To Fall Among Vultures

by Scott Warren

  "Captain Marin, as it happens, I too believe something happened at Gavisar to drive the fleet here. And if whoever or whatever it was hurt them as badly as you say then time is now critical and we must push the attack to slow their advance while we shore up the defenses at Pedres. My strategists are analyzing the imagery you provided and we will determine the best way to execute an offensive."

  Victoria stood, nodding her head. "If I could just gain access to the Yakima’s logs I could find out what really happened aboard those two ships."

  "More space walker lies," said Arda, but a hand from Yadus stilled her.

  "Perhaps," offered the admiral, "You can stop on your way to meet with the Malagath envoy. She asked for you by name. Well, by ship, if I am to be truthful."

  The color drained from Victoria’s face all at once, a vestigial camouflage mechanism. Sothcide had only ever seen it after poker bluffs were exposed.

  "Come again?" she said.

  The weathered frills on the side of the admiral’s face fluttered with mirth. "Part of why I believe the Gavisar are not here willingly is that a Malagath delegation en route to Maeyar have decided to investigate an anomaly detected by their interstellar sensors. They are preparing to jump to Gavisar in a few hours’ time, and as a Maeyar fleet asset, you will be joining them. I am sending the Twin Sister to join the defenses at Pedres, and you will accompany Jalith."

  For once, the smart-mouthed human seemed to be at a loss for words. Sothcide could not blame her, to gain the attention of the Malagath was to invite death. He had not even been aware they were in the system, likely having jumped past the conflict all the way to Pedres. When she finally mustered enough of her senses, she offered a weak protestation. "Hold on now, this isn’t what I signed up for when I agreed to come along."

  Eru Vehl trilled a high note of laughter through her proboscis. "You came to perform reconnaissance, did you not, Captain Marin? It would seem to me that this is exactly what you signed up for. May the swift wind of the north be at your wings."

  Yadus Turned to Sothcide. "You’ll not be returning to Pedres just yet. Wing Commander Vehl’s squadrons took substantial hits during the first wave of the invasion, and she needs an experienced wing officer leading her fighters for this counteroffensive. I’m temporarily reassigning you to the Starscream."

  Victoria covered a cough beside him that sounded suspiciously like human laughter. "Wing Admiral, with all due respect—"

  "All respect due to me would be not questioning my orders, Wing Officer. I know your place is with the Twin Sister. Once we cripple the key Gavisar ships you can rejoin her. As for you, Captain Marin," he said, his eye swiveling to the human. He shut down the monitor in his station and leaned back. "I know you’re not here out of an altruistic desire to help the Maeyar, nor as a special favor to a friend. You’re looking to solidify a formal defense pact. Wherever your planets are, it’s safe to say you think we’d make strategically relevant partners, yes? Having fired on those interceptors sets that goal back, but do this for me and my weight will be behind your alliance."

  Sothcide had been around humans long enough to recognize her scowl. But she would have to accept. She had no choice, the alternative was losing her ship and being forced to sit out the conflict entirely. And Victoria would never abandon the Condor. Humans proved a stubborn sort.

  "If I may," he said, "I would like to escort Captain Marin back to the Condor."

  "As you wish, but report to me aboard the Starscream within the hour. I think we’re settled here, yes?" said Vehl.

  Arda lifted her eye in submission. "It appears we are. But know this, Human Victoria: if I smell one whiff of treachery, I’ll have your ship scrapped for parts and see you resigned to the void for the life of my pilot."

  Before the human could say something flippant, Sothcide ushered her through the hatch and away from the fleet commanders. After a brief discussion with her security escorts he steered her back toward her ship with a light touch on her shoulder. Her boots could have left prints in the metal composite decking for how hard she stomped back to the docking facilities of the Banner, but by the time she approached the airlock tunnels she deflated somewhat.

  "I’m sorry I got you wrapped up in this, Southside. That you were fired on, and that you lost a wingman."

  He took his hand from her shoulder. For humans, interpersonal contact seemed a necessity to forming bonds, though it still made him uncomfortable.

