Vorpal Blade votsb-2

by John Ringo

  “Good man…”

  “Hello, Chic-chic-tic Che-chee,” the CO enunciated carefully. “I am Captain Steven Blankemeier of the Alliance Space Ship Vorpal Blade and I greet you in peace in the name of the Human-Adar Alliance.”

  “Whooo,” he added, leaning back from the command table. “One small step and all that…”

  “Yes, sir,” the XO said. “But I think you got your lines right.”

  “Those are the words of my commander,” Miriam said, pointing at the suit. “He speaks through this.”

  “Not the one in the suit?” Lady Che-chee asked suspiciously.

  “No, lady,” Miriam replied. “Would one of your servitors pretend to be you?”

  “No,” Lady Che-chee said. “Very well. Captain Beeela… Captain. What are your intentions, here?”

  “To make peaceful contact with your people,” Miriam said, translating the captain’s words. “We are explorers. We are not conquerors and wish nothing but peaceful relations. We have enemies, in other places, and we seek their location. But we will not bring our war to you. Nor do we ask for soldiers or support.”

  “That’s good,” Lady Che-chee said, flicking her ears. “We have wars enough aplenty. I am not a high leader of my people. I must bring word to my queen that emissaries have arrived. I must warn you, this will cause turmoil. There is much of which we must speak but I will do so through your interpreter and your officer. Thank you for your courtesy in speaking to me directly.”

  “I wish I could meet with you in person,” Miriam translated. “But I am not allowed by our laws.”

  “So I understand,” Lady Che-chee said. “Sreee, conduct Miriam and Commander Beeel to…” She looked at the armor and blanched at the damage it would do to the floors. Not to mention that it couldn’t get through any door but the main one. On the other hand, their visit gifts would more than pay for the damage.

  “Conduct them to the Great Hall. Bring food and drink. And get Trik-trik ready to get me out of this damned armor.”

  “They have eaten and drunk nothing, mistress,” Sreee said as Lady Che-chee entered the Great Hall.

  The hall had once been the center of manor life and still had the antique sleeping niches that had been comfort in elder times. Now it was mainly used for large balls. She had managed to avoid hosting many of those but she was fairly sure that had just changed. However, depending on how this fell out, her status was either going to be raised enormously at Court or she was about to lose her head. She’d dealt with the promise of both problems before, however. And a chest of jewels and gold was certainly going to help.

  “You do not care for our food?” she asked, approaching the table.

  “I wish I could,” Miriam said. “But we are not Cheerick. It is poison to us. I can drink plain water. That, too, is possibly poison, but one that our chirurgeon can mend.”

  “Sreee,” Che-chee said. “Bring some of the boiled campaign water.”

  “That would be perfect,” Miriam said. “That I can drink. I mean no offense. You said something about the water. Aseek. You know of poisons in unboiled water?”

  “Yes,” Lady Che-chee said. “Unboiled water can cause terrible disease on campaign. Also it can make plagues worse. I only drink boiled water, wine, or water with brandy. All three prevent illness much of the time. This is ancient knowledge and much of that is wrong. But this I have tested in my time and find to be true.”

  “Ancient knowledge?” Miriam asked. “Knowledge handed down from old times? Is this things old Mothers speak of or written records?”

  “Some of both,” Lady Che-chee said. “And it is that of which we must speak. Your armor is invulnerable to our weapons, that is plain. But be aware that there may be great anger about you and your ship. We have legends and some fragments regarding great ships of metal and even metal things that walk and talk as Cheerick. But the Demons follow them.”

  “I hope that we do not bring them,” Miriam said.

  “Actually, you’re late,” Lady Che-chee said ambiguously.

  “We first spoke to the island people,” Miriam said.

  “I thought as much,” Lady Che-chee said. “Your arm motion, that is an island people gesture. Go on.”

  “They, too, spoke of the Demons,” Miriam said. “What are the Demons?”

