The Queen's Daemon (T'aafhal Legacy Book 2)

by Doug L. Hoffman

  A shudder passed through the Peggy Sue.

  “That ain't normal,” Billy Ray muttered.

  “We have just experienced a space-time compression wave caused by the destruction of the Dark Lord ship,” said the ship's computer in Billy Ray's ear. “The wave was probably caused by the dark matter kept in containment aboard the alien vessel, which was released in the explosion.”

  “The computer says that the shudder was caused by dark matter released from the target vessel. Nothing to worry about,” the Captain relayed to the bridge crew, hoping he sounded authoritative and convincing.

  “I'm glad we didn't get much closer before we blew the bastards out of space,” said Bobby.

  “Speaking of which, Mr. Danner, reduce our velocity and lay in a course for a high planetary orbit. It's time to go find our missing people.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain!”

  Flagship, Fakkaa Fleet

  “What in the seven hells was that!” Capt. Tikkoo swore as the main bridge display flared brilliant white. The others on the bridge of the flagship stood transfixed, all eyes on the tortured display screen. A tremor passed through the ship.

  On the flag bridge above him, Fleet Admiral Raqqee tumbled into his chair and yelled. “What's happening, Captain, are we under attack?”

  The radar observer on the command bridge was staring at his scope in disbelief when he realized that his captain was yelling his name.

  “Y-Yes, Captain?”

  “What's out there, sailor, what can you see? Are we under attack?”

  “N-No, Sir. It's gone, Sir!”

  “What's gone, son?” said the Admiral, not unkindly.

  “The Wise Ones, S-Sir. Their ship is gone. It exploded.”

  “What!” said the Admiral and Captain together.

  The Admiral grasped the rail of the flag bridge with his claws, staring again at the now blank display. “Is there any wreckage? Any debris?”

  “No, Sir. Signal returns show no debris, the echo is consistent with a cloud of expanding plasma.”

  “Plasma?” said the Captain in disbelief. “Nothing left? No possibility of survivors?”

  “No, Captain, nothing. Not only are they gone, Sir, there is a contact decelerating at 50 Gs on a trajectory that will bring it into planetary orbit.” The radar operator looked up at his captain, his digging claws trembling slightly. “It matches the other alien ship, the one the Wise Ones destroyed over a week ago.”

  “Thought they had destroyed is more like it,” the Captain observed, the implication of the radar operator's information sinking in.

  After a moment's stunned silence the Admiral spoke. “Captain, what is our status? Are all the troops away?”

  “Yes, Admiral, all the troops and their equipment are en route for the planet's surface. They should be down safely within the hour.”

  “And this alien ship. How soon will it arrive in orbit?”

  “Five or six hours, Sir,” the frightened radar operator answered.

  “Feed the crews. Action stations in four hours,” Raqqee snapped, thinking, we are so screwed.

  Daylight Side, Formicidae

  Orbiting the star-planet L2 point, the Dark Lords' ship had constantly faced the night side of Formicidae until the Peggy Sue blasted it into fundamental particles. Those on the daylight side of the planet did not observe the temporary blossoming of Alpha Phoenicis' third sun, but they did feel the passing of the gravitational compression wave that the explosion released.

  Of the three biological races embroiled in the current struggle, the ants themselves were the most puzzled by the slight temblor. Their world had been geologically stable for a hundred million years, making earthquakes almost unheard of. When the quake shook the capital around noontime, most just waved their antennae and went about their business, passing it off as another manifestation of the evil times afflicting their world.

  The Fakkaa commandos, allied with Princess Reishi, came from a world with considerable tectonic activity. For them an earthquake was not anything noteworthy, particularly if they happened to be above ground at the time. They also shrugged and went about their business, getting into position for tomorrow's assault on the capital and the royal palace.

  The lone representative from Earth present had grown up in Japan, where earthquakes were a frequent occurrence. The mild tremor that gently shook the roadway beneath Mizuki's feet hardly warranted notice. That it signaled the Peggy Sue's reemergence on the local scene would not be realized until later, after the battle for succession between Reishi and Timushi was fully joined.

