When they landed, the atmosphere tested within human norms—not unexpected, as Opter air was close enough in composition to share for short periods. Jennie came along to bodyguard Mara—she adamantly refused to stay on the ship—and surprisingly, none of the Opters objected, nor did they even confiscate her many weapons.
Outside, on the bare rock of the landing pad, three ants and a warrior met and escorted them to an underground transport system. On the way Mara saw a spaceport teeming with workers and messengers—building, improving, maintaining. Intellectually she understood the Queen-nest-hive concept, everything in strict hierarchy—like a simpleton’s model of a military society, with no civilians and little flexibility—but emotionally, she found it hard to comprehend only Queens were really people with free will and the ability to direct their own lives.
It would be as if all of the natural humans were wealthy lords of their own domains, each with an army of Hok slaves to do their bidding. Slaves to build their devices, make their trade goods, earn their money and see to their every whim. Some of these lords would be concerned with their own intellectual pursuits, much as Old Earth aristocrats had expensive hobbies—collecting, hunting, researching, designing or creating art, perhaps. Others would spend their time in high society climbing the social ladder or in politics trying to gain power and status over others. They were like Roman senators with their lands, money and slaves—even appointments to command legions, for the distinction between government and military wasn’t so sharp back then.
Would such an existence be empty or full? Were Queens lonely or contented? The Opter males in their harems were reputed to be no more intelligent than warriors and about as interesting to talk to as a Hok. Did the Queens keep them that way to eliminate any challenge to their authority?
With their biological knowledge, Mara figured they could breed males of equal or even superior intelligence and ambitions—in turn creating smarter offspring.
But, as every insectoid Opter proceeded directly from eggs each Queen laid, perhaps they didn’t want their offspring to be smarter than they were. Perhaps they wanted no challenges to their oligarchy.
Maybe that was why their society hadn’t advanced significantly beyond humans, though so filled with wealth and promise. It was a society that gave the elite Queens nearly unlimited choices and the resources to implement them—a society that gave them every advantage.
Was it selfishness? Indulgence? Lack of vision? Or were they trapped in tradition, unable to break free of the chains of their own making?
These thoughts and more skittered through Mara’s mind as she rode in a high-speed car in an underground tube, a trip of only ten minutes that nevertheless could have brought her almost anywhere within the moon.
When they debouched onto a platform, Jennie nudged her. “Look. Humans.”
Mara saw a pair of humanoids—a man and a woman, clearly together. In fact, the woman seemed pregnant.
The man spotted the two outsiders and quickly led his partner away by the hand to vanish up a moving stairway.
“Probably humanopts,” Mara said. “Interesting that they’re here... but it might be a good sign, if this Queen breeds them and lets them run free in her society.”
“I dunno. Creeps me out to see them bred like animals.”
“They seemed happy enough. More so than some humans have been in our societies. We really have no idea, so don’t start imagining some kind of heroic liberation. I get enough of that from my brother.”
“Yet you’re on your own quest here, to save the Rhinos from themselves. You really think that’s so different?”
“Different as medicine and politics, Jennie my girl.”
“Got it.” Jennie ran her hands over her harness, instinctively checking her holstered weapons and neatly stowed equipment while keep her eyes roving on the dozens of creatures in orderly activity around them. “Stick to the mission, and let you do the thinking.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about—”
Jennie moved suddenly—fast, faster than the warrior escorting them. She shoved Mara sideways off her feet and used the equal and opposite reaction to skitter to her own right. Quick-drawing her blaster, she fired. At the same time someone else fired at something.
That was all Mara had the mental clarity to perceive before fireworks seemed to explode all over the platform—stuttering flashes of blaster fire, the flat crack of wasp lasers, the zing of a needler, the thrum of stunners. Two louder blasts washed over Mara’s head as her survival instincts kicked in, and she rolled off into the tube cradle—below the line of fire.
