by Chris Bunch
“And I’m not going to,” Poynton said. “All you need to know is you’ll get a chance to kill some Musth, maybe get killed yourselves. All of you were out during the rising — you know why things are kept secret.”
“And if whatever we’re going to do works?”
“Maybe we’ll get a chance to end this crap. Bring things back to normal.”
“I wonder,” a bearded miner said softly, “what th’ hell normal is. Sure wasn’t any with the Rentiers, and then bein’ underground, then the rising. I thought maybe things were gettin’ to the point of not bein’ too bad when the goddamn Musth showed up and we was back in th’ crapper.”
There was silence in the cavern.
“Aw hell, Poynton,” the man said. “I’m in. The soh always told m’ dad I was born to be shot.”
He stepped forward, then another man, then the stocky woman, and Poynton knew she had them.
• • •
“So that’s our baby,” Garvin said, peering through the dirty side port of the survey ship as it slowly flew along the Musth base’s perimeter.
“Does look a bit abandoned,” Njangu said hopefully.
“It just better not be too forlorn,” Garvin said. “Like the drive’s shut down.”
“Don’t worry, boss,” Njangu said. “It’ll prob’ly turn out that Alikhan’s never flown anything actually like this barge, and we’ll be screwed before we start.”
“That’s the I&R tradition,” Garvin said. “Utter cheeriness.”
• • •
“Here’s the cheap lie, Jasith,” Garvin said. “You schedule a one-on-one conference with the Musth muckety in charge of mining — ”
“Pilfern,” Jasith said. They were in her suite at Mellusin Mining’s Planetary Headquarters.
“Pilfern. Make it as late as you can. You’ll stop by this ship to check something — ”
“I’ll be checking how soon that ruptured hold will take to be repaired so we can load ingots at the refinery.”
“Good. To your dismay, you found the ship had been seized by bandits, who took your lim and tied you up and left you in a shed.”
“Who took my lim and me as a hostage, and ordered us to do whatever they wanted. That will make it more authentic. Tie me up before you take off.”
“Goddammit, Jasith, you don’t know what you’re getting into!”
“Maybe not. But it’s past time for a Mellusin to get into something!. That’s the way it’s going to be, Garvin!”
Garvin realized the subject had been suddenly closed.
“All right,” he said. “I’m too tired to argue.”
“Does that mean you’re too tired to mess around a little?”
Garvin glanced at his watch finger.
“ ‘Kay. Fifteen minutes for messing around, then I brief the assault team.”
“How’d I ever get lucky enough to end up with the last of the romantics?”
• • •
There were seven in the first strike team — Garvin, Ben Dill, Monique Lir, Ho Kang, Darod, Montagna, and Alikhan. The Musth refused to carry a weapon.
“But what if somebody starts shooting at you?” Dill asked.
“If he hits me, our enterprise was not meant to be,” Alikhan said equably.
Dill snarled wordlessly, and added a second pistol to his combat harness.
Jasith sent word — the meet was set, just before third-meal.
As the sun settled, her lim landed beside the ore transport, Jasith at the controls. She explained to Njangu that she didn’t want her driver endangered.
Njangu winced — another bit of irregular behavior the Musth might uncover. But he said nothing.
As soon as Jasith had notified Garvin, lighters began trickling in from the mines. Each carried a handful of hard-faced men and women who were issued black coveralls, weapons, their faces blackened, and given brief orders — “When you off-load around a Musth ship, kill anything that looks like a Musth. Listen to anybody in uniform or any of your people wearing a white armband.
“When the ship takes off, or when ordered, retreat back to this ore transport.”
Poynton had named certain of the miners to leadership slots, and they got the armbands.
There were about two hundred raiders, ‘Raum and Force, in the ore transport’s hold.
Garvin wished he had some kind of speech, finally managed, “ ‘Kay. It’s time to go help some Musth die for their empire,” trotted down the ramp, and climbed into the crowded lim.
