by neetha Napew
332
Sassinak limped over to Lunzie and thought about sitting down beside her. Better not. She didn’t think she could get back up. “How bad is he?”
“Near as I can tell, a stunner beam got him. Not too badly. He should wake up miserable within an hour. What else?” Lunzie still had that intense stare of someone in full Discipline.
“The Paraden representatives here, the ones in the guest box, got away. To their yacht.”
“Blast it!” Lunzie looked ready to smash through walls barehanded.
“Never mind. I had a trap for them.”
“You . . . ?”
Sassinak explained briefly, looking around as she did. The surviving delegates were safely sealed into their places. She could just see them watching her. What must they be thinking? And what should she do?
“Sassinak. A statement?” One of the students had come down to the floor, with a camera on his shoulder. So they had secured the newslines. She frowned, trying to clear her mind, to think. She felt the weight of it all on her. She glanced around for Coromell who should, as the senior, make any statements. Then she saw his crumpled body in the unmistakable posture of the dead.
“I ... Just a moment.” Had Lunzie seen? What would she do? She touched Lunzie’s shoulder. “Did you know? Coromell?”
Lunzie nodded. “Yes. I saw it. I’d just gone to full Discipline. Couldn’t save him . . . and he was so decent.” She blinked back tears. “I can’t cry now, and besides ...”
“Right.”
Coromell dead. The Speaker dead. The Justices, if not dead, at least unable to take over. Someone had to do it. She limped up the step to the Speaker’s podium and stepped gingerly between the bodies that lay at its foot: the Speaker, who had reminded her of her first captain, and the Diplonian delegate she herself had killed. The Speaker’s podium had had status screens, an array of controls to record votes, and grant the right to speak. But none of that worked. Her own shots, most
333
likely, had shattered the screens. Still, it was the right place, and she stood behind it as the student with the camera moved in for a close shot. She could imagine what it looked like. A tired, rumpled Fleet officer in front of the Federation shield, the very image of a military coup, the end of peace and freedom. But she would do better than that.
“Delegates, Justices, Citizens of the Federation of Sentient Planets,” she began. “This Federation, this peaceful alliance of many races, will survive ...”
Arly, in the command seat on Zaid-Dayan’s bridge, had the best view of what happened next. Although the Central System’s defenses were concentrated along the three most common approaches from other sectors, the Seti had not chosen an alternative route. They had counted on most of the defenses being knocked out by collaborators. Once she realized that their approach was in feet along a mapped path, she had been able to use the Zaid-Dayan’s capabilities against them.
At first she had used the defense satellites as cover, taking out two of the flanking escorts, and one medium cruiser as if the satellites had been active. So far, the Seti commanders had assumed that the losses were, in fact, due to passive defense systems that had escaped inactivation. At least, that’s what her Ssli told her they were thinking. She hoped they were also wondering tf their human allies were double-crossing them.
When that got too dangerous—for the Seti clearly knew exactly where such installations were and they began attacking them—she used the stealth capability and the Ssli’s precision control of tiny FTL hops to disappear and reappear unpredictably, firing off a few missiles each time at the nearest ship, and then vanishing again. She could not actually destroy die invaders, not with one cruiser, but she could inflict serious losses.
Now they were well into the system, inside the outer ranks of defenses, still in numbers large enough to threaten all the inhabited planets. It would be another day or more before any Fleet vessels could arrive, assuming the nearest had come at once on receipt of
334
the mayday. By then FedCentral might be in range of the Seti ships.
She was just considering whether to sacrifice the ship by going in for close combat for she thought she might do 3ie Seti flagship enough damage to force the invaders to slow, when the scans went crazy, doppler displays racing through color sequences, alarms flashing. Then the ship’s drive indicators rose slowly from green to yellow with some strain as if a massive object had appeared not far off.
“Thek,” said the very pale Weft, its form wavering before it steadied back to human.
“Thek?”
She had seen before the way Thek moved, and how it seemed to violate a lifetime’s assumptions about matter and space. She had just not realized that her instruments felt the same way about it.
“Many, many Thek. They . . . more or less vacuum packed the Seti fleet.”
The sensors reported the right density and mass for more Tliek than Arly had ever seen, but what she thought of was Dupaynil. Dupaynti being squashed by granite pyramids.
“No,” said die Weft, shaking his head. “Not that ship. TTiat one’s whole, but can’t maneuver. The Thek have made it quite clear to the Seti that their prisoners had best stay healthy.”
“What about us?” After all, humans had been involved in the plot, too.
“We’re free to go, although they’d prefer that we picked up the prisoners from that Seti ship.”
“Fine with me. I’m not arguing with flying rocks.” She hoped the Thek wouldn’t consider that disrespect-fill. “Are you . . . talking with them?”
He looked surprised. “Of course. You know we’re special to them. They think we’re ... I suppose you’d say, cute.”
“No one ever told me that you Wefts could talk to Tliek.”
“Not that many know we’re telepathic with some humans, or most Ssli.”
335
“Mmm. Right. So where does this Thek want us to go to pick up passengers?”
