Where the Littoranes hesitated, Xin acted.
Setting the gun for single round fire – the last thing she needed was any collateral damage – she sighted, and squeezed the trigger.
The first adult went down. Whatever these Littoranes might be, they weren’t soldiers. Rather than diving for cover at the sound of gunfire or seeking to acquire a target, they froze, as if unable to work out what was going on, perhaps even wondering which of them had fired prematurely. That suited her just fine. The second was dead before the others even thought to react. Unfortunately, that provided the stimulus they needed, and her third shot only wounded its target as the adults took cover.
Xin had deliberately taken out those on the far side of the children first, but there were now two armed adults – admittedly one of them wounded – who were in effect using the youngsters as a shield. For their part, the children hadn’t moved; if anything, they huddled closer together. Xin cursed. She could really do with them running in every direction and leaving the Littoranes exposed. Pack instinct, she supposed, the reliance on statistics as a defense. Useful against an individual predator, not so much against enemies armed with automatic weapons.
Xin switched tactics, shooting the adult closest to her. Three dead. The others, though, they were finding their range. Bullets thumped into the sand in front of her and whistled over her head. She ducked down behind the lip of the dune and rolled, moving across to come up in a different position, only to find that her enemies were on the move too. Not so stupid after all. The survivors were all scampering around to the far side of the clustered youngsters. Either she was going to have to accept casualties among the children – which sort of defeated the object – or she would have to try and outflank the adults; not the easiest of maneuvers with a force of one.
She winged another before they made it all the way round, but that was her last clear shot.
At least no one had started shooting at the kids yet.
By her estimate, five of the fish-faced bastards were still shooting at her, and they were getting the hang of this at last. Automatic fire stitched a line across the fine sand, sending her ducking down behind the rise again. She scampered along to get a new angle, pushed herself upward, conscious that the shooting hadn’t stopped, if anything it had intensified. What she saw when she peered over the lip caused her to whoop with joy. Three Wolves were advancing on the Littoranes from her right, her Wolves, firing as they went.
“Soldiers, keep to single round fire,” she yelled. “Don’t harm the children!” The last thing they needed was half the kids wiped out in order to get at the adults.
“They know what they’re doing,” said a voice from behind her. Xin whipped around to see Janna clambering up the dune toward her, the rest of the unit following. “As do I.”
Janna came to the top of the rise, taking up a semi-kneeling position, right foot planted in front, knee bent, left knee behind and on the ground. She sighted in one fluid motion and commenced shooting: single rounds but rapid fire. Looking back towards the Littoranes, Xin saw that the surviving adults, three of them, were retreating in the face of the Wolves’ advance, leaving the shelter of the children and exposing themselves to fire from the ridge. Janna had already accounted for one, but Xin wasn’t content to let her take all the glory. She joined in, and between them they took down the last two adults in seconds. The other Wolves, those who were only armed with combat blades, had joined them on the crest of the ridge and were cheering as the last Littorane fell.
“And none of the children harmed,” Janna said. “Well, almost none…” One of the children to the left of the group was lying on its side and wailing, nursing an injured arm which presumably had taken a stray bullet, but none of the others appeared to be any the worse for wear.
Janna grinned, but then winced, rubbing at the livid mark Xin had slapped into her face. “I reckon we can count that a result… Ma’am.”
— Chapter 10 —
One of the screens at the rear of the palace audience chamber came to life. Arun held his breath. The display showed a sandy hollow half-ringed by dunes that housed a huddle of what must surely be Littorane children. They were smaller and their limbs more like legs and less like flippers. They made keening noises and, while evidently terrified, they appeared mostly uninjured.
He breathed again.
What had he expected? Children’s heads on spikes held aloft by gloating Wolves?
He wouldn’t put it past them. Not after the way they’d gutted Hortez without batting an eyelid.
What was that beside the children? The camera zoomed on the fresh corpse of an adult Littorane.
