“But your people fought them 2,000 years ago on your home planet of Brodor.”
“We did, and the stories are detailed. We nearly succumbed.”
“What weapons did you use?”
“Our teeth and hands, mostly. Blasters for those that had them and had the opportunity to use them. Blasters then were more primitive, but still effective if the target could be found.”
Otis padded around the lounge, then returned and faced Josh. “Their weaknesses are few. They have a strong body odor, their hearing is only fair, and their greatest weakness might be that they are not very intelligent. They have never been known to act as teams. To the best of my knowledge, each acts as an individual. But don’t let that give you confidence. Their strengths are legendary. They have four arms and hands, each equipped with vicious claws, they have two nervous systems, two hearts, and they have only one focus: to kill. They know how to use blasters and knives, but their prey rarely has the luxury of being shot or killed from afar. They make it personal, in your face. They take you apart with their hands, and you won’t even know until they’re on you.”
M’Sada’s upper hands stilled, but not for long. He truly had given the matter some thought. “On my home worlds we would probably lure them underground into our warrens. Once there, we could collapse key points and lock them in. Once locked in, our options improve. We could let them starve, we could gas them, we could collapse the warrens, things like that. From what I know of them, they would eventually turn on themselves, and we would just have to deal with cleanup. I don’t see that as a ready application to your problem, though I am not familiar with the palace complex,” he said.
He watched as everyone in the room went internal, considering such an application within the confines of the plateau. A few heads shook, but most looked back at him as if they’d tabled the idea for future consideration.
Otis growled, his respect for the Schect increasing. He did not dismiss the idea he had just heard. “Anymore thoughts?”
“Have you considered leading them off the plateau entirely?” he asked.
Josh started to reply, then stopped himself. This idea was, again, worthy of consideration. Between the Great Cats and the fake Queen, there was some potential here. He stared at M’Sada. “It has possibilities.”
M’Sada paced down the length of the long table, then back while he thought. “From a tactical standpoint, luring them into a trap has the most potential.”
“Suppose we trap them somehow,” Otis ventured. “We can control their movements to some extent by acting as bait. It could be a moving trap as we retreat, but if we can’t see them, a retreat would be difficult to command.”
“Not if your men were in constant contact along at least one front, possibly several fronts,” M’Sada replied.
“You’re talking heavy casualties.”
M’Sada’s upper body swayed from side to side, his method of indicating agreement. “They are gleasons, Sire. Whatever you do, you are going to have casualties.”
Otis just stared at him. “What if you were there leading us. What if you were going to be on that front line. What would you do?”
The preening paused. “When it stops being academic, I think harder,” he replied. “The issue is two-fold: they are hard to kill, and they are invisible.” He considered, then said, “The first issue is countered by your great fighting skills. The second is not so simple. They need to show themselves.” He turned his head toward Josh. “Can you make them walk through sand, or something else that would leave a mark?”
“We’ll keep it as an option. We don’t have unlimited access to the facility.”
M’Sada’s head swung from side to side in understanding. “When seriously wounded, gleasons lose their ability to blend into their surroundings. Their natural coloring, a deep green, is the result. Am I correct?”
Josh nodded.
“Hmm,” M’Sada mused. “How to wound them without seeing them.” His upper hands preened furiously, then suddenly stopped. “How wounded do they have to be?”
Otis spoke. “Severely wounded. Probably a wound that would prove fatal without medical attention. Certainly a wound that gravely impacts the whole body and mind.”
M’Sada’s upper body swayed from side to side as he considered. Finally, he said, “What if, though not wounded, a gleason thinks it is wounded?”
Otis knew not to dismiss an idea from M’Sada even if he didn’t know where the idea was taking him. “What kind of wound is not real?”
“In all the fighting stories I’ve heard about gleasons, everyone goes up against them with the most lethal weapon they can find, and I completely understand. I wonder if another approach would work? In your battle to rescue Chandrajuski, the scree had a major influence on the gleason.”
“It was already wounded. It takes a lethal weapon to wound or kill,” Otis growled.
“To kill, yes, but you first have to wound them to see them. Have you ever tried a stunner on a gleason? It might take it down, but if it didn’t, it might think it was mortally wounded.”
Otis stared at him for a long time. Suddenly, his great mouth opened in a roar, and his head shook hard enough to send his mane flying. A moment later, the rest of the Great Cats followed suit.
The sound rang through parts of the ship, and Stven’s voice coming over the speakers from the bridge filled the room. “Do we have a problem?” he demanded in alarm.
“No, Captain,” Otis howled in return. “But we might have a solution.”
* * * * *
For once, their luck held. Waverly was on Aldebaran I when they arrived, and he, Josh, and Otis went into conference. Krys was in a hurry to be away, and she did not delay. The vision of gleasons had been calling for weeks. Her pilots were back to the same problem they’d had at Orion III when they rescued Admiral Korban: though she could see the gleasons clearly in her mind, she still could not plug in to George. They were back to pointing. Stven was not happy about it, but it was the best they could do.