  “This is not well known,” Lady Che-chee said. “But if your armored people will allow you to accompany me deeper into the manor, I will show you something of them. Your ‘crazy-brave’ guard may accompany you.”

  “She wants to show me something deeper in the castle,” Miriam said. “Something about these demons they keep talking about. They have the same legend. I don’t think the armor will fit. She says that Chief Miller can come with me.”

  “Go,” Bill said. “By the time anything gets by Miller we’ll be there.”

  * * *

  The room that they were led to was at the very back of the castle. The lintel of the door was very low, so low Miller had to near get on his knees, as did Lady Che-chee.

  Miller paused as he started to go through and frowned.

  “What the hell are those?” he asked, pointing to marks above the door.

  “Demon claws,” Lady Che-chee said, without asking for translation. “That is what I wished to show you.”

  “Damn,” Miller said after the words were translated. The gouges in the limestone were nearly finger deep and nearly as wide. He could fit a finger most of the way down.

  “Yes,” Lady Che-chee said, apparently getting the context. “Inside I will show you more.”

  The room was small but well-lit by candles and lined with… bits. There was a tapestry, some metal workings, some pieces of armor. The latter, made of heavy bronze, were torn to shreds.

  At the back of the room was another small door, very low, and made of stone and metal. Both had been heavily gouged.

  “Observe the tapestry,” Lady Che-chee said, gesturing.

  The tapestry depicted a battle scene. A one-sided one. Cheerick dressed similar to Greek hoplites were being torn apart by a wave of -

  “Are those Dreen?” Miriam asked nervously.

  “No,” Miller said, immediately. “At least none that I’ve seen. Similar, though.”

  There were several kinds of demons. In the forefront of the wave were low-slung beasts not too different from the predators they’d fought on the island. The big difference being that their skin seemed to have been hardened. Some were depicted as being killed by the spears and short swords of the Cheerick, some were slashed. But it was clearly hard to kill them.

  Mingling with them and behind were bigger beasts, the size of rhinoceros, which were insectoid and beetlelike. Those were shown as being nearly invulnerable. One was spitted by a lance-wielding flier on some sort of seat. But nothing else seemed to stop them.

  Behind them, surrounded in places by flying fighters, were bigger beasts that looked something like a low-slung dragon, complete with overlapping scales. Again, one had been injured by being poked in the mouth but otherwise was unstoppable.

  In the distance, set in one corner of the tapestry, were vague figures that seemed to be flying towards the fight. Their form appeared to be unclear to the artist of the tapestry as well, simply being impressions of something that looked a bit like a long-winged airplane.

  “This is a class,” Miller said. “This is a class on what you can do, what little you can do from the looks of things, to stop the Demons.”

  “Yes,” Lady Che-chee said when that was translated. “I took it the same way.”

  “Where did you get it?” Miriam asked.

  “This home was owned, for many generations, by the same family,” Lady Che-chee said. “I bought it when they had become destitute. Their ancestor was the Lady of this area the last time the Demons came. The legend is that the city had become corrupt and the Demons came to bring it back to the path of right. The writings that survive indicate that it had become, in fact, much as it is right now. That is, people were a
sking questions long prevented by the Church. And that, somehow, that drew the Demons.”

  “Oh,” Miriam said, frowning.

  “They are said to be drawn, as well, by made moving things, such as your armor,” Lady Che-chee said. “And light that comes not from fire. But there’s an interesting thing…”

  “Yes?” Miriam asked.

  “You see, there are already rumors that the Demons are returning,” Lady Che-chee said. “Quite valid ones, I’m afraid. Last month, I was sent a message from Court. Two farms nearby the capital had been attacked. It was assumed, initially, that it had been by brigands. A cavalry patrol was dispatched to hunt them down. One fighter returned. Carrying this.”

  She opened up the small door and pulled out a large glass flask. In it was a taloned paw.

  “So. The Demons seem to have returned.”

  27

  You Want Us to What?

  “We didn’t cause this, right?” the CO said.