Then another screen came online. A blur quickly resolved into footage of a Wolf. And not just any Wolf but the one who had won his affections: Janna.
She was holding a gun, and she looked ready to fire. Eager, even.
Where did she get the weapon? He’d never seen such a model. More to the point, what was she doing with it?
All the screens blanked out.
“What did we just see?” asked the Queen.
She had barely whispered, speaking to herself Arun guessed, but the translator she was wearing picked up on the words, stripping them of all emotion.
The high priest had heard too.
“I’ll tell you what you saw,” said the Listener Prime. “This was an atrocity about to unfold. We should be grateful that we lost the transmission when we did.”
“But you said it had already occurred,” said Arun. Del-Marie was gesturing for him to shut up. He carried on anyway. “You knew what was going to happen, in advance.”
“Insolent alien,” shouted the priest. “Your death will be slow.”
“Perhaps,” said the Queen, “but if anyone is to be put to death, it shall be at my command. The human’s words are accurate.”
The Listener Prime glanced at the Decurion for support. He was about to reply to his Queen, but before he could a new voice came out of the screens. A human voice. More or less.
“Major,” said Finfth, sounding immensely pleased with himself. “Tizer and I thought something didn’t smell right, what with all the paramilitary movements and weapons discharges. So when we saw surveillance assets redeploying to the same location, we hacked into them.”
“Guess what we found?” added Tizer, another of Beowulf’s specials.
Del-Marie rose to his feet. “Spacer Food-Synthesizer. This is a diplomatic mission, not an off-duty drinking bout. Speak plainly.”
“If you insist,” answered Finfth. Arun had to hide a smirk when he heard the Navy special’s wounded sniff. “We found the surveillance assets were being blocked by someone on the ground… So we unblocked them.”
All three screens flickered back to life, showing the island. The children were still there and still alive. Human Wolf-berserkers were moving amongst them. What were they doing?
As if hearing Arun’s thoughts, a camera zoomed into the huddle of children. The humans were offering them comfort, the Littorane young clustering around the Wolves because they saw the humans as pillars of reassurance and protection.
The other two cameras showed Xin taking charge, sending out perimeter guards and supervising the examination of equipment seized from the spread of dead Littorane adults.
“Deceiver!” The Queen hissed at the Listener Prime. “You would murder our children to seize power for yourself! What kind of a monster are you?”
“It is a lie,” retorted the high priest. “The humans have fabricated these images.”
“I doubt that,” said the Queen with more composure. “But we shall soon see. The rapid response teams will discover the truth of it. Can you assure me they will report that the humans have slaughtered the children after all?”
For once, the priest had no reply. He flicked a glance toward the room’s great stone doors.
“I didn’t think so,” said the Queen. “Arrest him!”
As the guards rushed to obey, Arun seized the moment. He approach
ed the Queen with his head slightly bowed.
“Your Highness, I trust that something positive can come of your priest’s terrible deceit. Humans are your friends and allies, not your nightmares. I hope you have learned today that you can trust us.”
Arun raised his head and looked into the Queen’s eyes. They appeared disarmingly human, but he could only guess at how the mind behind them operated.
“No,” she replied. “I have learned today that in an uncertain galaxy I need to win my people every available advantage. And I desire your zero-point weapon. I have restricted the connection to your ship so that they can no longer hear us. When I restore voice contact, you will order them to receive Littorane shuttles bearing my military advisers.”
“Beowulf is a proud military vessel,” said Arun. “Do you really expect me to hand it over without a fight?”
Del gripped Arun’s shoulder. “Choose your words with more care,” he hissed. Then he turned and bowed to the Queen. “What the Major means is that there must be a less provocative way to proceed.”