In the event, they sent a shuttle which the Thek guided through the interstices of the trap they’d shut on the Seti. While it was on its way, Arly remembered to prepare quarters for the alien guests, including a sealed compartment for the Lethi where the fumes from their obligatory sulfur wouldn’t bother anyone else.
Arly decided the shuttle’s arrival required a formal reception to reassure the allied aliens that Fleet was loyal to the FSP and not part of the plot. With the crisis over, she left the bridge to a junior officer and came to Flight Deck herself, with a squad of marines in dress uniform.
The Zaid-Dayan had no military band, but she had a recording of the FSP anthem piped in as more suitable to aliens than anything else. The shuttle hatch opened and two of the crew came out, carrying the Lethi. The Ryxi bobbed out on its own, fluffing feathers nervously, and chittered vigorously before greeting her in Standard with eflusive thanks. Then came the Bronthin, its normal pastel blue fur almost gray with exhaustion and fear. Two more of the shuttle crew, with the larval Ssli’s environmental tank. Finally, Dupaynil emerged.
Arly stared at him in frank shock. The dapper, elegant officer she remembered was a filthy, shambling wreck, red-rimmed eyes sunken.
“Commander!”
“Is Sassinak aboard?” That had an intensity she couldn’t quite interpret.
“No. She’s onplanet.”
“Thank the ...” he paused. “The luck, I suppose. Or whatever. I ...” He staggered and the waiting medics came forward. He waved them off. “I don’t need anything but a shower—a long shower—and some rest.”
“But what happened to you?”
Dupaynil gave her a look somewhere between anger and exhaustion. “One damn thing after another, Arly, and the worst of it is it’s all my fault for thinking I was smarter than your Sassinak. Now please?”
“Of course.”
336
He did reek and she felt her nostrils dilate as he passed her. She wondered how long he’d been in that pressure suit. She hardly had all the survivors se
ttled when the Weft liaison to the Thek called her back to the bridge. One last chore remained. The humans most responsible had escaped the planet in a fast yacht, and although a Fleet vessel had kept it in sight, it could not
stop it.
“Tim and that shuttle!” Arly said. “I forgot him.
Com, get us a link!”
Tim had the yacht’s position and the Ssli flicked the cruiser in and out of FTL space in a minute jump that put them well in range. Her weapons officer reported that the yacht lacked anything to penetrate the cruiser’s shields. Too bad Sassinak wasn’t here. She would enjoy this. But she’d had the onplanet fun. Arly put their message on an all-frequency transmission.
“FSP Cruiser Zaid-Dayan to private vessel Celestial Fortune. Going somewhere?”
“Let us alone, or you’ll regret it!” came the reply. “You’re nothin’ but a lousy little short-range shuttle tryin’ to play big shot.”
“Take another look,” suggested Arly and cut back the visual screens. “Do you want to argue with this?”
She sent a missile past their bows, and heard a yelp from Tim on one of the incoming lines. A spurt of annoyance. He should have had sense enough to get out of the way.
“Get that shuttle back in here,” she told him.
“Sorry, ma’am “
“What do you mean, sorry?”
“I ... uh ... It was the only way I could think of.”
“What did you do?”
“I ... locked shields with “em.”
Arly closed her eyes and counted to ten. So that’s why they hadn’t gone into FTL yet But it meant that blowing the yacht would mean blowing the shuttle, and Tim. Nor could he pull away. Locking shields was hard enough going in. She’d never heard of anyone getting back out, unless both ships agreed to damp the shields simultaneously.
337
“Who’s with you?” asked Arly.
“Nobody,” came the reply.
From his tone he knew exactly what that meant. If Sassinak had been aboard . . . but one ensign, who had been unable to think of any way to impede the enemy but bonding to it? He was very expendable.
“You suited up?”
“Yes. But...” But what good would it do?
Shuttles had no escape pods, for the very good reason that in normal operation they were useless. And being blown out of an exploding shuttle was a little more than hazardous.
“I can flutter their shields, Commander. Give you a better chance of getting ‘em with the first shot.”
“Dammit, Tim, don’t be so eager to die.”
It would help, though, and she knew it.
“I’m not,” he said. Was that a quaver in his voice?
He was not going to die if she could help it. But the yacht had meanwhile refused to cut its acceleration outsystem or change course. Its captain seemed sure he could make his FTL jump anyway.
“Even if I do scrape a louse off our hide.”
“Do that and you’re dead for sure. We’ve followed more than one through FTL flux.” She flipped that channel off. “And why can’t the blasted Thek help us now?” Arly demanded of the Weft at her side. “I hate the way they pick and choose. If these are the bigshots . . .”
The Zaid-Dayaris proximity alarms blared. The artificial gravity pulsed. Arly swallowed hastily, clutching the arms of her chair. Small objects tumbled about and a dust haze rose, to be sucked rapidly away by the fans.
“Do me a favor, Captain, and don’t bad-mouth the Theks any more,” said the Weft.
This time he’d shifted completely and hung now from the overhead, bright blue eyes gleaming at Arly. Then he shifted back, leaving a mental image of strings of innards trailing down in a most abnormal way to reassemble into a living person.
“I just said ...”
