A Warrior's Sacrifice
Page 12
The Oniwabanshu Operative whistled as she pushed the cart down the street. She had a few hours yet before the others arrived, and she was determined to get a head start on the interrogations.
Phae and Corwin were in the showers cleaning up when the sirens rang, loud and deafening, in every recess of the city. The two Maharatha rinsed themselves clean and sprinted naked through the halls to their storage room. Within minutes they were clad in their armor, jogging to the defensive walls.
Kai and Chahal were already there, helping to arrange the Wei and CPs for the oncoming assault. Hundreds of Humans from the outlying settlements poured in through the city's gates, carrying with them their rusted pick axes and well-used guns. The elderly ferried children away to safety deep inside the city.
Their previous duties forgotten, the Support Caste ran among the readying defenders distributing battery packs and cans of ammunition. The defenders checked and rechecked their rifles, and they fastened their swords, for the only enemy that existed — now that the Quislings had been destroyed — were the Choxen, and they would bring their Grunts.
As the last of the settlement refugees passed into the city, the defenders swung the gates closed, bolting and barricading them from the inside. They were then rigged with explosive charges, and the denizens prepared themselves to fight to the last man and woman to defeat the Choxen threat. As they waited, the sirens died. The sudden, empty sound-space seemed louder than the sirens had a moment before.
Then, as though hit by an electromagnetic pulse, the city's electronics died. All coms went down; weapons and vehicles turned off; and above them all, the thing the Humans relied on most, the ion shield, winked out of existence.
A blue sky with a few puffy clouds took the shield's place. The populace bore the setback with the gritted teeth and the determination of farmers and laborers and soldiers.
Through the speakers, the dead speakers, the Republic's two-tone chime sounded, and eyes turned upward.
"This is an official control from the Oniwabanshu. Drop your arms and lay face down on the ground."
The citizens looked at one another in surprise. This was not the enemy of the Republic, but the Republic itself?
The message sounded again. Many complied, tossing their now useless rifles or usable but superfluous axes or swords aside and lying face-down on the hard plasteel.
From the forest that surrounded the city, tanks and hover carriers crept forth to form a contiguous line of soldiers, each emblazoned with the Oniwabanshu crest. From the air, small specks appeared on the horizon. With each passing heartbeat they grew, ripping through the sky to screech to a stop over the city; their rolling sonic booms followed after. Ropes dropped from the hovering ships, and hundreds of Inquest soldiers slid down.
By now the situation was clear, and the Citizens went prone. But not all went without a fight. In a few places the Ashi-Kage fought, for they would be sentenced to death anyway, and they managed to take a few of the Inquest soldiers with them before they died.
In the fields below the city, Technicians and Laborers erected the buildings that would act as holding cells, interrogation, and execution rooms.
Corwin and his Void — their suits still functioning — hopped down from the city's walls and jogged to the line of Oniwabanshu defenders. They approached the Inspector General in charge of the operation, a tall, slender, stiff-backed woman with sharp eyes and a sharper nose.
"Void Commander Shura reporting, ma'am," Corwin said, saluting.
She nodded back. "Commander."
"Anything me and my people can help you with?"
"No. We have procedures, we stick to them. Inquest agents only."
"I understand, ma'am. We'll stay out of your way." Corwin said with a bow. Phae remained quiet despite the curtness of the Inspector General's remarks; she knew better than to wickt with someone who had the authority to detain an entire city.
"Is there anyone in the city that we should spare an interview? Anyone that you know to be blameless?"
Corwin thought a moment of Yanmao. He'd warned Corwin of the Ashi-Kage's presence in the first place after all; and of Prensky and her ongoing investigation despite the dangers to herself. "No," Corwin said, "though there are six Quisling children in jail that should be spared the Inquest's needles."
"Done. The overt enemies of the Republic are not my concern…" She trailed off and touched a finger to her earpiece, eyes glazing as she listened. "We seem to have a situation. Come with me." She grabbed a nearby hoverbike and drove off without waiting for Corwin's response.
The Maharatha followed the Inspector General to the opposite side of the ring of defenders. Shota and his soldiers waited facing the Oniwabanshu's. She pulled up beside her line of troops and dismounted.
"What is the problem here?" she asked.
Despite his dark skin, Shota's face was red with fury. "We are here on official Beirat business! We cannot be barred from this city! We need access to its facilities and communication terminals and computers! We have Intergalactic Diplomats with us, for wickt's sake!"
"I know who you are, and why you're here, Shota."
The color in Shota's face deepened. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.
"Despite your assumed authority, I have complete jurisdiction here, and," she leaned forward, "you should rethink how badly you want to get inside that city, or I might just start to think that you have something at stake with its inhabitants."
Shota's eyes went wide. "No, uh, no, ma'am. We'll make do out here."
"I thought you might."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Shota shook himself free from the aura that surrounded the Inspector General, the color returning to his face. "Well then, I'll need to make other plans."
He turned to leave, but Corwin's armored hand snaked out and clamped down on his shoulder. "The IGA delegates are here?"
Shota glanced at the Maharatha's hand, up into his visor. "Yes. They landed earlier this morning."