  "I lost two more when we first arrived, and perhaps would have been more were it not for your targeting data and the Hudson River’s final volley. This is not to marginalize the loss of Dat Un, but such an event draws the attention away from the full cost of this invasion. I do not think Wing Commander Arda wants to face the true cost. It’s easier to fixate on a problem for which you can see a solution, even if it is not where your attention should be."

  "You’re going to be part of the counteroffensive," said Victoria.

  Sothcide flourished his flight helmet. "I am, and for the first time in a long while, it will be someone other than my wife’s voice in my radio."

  Victoria nodded, then leaned in. "Be careful. I won’t know for sure until I get a look at the Yakima’s logs, but I think Jones may have piggybacked on our horizon jump. I maybe caught a whiff of him off that first active sweep Jalith did, but haven’t seen sign of him since."

  Sothcide thought back to his meeting with the man, and to his encounter with the Hudson River. "When the missiles were launched, my bearing to the point of origination did not match my firing solution to the Hudson River. It was offset by a few degrees, though for the sensors of my wingmate it was correct. At first I dismissed it, but if the measurements were accurate then the missiles could have come from almost a hundred kilometers beyond your destroyer."

  "He’s dangerous, Southside. I don’t know what his game here is, but you can bet it doesn’t line up with ours. He’s a prat, but he’s the cold kind of vicious that leaves holes in your ships. Not all Privateers are interested in waiting for ships to be disabled."

  "That is why I chose you instead, Human Victoria. Fly safe, and may your safe return mark the day of our victory."

  Victoria extended a hand to him, a gesture he’d experienced several times aboard the Condor. He extended his own, slender fingers wrapping her comparatively small hand. "Good luck out there. If you can, make contact with my marines, they may be an asset during the counteroffensive."

  Sothcide bowed his head. "I will try. What frequency are they broadcasting on?"

  A corner of Victoria’s mouth dropped, revealing white grit teeth. Ghastly things, teeth. He never understood how so many species were able to talk around a mouthful of them. "They haven’t actually begun broadcasting yet. But I’m mostly sure they’re still alive."

  Sothcide blanched. "I, I see."

  "Don’t tell Arda," said Victoria, winking as she ducked through the docking ring and into the airlock.

  Chapter 9 – In Motion

  "Is it just me or are the storms getting worse?"

  Aesop looked up from mangled communications dish to Vega and Maggie floating near a small breach in the pressure hull of the ship. He’d seen IDF soldiers get shot exposing less surface area, but he stilled his nerves and looked past the marines.

  "It’s not just you. There’re fewer tethered ships below us. Less light pollution so you’re better able to see the surface storms."

  "So why are there less ships below us?" asked Vega.

  "I think we’d better get those damn communications patched through. How’s it going up there, Singh?"

  There was no answer, just soft static in his radio. Aesop tried again, looking at the deck above him. "Singh? Report, how’s that comm array looking?"

  Vega’s hand shifted to his rifle as he glanced at the bottom of the deck above them. Unease had Aesop’s hair on end where it wasn’t flattened by the vacuum suit. A hand signal to Mags told her to stay put, and he pushed off the bulkhead, loosening the strap on his own X-
87 carbine as he caught the lip of the hatch. Firing an assault rifle in microgravity resulted in interesting things happening to the trajectory of the shooter, even with the rifles designed for employment in space.

  The chamber above was a mess of twisted cables and panels, dark screens and reams of translucent filament on spindles that would have printed sensor data. Everything was built into what he would have considered the floor and ceiling, creating the illusion of a canyon between high walls of equipment. Light from his helmet dispelled the shadows cast by dozens of tiny holes in the hull of the ship. Weapons fire had perforated the starboard side, and whatever had done it was spiking his suit’s radiological sensor. Infrared wasn’t helpful either, everything on the ship had cooled to a uniform temperature.

  "Vega, cover me."

  Two quick keys of the radio acknowledged and confirmed the order. Vega could be an arrogant condescending ass, but Aesop trusted no one to watch his back better than the Brazilian. With his rifle at the ready, Aesop floated forward to the plastic cloth separating the sensor shack from what remained of the radio room. It was further up the forecastle of the ship, and had avoided most of the damage concentrated near the stern. At least until their harpoon had pried it open like a tin can, exposing it to the vacuum of space. A wedge of the equipment packing the room was illuminated periodically by the bright flashes of storms below, and Aesop slowly swept his rifle across the rest. His back was tight, and sweat beaded on his upper lip as he revealed consoles of dead bulbs and magnetic tape deck storage where the Condor would have advanced computers. Some aspects of xenotechnology were incredibly complex, like power generation and chemical manipulation. But when it came to computers, it was better to look hundreds of years into the past to find their human equivalent.

