The Dark Defiance

by A. G. Claymore

  That was it. He was done. By the rules of the Althing a proposal could be made by anyone, but they could not advocate for it once it had been stated. It was now up to the assembled captains. The Haulds were now no higher in rank than any captain – in theory. In truth, they still held enormous influence. A minor captain could do very well for himself by siding with the right Hauld in a vote.

  Liev’s contingent was ready. Without a second’s hesitation, Eirar’s voice boomed out above the surprised murmur. “What need have we of an additional destination?” he demanded. “Are you so greedy, Caul Hrada, that you must have every planet in this system beneath your boot?”

  Caul felt immediate alarm. He expected Liev and his supporters to oppose him but there was rust on this, his first spear. Why would he lead with such a weak and easily-defeated argument? He has all but handed me the perfect rebuttal.

  “Strange words from Eirar ‘the Bridegroom’,” Gunnald Daella, ‘the Guttersnipe’, called out from his place at the front of the crowd. Gunnald’s great grandfather had been a ditch digger out in the farmlands. On the family’s elevation to Hauld status, they took the name Daella out of a fierce, backwards pride. He stepped forward amidst the amused chuckles, claiming the place of speaking, which Eirar had not even bothered to do.

  “Since when have we been afraid to take on one more target when we go banding?” Gunnald demanded. Eirar bristled at this feint against his courage, but he held his tongue. “This fear of putting another planet beneath our boot sounds hollow from a Hauld who has had half the daughters of the lesser houses beneath his own corpulent form. How many brides,” he asked as both factions began to laugh, “have failed to live up to your expectations so far?”

  Eirar’s face purpled as the assembly dissolved into open hilarity, but he kept his silence. Not only did it mean death to bare a blade during the Althing, but also, the offender’s house would face dissolution. That rule ran on both sides of the river, however, and Gunnald was playing dangerously close to disaster for his own house. A charge of provocation at an Althing was considered to be just as bad as the violence it provoked.

  Fortunately for Gunnald, Liev’s opening choice of speakers was so obviously open to just this kind of attack. Everyone knew that Eirar’s brides tended to have startlingly short life expectancies. Nonetheless, he had a steady stream of minor houses willing to provide new candidates. It had reached a point where almost any bride he took was actively seeking to kill him, to assume control over his noble house and, of course, to preserve her own life.

  It was widely acknowledged that Eirar’s next bride to live more than a year would be his last bride ever.

  A charge of provocation for bringing up the truth was unlikely, as long as Gunnald knew when to quit. “I say we should have nothing to fear in going to Khola and much to learn there.” He stepped back to his position at the head of his twelve captains as shouts of agreement rang out.

  There were no jeers from the opposition. Nobody stepped forward to counter Gunnald’s words. Liev’s contingent seemed complacent.

  He wants me to visit the scene of my father’s disgrace. Caul reasoned. He puts up a token resistance simply for form’s sake. We are committed to this course, then.

  He raised his hand to call for a vote.

  Cera

  The upper atmosphere

  Tommy sat in the right-hand cockpit seat of the lighter as they bounced down through a mild storm. They dropped out of the weather and the view of the mountain range finally became clear. “Right, I can see the three tall mountains with the long trail of foothills at a right angle.”

  “Can you see the tower at the junction of the mountains and the foothills?” the preserve ranger asked.

  Tommy reached out to the screen on the panel to his front and used his fingers to zoom the view in. “I have it in sight.” He held a finger on the image, causing a small reticle to appear on the terrain mapper.

  “You can land in the meadow below me; there’s a short stair that leads up to the bluff.”

  Tommy clicked on the intercom. “Jim, we can land on a meadow below the tower.”

  “I see it,” Jim answered calmly as he circled down to the site. “Bringing the gear down now.”

  The whine of the maglifters increased as they decelerated sharply. The ground, which had been rushing up to meet them at an alarming rate, suddenly slowed, gently kissing the skids of the lighter.