She duck-walked sideways to hide her location and had already moved ten meters when two grenades tumbled over the lip where she’d first fallen. She faced away and wrapped herself into a ball—her back facing the bombs.
Focused by the tube, the concussions lifted and somersaulted her down the trough. Hot flame washed over her skin, and she felt her hair catch fire. Fortunately it was already short, and she slapped out the fire, but singed her palms to do it.
When she turned to look back it was all over. The shocking violence gave way to dull silence, made even quieter by the notable deafening of her auditory nerves. Alert wasps and ants swarmed hither and thither—crawling on the walls and ceiling. They poked into every crack and crevice, but none of them threatened her.
Then she saw Jennie limp into view. Her whole left side was shredded and burned. One eye and half her face was ripped apart like a ghastly haunted-house horror show, yet she was still on her feet—still operating. The single remaining eye fixed on Mara, and Jennie gave her the all-clear.
“How are you still on your feet?” Mara said as she rushed forward in doctor mode. “We need to get you to an infirmary.”
“I’m fine. The Bug is handling it.”
And Mara saw it was true. The Breaker Bug—the latest biotech—had already stopped the bleeding in all the areas not cauterized by heat. She could see at least eight separate weapon wounds on Jennie as well but nothing in the torso.
Mara also saw that she was firmly encased in a high-tech vest-plus—really a cuirass that covered her from groin to throat. It was only revealed now by the fact most of the vest and tunic had been torn away.
“Looks like somebody didn’t want you walking out of here alive,” Jennie rasped.
“I’d look kinda funny walking out of here dead.”
“Kinda like me, huh?” Jennie slurred. She reached up to put a fingertip through her own cheek and probe at her tongue, withdrawing a piece of shrapnel. “Anybody got any floss?”
“Bug or not, I need to run you through an autodoc. You may be on your feet, but I can help you get back to full capacity faster than the biotech alone.” That was the best argument Mara could think of—one she’d used on pigheaded warriors before.
“Fine. You got an autodoc?”
“No, but I’m sure the Miskor have something.”
An ant touched Mara’s elbow. “Come this way, please.”
“Our Queen has ordered extra security. There is no need for further concern,” another said.
Mara saw it was true—the extra security part, anyway. Their escort of four had ballooned to at least twenty, half of whom were warriors. The ants all seemed to be pointing portable sensors at everything and chittering in the Opter speech—passing short, sharp orders and reports.
For of course, Mara had taught herself the language long ago.
“Know your enemy” wasn’t only for warriors. Mara liked to know everything about everything, and talking to potential patients—or adversaries—was high on the list of things she needed to know.
Gently but firmly, they were marched down a passageway. “It was two humans—humanopts, I guess you’d say,” Jennie said under her breath as her one eye roved. “They threw grenades first, which was what saved our lives. Three seconds of delay was enough for me to nail one of them before he drew his blaster, and the wasp got the other when he started firing. If they’d fired first and hit
their targets, they’d probably have nailed us.”
“Thank you, Jennie. For saving my life.”
“Likewise. I’d be dead without this shit in my veins.”
“Call it a team effort. But why did it happen?”
Jennie’s reply was cut off as Mara was led into the presence of a Queen. This time, four wasps made it clear Jennie would either have to give up her weapons or stay outside the chamber. She elected to stay outside with the Opter guards.
“Friendly greetings,” the translator device around the neck of the deeply bronzed Queen said. “I am Broshnul, Queen of this Nest and the senior Miskor specialist in exobiology. Dreynel tells me you are interested in trading information.”
“Friendly greetings to you as well. I am Mara Straker. Will you address what just happened to my companion and me?”
“That was unfortunate. My servants and yours performed their functions—though yours did better than mine. That will be remedied. The evidence will be examined, and measures will be taken against the opposition.”
“Opposition? You have opposition within your own Nest?”
“Each Nest seeks to plant spies within others. Direct action such as just happened is unusual, but it does occur. Apparently someone does not want me to gain advantage from our contact.”