"Why didn't you inform us?"
"Because it isn't any of your concern. We are their protectors, we are their guides, you aren't needed or necessary." Shota pulled himself free, stumbling a few steps. Straightening himself and his uniform, he marched back over to his waiting convoy.
Shota had arranged his convoy in a full defensive circle around six transport carriers of obvious IGA and alien design. The angles and slopes that the Human Engineers enjoyed so much were nowhere to be found. Instead the vehicles were smooth and rounded like bubbles that had coalesced, and each transport was greater in size than even the largest of the Humans' escorting tanks.
They were all hover propulsion, though of a quality that Humanity didn't yet possess. They didn't repulse the ground, spraying dirt and twigs and other small bits of things around, they glided, soft, so that the only reason that the green grass moved at all was because of the breeze that blew out of the west.
"What should we do?" Kai asked.
Before Corwin could answer, a hatch opened, swinging upward on invisible hinges. Others followed suit and disgorged dozens of armed and armored Car-karniss. They were the warriors of the Prehson, the only species in the IGA that had sworn fealty and everlasting servitude to another.
They looked like the Earth's Gila monsters found in the Normerican southwest, except their heads topped two meters and they were bipedal, their arms and legs well adapted for dexterity, speed, and power. Every single one had a short snout with rows of sharp teeth, their nostrils rimmed with yellow. Armor plates hid the bulk of the scales that covered their bodies, and over top of their armor each wore an eggshell-white tunic, a symbol etched down their long torsos.
The emblem was a half circle with a line attaching the top and bottom segments. For some reason Corwin couldn't explain, it seemed as if the other half of the circle should be there, but it wasn't. The missing piece wasn't a design flaw, forgotten during the manufacturing process; it was made to be blatant and glaring with purposeful omission.
Atop a long, slender neck sat a head shaped like an inverted teardrop, with two cloudy, black, unblinking eyes. The neck met at a wide torso, where two delicate arms with six-fingered hands rested, folded atop one another. They had an airy appearance, like when a bird folds its wings while at rest.
The four legs atop of which all was perched articulated backward, the forelegs taller than the rear so that the torso and head were held upright at all times. A robe, the same eggshell-white with a closed half-circle as the Car-karniss bodyguards, was draped around its body. The clothing adding a billowing, residual motion to the alien's gait.
The Prehson advanced, the Car-karniss keeping pace around their charge, two guards staying within arm's reach on either side. They passed through Shota's defensive circle without breaking stride; powerful legs took them up onto and over the intervening vehicles. As the Prehson passed between the Beirat solders and their vehicles, they bowed, a few prostrating themselves atop turrets or in their vehicles' cabs.
The line of Car-karniss passed around the Maharatha, and the Prehson stopped just a meter from the four Humans. The Car-karniss stopped as well. "I," said the Prehson through mouth slits on the underside of its teardrop head, "am Yerama-gar." Its voice sounded like the rustling of dry leaves.
The Maharatha dropped to one knee, all except for Corwin. Phae reached out to pull him down, but Corwin brushed her hand away. "I am pleased to meet you Drengin Yerama-gar," Corwin said. The translator built into his helmet converted his Human words into Prehson speech.
Yerama-gar regarded Corwin with unblinking eyes. "You do not show subservience to your liberating species."
One of the Car-karniss guards let out a growl-hiss, its forked tongue, thick and blue as night, licking the air. It stepped forward, swinging its rifle at Corwin.
Yerama-gar reached out with a svelte arm to stop the Car-karniss. The guard hissed again but returned to the Prehson's side.
Corwin spread his hands wide. "I don't mean to offend, but my family was not a part of the original group of Humans that the Prehson contacted. I am not bound by the same customs."
"Truly? Yet you are here, wearing the armor of what I know to be the highest military order of your species. Wearing alien technology granted to you by rights of that accord."
Corwin didn't know why he was arguing the point; he could ameliorate the situation by taking a knee. There was something that pushed him on, made him obstinate when he shouldn't be. "I earned this through successful contest and skill."
"What were your ancestors then? Not-Human?"
Corwin remembered this now. It was a dialogue from a story his great-grandfather had told him of his great-great-grandfather. "The Humans that became your servants spoke for themselves, not for all Humans of the Earth. We lived between the Humans and the Choxen."
"You are…" The Prehson said, and Corwin's translator paused as if trying to determine the correct word, "a traitor to your species?"
Corwin bore the word — the accusation — with a shift of his shoulders. "We — I, was, but am no longer."
The gills along the upper part of Yerama-gar's head ruffled in surprise. "Come! All of you attend me now!" The gentle rustle of its voice was now the sound of water being dashed against rocks.
Other aliens emerged from the transports' gaping hatchways, each clad in their own eggshell-white robes. A simian Foralli clambered out, the scales that covered its body so small they looked like fur. A Groaton slunk alongside, six legs and dark fur with a metallic sheen keeping pace. They took their places beside Yerama-gar.
"You called, Diviner?" growled the Groaton.
"We have before us the embodiment of Accession; a Schism returned to the primordial state of Wholeness."
The three aliens hummed, joined after a moment by their Car-karniss guards. They went silent and stared at Corwin.
