by Eric Flint
“You mean…” He looked at Goth. “The planet you got poisoned on? The planet my mother is on? The planet where my father was killed?”
“Looks like it. And it’s all too convenient. I haven’t gotten all the pieces yet. It’s got aliens, little hairy-tailed ones, but they don’t look like what the Arerrerr thinks of as its caretakers Something has been manipulating us. I really don’t like that. I don’t think Karres will either.”
“So what do we do?” asked Me’a. “My own strategic advice would be to back off, and force the enemy to play on a ground of our choosing. But,” she smiled, “I have learned that you do things in your own way.”
“We’re going in,” said the captain. “Only we’re going in ready for trouble. They may find us more trouble than they thought. I don’t think they’re likely to know what they’re dealing with. They may find they have a lelundel by the tail. Besides, I want a meeting with whomever shot Goth. And with this Pnaden and his bunch of creeps.”
“That’s not a group that needs to get their hands on the Arerrerr. They’d be as bad as, or even worse than, the Somans,” pointed out Ta’zara.
“Sounds like it. We’ll have to keep a sharp watch-out for their ship,” said the captain. “You said it was quite well armed, and bigger than the Venture, didn’t you, Goth?”
“Yeah. But it is not going anywhere, unless they found the parts I stashed in the processing plant. And I don’t think anyone had moved that cover in a lot of years,” said Goth. “They’re stuck there unless they have another ship.”
“Cornered rats make dangerous rats,” said Me’a.
“True enough,” said the captain. “Well, we’ll deal with it when we get there. But first we’ve got to get there. Let’s get those coordinates, Goth. Do some calculations, and plan our route.”
“It’s a fair way outside the border, Captain. Fuel…”
“Vezzarn took advantage of sitting around at the spaceport in Karoda to refuel. We’re near as full as we can hold, barring a little wastage on the atmospheric work,” said the captain. “So: What do you have to say, Leewit?”
“It’s best for the Arerrerr,” said the Leewit. “So long as she’s safe and these aliens can stop anyone taking her away. Do you think so, Goth?”
“The little aliens I saw? The Gaks, or as Lina called them, Gyak? Nope. But…something that is able to push Karres witches around. Maybe. And they have been pushing us.”
The Leewit nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll find out first. But I don’t think I like being pushed around.”
“Neither do I,” said Goth.
* * *
The run toward Lumajo was not without a bit of excitement. However, compared to some of the trips they’d been on, there were plenty of skilled and able crew now to take watches. It was a luxury, the captain decided, he could even get used to. There was a good chance of pirates out here—and they had to rely on the Sheewash to put them out of range of an Imperial Space Navy patrol. That put Goth in mind of the fact that the Bolivar had known exactly when and where the supposedly secret patrol routes were. She told the captain about it. “Well, we can drop a few words in relevant ears in the Imperial Court,” he said. “Knowing it is happening will make catching them easier. Or if all else fails, we can go hunting.”
“Later.” She smiled at him. “Got things to do on Karres, soon.”
“What?”
She grinned, pure Goth mischief. “You’ll find out, Captain.” And she would say no more.
“Hmm.” He smiled at her. “Everyone is playing games with me. Including, I suspect, vatches. I’ve been relling them for the last few days. So far off that I almost can’t be sure…”
“Big ones or little ones?” asked Goth. It was an important distinction, seeing as the captain could handle the big ones. Pull them inside out, if need be. It was the little ones that were a problem. But other than petty mischief the little ones hadn’t given them as much trouble, and a fair amount of help, when they felt like it. They were very like the Leewit’s Tippi—they’d do things if they wanted to, if it entertained them. Human stage plays had amused them, but one never knew how long that would last.
As they swung into orbit around the world, there was no doubt that Lumajo had been subjected to…something. There were deep scars across her landmasses, cutting into her seas, and plainly where the variegated greens of her forest struggled to get a toehold. There were still plenty of the alien structures—some even on the path of whatever weapon had been employed from space to make those scars. The scars stopped where they hit them.
“So, exactly where are we heading for?” asked the captain. A world was a vast place. Finding just where Goth had set down with the Bolivar had been troubling him for a few days.
“Well,” said Me’a, who happened be on watch at that time, looking at the Venture’s instruments. “There’s a signal beacon transmitting. I’d guess that might well be them.”
“It seems pretty likely,” said the captain. “But unless they’re hoping for a rescue, a bit surprising.”
“It’s not a very strong transmission. Let me see if I can amplify it.” She fiddled briefly. A voice issued from the speakers, but not in any language that the captain knew. He turned to the Leewit. “What are they saying?”
The Leewit listened and translated. “They say: ‘SOS. This is Colony Ship Ascension, First Lieutenant Rao. We have had engine failure, have made forced planetfall, require assistance.’ And the same again. And again.”
“An automated signal. It may be set up to respond to ships. I suppose we’ll have to see what we can do. It is surprising that it’s not in Galactic Standard.”
“It could be a trap. I wouldn’t put that past Pnaden and his crowd,” said Goth.
