by John Ringo
The Indowy was, as far as Mike could tell, pretty much identical to any mid-level Indowy worker. Mid-years, about a hundred in other words. Totally indistinguishable from any of a trillion of the prolific species.
“Exalted Lord O’Neal,” the Indowy said, prostrating himself. The term was one the Indowy had bestowed on Mike after his actions on Diess. It translated, as far as Mike could tell, as something like “Duke.” It wasn’t a clan lord but about the same status. It generally got bestowed on particularly good scientists and the Indowy equivalent of lawyers. As far as Mike was aware he was the only human with the rank and also the only warrior. “I am Indowy Tak Ockist Um’Dare. I see you.”
“I see you, Indowy Tak,” Mike said. “Stand and speak.”
“Exalted Lord,” Tak said. “You have made contact with People of the Book.”
“You know about People of the Book,” Mike asked, leaning back. “Why am I not surprised.”
“I did not know, myself, Exalted Lord, until recently,” Tak said, nervously. “Exalted Lord, I am… Exalted Lord, this is a very long story.”
“I’ve already heard one,” Mike said, gesturing to a station chair. “Tell me. Tell me all of it, Tak. Every bit you know.”
* * *
“They’re what?” Cally said.
Cally O’Neal was fifty-eight and looked to be about twenty. Officially listed as killed in one of the last battles of the Siege of Earth, for most of those fifty-eight years she had been an agent of the Bane Sidhe, the secret underground among the Indowy and Humans that worked to overthrow the Darhel rule. And for most of that period she’d been primarily an assassin.
In the last decade, though, things had changed in so many ways it seemed as if change would never slow down. First there was the mission where she’d met James Stewart. They’d started off as enemies fighting each other in secret and ended as lovers. Stewart had faked his own death but refused to join the Bane Sidhe. Instead he’d entered the Tongs, the Chinese mafia that had taken over most of the organized crime among humans, and fought his own battles from that vantage. He and Cally had married in secret but of late they’d had to even break off the most cursory contact.
His connections had been of premium value when Cally’s sister, Michelle, had used them along with some stolen nannite codes to take down an entire Darhel clan. Michelle wasn’t Bane Sidhe, either; the Darhel had just crossed the wrong human. Michelle was a Sohon mentat, a wielder of almost magical powers over space, time and matter. But she still was indebted to the Darhel. Or had been until she, Cally and Stewart had managed, through a combination of luck and deviousness, to buy her free and bankrupt her Darhel bankers.
The mission where Cally had met Stewart had caused a sundering in the Bane Sidhe, most of the organization splitting off from the O’Neal faction. But the response to the take-down of the Epetar Clan had included, among other things, a massive crackdown on the Bane Sidhe. The faction that had tossed the O’Neals aside ended up screaming for help.
The O’Neals had pulled their chestnuts out of the fire. But Papa O’Neal, the man who had been a real father to her for most of her life, had been killed by the ACS response team. An ACS response team commanded, by one of those horrible coincidences in life, by her own father.
So Cally was anything but charitable to their “fellows”.
“Back up to the beginning, Terool,” Father O’Reilly said. The monsignor had been a member of the earthly Bane Sidhe since before the return of the Darhel. Bane Sidhe translated roughly as “The Death of Elves.” It had remained hidden within “secret societies” since before the dawn of history. It had remnants of pre-history fable that were passed down, but none of it had ever been clear. He might, finally, get some of it filled in.
“The Darhel coopted human guards long ago,” the Indowy Terool said. He had been one of the leaders of the anti-O’Neal faction in the Bane Sidhe, so revealing the secrets he was about to reveal was like pulling teeth. “They were gathered mostly from Western Europe and the Mediterranean. They were trained on a small continent where the Azores are presently placed. There was a revolt, here and on Akoria, the planet your father just ‘reclaimed’ from the Posleen. Here on earth a Darhel was sacrificed to lintatai to cause a massive earth movement under the continent, effectively sinking it by several hundred feet. Finding the traces of what you humans call ‘Atlantis’ would be very difficult even for us. But they are there.