“I know what your Major means,” said the Queen. “I regret my actions. Not least because my patron goddess, Idrezjine-Koobe, Queen of Gods, will be disgusted by my dishonor. I will no longer be worthy of swimming in her heavenly shoal when it is time for my soul to ascend. But I am a ruler, and a ruler’s burden can be crushing in life and in death. You humans here and on Black Island are hostages. And if your starship does not accept my boarding parties I shall have it destroyed. Do not waste our time with protests of your martial prowess. You have a lone fourth-rate ship with a single weapon of power. I have the military assets of an entire civilization at my command, orbital defense batteries, three dozen ships of the line, and ten flotillas of system defense boats. Major Arun McEwan, order your ship to surrender.”
“It’s okay,” Arun told Del. It was too, in a way. The Queen had forced his hand, which meant he had no more decisions to make. But he still had a part to play. Turning to the screens, he said, “Finfth, can you still hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Major.”
“Please patch me through to Commodore Indiya.”
Finfth hesitated as Tizer whispered something to him that Arun couldn’t make out. Good. The Navy specials were about the least martial people Arun had ever served alongside, but between them, the pair had remembered that by referring to Indiya with the wrong rank, Arun was giving them the coded message to flee.
“The, ah, Commodore is asleep,” Finfth replied. “The XO is officer of the deck.”
“Very well. Patch me through to the XO.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
In the CIC command chair, Loobie looked resplendent in her black Lieutenant-Commander’s uniform. Her face was the epitome of calm professionalism. Only in the corner of her eyes could Arun see a flare of suppressed panic.
“Lieutenant-Commander, our negotiations are going well. The Littoranes wish to land several shuttles on Beowulf. There will be armed troops on the shuttles. You are to allow them to take control of the ship, so that they can defend it against rebellious factions who are trying to stage a coup. We can’t take the chance that these plotters will appropriate the ship.”
“Understood, Major.”
Arun opened his eyes wide and tried to warn Loobie using only frowns and jerks of his head that a figure behind her was donning his maneuver suit in partial view of the camera. It was a Marine. Hecht, the great lunk.
Loobie took the hint and rose from her chair, blocking the view of CIC and the frantic preparations that Arun hoped were underway.
“I have woken the Commodore,” she said. “She will be here presently.”
“Major!” shouted the Queen. “Why is your vessel maneuvering? Order it to maintain its position.”
An unknown voice from the Beowulf shouted: “Captain on deck.”
Loobie stepped aside to reveal Indiya racing into CIC.
“I am relieving you,” Indiya said. She wore her maneuver suit, a tight-fitting silvered outfit that encased her body and head to leave only her eyes visible. In the background, Arun saw other personnel already in their suits and with their stations transforming from padded chairs to the acceleration-proof couches that would allow them to stay conscious despite high-g acceleration.
As she darted away to her fire control station, Loobie announced: “I stand relieved, aye.”
Beowulf should now be leaving the planet’s gravity well as fast as it could.
Indiya secured herself in her command seat that was fast wrapping itself around her. She leaned into the camera. “Arun, next time you cause an incident, wait till I’m on watch. Okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” Arun replied, smiling because even though all he could see of Indiya were her eyes, there was a spark there. A fire of belief he hadn’t seen since that day when she’d pressed a button and ended the lives of thousands of her comrades and passengers.
“Enough of these games,” said the Queen. “Decurion, restrain Major Arun McEwan. Control all of them. If any human in this room speaks. Kill it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Arun didn’t resist as one guard grabbed his hands behind his back while another put a gun a very short distance from his head.
“Haven’t fired on us yet, have you?” Indiya taunted. “Too scared of what we’d do, Fish-face?”
The insult seemed lost on the Queen. “The only reason you live,” she replied, “is because I have no need to destroy you. Scores of boats laden with boarding crews are headed to intercept you. They have the same engines as you but less mass. The implications are obvious. No one need be harmed in this, but you are forcing me to employ violence. The technology you claim to possess is too valuable. I would rather see you destroyed than allow you to escape.”
