To Fall Among Vultures

by Scott Warren

  "Christ, what a welcome," Victoria muttered, hopefully too low for the transmitter to pick up.

  "Condor, do not deviate from present course. Reverse acceleration and stand down all active weapon systems. Prepare to dock. The Twin Sister will receive a delegation consisting of your captain and two additional personnel."

  Victoria’s retinal implants flashed with a message from the sensor shack. Twin Sister scrambling fighters. The Maeyar were pinning them in. Heat began to rise in her blood, and she fought back the urge to turn tail and disappear into the dark of space. The velocity game was not on their side, the fighters would overtake them before ever they reversed their momentum away from the battlegroup.

  "Message received, Twin Sister, understand all. Reversing acceleration."

  The channel closed from the other end and Victoria let her breath out. If they wanted her to dock then the Maeyar weren’t on the verge of blowing her ship out of the stars. That cleared her for the next few minutes at least, but not much beyond that. She thumbed the general circuit.

  "Attention all hands, this is the captain. Rig for docking. The XO has the ship."

  Aesop Cohen opened his eyes, and almost immediately regretted the decision. The flashing glare of a nearby tungsten welding kit felt like needles jamming the front of his brain, but try as he might to fight it, the unfortunate reality of his surroundings continued to become more and more clear. Front and center was a pallid xeno face. As soon as the lizard part of his brain caught up with his vision center, panic seized him, and had him straining against a lanyard secured to the bulkhead before his rationality kicked in and told him the xeno was dead.

  "Bout time you came round, Cohen."

  A vacuum suit floated behind the lifeless alien, pushing it along the corridor. The voice in his helmet belonged to Singh. "Sorry about him. We moved most of them to the forecastle, but more keep floating out of hiding," she said as she unhooked his lanyard. His retinal implants received an alert that the woman was checking his vitals through the suit computer, and he instinctively looked to check on Maggie Chambers.

  "Mags," he said, stomach dropping as his computer returned no vitals from her suit.

  "She’s fine, aside from a broken arm and some electrical burns. That tether fried all her radio gear, but your little stunt probably saved her life."

  "Not that she’d ever admit it," said Aesop, looking around for the first time. The Gavisari still loomed, assumedly disfigured from the exposure to vacuum. An array of little horns ringed its round face like a sunflower, though the similarities to any Earth flora or fauna ended there. For one, the face seemed to be in the middle of its chest, with three fluted legs splayed out evenly around its core. Standing up on all three it probably could have stretched to ten or more feet high, explaining the ample leg room in the ship. Not much was known about the Gavisari, other than that they were oxygen tolerant, fiercely territorial, and non-expansionist, which meant the Union Earth had little cause to come in contact with them.

  "Not that you’d ever ask her to," said Singh, following his gaze with her own opaque faceplate. Her oxygen cultures got cooked too, we’ve been bleeding our excess to her. And yours. But you’ll need more now you’re awake. We’re going to be getting air-thin before—before too long."

  Before the Condor came back. If it came back. "How many data bursts have we missed?"

  "Three," said Singh. Their mission had been to ransack the onboard computers, then patch into the communication hub and report on activity at Juna. Every time the derelict came into line-of-sight with the Condor the marines would send an encrypted databurst, a highly directional packet of radio waves containing all gathered intel compressed into a half-second transmission. It was their only means of reminding the Condor that someone was still alive out here. "We’ve got the dish in place, but no one wants to be the one to try and integrate it with the ship’s power."

  Aesop nodded. Marines were excellent at slinging lead down range, but not so much at xenotechnology. "Smart. Last thing we need is Vega frying the transmitter. Do we at least know where their power bus is?"

  Singh led the way through the inner compartments of the ship to the tether connection, where a soft hum began to translate through his gloves and boots where he contacted the textured tunnel walls. Before long they emerged into a low-ceilinged chamber snaked with various color cables and paneling. Vega was prying the lid off some sort of junction box when he noticed Cohen floating behind.

  "‘Oy, Cohen. You made it, looks like I owe Singh a beer."

  "You bet against me?"