“Your father’s corps was probing along the spinward axis of the spiral arm. Akoria is on the anti-spinward axis. None of the Darhel found it of moment that the reclamation was in that region. It should have taken years for your father’s corps to reach Akoria and the end of the reclamation program was well on its way to fruition.
“However, word has come back that instead of slowly proceeding across the arm, the corps jumped to the far side. Why is unclear. But they have Akoria, which they refer to as ‘R-1496 Delta,’ on their list. They should have reached there by now. And there is no way that they could miss traces of human habitation.”
“The Posleen took the planet,” Father O’Reilly said. “That will pretty much erase traces of humans.”
“Even at the height of the war there were humans hiding in deep jungle and high mountains,” the Indowy said, patiently. “You are very hard to wipe out completely, just as the Posleen are hard to wipe out completely.”
“Point,” Cally said. “But get back to the corps.”
“The Darhel are unwilling to allow this secret to be revealed,” Terool said. “Very unwilling. Unwilling enough to destroy the entire task force.”
“That would be pretty hard to do,” Cally said.
“Every ship is controlled by the AIDs,” Terool said. “As are the suits. They will simply enter hyper and never exit.”
“That wouldn’t just violate the Compact,” Cally said, furiously. “It would break it beyond belief! Do they want all-out war?”
“There are too many members of the corps to cover this up,” Terool said. “And if people become aware that the Darhel have been manipulating humans for this long there will be… other questions asked.”
“About the colonist ships,” Cally said, bitterly. “About fucking with us during the war. About why China was wiped out.”
“Indeed,” Father O’Reilly said. “But they must know what the response of the Bane Sidhe would be to something like this. There would be no end to the blood.”
“We are weak,” Terool said. “Their response to your ill-advised attack on the Pardal Clan nearly destroyed us!”
“Nearly destroyed you, you mean,” Cally said, harshly.
“Us,” Father O’Reilly said, placatingly. “We are not enemies.”
“Tell that to them,” Cally snapped. “They were the bastards that fucked with my head then left us out to dry when I managed to break conditioning. Just talking to this fucker is making me sick. And now he’s suggesting that we just let the Darhel wipe out thirty thousand soldiers and sailors? The Compact is inviolate! If it’s not there’s no point to this whole charade!”
“Are they sending the orders to destroy the task force?” Father O’Reilly asked.
“They are already sent,” Terool said, miserably.
“Can we intercept them?” Cally asked. “Corrupt them?”
“It would be… difficult,” Terool said.
“I don’t care for difficult,” Cally said. “Can you do it?”
“Perhaps,” Terool said. “And then again perhaps not.”
“And there’s more,” Father O’Reilly said.
“We must clarify this matter,” Terool said.
“Indowy think that they are inscrutable to humans,” Father O’Reilly said. “And, indeed, to most humans they are. But not to all. What else?”
“I’m more worried about the Fleet,” Cally said. “And, okay, my bastard of a father.”
“He is your clan lord,” Terool said, upset.
“He can rot in hell for all I care,” Cally snapped.
“But I don’t want the damned Darhel to leave him stuck in hyper until his air runs out.”
“Terool!” Father O’Reilly said. “Tell us!”
“It is about… your father,” Terool said, miserably. “You see, the Darhel… ”
* * *
“Owe you a lot of money,” Tak said.
“Define a lot,” Mike said. “I’ve been paid way too much as it is.”
“Exalted Lord,” Tak said, carefully. “Recently, you may have heard, a Darhel Clan fell.”
“Epetar,” Colonel Ashland said.
“The same,” Tak said. “The were, in fact, destroyed. By your daughter, Michelle.”
“Really?” Mike said. He got a message from Michelle every year at Christmas. If she’d taken down a Darhel Clan it was news to him. “Good for her!”
“There were others working with her, Bane Sidhe and Tong. But it was primarily your clan which did this. The Darhel could not react against you nor against Michelle. But they would much wish to.”