  There was, however, a fourth form of intelligence that marked the passing of the seismic disturbance. This intelligence was not organic in nature. Instead, its mind inhabited a network of entangled quantum dots constructed from exotic particles seldom seen in nature. The mind belonged to a T'aafhal AI, an artificial intelligence left on Formicidae over a million years ago.

  In the north of the ant empire, burred deep under layers of rock, the AI patiently waited to either fulfill its mission or be recalled by its creators. The AI was awakened by the arrival of the Dark Lords' ship. As it monitored events, wondering if it would have to take action, the artificial mind was surprised again by the arrival of another ship. This ship arrived via alter-space, and bore similarities to ships built by the T'aafhal.

  Perhaps surprise was too strong a term—the AI merely noted that the arrival of a T'aafhal ship after all this time, particularly only twelve years after the arrival of the warp drive vessel, was highly improbable. Its response was to send a message to the new arrival encoded in a beam of neutrinos, a narrow beam that no one else could intercept. If the ship responded to the message it would be proof enough that it was related to the T'aafhal in some way.

  When the newcomer altered course for the AI's planet new possibilities had to be considered. The Dark Lords' ship and the flotilla of primitive vessels, which no doubt carried minions in thrall to the Dark Lords, were about to enter planetary orbit. The possibly T'aafhal ship managed to arrive first, only to be attacked without warning—not that Dark Lords ever gave their victims warning.

  Not T'aafhal then, concluded the AI. A real T'aafhal ship would not have been surprised by a warp drive vessel. This observation spawned several other avenues of speculation regarding the nature of the newcomers, their possession of unmistakably T'aafhal technology, and the fate of the AI's creators. Observing how the ambushed ship managed to escape its attackers, the AI pondered the meaning of these new data, awaiting the next act in the drama to unfold.

  A brief time later, the ambushed ship launched an ambush of its own, destroying the Dark Lords' craft in decisive fashion. As the ship maneuvered for orbit the AI noted how quickly it had recovered, and how quickly it adapted. Probability fields, quantum representations of uncertainty, collapsed as the AI reached a conclusion: The newcomers are not T'aafhal, but they are probably allies (probability 0.78). I will await more data.

  Part Three

  Cat's Paw

  Chapter 25

  Rescue Mission Departure, Peggy Sue

  Once the ship made orbit, the Captain sent Bobby and all the Marines aft to suit up for the trip dirtside. After a brief stop at his quarters to don a skintight pressure suit and collect the aoi chō, Bobby headed aft to the armory. Trailing behind him the butterflies flashed excitedly through colors red, orange, and yellow. No longer the somber shades of sorrow for their missing goddess, but rather hues reflecting excitement with an underlying hint of menace.

  Bobby too, was contemplating actions to come, wishing for the thousandth time that they possessed a Star Trek like transporter that could place him on the surface almost instantly. He had about come to the conclusion that such devices were not possible. After all, the insanely advanced T'aafhal—possessors of technology that could create wormholes through space and throw black holes at their enemies—did not have such a device. Mizuki would have argued why such a mechanism was impossible, citing conservation of energy a
nd differences in velocity vectors between transmitter and arrival point. He smiled in spite of himself.

  God I miss you Mizuki-chan, he said to himself, eyes blurring at the thought of her. Behind him a ripple of indigo and deep blue passed through the cloud of butterflies, reflecting his emotions. If you are down there I will find you.

  Arriving in the armory, Bobby found the Marines already in full armor. He quickly climbed into his own suit, what was euphemistically called “light” armor. Once encased, he would weigh more than 200 kilos. Made from overlapping thin bands of highly refractive metallic-ceramic composite, the armor could turn away small arms fire up to .50 caliber armor piercing rounds. To offset its weight, electroreactive synthetic muscles augmented his own natural ones, making movement easy and amplifying his strength nearly threefold.