  Vega shrugged. "I like beer. Help me out here, I think I found the artificial gravity."

  "You think you found the artificial gravity in a sealed compartment marked secondary sublight alignment calibrator?"

  Vega looked back at the panel, seemingly seeing the Kossovoldt standard scripting for the first time. Admittedly it was subtle, either faded or just a hair off the background color of the bulkhead and upside-down to his perspective. Maybe it was meant to be read by touch, or in a different spectrum of light. He just didn’t know enough about the Gavisari. As he looked, Aesop could see similar markings on a variety of equipment crowding the small ship’s engine room.

  Instead of joining Vega, Aesop looked around until he spotted a small monitor embedded in the bulkhead. By some miracle it was receiving power from the magnetic tether, and before long Aesop had gained access. Xeno computers were so painfully primitive. A diagnostics page showing almost total failure of all ship’s systems greeted him, and an automatic events log that detailed the jump into Pedres and the last moments of what he learned was called the Blossom. Not a warship at all, but a diplomatic envoy. Why bring a ship for missions of peace along on an invasion?

  "Come on Cohen, can you get the gravity back on? We’ve been floating for hours, it’s making me want to hurl."

  "I don’t think there is any gravity, at least not the way we’re used to. I think they just have an acceleration dampening field, but they keep the ship in microgravity. Look how everything is designed to be in arm’s reach for them. I bet they don’t even have an up or down. But I do see a bus that the tether power is being routed to. We can hook the dish up to that."

  Singh floated nearby, looking over his shoulder. "Does it say what did all this damage? We checked over the ship and there’s at least a dozen compartments open to space."

  Cohen shook his head. "This is just an engineering logger. We’re not going to find any intel until we crack into whatever fleet broadcast codec they’re running to coordinate the ships in orbit. It looks like they didn’t have the voltage to power the array and the life support at the same time."

  "What must that have been like?" asked Singh, "To choose between living a few more desperate minutes or to say goodbye to everyone you ever knew?"

  "Who cares?" asked Vega, shrugging. "Neither helped them in the end. The pressure hull failed and those three-legged bastards don’t do any better in vacuum than we do."

  Despite Vega’s callous remarks, Aesop stopped for a moment to reflect on it. He’d had the misfortune of losing two ships already, one to hostile xenos and one abandoned due to onboard fire. What he would have traded for a few minutes to say goodbye was not a short list.

  "Let’s get the power hooked up. I don’t want to miss the next transmission window."

  Chapter 8 – A Change of Hands

  Sothcide did not enjoy being away from Jalith and the Twin Sister. The Maeyar fleet granted her dispensation according to her rank of Wing Commander, but as a wing officer he was granted no such leeway and his loyalty had been called into question by the human vessel’s attack on his fighter. His heart increased in flow as he recalled the wash of targeting radar painting his hull and the missile alarms painting the interior of his fighter in flashing ultraviolent tones.

  "There is little cause to be nervous, Wing Officer."

  The voice belonged to Banner’s second wing lieutenant, records docket tucked beneath the arm of
his flight suit. Now aboard the Banner, Sothcide would have to account for Victoria Marin before the Maeyar Fleet Operations commanders. And Victoria herself was being brought aboard. He had a few questions for her as well, such as why his wingman was scattered across the Oort Cloud by her comrade.

  "I would say over a thousand Gavisar ships give plenty cause to be nervous," said Sothcide.

  The lieutenant missed a step. "Ah, um, yes sir," he said. Only shy of two hundred Maeyar Warships and their assorted logistical and support craft had mustered in Pedres in response to the staging outside Juna. Fewer would leave the homeworld undefended. Outnumbered five to one, most of those had been pulled back to defend the planet itself. Even for the fleet near the skirmish line, attitudes seemed more of disbelief, as though the number of invading vessels was so high that it could not possibly be true. Desperation would have been more appropriate, but ever optimists were the Maeyar.