“I know. But you people complain all the time about how slow the Thek are and how they don’t pay atten-
338
tion. You should rejoice that they’re now paying attention and you’ve had a demonstration of how they can move.”
“Right. Sorry. But the yacht ...”
The Thek had absorbed all the yacht’s considerable inertia, flicking Tim and his shuttle off as a housewife might flick an ant off a plate. When he hailed them, Arly could hear astonished relief in his voice.
“Permission to land shuttle?”
Should she bring him in, or send him back to FedCentral? A glance at the readouts told her the shuttle wouldn’t make it back safely.
“Permission granted. Bring ‘er aboard, Ensign.”
And he did, without any hotdog flourishes.
Ar!y looked around the bridge, and wondered if she looked as disshelved as the others. Far more ragged than Sassinak had ever looked, she thought. Well have to get this place cleaned up before she sees it and everyone rested. But we still have to get back down there, just in case.
Convincing the Dockmaster at the FedCentral Station that the Zaid-Dayan was not an agent of doom required the rough side of Arly’s tongue.
“We saved your tails from a ‘catenated Seti fleet. And you’re going to gripe at me because I left without your fardling permission?”
“It was highly irregular.”
“So it was, and so were the Seti. So were the traitors in your system that wanted to let ‘em in. It’s not my feult you wouldn’t believe the truth. Now you can let us dock or watch us sit out here using your station for target practice.”
“That’s a threat!” he said.
“Right. Going to take us up on it?”
“Ill file a complaint.” Then his face sagged as he realized to whom that complaint would go: Sassinak, now in command of the loyal Federation forces onplanet, Acting Governor. “It’s all very irregular ...” His voice trailed away into a sigh. “All right. Bays twelve through twenty, orange arm.”
339
“Thank you,” said Arly, careful to keep her voice neutral. Never push your luck, Sassinak always said, and she felt her luck had been working overtime lately. “If you have any fresh forage for Bronthin, we have an individual in bad shape who’s been a Seti prisoner.”
This the Dockmaster could handle. “Of course. With so much diplomatic traffic, we pride ourselves on keeping full supplies for every race in the FSP. Any other requirements?”
“A Ryxi which is suffering from ‘feather pit,’ whatever that is, and a pair of Lethi who seem all right, although our medical team isn’t familiar with Lethi.”
“Only two Lethi? That’s very bad. Lethi need to cluster in larger numbers.”
“Plus a larval Ssli,” Arly said. “It’s complained that its tank needs recharging.”
“No problem with any of that,” said the Dockmaster, suddenly cordial. “If you’ll send the allied races to bay sixteen, that’ll be the quickest access for our specialty medical services.”
“Will do.” Arly shook her head as she looked around the bridge, “Can you believe that? He was willing to stand us off as if we were pirates, but he’s got specialty medical teams for our aliens.”
Arly had been in communication with Sassinak for the past several hours. The situation onplanet had stabilized with the loyalists firmly in control, and only scattered pockets of resistance.
“And I think most of that’s confusion,” Sassinak had said. “We’re finding that many of the Parchandri/Paraden supporters had been blackmailed into it. Others just didn’t know any better. Right now the Thek are calling for a formal trial.”
“Not another one!”
“Not like that one, no. A Thek trial.” Sassinak had looked exhausted. Arly wondered if she’d had any rest at all since her disappearance. “Another Thek cathedral is all I need! But considering what they’ve done, we really can’t argue. They want those prisoners you rescued from the Seti, especially the Bronthin, Ssli, Weft, and Dupaynil.”
340
So now, docked at the Station, Arly saw these turned over to special medical teams. Soon they’d be on their way to the Thek trial. She wondered
about the crew and passengers of the yacht Tim had trapped. But she wasn’t going to ask any questions. Two experiences with fast-moving Thek were quite enough.
It was impossible to overestimate the civilizing influence of cleanliness, rest, and good cooking, Sassinak thought. Back on the Zaid-Dayan, back in a clean uniform, with a stomach full of the best her favorite cook could do, with a full shift’s sleep, she was ready to forgive almost anyone. Particularly since the Thek, in their unyielding fashion, had satisfied any remaining desire for vengeance.
For a moment, she felt again the pressure of those most alien minds. And marveled that she had survived two terms in a Thek cathedral. Never again, she hoped. The judgment process might be exhausting but it served its purpose admirably.
The guilty Seti were to be confined to one interdicted planet, guarded by installations whose crews were former pirate prisoners. Paraden family lost all its possessions, from shipping lines to private moonlets. Paradens and Parchandris alike were given basic survival and tool supplies, the same they had sold to many a colony starting up, and deposited on a barely habitable planet.
With the single exception of Ford’s Auntie Q. She lost nothing for the Thek considered her a victim, not a Paraden, despite her name.
And, thanks to Lunzie’s partisanship and fierce arguments, heavyworlders were also considered victims. After all, they had been cheated by the wealthy lightweights who then blackmailed them into service. So the Thek required only that those conspirators in the governments of heavyworlder planets be expelled. The others, informed of the complex plot, were given shares in the liquidation of Paraden assets. They could use that to ease their lives.