Indiya appeared to be paying little attention to the Queen, which Arun took to be a calculated insult. No longer even looking into the camera, she peeled back her hood, adjusting her wild purple hair into a more comfortable position, and then pulled the hood back up again, as if this were her only concern in the universe. Perhaps Arun was giving her too much credit; the sleep dust still in her eyes made it clear she had come straight from bed. Perhaps she really had been simply trying to get more comfortable, but he liked to think otherwise. Indiya grimaced against the mounting g-forces, her skin pulling taut.
She turned back towards the screen then, and she was glorious in her defiance. “All right, you slimy newt, we’re going, but mark my words. I’m human, and you know the level of violence we’re capable of Inflicting, so understand this: if you harm any of my kind still on your planet, I will haunt you for the rest of your life and beyond. Trust me on this.”
Arun expected a retort from the Queen, but she was silent. So was the Listener, who held himself rigid, staring at the image of Indiya. That was nothing compared to the reaction of one of the guards. She set down her gun, which had been trained on Arun and Del, and splayed her limbs out with her belly flat to the floor, as if a giant boot had descended from the heavens and squashed her. The other guards looked as if they wanted to follow suit, but their discipline held, for now.
The Queen was mumbling to herself. “Oh, Goddess. Oh, Goddess. Oh, Goddess.”
Indiya had slipped her maneuver hood back on and was rapidly being swallowed by her acceleration station. But she must still have had a good view of the audience chamber because she asked: “Arun, What’s going on?”
“Search me,” was all Arun could think to answer. “That’s why we need alien allies in the Legion. They think differently. Why they need us too, if they’re ever to win their freedom. The Legion… it’s all down to you now, Indiya.” Arun thought of the embryos Pedro had created. For the first time, he was glad of his alien friend’s foresight. “Actually, my role might not be completely over. Pedro will explain. Now get your ass out of this system. Freedom can be won!”
“It’s been a blast, Arun. Indiya out.”
The instant Indiya disappeared from the screens
the Queen snapped out of her stupor and stared at Arun before beckoning the disgraced high priest to approach the throne.
“Is this truly happening?” she asked the Listener Prime.
“It is her.” Behind the bland translation in Arun’s ear, he thought the priest’s voice had regained its swagger. “I hear the gods speaking clearly to me,” declared the Listener Prime of all the Littoranes. “She is the unwashed purple warrior. She who was prophesized to be our deliverer.”
The Queen went quiet again. But this time Arun thought she was silently issuing orders rather than succumbing to shock.
“Major McEwan, can you hear me?” Indiya’s voice came over the screens. There was no incoming video feed, probably because the captain would be cocooned in her station by now.
“Still here, Captain.”
“The Littorane orbital platforms have powered down. So have their warboats. They’re just drifting under their own momentum. I have firing solutions. Do I destroy them?”
“Fire upon us,” said the Queen. “Let the blood of our sailors, wash away our insults.”
“Major?”
“Hold your fire, Captain. Keep your weapons trained on the Littoranes, but do not fire unless they power up or I issue fresh orders.”
“Maintaining combat readiness, aye.”
“That order not to fire extends to you too, Your Majesty,” added Arun. The Queen had accepted a gun from the Decurion and was aiming at her own head. At Arun’s words she hesitated but did not drop it. “Are we acting out a prophesized scene, Your Majesty?” Arun guessed.
“We all are.” The Queen fingered her gun’s trigger.
“Which makes Indiya… what? An aspect of your goddess? A messiah?”
“Our chains of bondage will never be lifted,” said the Listener Prime, “until the gods send the unwashed purple warrior to deliver us.”
“Figures,” said Arun. “I’ve some experience of prophecy myself. Except whenever I peer behind the veil of mystery I don’t glimpse a divine being. The puppet masters are mortal, scared, and place no value on life unless it’s their own. You call it prophecy. If I’m right about who is really behind this, it’s not prophecy but tyranny.”
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