  “We were forty light-years away a month ago, sir,” Commander Weaver pointed out.

  “And we’re sure this isn’t just legends?” the CO asked.

  “About as legendary as the Roman Republic,” Miriam said. “Their written records go back several thousand years. And they have these periodic ‘demon’ attacks.”

  “Having seen the evidence up close, sir,” Chief Warrant Officer Miller interjected, “it is my professional opinion that the demons are either real or very well hoaxed. I measured a couple of the gouges in the door and on the armor and they’re pretty much identical. I don’t know what their claws are made of, but they cut through heavy bronze like butter.”

  “Lady Che-chee is, besides being a soldier, apparently a bit of a scholar,” Miriam said. “She’s collected every fragment of information about the Demon Times she could afford. I guess it’s a natural sort of thing for soldiers to be interested in. It seems like every time this society hits a Renaissance, they get destroyed. The Fall of Atlantis over and over again.”

  “That confirms an indicator we’ve seen, recently,” First Sergeant Powell said. “Besides the obvious civilizations, there are several that Miss Moon initially identified as ‘barbaric.’ The problem being that, based on the nature of some of those regions, ready access to the oceans, fertile farmland, there was no reason for it to be barbarian areas.”

  “Let me guess,” the CO said.

  “One whole continent is peppered with recent ruins, sir,” the first sergeant said.

  “And Atlantis falls,” Chief Miller said. “That’s just lousy.”

  “I find it interesting that there are legends of machinery but no machinery,” Weaver interjected. “They even have drawings of what look like robots. Of course, they’re on clay tablets. Could these Cheerick be transplants?”

  “Possible,” Dr. Robertson said. “Their biology is different.”

  “So how, or why, did these Demons destroy their biology?” the CO asked. “And are they a threat to us?”

  “Unknown, sir,” Chief Miller answered. “Based on the tapestry, none of the Demons could harm the ship. The beetles or the dragon might take out a Wyvern, though. No real clue how resistant to Gatling fire they are.”

  “The last thing I want to do is get into another furball,” the CO said. “But we really haven’t made full contact, yet. Captain MacDonald, security is going to get stretched. I want your Marines to be ready for deployment at all times. Figure out the details on that and get back to me. Obviously, any away team has to have security but don’t strip the ship.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mac said.

  “XO, make sure our own security is up to snuff,” the CO said. “Marines have point but they’re to back them. Schedule combined ops drills.”

  “Sir.”

  “Let’s establish communication with the local leaders, get a survey done and then get the hell out of here.”

  “With the coming of these intruders, the Day of the Demons assuredly draws near,” High Priest Chik-chak hissed.

  “They were here already,” Queen Sicrac replied quietly, considering the missive from Lady Che-chee. The old fighter had a wonderful flare for prose. “Perhaps they are able to help us.”

  “Blasphemy,” the high priest said, but mutedly. “There is no stopping the Demons; they are a scourge sent by the gods to punish the wicked. Unfortunately, it’s become hard to decide what is wicked and what not. And in this case, the blasphemy comes after the Demons have returned.”

  The rumors had been unstoppable and before the humans ever landed, proclamations had been sent throughout Cheerick, shouted in the square and announced in the temples. The Demons had returned. Prepare as well as you can. Reserves of the Guard were called up and the preparations the priests had long sought, food and records sealed in deep caves, had begun. No one knew when the worst of the Demon wave would hit, but the queen intended that, this once, something would be left to rebuild civilization.

  Now, out of all legend and historical sequence, these… Chrans had come with their made things. After the first of the Demons. It upset precedent. The queen, however, had jumped on it. The Chrans had come to aid them against the Demons.

  Now, if she could just convince them of the same thing.

  “Okay, call me Dr. Dean if you want, but that thing bugs the every living maulk out of me,” Runner said, looking to the northwest.

  “The hill?” Sergeant Kristopher said, planting the drill. “It’s a basolith.” This referred to an igneous upwelling that formed underground, then was exposed as lighter materials eroded away from it.

