds was such a closely guarded secret within the Alliance.
Blink. Blink.
Okay, Aank. Keep me on track here. If there’s anything I miss, let me know.
Blink. Blink.
“Come now, Oinoo,” Eli addressed the Zrthn. He tried to mirror the alien’s honeylike tone. “We both know that thirty percent of your forces have already been killed or injured by our aircraft. And Drah has less than a thousand followers. The remainder are sitting on their paws waiting for this to end.”
Although he wasn’t familiar with Zrthn facial tics, Eli saw a change in Oinoo’s features at that news. The low ball estimate of a thousand Drah followers was a complete fabrication. Fortunately, two could play the bluffing game.
“If you recall your forces now, we will allow you all to leave Telgora unharmed. If you don’t . . . well, we’ll have to take the appropriate steps to eliminate you. All of you.” Eli allowed the threat to hang in the air. The weapon he pointed at Oinoo left no question about who would be the first to die.
“The fighters outside are contracted mercenaries, Captain,” Oinoo replied. “If you kill me, they will fight to the death. Then where will we be?”
That is a truth, Eli.
“I believe you, Oinoo. But if you’re dead, their continued struggle doesn’t help you or the Thmelia Pod. And they will end up dead anyway.”
It would cost his pod a great deal in compensation to their families, Eli. He does not want that.
“Perhaps there is truth to your words. But their sacrifice might weaken your defenses enough so that a future foray by my pod would be successful.”
Not true. He is here without authorization of his pod or the Zrthn executives to whom all pods pay tribute. A future assault is possible, Eli, but not from this one’s pod. Compensation payments and the negative reputation over this failed attempt will prohibit that.
He’s a rogue?
Somewhat. It is not unusual for their kind to take unilateral actions against worlds like this one. Senior pod members who lead successful subjugations are hailed and applauded.
And those who lead failed attempts?
Ridicule. Loss of Position. Sometimes death.
So, why would he agree to leave? He has nothing to lose if his forces fight to the end.
Do not underestimate loyalty to the pod. He may agree to a deal that spares his pod from ruin.
“Oinoo, are you loyal to your pod?”
“Yes!” The word was delivered with a sense of what Eli assumed was righteous indignation. The alien’s finger-tentacles quivered and waved as well. Good.
“Here is my proposal,” Eli responded. “Recall the mercenaries you have deployed outside the ship. Leave Telgora, and do not attempt future forays against us. In exchange, we will guarantee safe departure for you and all of your forces. In addition, the Shiale Alliance will agree to negotiate only with the Thmelia Pod on future shipments of agsel. No other pods will have a seat at the negotiating table.”
“You would do this? You would deal only with my pod?”
That has his interest, Eli. For him, being the only recipient of the Telgoran agsel is nearly as good as his agreement with Drah, who he feels may be unable to uphold his end of their bargain. Such an agreement will also rescue his reputation within his pod. He now envisions a prosperous arrangement, where before he saw little chance of success.
Good, Eli thought. Let’s increase the pressure then.
“Yes, Oinoo,” Eli replied. “We can make this deal. However, to compensate the Alliance for our loss of life and for the damages caused by your actions, we will retain five of the six captivity ships in your fleet. You will be allowed to keep your battle carrier, your support vessel, and the last captivity ship.”
Eli didn’t disclose why he wanted the ships, though it was likely obvious. The transportation portal and real-time communication device alone would move Alliance technologies forward a hundred years. Who knew what else the Waa could find on board?
Oinoo’s arm-tentacles started a slow, rhythmic side-to-side wave as he considered the offer.
He is wavering, Eli.
“If you do not agree to these terms,” Eli continued, pressing the advantage. “We will seize all of your ships and eliminate all of your crew and mercenaries. The Thmelia Pod will be left with nothing but heavy debt, failure, and ridicule.”
Oinoo’s tentacles stopped their strange waving rhythm. Eli knew the other had no choice but to agree.
“Do we have a contract?” he asked the Zrthn.
Chapter 29
Becca looked down across the plain where the ship waited. She had no idea what was happening. The Zrthn forces there had begun a slow but steady retreat back inside the large spacecraft, and she wondered what they were up to. The attacks by Gurney and his crew had taken a heavy toll on the ground forces around the ship before they were brought down, but that didn’t explain the movements taking place.
Her forces were still ready to move out—had been since the pilots started their assault. But she held them back, unwilling to commit until she had a good idea of the situation. Now, she had no one left outside the ship to attack, except for several hundred Minith, who wandered about, seemingly just as confused as she was.
She had no desire to throw her forces—now two thousand strong—against the ship itself. Though the ramps were still down, she doubted their ability to storm the craft with any degree of success. She considered Gurney’s final transmission and debated bypassing the ship altogether so she could help the Telgorans against the Minith forces headed below ground. Still, she held back. Indecision was a fatal error in any battle, but so was committing your forces wit
hout knowing what you were committing them against.
She decided to wait another ten minutes. If nothing changed by then, she’d move to support the Telgorans.
With five minutes to go, Lieutenant Colonel Becca Conway received the greatest shock of her life. She watched in stunned wonder as a line of armored Shiale Rangers exited the alien ship and headed up the hill in her direction.
“This is Captain Eli Justice of the Shiale Rangers,” she heard over the comm unit attached to her ear. “Who’s in charge of the force on the hill?”
Becca slowly fingered the transmit button. How in the flock did her troops get on board a Zrthn ship?
“Captain Zero,” she announced, shaking her head. “You have some serious explaining to do.”
* * *
“Captain Zero,” Eli heard Colonel Conway’s voice come across the headset. “You have some serious explaining to do.”
He couldn’t hold back the smile, and he put the suit into triple speed, anxious to reach his commanding officer. He should have known the colonel would be at the center of the human response to this rebellion. She hadn’t been put in charge of the ranger battalion because she lacked skills or initiative.
“Colonel Conway, it’s good to hear your voice, ma’am.”
“How the flock did you get aboard that ship? Aren’t you supposed to be on Rhino-3?”
“It’s a long story, Colonel, and I’d like an opportunity to share it with you. But we’ve got a few things to accomplish first.”
“Agreed, Captain,” Conway said. “What’s going on with our Zrthn visitors? Since you’re coming from their ship unharmed, and their soldiers have suddenly left Terra Telgora, can I assume they are no longer a threat?”
“That would be an accurate assumption, Colonel. We . . . um . . . we’ve reached an agreement.”
Eli felt a sudden stab of doubt. Until this moment, he hadn’t really considered how his deal with Oinoo might be received by the rest of the Shiale Alliance. He was just a lowly captain (zero). What authority did he have to speak for the entire Alliance? Oh well, it was what it was. All he could do now was live with the fallout.
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