She tensed and stopped breathing for a moment, then stepped away from him, uncharacteristically speechless. “Can you?” she finally asked.
“Probably.”
“What will you do with it?”
“Talk to it, I hope.”
“I will attend.”
He laughed. “Attend. Just like a play or something, eh?”
She laughed along with him. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh, Sky Lord. I like it. I’ll prepare a place to hold the gleason if you’ll catch it.”
“Deal!” They smacked hands together like two traders haggling over prices, then she wrapped her arms around him again.
Chapter Sixteen
Catching a gleason was not all that hard to do. How to deal with it afterward presented a real challenge. They caught it in a metal net, drugged it, then slung the net from a shuttle. A large metal cage had been constructed on the inner ward to hold the creature. The shuttle deposited the gleason inside the cage and marines secured the top in place.
The gleason stopped thrashing and everyone waited. The edges of the net parted, but the only indication of where the creature stood was the moving mesh and a slight rippling of air.
Havlock threw a chunk of meat into the cage, but the gleason ignored it. He tried talking to the creature, but it ignored that as well. Most people tired of the event and left, but Havlock stayed all that day and through the night, speaking occasionally but receiving no replies. Then, feeling like an idiot, he reached into his pocket and pulled out two translators. He threw one into the cage and installed the other on his ear using exaggerated motions.
The gleason continued to ignore him. He waited with the creature through the next few days, feeding it regularly, but it continued to ignore the food. By the fifth day the creature became dimly visible, and during the following day that visibility increased until a deep green nightmare lay exposed within the cage. Its eyes never stopped looking for someone foolish enough to venture within reach.
“It’s dying,” Galborae said.
“Probably. Otherwise why would we see it?” Havlock answered.
“What now?”
“We keep trying to talk to it. If it dies, it dies. It’s probably communicating with others of its kind. They’ll know what we intend if we capture another one.”
Galborae stayed with him for a time, but nothing changed. “This is tedious,” he said.
“I’m open to options.”
“We’re sending out three caravans, one to each of the province’s remaining kingdoms. Majors Lebac and Ch’Nar will command one each. Do you want the third?”
“I feel like we’re missing something,” Havlock said. Galborae started to respond, but Havlock held up a hand. “Send them out. I’ll review their plans before they go, and Lebac can find another caravan commander. I’ll talk to him about it. I won’t have a better plan until I know more about the gleasons. This is my testing ground for the moment. I need to stay.”
In frustration he yelled at the gleason to pick up the translator, wiggling the unit on his own ear, but the creature just stared at him with hatred in its eyes.
It died on the seventh day.
Havlock captured another gleason and repeated the process. The caravans left and he monitored their progress, wishing he could be with them. Still, he stayed with the caged gleason. For his mission on Tranxte to move forward, he believed he needed to understand the horrible creatures better. He needed to know what motivated them.
The caravans had a very hard time, and Lebac had to devote considerably more support to them than Havlock had needed for the first caravan. Two shuttles flew close support over each caravan, and the wagons literally bristled with blasters. Even with the extra support, the occasional gleason got through to kill or maim.
The second caged gleason died, and he complained to Galborae who had just returned from the road to check on him.
“I don’t get it. It has food but it refuses to eat so it dies. Why?”
“I thought you knew,” Galborae answered in astonishment. “Isn’t it obvious? You’ve broken its spirit.”
“I haven’t done anything to it but yell at it.”
“It’s spirit broke at the moment of capture.”
Havlock blinked in confusion. “What? You think so?”
“I’ve spent my whole life around animals. I know so.”
Havlock rubbed a hand across the bristles of his developing beard. “So we need to find a different way to capture it?”
“I don’t see how. Capture is capture.”
Havlock spent the night thinking. The next morning he tried a new tack. He prepared a message and recorded it in the gleason language. A shuttle took him aloft, they found a gleason, and he broadcast his message. The creature refused to respond even after numerous attempts. They finally killed it.
More thinking.
He went through the process again, this time stunning the gleason to make it think it was mortally wounded before broadcasting the message. The message went out, no response, stun again, message, no response. He wounded the creature with a blaster but still got no response so he put it out of its misery.
More thinking.
Galborae, back from the road again, came to his quarters in the castle and shook him awake. “I have an idea,” he said.
Groggy from frustration and lack of sleep, Havlock was ready for any fresh ideas at this point. “What?”
“I’ve been thinking. You believe the gleasons are more interested in the stalking and the kill than in the meat our bodies offer.”
“I’ve believed that from the beginning. Actually, it was your idea. They go after the hard targets, not the easy ones.”
“Could it be an issue of honor?” Galborae asked.
“What?” Havlock questioned, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“You heard me. I know it sounds crazy, but it also has a certain logic if your idea is right.”
“Honor? Among gleasons?”
“Well, they clearly have some kind of values. They wouldn’t cooperate with each other if they didn’t. I’m in agreement with you that we can only find out what those values are if we talk to one, and that if we’re successful, we might come up with a better strategy. Since they won’t talk in captivity, I’m going to talk to one in the open.”