  The corridor had been built with a vaulted arch reminiscent of Southern styles, the soft luxurious sweeps informative of their owner’s station. The fleet commanders rose so from families just as soft and filled with luxury. Beyond the metal archways the ship widened, and Sothcide was led through a hatch to a room wherein a half-dozen Maeyar stood, three fleet commanders and their spouses. At their head was Senior Wing Admiral Yadus, also a former interceptor pilot long since risen to command the fleet at Pedres. Now he directed fleet movements from the Banner, his wife responding to runners while he reviewed information on an advanced screen built into his podium. The device could be controlled by touch, using a series of lasers in a grid array projected over the glass. Yadus looked up briefly and gave him a respectful nod as he came in, rocket jockey to jockey. Theirs was an elite club. Yadus’ first duty was to the Maeyar fleet though, and his professional affectations would grant no leeway if his perception of the human betrayal extended to the Condor and her captain. The cockpit of an interceptor tended to hammer out the weak, and hardened onyx skin around the Senior Commander’s features and fingers reflected a face used to grimace and a tight grip on the flight controls.

  "Wing Officer Sothcide, enter and attend. You stand witness to a wartime betrayal and offensive action upon Maeyar Fleet vessels by non-Maeyar military. Missiles from the Union Earth Hudson River tracked and destroyed a fellow squadron fighter craft. Is this an accurate recounting of the events?" asked Wing Commander Arda, a subtle breach of protocol from the mistress of the Third Battlegroup. Her silk uniform was crisp and glittered subtly as she shifted, reflecting in her eye as she glanced briefly at the hatch.

  Sothcide placed his helmet on the desk before the small metal chair. "The stars of my night sky asks after your health, Wing Mistress."

  "You may tell Jalith that I am fine, Wing Officer. Pl-"

  "She will be overjoyed to hear it. She often speaks of your time at the command school together."

  "Answer the question, Wing Officer," said Arda curtly. Before he could reply, the hatch opened and in sauntered Victoria Marin, captain of the Union Earth Condor. Her hip was empty of the heavy human slug-thrower she favored on the occasions he’d seen her away from her ship. At her side was a pair of security officers with handheld lasers to keep her in line, though both had tight eye motions that belayed their nerves. Though primitive their warships might have been, the reputation for deadliness the Privateer warriors had garnered was well in mind. Humans captured crews as often as ships.

  The Banner’s second lieutenant leaned over. "The Fleet Wing Admiral brought the humans aboard? I hope he tightened the bolts on the laser arrays first."

  "Captain Marin," said Yadus, not even lifting his eye from the display. "Please join us. I am given to understand that your culture also partakes in the practice of marriage. Is your husband well?"

  Victoria scratched at the short stubble on the back of her neck. "I never quite made it that far," she said. This caused some disturbance among the assembled captains and first officers, though Sothcide stepped in on her behalf.

  "Humans have a phrase that translates in Kossovoldt to ‘married to the job’ to describe those who eschew personal bonds in favor of advancing their field. I heard it used aboard the Condor to describe Captain Marin during my time aboard her vessel."

  "Surely she could find a suitable male within her command structure," said Wing Commander Vehl, who thus far had been content to only open her ears. Her husband was looking over reports beside her, soft and light of skin. He too had a silk uniform. How quickly the Maeyar assimilated the textile, though the display of a full uniform was a statement of nearly obscene wealth. These were the defenders of Pedres?

  "In fact," said Victoria, "Regulations strictly prohibit interpersonal relationships within a chain of command. Union Earth believes it creates unequal power dynamics and incentivizes special treatment of subordinates."

  There was a pause. Vehl’s eye spun slowly in its socket. "Yes? And?"

  "We are straying from the subject at hand," Arda interjected, cleaving her hand through the air. "Wing officer, your report."

  Victoria had taken a far-away look in her eyes that he’d noticed of the humans on more than one occasion when he cast her a sidelong glance, so he turned back to Arda and began. "It’s true that I and my wingmate were fired upon by missiles along a bearing similar to that of the Hudson River, whereupon we engaged the human vessels before being forced to retreat. The Hudson River then engaged a faster-than-light engine and escaped to the interior of the Pedres System."