“Why couldn’t they?” General Corval asked.
“Early in the conflict against the Posleen one of your generals, General Taylor, began a program to investigate Darhel manipulation of both politicians and war supplies.”
“That’s what got him killed,” Mike said, nodding. “Isn’t it?”
“Indeed, Exalted Lord,” Tak said, carefully. “However, some of your people, notably the Cyberpunks and human factions of the Bane Sidhe reacted. They killed several high-level Darhel and missed the Tir Dal Ron by a mere shred.”
“Too bad they missed,” Corval said.
“Thus was the Compact born,” Tak said. “The Darhel would not attack current duty humans and the Cybers and the human Bane Sidhe, of whom the Cybers are now a faction, would not kill Darhel.”
“This is making my head hurt,” General Corval said. “Ancient societies. Midnight assassinations. Darhel manipulation. Does any of this have a point?”
“This is the last point,” Tak said. “I do not know if even my masters are aware of this fact. It was contained in the communication to the Ceel that I intercepted when he went into lintatai. Further complicating things are that each of you is owed much more money than the Darhel ever told you. General O’Neal, for certain specific reasons, is owed… Well, the amount that your daughter used to take down the Pardal clan is but a fraction of what you are owed. One tenth of all you recover is, by rights, property of the capturers.”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “I know. We picked up a few billion credits worth here off those Posleen forges we captured intact.”
“The full implications were never explored,” Tak said. “Let me ask you this, General. On Diess. Would the planet have fallen absent your actions?”
“Oh, I doubt it,” Mike said. “There was a whole Corps there and they were getting some pretty solid defenses built.”
“Bullshit, sir,” General Corval said. “We’ve all seen the analysis. You hamstrung the Posleen at a critical juncture, the schwerpunkt. The Line would have fallen if the full weight fell on it. And you took out the only God-king using airmobile in that battle. To answer his question without the false modesty, yes, Tak, it would have.”
“Thus you, General O’Neal, are owed ten percent of the gross production value of Diess,” Tak said. “For the entire period of your life. Oh, some is owed to the many other soldiers and officers in the battle. But a large percentage of it falls to your account. Equally other planets. There are many humans who are owed much by the Darhel. But especially with penalties and interest, you are far in advance of them. You have done almost nothing but fight the Posleen for decades. Led critical defenses of multiple cities on Earth. Holding the pass in Rabun Gap gives you a margin of all goods and services in the Central North American provinces. Several of the recovery worlds of which you were a senior commander are now producing goods. You have gotten none of these additional monies. Your current calculated worth, according to the message, is approximately fifteen percent of all the Darhel clans’ worth. Mostly due to penalties. Payable, as all Darhel debts are, immediately and in full at your request.”
“Nobody has that much capital,” Mike said, blinking.
“That is the point,” Tak replied. “If you call their debt, every Darhel clan in the galaxy is immediately and totally bankrupt.”
* * *
“Good God,” Cally said, her eyes wide. “Holy… How in the hell did the Darhel let that happen?”
“They wrote a very bad law,” Terool said. “Back when we were first attacked by the Posleen. They attempted to buy our action. But we rejected them. The Way is the only way that we choose. So they kept increasing the amount they were willing to pay if we would only fight. But we would rather die than stray from the Way. So now they owe your father, all humanity for that matter, for a fraction of the price of the entire Confederation plus all the recovered worlds. They knew this from the beginning. But they also thought the humans would never figure it out.”
“You could have told us,” Father O’Reilly said, dryly.
“All those years I was scrimping and scraping and little did I know my daddy owned the Galaxy,” Cally said, bitterly. “Wait, if they kill him in deep space… ”
“It all reverts,” Father O’Reilly said. “Galactic law holds, not Earth’s. No inheritance.”
“I thought it reverted to the Clan,” Cally said.
“Not if he doesn’t transfer it, first,” Father O’Reilly said. “And he has to be in a Galactic Court to do the transfer. And it has to be accepted by the Court. Which is made up of… ”
“Darhel,” Cally said, bitterly. “Right. Like they’re going to accept him turning it over to the Clan.”