  The back ramp was already opening and Liam’s team deployed before it was half-way to the ground. They leaped off and fanned out in a circle, scanning the tree line around them as they adopted kneeling positions in the tall grass. Willie Simpson moved off into the brush where he ran a quick search of the trees bordering the small clearing.

  “All clear?” Carol called as she walked down the ramp towards Liam.

  He nodded. “No hostiles that we can see. As soon as Willie gets back, we can move off.” Simpson was already jogging back towards the lighter.

  “Right, Kale and Terry – you’re coming with us to the tower. Danny, stay here with the lighter. Put Willie up on top where he can see all ‘round.”

  Tommy cocked his Colt Commando and engaged the safety. Every member of the shore party was armed this time and they wore ballistic armor. Their adventures on Khola had taught them that safety depended on each crew member being ready to defend themselves.

  Terry led the way, with Liam, Carol and Tommy following. Kale brought up the rear of the small procession as they mounted the stairs leading to the bluff where the tower stood. As Terry reached the summit, he suddenly crouched, a few steps below the top, and aimed his rifle at something. He held up his hand to stop the group. “Tommy,” he called.

  Moving up with his own weapon snug against his shoulder, he saw an alarmed-looking male, apparently of the same species as Kobrak. He was wearing a jumpsuit with badges on the shoulders. “Identify yourself,” Tommy ordered.

  “I’m Ciaran, the warden of this tower. You’re from the ship I was talking to, right? Why are you aiming weapons at me?”

  “He’s our guy, Terry,” Tommy waited for the mercenary to lower his weapon before answering the Cerran. “My apologies, but we need to be very careful in a situation like this. Our first officer has lent assistance to a desperate populace before and she tells us that good people will often do crazy things when they run out of options.”

  The warden hefted a small bag. “We can go, yes? I have all that I need. I was going to come down and meet you but your pilot likes to descend very quickly.”

  “He was a combat shuttle pilot during our war with the Dactarii,” Tommy laughed. “He likes to say that a slow pilot is a dead one.”

  “You fought the old empire’s military species? Are you fugitives?”

  “We should get moving.” Tommy gestured for him to walk beside him. He introduced him to Carol and the security force as they descended.

  “Are you fugitives from the Dactarii?” the warden asked again as they reached the meadow.

  “No, we defeated their forces while they were still preparing to invade our home world. We disrupted their ships systems with a virus and boarded them.”

  “You defeated the Dactarii? The warden sounded dubious.

  “Not all of them, just the force they were building to invade us. The rest of them are still out there somewhere.” They reached the lighter and Tommy waved him in.

  “Put him in the front seat so he can guide us,” Carol said. “You take my jump seat so you can translate for Jim.”

  The flight to Polumet took just under an hour. Long before the city came into view, they could see a haze of gray in the sky that resolved itself into plumes of thick, black smoke. It was mostly concentrated in what Ciaran identified as the industrial districts.

  “It looks as though the residential sectors were largely ignored by the attackers,” the warden said softly, his voice filled with cautious hope. He pointed. “Polumet Power is there, the huge orange dome.”

  “Is there a lan
ding pad?” Tommy couldn’t see any flat areas where Jim could set them down.

  “We mark them with a chelef rune. See, there on the roof of the offices. That’s a pad.” He indicated the roof of a thirteen-storey building.

  Tommy pointed out the rooftop pad to Jim, who brought the lighter down with his usual last-minute, stomach churning deceleration.

  Again, as the ramp opened, Liam and his team rushed out to secure their rooftop eyrie. Carol, Tommy and their Cerran companion stepped down onto the roof where they joined Liam. The smoky air was still a treat after the constantly recycled atmosphere of the Völund.

  “Let’s wait for a bit,” Carol said. “If there’s anybody home down there, they’ll come up to see what we want.”

  “No arguments here,” Liam gazed around at the devastated cityscape. “I’d rather not get into a firefight with jumpy locals by trooping through their offices fully armed.”