“These were humanopts, though. Right?”
“Physically, yes. What of it?”
“Doesn’t that suggest something? Maybe they’re from Terra Nova.”
Broshnul chittered more loudly, though her translator device still spoke in the same flat tone. “Terra Nova is its own Nest now, despite the impropriety of its manifestation. I did not misspeak. Do not seek to instruct me within my own Nest. Now, to the matter at hand. You wish to trade information.
“Yes, I’m looking to trade information—even perform research together if we can come to a mutual agreement.”
“Dreynel told me you offered her valuable military information as payment for this introduction. She has fulfilled her part of the bargain and demands you fulfill yours.”
“Of course. Allow me to connect with my ship.”
“You should have a channel.”
Mara instructed her comlink to handshake with her SAI—heavily encrypted of course—and to release the information to Dreynel on a message drone. She’d already given the junior queen the unlock codes for when the data arrived.
Mara returned her attention to Broshnul. “Did your fellow Queen explain my position? That I’m not part of the Republic?”
“Fellow? Hardly.” The translator lacked tone and nuance, but Mara could imagine a sneer. “Dreynel is an upstart, if a talented one—promoted to her position as the result of war casualties. You would do well to note my place and standing. I have granted you an interview because of your place and standing, but you seem to contradict yourself when you say you are not part of the Republic. Of what are you part?”
“How conversant are you with military affairs?”
“Vaguely. The militarists disgust me. The Sarmok’s war did our society great harm. The Miskor militarists are tolerable but only barely. The conflict disrupted many delicate experiments—not the least of which was the planet you call Terra Nova. If I were a vindictive person, I’d hold you and your sibling responsible for destroying hundreds of years of my work.”
“Your work? Terra Nova was yours?”
“Yes. Its rebellion has cost me dearly. I remain angry about it, but there is little to be done. Perhaps what I gain from you will make up for what I lost. Let us begin.”
“Fine.” Mara found the Queen’s ability to focus on the issue at hand admirable, but she herself wasn’t so cold-blooded. “First, though, I need to run my fellow human through your medical scanners and ensure any major physical issues are resolved.”
“You waste time.”
“We can talk as I do it, but I need to do it.”
“If that is necessary, do it as quickly as possible and return.” Broshnul made a gesture and the escort guided her to a small infirmary, relatively primitive by human standards. Mara knew Opter subordinates were usually either left to heal on their own, or be euthanized. Only in a small number of cases was it worth using resources to repair one rather than simply replace it.
But the ant helped her run Jennie through a full-body scanner and provided surgical tools to remove several pieces of shrapnel. There was a dangerous fragment lodged in Jennie’s lower back near the spine that would have put her out of commission for weeks—biotech or no biotech. She did it without anesthetic while Jennie grunted in pain, but she had little choice.
“Here, souvenir for you,” Mara said when she was finished, folding a jagged hunk of metal into Jennie’s palm. “A centimeter to the left and you’d have been paralyzed from the waist down—at least until I got you back to a real facility.”
“Thanks.” Jennie tossed it up and down. “I guess you’re not obsolete. Yet.”
“And I never will be—any more than you. Now lie flat and let me stitch you up. I can’t believe they’re still using suture. Maybe I can trade some actual medical tech, not just bio-research.”
“Good luck. These bugs are expendable to them.”
“Maybe I can make a resource-management argument.” Mara sewed her up, and then wrapped the wounds in clean bandages. “Stay there on your stomach for at least half an hour to let the healing set in. I’ll be back soon.”
In Broshnul’s chamber, Mara got straight to business, explaining what she needed and what she could provide. Once she adjusted to the Queen’s brusque and imperious manner, she found her easy to work with—straightforward and without all the distractions managing a team of human researchers usually entailed.