  Arda leaned forward in her chair. "Please clarify, Wing Officer. Was it a bearing similar to the Hudson River or was it the Hudson River?"

  "Impossible to say, Ma’am, though spectral analysis does suggest aluminum oxide in the exhaust trails consistent with observed human weaponry," said Sothcide.

  "So you agree that the trader and its escort fired upon you."

  Sothcide’s eye muscles constricted, and he let more frustration than he intended slip into his tone. "As I said, it is only evident that someone—"

  "Thank you for your recounting, Wing Officer."

  Victoria looked surprisingly nonplussed in her metal chair. Those soft pink faces typically showed so much foreign emotion, but her expression was as flat and level as he’d ever seen. "The Hudson River’s magazines were empty following the battle, Wing Commander. I’m forwarding the communication recording to your staff now. Unless Bullock managed to grow a few missiles between here and Pedres," she said, "Ones with enough acceleration to actually catch one of your interceptors." Her flippant tone suggested that she was used to explaining simple concepts to superior officers, probably on more than one occasion. "But if what you’re saying is true, you murdered over a dozen crew on that freighter while I was off pledging humanity’s support behind your war by dipping into Juna’s upper atmosphere for intel."

  Arda sputtered, her black eye focusing on Victoria. "As though your communication could not be doctored or faked. Need I remind you that your people opened fire without provocation?"

  "Illegal detention isn’t fucking provocation?" Victoria interrupted. "Because on Earth we fight wars over that."

  "Illegal according to whom? Mayar Fleet Operations is in command of this system’s territory, and they ordered your people to stand down. You submit that the Hudson River’s weapon banks were empty. But a dead pilot remains, and if a Union Earth Navy missile could not have done it, what did? Perhaps a Privateer variant? We cannot account for your whereabouts on your alleged intelligence gathering."

  "Alleged?" asked Victoria. "Oh I was there alright, close enough to throw a god damned rock at a Gavisar envoy shuttle. But I didn’t bring any rocks, so I had to settle for a squad of marines and some comms equipment. Turns out most of those incoming ships are beat all to hell. Something chased them out of Gavisar. Hell, nine in ten aren’t even warships."

  "The space walkers have been busy, Arda," mused Vehl. Her snout rested on her hand as she gave the other fleet commander a bored wave. "Perhaps your righteous indignation is misplac
ed."

  Sothcide braced himself as he watched the anger build tension in Wing Commander Arda’s shoulder muscles as the diaphanous membranes framing her face grew darker.

  "Be that as it may," she snarled, "It still stands that the human fleet fired upon our ships of war, and here before us stands a human military captain. Until redress can be made, it is only appropriate that we hold her for questioning until after we defend Pedres."

  Sothcide stood abruptly, in part before he realizing he had done so. Flying full burn at enemy battleships had never made him as nervous as standing before a panel of commanders, and now he had the attention of three of them.

  "Pardon the interruption, Wing Commander, but it appears you have been misinformed as to the nature of the Privateers. They are not part of the human military chain of command and Victoria holds no formal military rank. She is a civilian explorer granted certain privileges often extended to military vessels. Victoria is here at my express request, and by extension, Wing Commander Jalith’s. If the Condor is to be considered a military asset, for all intents and purposes it is a Maeyar military asset, not a human one, and under the envelope of the Twin Sister. Any and all disciplinary action rests in the will of my sun and sky."

  He glanced at Victoria, whose two eyes were both wide as they flitted between him and Arda.

  "He has you there, Arda," said the Wing Admiral. Yadus lifted his gaze from the screen long enough to peer at Sothcide. "I don’t know how much you’ve read up on the humans, but they’re an odd cluster. The wing officer is technically correct; all disciplinary action should fall to my cousin."

  Sothcide let out a breath. "Thank you sir," he said.

  "Don’t thank me yet. I agree with Arda’s assessment. Beyond any doubt, and for whatever reason they held at the time, human warships bore arms against us in time of war and proceeded to flee the system, an action which by any metric is unacceptable. Now I don’t necessarily believe them to be Gavisar spies, but this is not the action of an ally."