Havlock looked away, then got up and dressed while he considered. Eventually he said, “Gleasons have nearly killed you, repeatedly. I’m keeping track of what you’ve been up against on the caravans you know. Every time that sword of yours comes out, you’re their target. Of all people, I’d expect you to be the last one to come up with such a crazy idea.”
“I don’t have to like it. My world still needs saving.”
“How do we do it?”
“I’d prefer a wounded gleason, and I’d like to be as far from it as possible.”
“Wait a minute. You’re talking about standing out in an open field with a gleason? Are you crazy?”
“Probably. Got a better idea? The gleasons you captured probably sent their thoughts to other gleasons in the area. They’ll know we want to talk. We just don’t know if they’re the talking type.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re not.”
“Maybe, but if it’s challenge they’re after, it would be a new kind of challenge for them.”
“I don’t think I could stand in a field and wait for a gleason to tear me to shreds.”
“It’s not your world that’s hurting. It’s mine. I’m doing this with or without your help, Gar.”
The two men stared at each other. Havlock eventually broke the silence, saying, “Actually, I’m coming to like your world. A lot.”
Merriment filled Galborae’s eyes despite the nightmare that awaited him. “You’re coming to like a particular female here, that’s what you’re liking.”
“Is she spoken for?”
“In times like this? I doubt it. I love her, but what man could possibly pin her down?”
* * * *
*
With the help of scientists aboard the transporter, Galborae constructed a number of messages in the gleason language. The shuttle found a gleason and stunned it hard, then dropped Galborae a hundred meters away and lifted back into the sky. It’s guns were ready, but they could not guarantee his safety. Hitting an erratically moving gleason was never a sure thing.
Galborae started broadcasting his message the moment he stepped from the ship. “I am armed. One of us will kill today, but I will talk to you first. Wave to me if you understand.”
The gleason tore toward Galborae. He expected the charge and was ready. He stunned the creature again. It stopped and he played his message again. This time the gleason paused.
“Why?” it asked.
Galborae selected another recorded response. “We are tired of killing your brothers. How can we stop this?”
The gleason howled and raced toward Galborae. He couldn’t wait this time. His blaster spoke, then spoke again and again. The creature went down, but it did not stop. It crawled.
Galborae played another message as he stepped backward: “You are brave. Stop and I will come closer. Our fight is not yet over.”
The creature stopped. Galborae sucked in a great breath and set out in its direction some 20 meters away, his blaster steady in his hand. In his other hand, he played another message: “Why do you kill?”
The creature’s gaze never left Galborae. He studied that gaze and decided there was no malice in it, only calculation.
“Watching life flow from a noble opponent is the ultimate ecstasy,” the creature responded, blood flowing from its missing legs and two of its arms. It’s two remaining arms moved, and it rushed Galborae. His lips firmed and he finished the creature off.
The ship returned, and Galborae stepped up the ramp through a squad of marines who stared at him in disbelief.
“Awesome,” grunted one of them as he went by.
Havlock waited at the top of the ramp. “Well done, my friend.”
“I had hoped for more. It’s brothers will have heard my message. I don’t know what comes next.”
Milae, his wife, was furious when she heard what he had done, so furious that she refused to join him for dinner with the queen. She and Sergeant Kori continued making their regular rounds of the city, Kori teaching Milae and the other healers at every opportunity.
Turmae returned from a week in a tank on the transporter just in time for supper. More gruel of course. Atiana let out a yell when she saw him and walked through the long hall to embrace him.
“Be careful, child. I might be stronger than you now,” Turmae said.
“Are you well?”
“I am free of pain for the first time in years. I had forgotten what it was like to be young.”
“I’m happy for you. Are you ready to get back to work?” she asked.
“I’m ready.” He released her and looked for Galborae, calling to him from across the room. “The whole fleet knows what you did today. Are you crazy?”
“I am,” Galborae called back to him. “I have fresh pants on, so come over and join us.”
* * * * *
Havlock, Atiana, Turmae, and Galborae met the following morning. “I wonder if they have a leader,” Havlock mused.
“Well, we know how to ask now,” Galborae said.
Indeed they did. The next conversation with a gleason took place from above. Havlock crawled out onto the boarding ramp of a shuttle and broadcast a prerecorded message to the gleason.
“I demand a meeting with your leader,” the message said. “I will meet him in the open provided he comes wearing this cloak.” He tossed down a red shawl, and the shuttle left without killing the gleason.
The gleasons’ response was not what they expected. A week went by, then Havlock received a frantic call from Sergeant Hawke who was flying cover over Trader Kratzn’s caravan.
“Sir, we’ve lost the caravan. Gleasons came out of nowhere and are swarming. I called for backup, but there’s nothing we can do.”
“Say again?” he asked in disbelief.
“Sir, everyone’s dead as near as I can tell, including the melds. They’re working on the drodans now.”