  For armament he carried a combination railgun that had a rapid fire 5mm flechette gun mounted atop a 20mm shotgun/grenade launcher firing configurable explosive rounds. The nano-engineered explosive in the 20mm rounds could be adjusted by displacing the electrons in the material, bumping them to higher orbitals and enhancing the explosive yield. The pattern of the explosion itself could also be adjusted between an antipersonnel bursting charge and an armor piercing shaped charge. The laser rangefinder could automatically set the distance a round would travel before detonation, making it possible to fire above an entrenched position and rain down shrapnel from overhead bursts.

  As imposing as Bobby's kit was, it paled next to the Marines' heavy battle armor. In heavy armor the humans stood seven feet tall and weighed in at over 400 kilograms, Umky topped 12 feet and weighed over a ton. Multi-barreled flechette and 15mm railguns attached to the forearms of the suits with ammo feeds linking them to large magazines on their backs. The armor essentially turned them into tanks with legs.

  As the technicians closed up his armor, Bobby looked around the room at the Marines. They looked like hulking gray robots, faceless in their enclosed helmets. It had been a long time since he had led Marines into battle, but the feel, and the smell, of armor brought it all back. Over the squad frequency he spoke, “Gunny, move 'em out.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” the Gunny responded. “You heard the man, get your worthless hides up to the shuttle bay on 3rd deck.”

  * * * * *

  The Marines and two Petty Officers headed for the cargo lift with a minimum of grumbling and banter. They knew that they were likely to find bad news on the planet's surface—the odds that any of the crewmembers survived the small shuttle's crash were slim. The missing three were well liked by the crew and the loss of any one of them would be a blow to morale. This was particularly true of Dr. Ogawa, her being Cmdr. Danner's wife and all.

  In general, all of Peggy Sue's officers were popular with the enlisted personnel. The Captain was highly respected as was the First Officer, though some might admit to being slightly intimidated by her. It was the Sailing Master, however, that the crew felt the most genuine affection for. He was always approachable and never talked down to crewmembers. Even his sometimes wacky conspiracy theories and slightly off center observations helped endear him to the rank and file.

  As much as it would suck if Kate or Lt. Lewis bought the farm, the Marines headed for the shuttle silently agreed, it would be a fucking shame if Dr. Ogawa was dead. With that in mind they somewhat somberly boarded the large armored shuttle for the trip to the planet's surface.

  Princess Timushi's Party

  After a brief soaking by afternoon rain showers, the Princess's party crested a small hill and finally caught sight of their objective—the capital city. Standing above the city, the towers of the royal palace glowed a warm reddish-orange in the light of the setting sun.

  “Are we going to push on to the city?” asked Mizuki, anxious to be done with the journey.

  “No, Lord Mizuki,” the Castellan answered. “We cannot make the southern gate before night fall. The gates will be locked until tomorrow's first light.”

  “You are correct as always, my Lord Castellan,” Timushi added. “There is a good place to camp just ahead according to the scouts. We will eat and take a good night's sleep so we are ready for an early start in the morning.”

  “And you are sure that your sister has not already arrived, Your Highness?”

  “If she had there would be signal fires burning in the palace towers, announcing her ascension to the throne. No, we have either beaten her party to the capital, or tomorrow we will both arrive to contest the royal succession. I fear if that is the case, tomorrow will be quite unpleasant.”

  The Castellan's antennae twitched and her hand strayed to the pommel of her sword—a tell-tale sign that the old warrior was anxious or worried. The Princess remained poised as always, causing Mizuki to contemplate the coming day in silence.

  A shining city on a hill, didn't some old politician talk about that as a symbol of hope? No matter. One way or another, this journey will end tomorrow. What comes after that, I haven't a clue.

  Princess Reishi's Party

  On the north side of the city, Princess Reishi's procession came to a ragged halt. She had pushed her subjects unmercifully, mostly at the behest of the daemons who accompanied them. Reishi was no longer sure the arrival of the demonic creatures was a blessing, sent by the gods to aid her cause. She had begun to suspect that they were using her for some purpose known only to themselves. In any case, it was far too late to back out of the deal now.

  The head daemon shuffled up to her side. “Princess, we should press on to the city.”