  “Really?” Runner said sarcastically. He picked up a section of pipe and inserted it. This was the fourth core sample they’d taken and they were all coming up the same, soil followed by layers of limestone and sandstone. The region had, several million years before, been under water. There were fossils. The layers all looked right. Normal for this sort of region. This world hadn’t been terraformed recently, that was for sure. “You’re the expert? Son, there’s no surface evidence of granite anywhere within six hundred clicks of that so-called basolith. And there’s nothing for a hundred meters down. You always get some secondary outcroppings when you’ve got basolithic extrusion, but everything in the area is loam or limestone.”

  “So what do you think it is, Dr. Runner?”

  “I dunno,” Runner admitted. “And I’ll even admit to missing Dr. Dean. He might have had a clue.”

  “We can ask for permission to check it out,” Kristopher said. “Go over and get some samples.”

  “Maybe after the negotiations are complete,” Runner said. “Long damned walk.”

  “Ask if we can borrow a cart.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Sergeant Jaenisch said as they reached the walls of the inner city.

  Chief Miller and Miss Moon had been installed in an open carriage pulled by six-legged beasts while Commander Weaver and the first sergeant, still in their Wyverns, followed in a cart festooned with flowers and bunting. And the beasts were moving along at a nice trot, requiring the security team to trot along behind to keep up. But the run wasn’t what caused Jaen’s exclamation. That was the crowds.

  They had already passed through the outer periphery of the city, slums really, and there had been locals there, their fur matted with filth but squeaking in apparent enthusiasm and making way for the team of cavalry that led and secured the procession. But it wasn’t until they cleared the ruinous walls of the city that they hit the real crowds. There the cavalry had to slow, slapping Cheerick aside with their swords and squeaking curses. The roadway was packed with the locals who were throwing flowers and paper at the carriages and trying to mob them in joy.

  “Well, at least they’re happy to see us,” Hatt said.

  “They’re ecstatic,” Top Powell said, breaking in on the team freq. “And any group this happy to see a military force has military problems. Keep that in mind.”

  The group was effectively stopped by the crowds and some of them had broken through the cavalry and w
ere now climbing on the carriages.

  “Miss Moon, how do you say: Thank you but you must move aside?” Weaver asked.

  “It’s… can you…”

  “PFC Berg, can you retrans from Miss Moon?”

  “Set up, sir,” Berg said.

  “Tell the drivers to hold onto their beasts!” Weaver said. “Berg, max volume!”

  “CHEE-SHA TREEK!” Berg’s armor suddenly shrieked. “SHA-SHA MEEK!”

  The crowd pressed back and some of the cavalry were nearly thrown as their beasts started to bolt. The formerly placid draft-beasts pulling Commander Weaver’s cart tried to bolt as well, but Jaen grabbed onto the cart and planted his feet.

  “Sorry, ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he said as Berg and Hatt got a hold as well.

  Chief Miller hammered the fingers of a local still holding the carriage and waved his M-10 at the leader of the cavalry.

  “Go! Go!” he yelled, pointing down the road.

  As the cavalry broke into a canter, the security team let go and followed at a steady bound.

  “CHEE-SHA TREEK! SHA-SHA MEEK!”

  Between the charging cavalry and the shrieking armor, they managed to pass out of the near riot, and the crowds farther down the road stood aside.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jaen said, panting. “This is gonna be fun.”

  Weaver walked solemnly down the throne room, trailing Miriam and Miller. The latter had given up his knife before being allowed in but his M-10 was slung. Nobody had apparently realized that the things on the Terran’s shoulders were weapons.

  The throne room was low and rather dark. He’d noticed a tendency towards less light in all the Cheerick buildings. He wondered about the evolutionary background of the Cheerick as he approached the throne.

  The latter was rather ornate, but not exactly “jewel encrusted.” The Cheerick definitely used jewels, though, since the queen was wearing a cloak that had them along the hem and a large necklace that had more. It might just be that they were very rare in this society.