"Forgive me, but I don't understand," Corwin said after the silence had stretched to an uncomfortable length.
"Do not be perturbed," said the Foralli. "We mortals can never understand the full Path."
"Friends," Yerama-gar said, gesturing with its arms, "we have not come to explain such things, nor to convert. We came to secure an object."
From the depths of its robe, Yerama-gar pulled forth a small holoprojector and used a finger to activate the power; a small, black orb projected into the air. "Have you seen this object?"
"Uh, yes," Corwin said, reaching for the pack at his side. It was gone, and he felt a thrill of fear before he remembered the ruse. "Kai?" Corwin said, turning to the Variant.
Kai surrendered his pouch. At the wide-eyed interest of both Yerama-gar and the Car-karniss guards, Corwin opened the bag and withdrew the orb with deliberate slowness.
The three gasped, and Yerama-gar reached out, all twelve fingers trembling. "Did you find this?" it asked.
"I did."
The three aliens each made a sound of surprise: a growl; a clearing throat; falling water. "Whence did you find it?" Yerama-gar asked. "At a moment of Schism, or one of Accession?"
"I have no idea. I don't know those concepts."
Yerama-gar stared at Corwin for a moment. "We cannot see the auspices attached to this finding if we all are ignorant. Perhaps now is the time to teach. Yes. Follow me," Yerama-gar said, turning. "We have much to discuss."
Their base camp was ten kilometers northeast, and while just the day before the location had been overgrown and wild, a small, alien city had sprung up from the razed ground. Plasteel walls that they had dropped from space enclosed the rectangular base. Pickets of soldiers with the half circle emblazoned on their eggshell-white tunics walked along the battlements where support weapons glared out into the thick trees.
Inside the makeshift fort, soldiers drilled in both ranged and melee weapons. Not all of them were Car-karniss. Ismael — the workhorses of the IGA military — trundled across the open spaces. Each neared four and a half meters in height and almost 500 kilograms, with great barreled chests. Huge scales overlapped to create a natural armor, and each carried what amounted to a vehicle-grade weapon with accompanying ammunition and battery packs.
The Ordeiky were in attendance, too, but what they were doing training for infantry combat none of the Maharatha knew. Their svelte bodies and large football-shaped heads made them inadequate for the rigors of physical combat; none topped a meter in height, and their wide mouths, sharp teeth, and unblinking eyes gave them a perpetual and unnerving look of surprise.
In another area, the insect-like Abtinthae trained. These were true melee combatants, and with giant razor-sharp forearms and mandibles, they looked like Earth's praying mantises, except nightmarish in size and ferocity. This contingent was not just some soft group of diplomats, or, as Corwin expected, priests, but a full-fledged military order.
The Diviner ushered the Maharatha to the largest of the tents at the heart of the compound. At the entrance the Diviner paused. "If you would ask your fellows to wait outside…"
"With respect, no," Corwin said. Again the Car-karniss guards bristled. "The information that I receive from you I will relay to them anyway. I'd rather have them learn it directly from you."
Yerama-gar's gills fluttered, but whether that was out of anger or contemplation, Corwin couldn't say. "You may bring whom you wish. I would caution that what we discuss, and your part within it, may be troubling to you and may cause Schism or Accession in the bonds between you all."
"If I understand your meaning, we can handle that, Diviner," Corwin said. He realized then that it was true. They had come a long, long way from the Academy.
Corwin turned to the Mobile Sergeant. "You wait here."
Shota's face turned red, and he inhaled to speak, but a warning hiss from a Car-karniss guard forced the man to hold back whatever he was about to say. He bowed and stepped aside to
wait.
They found themselves in a meeting room of sorts, the inner walls made of the same tenting material as the rest of the building. The room was spartan: blank walls and only minimal furniture. The floor was well-trod dirt with rocks and sprigs of grass. The tent was tall by Human standards, the furniture sized for the Prehson. The entire setup made the Humans feel as if they were children again; Kai's were the only Human feet that touched the ground when they sat upon the bench offered by Yerama-gar.
From the rear wall, the Diviner's assistants pushed a bench-like piece of furniture forward. The two segments of the piece, the front horizontal, the rear sloping, were appointed with eggshell-white padding. Yerama-gar slid onto it from behind, resting its bulk into the plush padding, its feet alighting on the ground.
The two attending aliens took their own stools from the back wall as well, these items sized for the alien assistants. The Groaton lay atop his in sphinx-like fashion; the simian Foralli clambered up and settled into a squat.
Corwin removed his helmet and held it in his lap. His Void did the same. Then they waited for the Prehson to begin. The Diviner turned to the Groaton, and the Humans heard the Prehson's words as water flowing through rushes. It leapt from its stool and pulled three small cubes from a chest of drawers with its dexterous forepaws. Returning, it placed one first before the Diviner's chair, and the remaining two before his own and the Foralli.
It returned to its own seat and growled, the small box taking the alien words and converting them to Human speech. "Can you understand me?"
Corwin looked at the Humans beside him. They nodded. "We can," he said.
"Tell us what you know of the First Conflict," Yerama-gar said.