“Yes, but why not say it in Galactic Standard?” asked Me’a. “You’re more likely to catch people that way. I’m searching the Imperial Ship Registry at the moment but it doesn’t look like they have a vessel of that name recorded.”
“Can we pinpoint the transmission?”
“Got it,” Me’a was an expert with her ability to use almost any form of gadgetry, especially computerized devices. “I am getting a visual and instrument scan on the area.”
She did. The screens showed a zoom on an area of deep, dark green jungle.
“That isn’t the smuggler’s base,” said Goth. “Unless the trees grow up really, really fast.”
“I’m getting the deep-radar image and heat scan. But the trees mask most things. There is a definite pattern in the trees though. They’re not as tall down that line. Ah. Maximum resolution on the end area… Great Patham! That’s huge.”
It was. Even the trees couldn’t hide the metallic width of it, although they overhung the edges.
“That’s bigger than most battle cruisers,” said the captain, awed.
“Yes,” said Me’a. “Look at the measurements on screen. There hasn’t been a ship that size built for a long time. They’re just too inefficient.”
“Is it a human ship?” asked Goth. “I mean species doesn’t make any difference to the Leewit. She’d translate talking plants. And this place plainly went through a war. Maybe it is—or was—a battleship?”
“Was. There are definitely trees growing through parts of it. I’d guess it has been there a while,” said the captain.
“I suppose we could set down somewhere near it, and I could read it,” said Goth. “But that’s not the smugglers.”
“I think I have located those for you too,” said Me’a. “I was looking for a landing site, when we zoomed in. Quite near that, relatively speaking. Hang on. I’ll just find it again.”
She did. And this was far more recognizable to Goth. Unlike most of the land area, it was clearly not forested. Zooming in they could see the compound and the landing field. It did have a spacecraft parked on it. “Ah,” said Goth. “They didn’t get very far. I don’t think we ought to land there, though.”
“No. Although the problem is: If not there, where? In the
forest would be risky. On one of the scars?”
“It depends. They could be radioactive…but if not, at least they’re not too full of trees.”
“It is difficult to assess radiation from this height,” said Me’a. “The world has not gotten a nuclear glow, and the encampment of the smugglers is relatively close to one. I doubt if there’d be a problem with touching down. We could leave in a hurry if it was ‘hot.’”
The captain pointed to the screen. “If we land next to that alien structure, where the burn scar stops, we’d be relatively close to the wrecked ship. I think it is an automatic beacon and has been there a long time, but there could be people needing rescue. We’ll probably find some of the locals too. It sounds like that’ll be a starting point for finding my mother. And we may have to pay these smugglers a visit, but dropping in on them gives them the fire advantage. Besides…I feel good about that spot.”
“Then it should be that spot,” said the Leewit firmly, before Goth chimed in to agree. They knew the captain’s hunches well, and trusted them.
It was a relatively cautious landing, since the captain was sure the smugglers would have some detectors. They might even have surface-to-air missiles of a sort. And a ship was vulnerable coming in to land. He was keyed up and watchful doing so…
And nearly lost control at the last moment, because he spotted something that could only be a spaceship at the edge of the forest. It was too late to pull out, so he set the Venture down. The instruments gave no hint of abnormal radiation, and as soon as the smoke and steam cleared he saw the other ship would be no danger to him. It was a wreck.
It was also a one-man Imperial scout ship.
CHAPTER 23
His klatha instinct had put him down a few hundred paces from his father’s scout ship.
“You know he lived through that,” said Goth as they stared at it.
The captain looked at the wreckage and shook his head. “Yes…but how?”
“Good question. And a better one is exactly what made him crash?” asked Goth.
“Or who? On another more immediate front—I’m relling vatch again. They’re staying out of range, but they’re about. And the next question is, just what do we do first?” asked the captain.
“What,” asked Me’a, “do you think those out there will expect you to do? Maybe the answer is not to do that.”
“Spoken like a true Ta’taimi,” rumbled Ta’zara, who had come in with the Leewit. “But first the Leewit wishes to torture all of you. She has done so to me, already.”
“It was just a little transdermal needle prick,” said the Leewit. “And at least I did it to you. I had to do it to my own arm.”
“What’s this?” asked Goth.
“You don’t have to have it, since you can’t be killed by it twice. Your body will react to neutralize the poison fast. For the rest of you, you need it so if you get the poison that nearly killed Goth, you won’t die.”
The captain pushed up his sleeve. “Me first. I want to go looking for someone.”
The injection did smart a bit, and when it was done they were all rubbing their arms.
Me’a pointed to the external monitor screen. “Looks like we’re picking up some kind of vibration.”
The captain nodded. “Sound. Not really effectively transmitted through the hull, but there is something making a regular racket out there.”
“Seeing as the air is breathable, if a bit sulfurous, perhaps we could crack the airlock enough to listen,” she suggested.
“I was going to say we might as well go out there and find out what is going on—I know, not your way, Me’a, but it is ours. But let’s have a quick listen first.”
It was drums. A pattern of beats, being passed, drum to drum, throbbing out across the jungle. There was a peculiar urgency to it.
“I’d say these…Gyak are telling everyone and their cousin that we’re here. Or was it like this when you were here last, Goth?” asked the captain.