M’Sada fast-shipped away from Aldebaran I and continued outbound for a full day, but when he dropped from hyperspace, Krys’ arm still pointed ahead. He fast-shipped for another day, and Krys sensed they were closer, but her arm still pointed ahead. After another two days of fast-shipping which brought them a long way, Krys pointed to a slightly different course. They were nearing the target.
M’Sada made more jumps, each fine-tuned by Krys. The search narrowed, but there were still many star systems to choose from. Krys pointed yet again, and M’Sada jumped along the indicated path. This time when they emerged from hyper, Krys pointed aft – they’d gone too far. M’Sada chose the nearest system along the path indicated by Krys, but when they emerged from hyper, she shook her head. Several more days of fine-tuning brought them to a single system. Their beacon was off when they emerged from hyper far out in the system, and they detected ships. M’Sada brought them in closer and the picture improved. A light squadron of one cruiser and six fighters escorted four Empire troop carriers toward the planet Trantxe, a planet that was classified as an emerging world.
“I see four condensed groups of gleasons, and many more individual gleasons on the planet,” Krys informed Stven.
“The four groups are probably on the troop carriers. Do I have your permission to take them out?”
“Can you?”
“I can take out the troop carriers and the fighters, but not the cruiser. We’ll have to figure out what’s happening on the ground later.”
“You have my permission. We should not allow the gleasons to land.”
For a change, Stven, M’Sada, and Tarn got to fight. O’Brien wasn’t needed for this engagement, though he stayed in the net in case a Chessori presence was felt. It was not. M’Sada fast-shipped into the formation with his beacon off, and Washburn’s gunners were ready. They pounded away at two troop carriers that were completely unprepared to defend themselves, and the carriers disintegrated. Then the fighters were upon them. M’Sada
expertly moved in and out of the fighting, fast-shipping twice, only to return and reengage. By the time the last fighter fell, the cruiser had entered the fray, but M’Sada moved on both remaining troop carriers, using them as shields from the cruiser and destroying them.
The cruiser was another matter, but to their surprise it fled as soon as the last troop carrier fell. Stven let it go: they were in no way capable of taking it on. They could worry it, but they could not take it out.
“Why did it leave?” Krys asked.
Stven’s neck swayed from side to side as he considered. “Not for fear of us, that’s for sure. With the transports gone, maybe they have no purpose here.” He turned his attention to the planet. “What now, My Lady?”
“I sense many gleasons on the surface. They seem to be operating individually.”
Washburn unplugged and turned to her. “It’s an emerging world, just as Earth is an emerging world. Why would the Rebels turn gleasons loose on such a world? It’s unconscionable.”
“I can’t speak for the Rebels, Terry, but since it is an emerging world, we should try to remain unseen. There are many, many gleasons.”
“And I want to experiment with them. Can you point us to one that’s on the night side of the planet?”
M’Sada placed them in a low orbit, and they studied the planet. To O’Brien and Washburn, it looked much like Earth had looked several centuries earlier. Cities dotted the landscape, most of them around castles. Strangely, few people were visible outside the city walls. Fields appeared to be devoid of farmers.
M’Sada took them down into the lower atmosphere and raced unseen through the dark side of the planet. Krys picked a target and pointed. “Slow down,” she ordered.
He did so, and she guided them to a clearing adjacent to a lake. A medium size town lay half a mile away, straddling a river that led from the lake. George’s sensors showed a small group of people congregated together in a clearing.
“George,” Washburn said, “we talked about this. Sergeant Jacobs and I are going to the ramp. Open it up, and don’t make any sudden movements. I don’t want to fall off.”
“Use the tethers,” George reminded him.
George brought the great ship to treetop height and lowered the ramp with the lights off. Washburn and Jacobs went down the ramp on their bellies to the very end, then donned their enhanced vision goggles. What they saw horrified them. Krys had, indeed, brought them to a gleason. The goggles showed the gleason clearly, and it showed the utter devastation it had caused among the local group of fighters. Only four remained standing, and each appeared injured. Cat-like creatures the size of dogs were attacking the invisible gleason, giving the fighting men a general idea of where it was. Swords sliced and arrows flew as they tried to find their target.
Washburn could see the gleason clearly with his enhanced vision goggles. He aimed a tight stunner beam at the gleason and squeezed the button. The gleason, completely unaware of the ship above, shuddered but continued fighting. Washburn upped the energy level and squeezed the trigger again. This time, the gleason fell, though it rose up again instantly. However, the local attackers could see it now, and they rushed toward it. Swords and axes flashed with some degree of success. All the attackers died, but the gleason was badly wounded. Jacobs finished it off with his blaster.
The ship stayed where it was while a meeting was held on the bridge. Washburn was disheartened, though not surprised, at the terrible fate of the local fighters. But he was overjoyed by two things: first, the gleason was clearly visible through the enhanced vision goggles, and second, the stunner had, indeed, wounded the gleason enough that it lost its invisibility. It was still lethal, but it could be seen with the naked eye.
“Our forces might not have the benefit of darkness at the Palace,” M’Sada observed. “Will the goggles work in daylight?”
“No, but the stunners will. It’s a huge assist for Josh. We have to get word to him.”
“Are there any survivors?” Krys asked in dismay.