  They didn’t have long to wait. Within five minutes, an employee in a red uniform appeared at the top of the stairs holding a rifle. Tommy recognised it as being similar to what Gelna’s people had carried during the war.

  Realising that he was hopelessly outgunned, the hapless male dropped his weapon and raised his hands in the universal gesture.

  “It’s all right,” Ciaran told the guard. “They’re here to help.”

  “Tommy, see if he can bring up someone in senior management,” Carol asked. “I’m still not keen on going down there with this guy.” She nodded towards the guard and smiled.

  “We have a delivery of fuel for your plant,” Tommy began. “Can you get a senior manager to come up here and meet us?”

  “You fool,” the guard hissed at Ciaran. “This is the same species that attacked us! Why would you think they came back to help?”

  “If these ones are not here to help, then what is their purpose?” Ciaran demanded, but he began to look nervously around him.

  “Are you not listening, cloaca face? That one just asked me to bring a senior hostage up here.” He nodded towards Tommy. “They have some clever mischief in mind.”

  “Ayya!” Tommy exclaimed to the guard. “I can’t tell which end of your tract the waste comes from! If we were the same species that attacked you, why would we now resort to trickery? Your planet’s defenses are obviously inadequate. If we had come here seeking a hostage, we would have just taken one and left ruins behind us. And you…” He swung towards Ciaran. “If we had been here before, why would we waste time searching for signals from orbit? Why come down and pick you up from your godsdamned tower just so you could guide us to a city we had already attacked?”

  “Tommy?” Carol was getting nervous at the tone of the conversation. She had seen relief missions go bad before. She didn’t want to have to abandon this one.

  “They think we’re the same folk that attacked them earlier. Might be that they’re the same avenging gods the Kholarii get all dizzied up about. I’m sorting them out.” He turned back to the guard. “Now, you go back down there, find someone who can help us deliver the cargo that we brought from Kobrak and do it quickly. The last thing your planet needs right now is a blackout.”

  “Kobrak? The supplier from Khola?” The guard visibly relaxed. “Why didn’t you say so? All this time wasted in arguing…”

  “Go!” Tommy shouted.

  The guard decided that, perhaps, the rest of his rebuke was best left undelivered. He scurried down the stairs.

  “What did you say to him?” Carol was fighting to suppress a chuckle.

  “Just told him to shift his arse.”

  And shift it, he did. Within five minutes, he led three of his co-workers up to the platform. They were better dressed than the guard. Their loose tunics and pants seemed to be the local version of office attire. One of them had what appeared to be a plastic sheath containing writing utensils clipped to his tunic.

  “You have brought a shipment of fuel?” The one in the middle asked.

  “We have,” Tommy nodded. “This is our first officer, Carol Cernan.”

  “Seren.” The alien tapped his chest as he nodded towards Carol.

  “Ask him what condition his facility is in.” Carol nodded back to Seren.

  “Surprisingly, they left much of our infrastructure intact,” Seren replied to Tommy’s translation. “We could start the generators if we had fuel and enough temporary power to run the magnetic containment.” He shrugged sadly. “No other generators are operating, so we can’t support the containment field long enough to get a reaction started and the orbital lighters have all been destroyed, so fuel is impossible to get.”

  Carol looked thoughtful as Tommy translated. She managed to present an aura of confidence, despite the obstacles, and it reminded the younger Kennedy of his own father. I suppose it’s more than just an aura, he thought in the back of his mind as he converted his previous conversation into English for her. She really believes that solutions exist and so, she’ll find them.

  “Ask them exactly how fuel comes down from orbit and how it gets delivered here at the plant. Our lighters are configured to handle drop boxes of ore. They won’t be much use here.” She reached out and touched Tommy’s arm, stopping him from beginning the translation. “And ask them what they need for temporary start-up power.”

  “The lighters come down to the transfer zone.” The male with the writing utensils on his tunic led them over to the edge of the roof. He pointed down to an open area, roughly a hundred feet square, surrounded by ten-storey-high office blocks. “They land in one of those two marked pads and an umbilical is attached to take off the gas.” He looked back up at Tommy and Carol. “The power requirements to restart the reactor are not excessive, but we have no hope of providing that power in our current situation.”