The canopy slid closed, and, without orders, Running Bear lifted.
Then things started to go wrong.
• • •
The lim came across the Musth perimeter fast, broadcasting the recognition signals given Jasith. Each of the AA batteries it overflew responded automatically to the signals. A simple device in the lim bounced these acknowledgments back to the ore transport. On the flight deck of the transport, these were triangulated by Dr. Heiser. Another signal, and the transport took off after the lim.
Musth headquarters sent an aksai to escort the lim, mostly as a courtesy to a high-ranking human. They did not bother to notify Running Bear, pilot of the lim.
Running Bear banked the lim away from its Musthassigned course as planned, went to full power, and flew toward the targeted Musth field.
Ahead, the mother ship’s nose was outlined in fire by the rapidly setting sun.
The off-course lim was challenged once, twice, made reply.
“Two kilometers,” Running Bear reported. “On final.”
He brought the lim in fast, flared it, and slammed the antigrav on at the last minute. The lim bounced once, was down, and the canopy flew open.
The mother ship was about fifty meters away, two guards in front of its lock. They gaped, then one lifted his weapon. Alikhan shouted for him to surrender, but the blaster was aimed. Ben Dill dropped him, and the other Musth ducked behind barrels. Garvin lofted a grenade after him, and there was an explosion and a dying scream.
Alikhan stopped, paws moving in confusion.
“Move,” Dill shouted, and the Musth went up the ramp through the open airlock, the rest of the first attack team behind him.
Overhead, the Musth pilot, barely out of training, dropped down to take a closer look.
Running Bear heard the whistle, saw the oncoming aksai, grabbed Jasith, threw her over his shoulder, and ran across the flat tarmac toward the barrels. The aksai pilot decided something was wrong and climbed, arming his weapons systems, then dived and launched two missiles.
One went wide, the other blew the lim into fragments.
Jasith sobbed, close to the evil-smelling tarmac as the blast rang around her. She lifted her face, realized she was lying in a pool of Musth blood, and not two meters away was the shattered body of the guard.
The aksai pilot low-flew the field, saw no movement, snarled across the perimeter. Only one AA site fired, and the missile was late, never acquiring its target.
Then the transport was down, locks sliding open, and raiders streaming out.
The aksai skidded through a turn, came back low.
Striker Mar Henschley swung her Shrike launcher, centered the aksai in her sights, and touched the trigger. She was the first to launch, and her missile blew the fighting craft in half. Another missile fired by another gunner flew through the cloud of expanding gas, decided there was nothing solid enough to be worth exploding for, and flew on until it self-detonated.
Henschley yelped in sheer glee, then reloaded.
• • •
On board the ship, the strike team moved steadily upward. They found half a dozen Musth, about the size of the maintenance crew Alikhan had thought to be aboard, and called for their surrender. Only one was armed, and Garvin shot him. The others charged gun muzzles, trying to close. They died either bravely or stupidly, depending on perspective.
Occasionally the team heard dim explosions from the outside, wondered about the fighting. Then they were on the bridge. The
watch officer was down before he could draw his blaster, and the ship was theirs.
Alikhan walked forward, toward the controls, the scuffing of his pads loud in the silence.
“Well?” Dill asked.
“I can fly this,” Alikhan said firmly.
• • •
Half a dozen aksai, more wynt, were wrecked around the field, their green pilots no match for the Force’s missilemen.
They gave welcome cover to the raiders as Musth warriors debarked from other wynt and attacked.
A canny velv captain flew a roundabout course, popped up, and acquired a target and launched, just as a Shrike blast tumbled his locators and sent him spinning into a hillside.
His missile, at full speed, crashed into the drive area of the transport, and it blew up spectacularly, the fiery ball illuminating the near-night sky.
Almost twenty-five raiders and the transport’s crew were killed in the blast, and the Musth mother ship rocked.
• • •
Wlencing, on D-Cumbre/Whar saw the blast on one of the field’s many remotes, and knew what the worms were intending.