Washburn and Jacobs looked at each other in surprise. “I don’t know!” Washburn answered.
“Find out,” she demanded. “We might be able to save them.”
Stven interrupted. “Uh, My Lady, that’s not our purpose here.”
“It is now,” she commanded. “You can experiment all you want on the gleasons, but we have to do more. This planet is in urgent need of our help.”
“You said there were many gleasons, My Lady,” he said softly.
“There are. Too many for us to take on alone, and more will undoubtedly come. When our business is done here, we will return to Admiral Seeton. He’ll have to send Imperial Marines. What you learn here will not only serve Colonel Dace, it will serve them. Fighting gleasons will be as terrible for them as it was for us.”
“My Lady, it’s an emerging world. I’m not sure he’ll send them.”
Her lips pressed together. “He will if commanded by a Knight. I will not let a whole world suffer from Struthers’ actions.”
A small puff escaped from Stven. “You think he sent the gleasons?”
“Who else? Those were not civilian ships. They were Empire, well . . . probably Rebel ships, and they were making a delivery. Can you argue otherwise?”
“No, My Lady. I think you’re right. After what we did to the ships here, if he sends more, they’ll come with better protection.”
“That’s Seeton’s problem, not ours.”
“We’re not in his sector, Krys.”
“They’re in the Queen’s Empire, and we will not leave these people to fend by themselves. Besides, we came here because of a vision. We have some purpose to fulfill here. I don’t know what it is.”
Stven answered. “It’s an opportunity to learn how to fight the gleasons.” He turned to Washburn. “Check for survivors, Terry, then we’ll be off to try your tactics on more gleasons.”
There was one survivor, and he was brought aboard and placed in the care of Doctor Natai. She started surgery immediately, and when she had done all she could, she placed the gravely wounded man in the tank.
Krys directed them to two more individual gleasons, and with the aid of the enhanced vision goggles, Washburn and Jacobs dispatched them. Neither gleason was in the immediate vicinity of locals at the time.
“We need to see if it will work during daylight,” Washburn announced after dispatching the second gleason.
“We cannot let the ship be seen,” Stven answered.
“Then we’ll just have to go in on the ground,” Washburn retorted. “Our purpose here is to find a way for Josh to engage them with some level of predictability.”
“It’s a job for my men, Terry,” Borg announced. “Just don’t stray too far from us with the ship.”
Borg and the other five Great Cats dropped from the ship in the vicinity of a lone gleason during full daylight. Using all their prowess, the Great Cats surrounded the gleason, but the goggles were not capable of seeing the creature in the high ambient light. Carefully aimed stunners fanned the area, and one eventually hit the gleason. As soon as it did, all stunners were brought to bear, then blasters came into play. They killed the gleason, but without Krys’ help in finding it in the first place the mission would have failed.
M’Sada went to George. “George, do you see the gleasons?”
“I see everything with life force, but I have not distinguished the gleasons from the rest of the life forces I’ve encountered.”
“Can you try harder? Is it possible they send out a signature that is subtly different from others?”
“I can try.”
“This is not just for our primary mission of supporting Colonel Dace, George. Imperial Marines are going to come here, and they won’t have Krys’ help. They need some way to find the gleasons.”
“I understand. I will try. It is not something my sensors were designed to do.”
“Maybe we need to do a little reprogramming, eh?”
“I got a good education on Sh
ipyard. Let me see what I can do.”
During the next two weeks, numerous gleasons were found and killed, most at night but some during the daytime. Each effort helped George tweak his sensors. He finally announced that he had reasonable expectations that he could identify gleasons, but he had to be in close proximity to them. They tried it, and George was, to a large degree, successful, both during daylight and darkness.
“Can you transfer your knowledge to military ships?” Stven asked him.
“All AI’s are programmed to detect life force, Captain. I have prepared a program that will modify Admiral Seeton’s ships to look for this particular signature. I believe it will work.”
“You’ve done the Queen a great service, George.”
“She’s my Queen, too, you know,” George answered.
It was time to be away. Doctor Natai was ready to bring her patient out of the tank, but what were they to do with him when she did? Krys decided for them. “He’s going with us. Seeton’s men will have to function to some extent within this society, and he’s their key. George can start working on translator devices while we’re in transit. This man might be able to give the marines and the local populaces guidance. It will be hard on him, the shock might kill him, but he’s the only one we have.”
Tarn countered her suggestion. “Let’s stay a few more days. Let’s make sure he’s the right one. If he doesn’t work out, we can find another.”
Washburn volunteered to greet the man when he awoke, and he gave a lot of thought to how he was going to do it. In the end, he enlisted George’s help.
“This guy’s a fighter. When he wakes up, he’ll come out fighting,” he told George. “I’m going to secure him to the bed, but that’s not enough. He’ll fight the restraints and probably undo everything Doctor Natai did to repair him. I need to get into his mind. I’m thinking that if he wakes up inside the net, you and I might be able to meet him there, a place where feelings are true. Can you help?”
“I’ve never done it this way, Terry.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment. If I put a helmet on him, can you do your thing before he’s conscious, before he’s fully aware?”
Voice of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book Three) Page 25