  Carol looked excited as she listened to Tommy’s translation. She was looking down into the courtyard where the deliveries were usually made. “What’s that building over there?” she asked as Tommy finished.

  “An administrative block.” Seren had seen where she was pointing. “Customer billing, mostly.”

  "It’ll need to go,” Carol said matter-of-factly, still looking down at the landing pads. “I think we can do this.”

  The Ormen

  Three hours travel from Cera

  Caul’s visual interface activated just as he was about to call the vote. One of the scout ships near Cera had reported the arrival of a ship.

  It was a large ship and Caul was certain that they had located the cruiser that had interrupted the Caradii pirates. He noticed a point-of-interest reticle, assigned by the scout pilot, floating near the bow of the ship. He spared a glance about the crowded hold before he reached out his hands and expanded the view to center on the reticle.

  He could feel every inch of his skin tingling with the thrill of discovery. The name of the ship was spelled out in unfamiliar raised letters that he couldn’t hope to decipher, but underneath, the name was spelled out in runes.

  It was named the Völund.

  Caul didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the image projected in his visual cortex, but when he finally remembered where he was, he was suddenly aware of a murmur of many conversations. The respectful silence had evolved into a quiet flurry of speculation. Time to throw a predator amongst the grazers.

  He selected the group menu and made the imagery available to the assembled leaders, watching as each opened their own view. “This was just reported by one of our rearguard scouts,” he explained. “You will note that the vessel in the image is named for the house who built the ship in which we now stand.” He pitched his voice deeper, giving it full volume. “It is named for a man whose own ship accompanied my father’s twenty five centuries ago.”

  “It would seem,” he spoke over the noise of the startled assembly, “that we have unearthed a mystery. The debate must now be expanded to encompass a second option – do we go to Khola as originally proposed, or do we head back to Cera and confront the crew of this ship?”

>   A chorus of shouts erupted. Most were insisting on investigating the oddly-named ship. Many members of Liev’s faction were shouting for an immediate departure for Cera as well, but Caul noticed a change flow across them like a falling tide. It seemed that the Hauld was no longer simply feigning a reluctance to investigate the lost war band. He now seemed genuinely troubled.

  Why does the sudden presence of a clue put fear in your heart? You were happy to watch me wallow in my father’s disgrace a few moments ago but now you want us to pack up and leave? Caul felt as though he had just spotted a particularly large tusker, rooting through the underbrush. And how shall I flush the beast?

  The beast flushed himself. Liev stepped forward to claim the speaker’s place. There would have been no time for him to formulate a response to this new information and brief surrogate speakers. “I agree with Eirar,” he began. “We have come to win renown, not to wallow in failures past.” He glared around the hold. “We have followed our leader to glory. Will we now follow him into folly?”

  He turned to head back to the front of the crowd but stopped halfway and turned to point at Caul. “You may wish to revive past disgraces, but I have no desire to go pawing about in the past like some old spinster remembering the suitor that escaped her clutches.” He stalked back to his captains who shouted their approval.

  “Fine words,” Sigrunn called out to Liev’s back as she stalked out to take the place he had just vacated. “I wonder why we hear them now, when earlier you seemed content to remain silent.” She commanded the attention of the entire room by the sheer force of her presence.

  She ignored her captive audience, staring directly at Liev. “Why does the presence of Völund’s name on the bow of a ship send you scurrying for dark corners?”

  Liev’s only answer was a baleful glare.

  He has no answer – at least, none that he can give without harming his reputation. Caul looked back to Sigrunn. He reflected that his bargain with her might not be so bad after all. He knew many Haulds would envy him for such a magnificent bride but he still couldn’t suppress a slight shudder. He harboured no doubts; if she felt he was endangering the fortunes of their combined houses, she would kill him and find a young male from some minor house to give her an heir.