“No, you hatchiing sports, they’re after our ship! Kill the ship!” he roared into a closed com, then swore again, wondering why he seemed to be the only one who could figure out the human strategies.
• • •
Garvin stared out of a port at the boiling chaos around the ship.
“How long ‘til you can lift?”
“Five of your minutes,” Alikhan said calmly. “I have it now on antigravity.”
Garvin reached a decision.
“Dill! Get everyone aboard. I mean everyone! We’ll have to take ‘em with us.”
The big man ran for the airlock.
• • •
Njangu spat blood from the explosion, got up, hearing Dill’s shouts:
“The ship! Into the ship!”
He staggered, realized what was going on, echoed Dill’s commands, and the shouts were picked up by others.
‘Raum and soldiers went for the mother ship, some in calm retreat, others in blind panic.
He saw an incoming aksai, saw a Shrike gunner standing calmly in the open.
The aksai and Mar Henschley fired at the same time, and both vanished in the double blast.
Njangu wondered who the unknown hero was, went back to pushing the last few raiders aboard. One of them was Running Bear, carrying a semiconscious woman in civilian clothes, her face hidden by dark Musth blood. Njangu realized who she must be.
“How is — ”
“Just shocky, sir.” Running Bear went on into the ship.
Njangu realized he and Lir were the only two left not aboard, and the ramp was humming, moving.
“Goddammit, Top, quit playing last standing hero!”
Lir gave him a single-fingered salute, sent half a drum stammering through a wave of Musth.
Njangu gave up, jumped through the lock, Lir just behind him as the hatch slid shut.
• • •
The mother ship came off the ground, teetered, and climbed.
A flight of aksai banked after it as the ship sped upward.
One launched, missed, then the mother ship was out of range.
Seconds later, it was on the fringes of C-Cumbre’s atmosphere, and recklessly vanished into stardrive.
• • •
Wlencing looked again and again at the images from the remotes, saw the lim approach, land near the mother ship and beings leap out.
He no longer bothered to bring up a close-up of the renegade Musth.
Very well. The cub was a traitor. He knew why, who had poisoned him, where he was going, even his intention.
Wlencing got up, turned to Daaf. The aide flinched away from Wlencing’s terrible gaze.
“I want immediate contact with Keffa.”
CHAPTER
23
Langnes 77837?/World unknown
The world was thrice-ringed, one red, one brown, one green, or so the mother ship screens showed.
Alikhan hissed a response into the mike that hung, unsupported, in front of him. His three screens flashed data, then blanked, in keeping with the Musth practice of not worrying a pilot until something started going wrong.
A voice came back to him and a staccato conversation began.
A large screen appeared, and the other three obligingly moved aside for it. The screen showed clouds, then went infrared, and there were landmasses below.
Alikhan spoke without turning his head, as his fingers brushed sensors on the panel in front of him, and the humans felt the drive hum change, deepen. “You may speak if you wish,” he said. “We have been cleared to land.”
Garvin, Njangu, and the two scientists watched silently from a corner of the control room, and Ben Dill sat in a control chair behind and to one side of Alikhan, his fingers echoing, tentatively, Alikhan’s movements, without ever touching the panel in front of him.
“This is gonna work?” Njangu asked suspiciously. “You’re just gonna ground, stroll out, buy the right chart, and off we go again?”
“Why not?” Alikhan said. “We have done nothing to cause alarm, and the ship’s trading account is very plus.”
“You Musth don’t have to worry about customs, health quarantine, security clearance?” Ann Heiser asked.
“Why? My clan’s business is its own, until we show some intent to harm those who own this system.”
Garvin and Njangu exchanged looks. “Oh to be a pirate in these sunny climes,” Garvin chanted.
“First let’s make sure, bucko,” Njangu said, “the Musth have goodies worth pirating.”