“Nope,” said Goth, shaking her head. “I barely heard a sound in the forest. I might as well have been alone out there.”
“I’m guessing we won’t be alone soon,” said Me’a.
Goth nodded. “Unless that’s a ‘keep away’ signal. It might be. From what I could work out the little natives initially greeted the smugglers with gifts and friendship. Things turned sour later. Not surprising, when you consider Pnaden and his crew. They treat the ones in the compound like slaves.”
“We’re still going to have to get out there,” said Pausert. “We’ve got the Arerrerr to give back to them, and my mother…and what happened to my father to deal with. At least their poison darts can’t kill us.”
“They could still kill you in any number of other ways. We’re low enough for infrared scan to work under these trees, Captain,” said Me’a, pointing. “There’s already someone out there, watching. Quite a few someones.”
“I’d better go and see what they want,” said the captain, stepping toward the airlock. “Maybe they want to sell us souvenirs, or charge us landing fees.”
“Let’s just give them a chance to show us. I’ll light-shift a split image,” said Goth.
“There seem to be more of them arriving, Captain,” said Me’a, pointing at the screen. “Just a question: I’m not too familiar with the Venture’s pre-takeoff requirements. How long would it take us to boost out of here? We could do a night landing elsewhere, with Goth’s cloaking skills.”
“A few minutes. She’s got the old-style fusion system, and of course the tubes need to be warmed again. There are checks to be run. We could use the nova guns if they get too pushy. Not too close to the ship, of course. We’d end up damaging our own hull.”
“I think perhaps being prepared would do no harm. Vezzarn and I could start the preparations,” said Me’a.
The captain nodded. “Do. But let’s see what they think of our images.”
The answer was they were worthy of a shower of darts and flung spears and a lot of yelling. A mob of the small hairy natives poured out from the forest. The Venture’s tubes were still too hot for them to get close. Her airlock, though open and now cluttered with darts and spears, was too high to reach—but they were doing something about that. They were hauling a ladder out of the forest. And just inside the second door of the outer airlock, now open for planetary work, the Leewit stood stock still, listening.
“Shall we try a few shots over their heads before we warm the tubes? The tubes will cook them,” said Ta’zara.
“No,” said the Leewit. “I need to talk to them. They think we’re trying to keep them from the sky ship that was promised. Like the other bad men. They’re trying to rescue the ship.”
“What?” ask the captain.
“They’re speaking the same language as the voice on the SOS message,” explained the Leewit. “These are the survivors. Or maybe the descendants of the survivors.”
“I can send one of my probes out,” said Me’a. “They have speakers and I can transmit as well as listen in.”
“I’ll give you a visual image,” said Goth. “So we can see if they throw more spears and darts.”
“I’ll whistle at ’em first,” said the Leewit, darkly.
She did, too. Loudly enough through Me’a’s probe’s speakers to shut them up, at least briefly. The captain couldn’t understand what the Leewit was saying. But he knew her tone well, so that was probably just as well. He might have had to threaten to wash her mouth out with soap again. The hairy attackers plainly did understand, however, by the sudden stunned silence from the mob.
The Leewit continued to give them a piece of her mind. Listening to it, the captain knew it was a much bigger mind than you would have thought from her size. “Right. We can go out now,” she announced.
When the Leewit said things in that tone, she usually got her way. The captain was ready to shield and cocoon, Goth ready to light-shift, and Ta’zara ready simply to defend. Me’a, when she came down, looked harmless in her chair. Th
e captain was ready to bet she was not, as they moved over into the shade of the trees.
The Leewit was gabbling away at the various little people, armed with blowpipes and spears. No one was waving them around threateningly anymore, though. That had stopped, oddly and abruptly, when Tippi had emerged from her shirt. The captain noticed that made a lot of them point and jabber to each other in their language. But the tone of it was entirely different. Then a little white-haired hominid with a really long tail came forward, and the others backed off leaving her to talk to the Leewit, while they all craned to listen.
“They think the ship has come to take them to the good place,” the Leewit translated. “Or to bring them the cargo of good things. Maybe both. It was promised.”
The captain groaned. “I haven’t even gotten any of the old tinklewood fishing rods and all-weather cloaks in the hold. Just one large alien pet. A pet that doesn’t belong to them, which they couldn’t defend and I really don’t think we should give them.”
The Leewit slipped her arm in his. “We’ll look after the Arerrerr until we find the right place for her. And you can stop being ready to cocoon us at a second’s notice, Captain. It makes you look like you’ve got a toothache, and they aren’t going to hurt us. I’ve made it all the smugglers’ fault. I’ve explained that we’re just a tiny little ship, far too small to carry them all. They can see that. That we’d heard that the cargoes of good things sent hadn’t been given to them. The old one is telling me how the evil ones have stopped our gifts. That’s sort of how they understand it all. For them the stuff the smugglers brought was real treasure. I’ve been telling them we’re going to be punishing the bad guys for not giving it to them. They thought the stuff the smugglers brought was for them. They brought them gifts to say thank you, but the smugglers…well, I don’t think they quite understood.”