It was the beginning of long, successful weeks of exchanging research—very fruitful and satisfying. The time gave Jennie a chance to heal, even to practice her military craft with the wasps. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, she said. Mara only hoped that too much information hadn’t been given away, and that Broshnul wasn’t going to use her newfound knowledge against humanity... that she hadn’t made a huge mistake.
Only time would tell.
Chapter 24
Straker, aboard Independence, Premdor system
“So we’re agreed in principle?” Straker asked the senior staff around the table of the flag conference room. Jilani wasn’t there—deliberately. “We’re prepared to move against the Korveni in stages. We’ll keep an eye toward breaking their crimorg and freeing Utopia so we can settle there too and claim a real home. We can always change plans as we go if things get too hairy.”
Nods of assent came from the just-returned Engels, as well as Zaxby, Heiser, Winter and Gray. Chief Gurung grinned as he unsheathed his kukri and stropped it on his sleeve. “Ready for action, sir.”
Colonel Keller and Adriana the Ruxin business chief didn’t agree immediately.
“I’m concerned about our supply state,” Keller said. “It’s only been two months. We’re just starting to rebuild our fuel stocks with Delta Station coming online. Battenberg isn’t back yet from refit, so we’re still critically low on spare parts for mechsuits and ships. We’re cannibalizing everything. Even after she returns, we’ll need another month of hard work to become fully combat-ready.”
Adriana spoke up, much more assertive now that she was female. “General Straker, leaving Breaker Island now would severely disrupt our nascent economy. Our shops are bustling with people. Our infrastructure elements are improving across the board—water, sewer, power, comms and roads. The greenhouses are just starting to yield produce. With the Salamanders’ help we have plenty of fresh seafood, but we’ve almost used up our liquid credit with them. We need stability, sir.”
“I understand,” Straker said. “But from what Captain Jilani says, we won’t need our whole force against the Korveni. They’re pirates and raiders, not a government with a fleet. We’ll take a picked force and wipe out their main base. Then, we’ll head straight for Utopia and liberate Jilani�
�s people. If everything looks good, we can pull out of Premdor in an orderly fashion and relocate to Utopia permanently.”
The two holdouts exchanged glances. “If that’s the decision, my people will make it happen, sir,” Colonel Keller said. “…but we’ll be stretched to the limit to put your ‘picked force’ in the field.”
“Adriana?”
The Ruxin fanned her subtentacles. “The longer we stay in one place, the better. I dread the disruption when we move, but if we can transfer in an orderly fashion, I will exert my utmost efforts to create positive economic growth. The cash flow and internal barter imbalances alone are creating tensions within the business community. I am, however—”
Straker cut her off, for Ruxins tended to be long-winded if given the opportunity to discuss their own specialty. “Adriana—can you do it?”
“Suboptimal, but I will manage.”
“Good.” Straker gave the group one more glance. “Get working on it. I want your plans on my desk in forty-eight hours. Dismissed.”
Colonel Winter shifted over to sit by Straker as the rest drifted out of the room, already discussing the next steps in their respective functional areas. “I take it you’ll be leading this picked force?”
Straker sat back, eyeing his mechsuit commander. “Planning on it. You object?”
“No, sir. I’m more interested in who you’re leaving in charge here.”
“Admiral Engels, now that she’s back.”
Winter relaxed. “Good.”
“Good?”
“It’s not Straker’s Breakers without a Straker at the helm. Eventually, your children will—”
“I’m not trying to start a dynasty here, Martin,” Straker said sharply.
Winter’s expression remained bland. “Maybe you should.”
Straker’s eyes narrowed. “When the time comes, someone else will take over the Breakers. Whoever’s right for the job… but that won’t be for a few decades, unless I happen to get capped early. What’s really bothering you?”
“Sir, you don’t see the strain the civilians are under. They haven’t recovered from being uprooted once. They need stability and someone to look to—and frankly, sir, democracy is a luxury. We’re both students of history. What’s been the most effective, stable type of government in human history, especially under great strain?”
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