The screen went back to normal vision. Alikhan found a sensor, and the view came in to about five hundred meters above the ground, swept across veldt, small wooded copses, ponds, and the occasional small settlement.
“Now this,” Alikhan said, “is what a proper world looks like, not all those revolting greens you prefer.”
“We never invited you in the first place,” Dill said.
“True,” Alikhan said. “Now, silence. Even though I am without question the finest pilot the cosmos has seen, I still lack sufficient experience with this wallower. And be grateful for slaved emergency power controls that override my momentary lapses.”
On-screen, a scatter of buildings appeared that grew into a small, high-towered city. Alikhan brought the mother ship vertical, and another screen opened, showing a wide landing field studded with other starships and support buildings. Alikhan brought the antigrav up, reduced the secondary drive, and backed down. About 150 meters above the field, he cut the secondary drive, and grounded without a jar.
“Was that not smooth?”
“For a beginner,” Dill said.
“Now, I shall attend to business,” Alikhan said. “You might not want to admit any curious visitors.”
• • •
Off D-Cumbre and in N-space, Alikhan had taken the first two jumps on the star chart he’d chosen from Njangu’s thievery.
The Force medics were occupied with the wounded, and Garvin, Njangu, their noncoms, Poynton, and her appointed leaders were busy sorting out I&R’s seventy survivors and the slightly more than a hundred ‘Raum, and exploring the ship for compartments to house them.
There was no need to discuss options — the raiders would have to stay with the ship, their fate linked to Alikhan’s success.
Alikhan, Dill, Ho, and the scientists sorted through the mother ship’s charts and discovered, unsurprisingly, there wasn’t one for Senza’s homeworld, known as “Reckoning,” aboard.
“So we use this chart to make the first planetfall. It’s a system well within our area of influence, and then we get the chart we need.”
Dill had goggled. “No overconfidence here.”
• • •
Half a dozen times, casualties died, and were buried in space. Alikhan was surprised, wondering why they simply weren’t recycled into the ship.
He was similarly perplexe
d by Garvin’s refusal to allow the dead Musth to be recycled.
They, too, were treated as the human dead, and, even though Garvin wasn’t sure they, or anyone else, had a soul, he whispered the unfortunately all-too-familiar words of the Confederation’s burial ceremony as the lock cycled.
• • •
The first pleasure for the miners and the insufficiently clean soldiers, was bath after bath after bath. The Musth ‘freshers were entire rooms, with rain-shower ceilings that could be set from mist to typhoon. The water’s taste, as human wastes were cycled into the system, tasted less coppery as time passed.
Less enjoyable were the Musth toilets, being mere holes in the deck. Garvin was muttering about these jakes, and Poynton said, smugly, “See the advantage of growing up poor, without any luxuries like being able to sit down? Or a tail?”
Njangu added, “Easy for me to live with, too, sir, not having grown up with a silver crapper in my … never mind the rest.”
Also unsatisfactory were the stored Musth rations. Alikhan said the Musth fed their crews well, so the meals were highly seasoned and properly aged.
“Like a friggin’ rotten corpse,” one striker said after disobeying orders and unsealing a pack, then promptly going into projectile vomiting mode.
Dr. Froude calculated that, given the rations the Force had carried aboard, they could survive for a while. “Maybe three weeks, maybe a little more. Then we turn to cannibalism.” He seemed rather ghoulishly interested in that eventuality.
But a solution was found — Alikhan spent some time in the ship’s larder, found something acceptable for human palates. It was nourishing in a bulky sort of way, nearly tasteless, with the texture of pablum when mixed with water.
They supplanted the human rations. Lir, having taken a course in nutrition once, thought there’d be enough necessary trace elements in their own packs to keep everyone alive, not enough of the Musth trace chemicals in the musth rats to kill anyone that quickly.
Alikhan told Dill these were the rations for the punishment details, deliberately intended to provide no more than nourishment. Dill didn’t share the information with anyone except Garvin and Njangu.
• • •