  It was in front of one of these banks that his beam swept over the small frame of Singh, floating cross-legged and inverted to his perception. He lowered his rifle, releasing a breath. The panel in front of her was lighted, and black rubber human cables snaked among the silvery blue alloyed conduits of Gavisari design. A cord ran from Singh’s suit-board computer to a patch panel, and then into the radio bank through means of soldered connections.

  "Hold fast Vega, she’s just got her pants down."

  There was pressure behind him, and then the uncomfortable abrasion of two armored vacuum suits contacting as Vega forced his way in for a look. "Huh," he said, spotting her. "Hey, ask her if they can pick up the telecasts."

  "At this distance? I think the earliest television broadcasts might have had time to reach us," said Aesop. Of course, the signals would have long since attenuated.

  Aesop pushed Vega back and used the momentum to slide close to Singh, careful not to collide and potentially wreck her delicate work. He couldn’t see through the opaque black shell of her helmet, but his lights flashing across it woke her from whatever reverie she’d found herself wrapped up in. She started, legs coming unraveled as her hand went to her hip for her sidearm before she relaxed and retuned her radio. Aesop could hear background chatter in Kossovoldt as she reconnected her squad radio channel. It was a much deeper and sibilant version of the language than he was used to hearing from his fellow crewmates. Humans had adopted it as the official Union Earth language after it became clear that so much of the Orion Spur used it. Aesop shared no human language with Singh, and only broken English with Vega. Maggie at least spoke some Spanish, and could understand a little of Vega’s Portuguese by relation. Beyond that her only other language was English, like Captain Marin. The only language unifying the entire crew of the Condor was Kossovoldt.

  "Sorry Sarge, I’ve been listening to some of their recorded fleet broadcasts while I try and get the live coms working, but no luck there. The Blessing lost primary reactor power shortly after jumping to Pedres and the automatic recorders shut off."

  Aesop shined some light on her work, identifying a few potential issues with the wiring, which he pointed out. "The Blessing?" he asked.

  "That’s what we’re on. It’s not a diplomatic envoy, it’s a ship for their priest caste. A lot of the recordings I’ve listened to make reference to something they call the ‘Great Exodus", but doesn’t say what that is, only that it’s arrived because the Old Ones have come back to reclaim the planet they loaned to the Gavisari, and that the ‘Children of Gavisar’ have begun it."

  "A xeno Armageddon prophecy," said Aesop. "Not many species make it interstellar with religious dogma intact."

  "‘Cept us," Vega reminded him. Aesop waved him off and he left to give Mags the all-clear.

  "Cohen, for all we know, the Gavisari here around this planet? They may be the only ones of their kind left. Anywhere. Their whole surviving species might be packed into these thousand ships."

  Which meant that the old lady signed them up for a genocide at the hands of the Maeyar. But even a hundred warships with orbital superiority was enough to scour Pedres clean of the Maeyar, and most of Gavisar’s civilian ships could not make another horizon jump in such a damaged state. Hell, plenty enough of them couldn’t make it to the star under their own power. Not only were most of them too damaged to risk engaging any kind of compression-based faster than light engines, several hundred were hauling around reactors too damaged to create electricity, and a few were probably leaking enough radioactive particles to slowly poison whatever survivors were on board.

  But if this was the entire surviving population of the Gavisar homeworld, the whole of their planetary defense armada was here. And the non-expansionist society would have held a tight grip on their homeworld with a strong home fleet. What could have chased them off so easily? And why come here? Was it the only oxygenated planet within their horizon range? The local cluster of stars was fairly loose as far as horizon lanes went, only a few routes in and out. The Condor had needed help to make it in a single jump, and even the technique to accomplish such a jump was a treasure. The Gavisari had more highly developed interstellar plotting and equipment, but not by all that much.