  If they were sent by the gods, how can they not understand the protocols? The succession must be done according to tradition, observing ancient rituals whose origins are lost in the mists of time. “No, my Lord Daemon. The gates to the city will be barred at sunset, and it would be a grave breach of protocol for a claimant to the throne to arrive in the night.”

  The daemon's frustration was almost palpable. The Princess twitched her antennae in annoyance and explained.

  “Tomorrow, after the city gates are opened at dawn, my procession will enter the north gate. There are three gates, one for each of the three traditional claimants for the throne—north, east, and south. Each opens onto a broad boulevard that runs straight to the royal palace. It is important that you and your fellow daemons remain cloaked and hidden behind my warriors. If you are seen it could spark hostility on the part of the palace guard.”

  “They cannot stop us, Princess,” the hooded daemon grumbled.

  “I'm sure they can't, Commander, but an altercation would greatly upset the populace. It could take days, even weeks to settle them down after such an... event.”

  “And what if your sister is there?”

  “The lack of signal fires in the palace towers say she has not arrived before us. We need just to march to the palace, right to the throne room and I can claim my birthright.”

  “And if Timushi arrives at the same time? Won't getting into a battle with her upset the city's inhabitants?”

  “Not at all. They will be expecting us to fight for the throne. If she arrives late, the palace guard will already be in thrall to me, and her attack will be short and fatal for her and her warriors. The services of your daemons will only be necessary if she, by some miracle, gains the upper-hand. Hopefully any such confrontation will happen within the palace and hidden from the prying eyes of the populace.”

  “Does Your Highness have any objections to my commandos guarding your person as we attempt to gain access to the throne room?”

  “Of course not, in fact I am counting on you to keep me safe so my warriors can devote all their energies to defeating my foes. The day will not be won until my royal sister has been dismembered and the scent of her dying can be sensed by all. Only then can I claim what is mine, only then can I be seated on my mother's throne and begin my reign as Queen of all Formicidae.”

  Chapter 26

  Rescue Mission, Shuttle Crash Site

  The armored shuttle full of Marines made a
high angle of incidence approach to the crash site, decelerating rapidly while scribing a bright arc across the predawn sky. Sonic booms announcing its arrival echoed from the ridges and valleys, causing animals large and small to stir beneath the jungle canopy. Knowing that he would be accompanying the Marines after landing, Bobby, with great trepidation, let Frank Hoenig pilot the shuttle to the planet's surface.

  “Set her down there, Mr. Hoenig, next to the base of the cliff.”

  “Aye, aye, Commander.”

  Next to Frank was Jay Taylor, serving as copilot, while Tamara Wilson manned the shuttle's armaments—there had been no shortage of volunteers among the crew for this mission. In the end, the First Officer selected those she thought steadiest under fire, hence the presence of the Aussie and the Canadian along with Hoenig, arguably the best shuttle pilot among the noncoms.

  The furrow the small shuttle plowed on its violent encounter with the local terrain had faded significantly during the time since the crash, but was still visible from above. The surrounding jungle's tenacious flora had not yet reclaimed the open space in front of the ill fated shuttle's final resting place at the base of the ancient escarpment.

  Frank edged up to the cliff face, pivoted the shuttle so the rear ramp faced the wreckage, and gently sat the armored craft down.

  “We're down, Commander. You can drop the ramp when ready.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Hoenig. Pop a recon drone if you would.” Bobby headed aft to the passenger compartment where the squad of armored Marines waited. “Secure the site, Gunny.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” Rosey replied. Releasing the ramp she called out assignments. “Kato, Vinny, take the starboard side, POs on overwatch; Jumbo Twins take port, Umky and Bosco on overwatch. Move!”

  The rear ramp dropped onto the hardscrabble debris brought down from the cliff face by the small shuttle's impact. The two designated teams of Marines sprinted down the mild incline and around the armored shuttle's flanks. Bosco and the bear moved at a less hurried pace, taking up position beside the ramp on the port side. They correctly interpreted the Gunny's assigning them overwatch to mean “keep an eye on the newbies.”