Havlock instantly flashed back to Aldebaran I and the men he had lost to the Chessori. His eyes glazed over as his mind slid into a holding pattern.
Hawke called again. “Are you there, sir?”
“What happened?” Havlock asked, forcing his mind back to Tranxte and another true disaster.
“The gleasons must have been hiding underground along the road. We saw nothing on our sensors. They attacked without warning and overwhelmed our guys. They’re still down there. We can’t see them, but we can see the remains of our guys.” He paused. “The gleasons are eating, sir.”
“Take them out,” Havlock ordered.
“I thought about stunning the whole caravan, but that would put any survivors to sleep and just slow the gleasons down. They’re so intermingled that I can’t use the ship’s guns.”
“Stun every inch of the caravan, and stun it hard. It might drive the gleasons off. Do not let any escape—they’ll have our weapons. I’ll be there shortly.”
He issued orders to the other caravans: stop for the day and prepare for a massive attack. He gathered up Atiana, Galborae, and Turmae and raced to the front gate where they boarded a shuttle. When he reached the site of the ambush, a gruesome scene greeted him. He and a squad boarded scooters, Atiana jumping on behind him, and they made a close inspection from the air. A few dead gleasons intermingled with dead people and animals. No one moved. He listened for cries of help, but there was no one left alive. He hoped it had ended quickly for his men and the traders.
He dismounted with half a squad and scoured the scene on foot with Atiana by his side. The gleasons had, indeed, hidden in individual holes beside the road, and there wasn’t a single person on the caravan still alive.
This type of coordinated attack added a whole new dimension to gleason behavior. Havlock was reasonably certain recordings from the shuttle would find that a distant gleason had given the attack order at the appropriate time. Some 40 gleasons had risen up only a few meters from their targets, completely invisible. He wondered if the defenders had even had time to fire on them.
The men with him suffered as much as he did, but any counseling they needed would have to come later. He boarded Hawke’s shuttle and went to the bridge. There, Hawke had turned the ship over to the other pilot and had left the net. He was visibly shaking.
“Report, Marine,” Havlock ordered, knowing Hawke needed some structure back in his life.
Eyes rose to meet Havlock’s, then they shifted between him and Atiana. “I’m sorry, sir. It happened so fast there was nothing we could do. That was my squad down there.”
“They were my friends too, including Trader Kratzn and Lieutenant Fogel. Don’t beat yourself up for what the enemy did. Let’s figure out what happened so we can let the other caravans know. What can we do better?”
“We’ve been scouting in the immediate area of the caravans, but clearly we missed a development here. We need to start looking farther ahead to see what the gleasons are up to, and we need to make recordings and study them to discover patterns of movement. The ambush was over in seconds, far quicker than we could respond in any meaningful way, but it took a lot of preparation.”
Havlock turned to Galborae. “Here they are, acting together in accordance with a plan—again. They’re a lot smarter than we ever gave them credit for. This was a battle, and they beat us.”
“You said yourself that no one knows much about them. We’ve learned a hard lesson.”
“It ups the ante considerably. Our job just got a lot harder.”
“Sir,” the pilot called, “you should see this.”
They went into the net and joined the pilot. His focus was a life-force target a few miles away from the attack site. When the pilot switched to visual, a red shawl hung in the air. The invisible arm from which the
shawl hung gave the impression it was pointing directly at the shuttle.
Havlock and Galborae looked at each other, their thoughts reaching the same conclusion.
“We’ve badly underestimated them,” Havlock said in amazement. “This ambush was part of a message. He’s telling me, ‘I wasn’t ready to talk. Now I am.’”
“Not here. Not now,” Galborae urged.
“No, not here. I’d be walking into another ambush. We’ll set the meeting place.” Looking at Hawke, he said, “This was my mistake, not yours. I underestimated the enemy, one of the most fundamental mistakes we marines are supposed to avoid. I won’t repeat it.”
He prepared a message, then flew over the gleason and broadcast the message: “Not today. Meet me outside the gates of the city in three days. Come alone.”
* * * * *
Later that evening he asked Atiana for advice. “We can’t leave the remains of the caravan there. What’s the best way to clean it up? The transporter can laser everything—it’s like burning. Will that satisfy your customs?”
She considered. “We like to let families say goodbye to their loved ones when we can, and we try to honor the fallen, but in this case the damages are too gruesome. I approve burning them.”
* * * * *
Havlock walked out the front gate with Galborae by his side, both of them fully armed. They walked three kilometers down the road and waited. After a time, a red shawl bobbed in the air near the tree line. It approached them from across a field at a walking speed and stopped 50 meters away.
The gleason was the first to speak, calling across the intervening distance, “You have not come alone.”
Havlock had suspected this would be the first comment from the creature. He played a recorded message: “I did not say I would come alone. Even with two of us, we fear you. Our meeting will be more complete if you agree to wear a device that translates our language to yours. I’m leaving it here and backing away. Put it on your ear. This meeting is important to you.”
Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights Page 23