  "The captain may not know what she’s up against here. Keep listening, Singh. But I want active comms to be your main priority. If there’s a major fleet movement going on I want to know why."

  All he had to do was fix the broadcast array while there was still someone left to hear his report.

  "We’re coming up on the remains of your Yakima, Captain Marin," said Jalith. Victoria winced.

  Your Yakima. The message was clear, Jalith was separating the Condor from her command and lumping her in with the rest of the Union Earth fleet. Her reputation took a huge hit to shield Victoria the way she had, but the unofficial punishment would be ostracism from the Maeyar captain’s battlegroup once she left to meet with the Malagath.

  "Acknowledged, Twin Sister. We’ll only need a few minutes." The Maeyar commander cut the transmission, and Victoria raised her voice to be heard over the open microphone. "Avery, see if the Yakima has auxiliary power for a remote protocol or if we’re going to have to board her."

  "Way ahead of you, Vick. Remote challenge was accepted and we’re transferring the Yakima’s logs now."

  Victoria scanned the progress on one of her repeater screens. She opened a file at random to see an inventory manifest of the holds. Silk, coffee, preserved citrus fruits, and vegetables. It could have been the inventory list off a sloop coming home from the Indies. Union Earth men and women had died for this? Two ships lost in as many days, one to hostile xenos and another to friendlies. Victoria eyed her pilot, who had been unusually quiet since the initial skirmish. The Hudson River’s sister ship had been the Clarke, Huian’s original intended billet before Tech Div’s director, Sampson, had put her on the Condor as leverage against the girl’s mother. Had she not elected to remain aboard the Condor, there was a good chance she would have been on the control deck when those Gavisar missiles broke through the Clarke’s defenses. Control was deep in the heart of a ship, away from the escape pods that carried crew away from a total loss. Many of the men aboard made it off the ship a
nd had been picked up by Bullock and the Hudson River, but the pilots and captain? Unlikely.

  "Hard, isn’t it?" said Victoria.

  Her pilot jumped a little, her eyes tearing away from the main viewscreen where the Yakima had been enlarged enough to see the rent metal where the Maeyar lasers had carved open her hull and exposed the crew to vacuum. A human could survive in vacuum for a few moments. Victoria managed it, and counted it a worse experience than waking up with a hangover, a migraine, and a jealous wife trying to cave in what was left of her head over forgotten carnal transgressions from the previous night. It had taken her weeks to fully recover. The crew of the Yakima never would.

  "We’re not ready for this, ma’am," said Huian. "How can we survive in this universe when we’re not strong enough to play by their rules? Sometimes, sometimes it’s easy to forget. Aboard the Condor. It’s easy to forget just how savage and uncaring and unfair the odds are. And then you look at the rest of humanity, and our ships, and our weapons. And you realize that we don’t have the advantages they have, and it kills us."

  Huian upped the acceleration again to rejoin the battlegroup. "But it’s why we’re out here. Why they were out here so far from Earth with nothing between them and the emptiness of space but a thin frame of composite hull and the trust that maybe these xenos wouldn’t strip that protection away for some slight."

  And now they were depending on the charity of the selfsame xenos. It maybe worked to some advantage that the Maeyar thought they were handing her over to death at the hands of the Malagath. Still, Sothcide and to some degree Jalith had stuck their strange membranous necks out for her. Whether it was out of a sense of honor or loyalty, as the two were very different things, she could not say and would not ask. Best Victoria set her mind to the task ahead. The Malagath and Gavisar awaited.

  Sothcide inspected the Starscream’s launch mechanisms for her fighters. Six cylindrical magnetic rail systems with the fighters stacked inside ready to be rotated into position and launched at speeds that pushed the limits of their inertial dampeners. As flippant as Vehl outwardly appeared, the pristine condition of the flight deck revealed her competency as a commander and her husband’s diligence as her chief maintenance engineer. Every contact was greased or polished, every electrical connection secure, and each magnetic coil buffed of the inevitable burn scuffs from the intense heat the system generated. The Starscream could launch a full squadron of fighters every four seconds, emptying her total complement of fifty-two interceptors and bombers in just under a minute. The Twin Sister had a larger complement, but could not match the speed of deployment.