“There is one option, but it is poorly known and even more poorly understood, even by Indowy,” Terool said. “He can make suit to the Aldenata… ”
* * *
“They’re legends,” Mike said. “I mean, I know you Indowy think they’re gods, even the Posleen refer to them, if in less than affectionate terms, but… ”
“They are not legend,” Tak said. “I cannot believe I am saying this but it is necessary. And I think my time among… among humans has worn upon me. But this is the best chance I have ever heard of to destroy the Darhel monopoly. It must be taken. This is the truth. The Aldenata exist. They are as real as you or I. But they are ancient, old beyond belief. And… changed. They no longer exist as you or I but in another form. But they are the ultimate judges of all the actions of the Darhel as well as the Indowy and the Tchpht. We are the Children of the Aldenata. They are our masters. They can compel the Darhel to pay you, in cash if necessary. And if you place your plea before the Aldenata then it may be heard. It will be slow, though. And if you perish in the interim, the suit is closed.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that, A, the Darhel want me, not to mention my entire corps, dead because I know about their manipulation of humans from pre-history,” Mike said. “And, B, they want me dead because I’ve got the financial potential to destroy them in an instant. And my only chance of back-up is some sort of super-being that might or might not even bother to hear me? And if they manage to whack me in the meantime, that the suit is closed. Which effectively puts a several trillion credit… no, probably more than that, price on my head? Not to mention stuck in the ass end of the Galaxy with no ship home I can trust?”
“Whoa,” General Corval said. “I thought I was fucked, sir.”
* * *
“Okay, this is coming at me a little fast,” Cally said, shaking her head. “Forget the super-beings, although we’re going to have a talk later, Terool. Forget Daddy Dearest owning the Darhel and not the other way around. We’ve got a Corps about to get ‘losted’ if we don’t do something. Let’s just focus on that.”
“Even if we could intercept the orders, it would only be a stop-gap,” Terool said. “And it would reveal many of our most prized sources, the few we have left. When the Darhel realized the task force had not been destroyed th
ey would be more thorough. And since they now realize the depth of our penetration they will undoubtedly send redundant messages to Tirs on distant worlds to ensure its destruction.”
“There has to be something we can do,” Cally said, desperately. Her faction had fought as hard as it could against the “accidents” with colony transports. But terrible as those were, the loss of an entire corps of ACS was… The horror was beyond fathoming.
“What about Michelle?” Cally continued.
“You can contact your sister, of course,” Terool said. “But I’m unsure she can do more than we are attempting. The Sohon have abilities sometimes beyond understanding. But they are not gods.”
“I’ll send her a message,” Cally said, her face hard. “But if we fail? If they destroy the Corps?”
“Destroying the Corps, indeed any killing of an acting service person, is a violation of the Compact,” Terool said.
“So you agree?” Cally said, her eyes lighting. “This is open season on Darhel?”
“Yes,” Terool said, sighing. “That time has come. Or is coming at least.”
“I can’t exactly be happy that it takes losing several thousand soldiers for that,” Cally said, rubbing her hands. “But… I’m gonna get to kill Darhelll… ” she started to sing, dancing and waving her hands in the air. “I’m gonna get to kill Darhelllll… ”
“Unless we need them,” Father O’Reilly said.
“What?!”
* * *
“We need them.”
Sixteen minds linked across four thousand light years. The youngest of the Queens was a bare thousand years old, the eldest had seen the near death of their race and the Long Flight. Each had lived long lives as other entities, scouts, workers, managers, scientists then warriors. Neuter, male and finally female, they were the best their race could offer to the vagaries of fate.
Between them, although they did not track every sparrow on every world, they knew the comings and goings, the machinations, plans, wars of every sentient race in the galaxy. Minds like cold computers watched those races, tended them like rose gardens, built alliances, often on both sides of mortal conflicts, built each of them as potential allies against the day that their race might once again face The Enemy.