by David Weber
The matriarch stumbled backward, spouting blood from the stump of her arm, and Alicia stepped into the gap. Her armored elbow slammed into the spine of another matriarch, shattering it despite everything Rishathan toughness could do, and her force blade cut down a third.
It'd be an awful lot simpler, she thought, peering at the gaudy breastplate patterns which only she had the training to read, if only these people—there!
"Queen!" she barked over the platoon com net. "Queen!"
She charged forward, bulling through the towering matriarchs. At least one of them must have realized who her target was, for the Rish—a fairly senior war mother, by the markings on her armor—hurled herself at Alicia, arms spread to grapple in a suicidal attack. She met the force blade on her way in, and the headless corpse slid across the floor while Alicia vaulted over it in a headlong bound that ended in a hurtling tackle.
She and the matriarch who'd stood behind the other Rish went down in a crashing impact. The matriarch lost her personal weapon as they hit, and they rolled across the floor, the Rish writhing madly in Alicia's grip, trying frantically to throw the human attacker off. They came upright, then slammed into one of the chamber's walls, with the Rish hurling her full, massive weight backwards. But Alicia's armor absorbed the impact easily, and her grip only tightened. She switched off the force blade and slammed the flat of its heavy alloy core against the side of the Rish's skull. The matriarch staggered, her struggles fading, and Alicia smacked her again.
Damn it, how tough is a Rishathan skull?! she thought. If I hit her too hard —
The Rish's knees buckled with the second blow, and Alicia activated her armor's speakers.
"I have your line-mother!" she shouted, her armor's AI automatically translating into High Rish. The amplified, squeaky snarls and ripples filled the chamber like some sort of falsetto thunder, and every Rish in it froze.
"Her life is mine, not yours!" Alicia continued. "Yield, or I claim my prize!"
Her amplified voice crashed through the underground chamber . . . and every matriarch in it dropped instantly to her knees.
"My God, Skipper," Angelique Jefferson said quietly over the command circuit, "I really wasn't sure you knew what you were talking about this time."
"Oh, ye of little faith," Alicia replied, still standing behind the slumped bulk of her captive, razor-sharp alloy blade poised, while she watched Jefferson's troopers systematically collect the weapons the Rish had discarded. The matriarchs appeared totally stunned. They were passive, almost apathetic, as their human captors chivied them into the far end of the big, body-littered command room.
"I've just never heard of the Lizards just . . . packing it in this way," Jefferson said, half-apologetically.
"It's the way they're wired," Alicia said. "We don't call them 'matriarchs' for nothing."
Alicia waited another few minutes, until she was certain her people had the situation well in hand. Two-thirds of the command bunker's interior had already been taken; now wings of plasma-armed cadremen filtered outward to secure the rest of it. With the main prize safely secured, they no longer had to restrict their firepower or tactics to avoid killing the wrong Rish, and Alicia was confident the entire bunker would be in Charlie Company's hands shortly.
Which meant she could move to the next stage of her plan.
The stunned Rish was beginning to stir, and Alicia leaned over her. Even sitting on the floor, little more than half-conscious, the top of the matriarch's crested skull rose chest-high on Alicia, and she suspected that she looked fairly ridiculous with her left arm—battle armor or no—wrapped around that tree-trunk neck. Still . . . .
"Your life is mine," Alicia told her through the armor AI. "Your line-daughters have yielded to preserve it. Yield now, to preserve theirs."
The groggy Rish stirred again—not really trying to escape, just trying to get her brain back online—and Alicia tightened her left arm and pressed the flat of the blade against the right side of the Rish's neck.
"You have not yielded," she said flatly, and the Rish froze. There was silence for a moment, then a lunatic bagpipe skirl of High Rish.
"I yield," the AI translated for Alicia. "Spare my daughters."
"Their lives for yours," Alicia agreed, and released her captive.
More than one of the cadremen shifted uneasily as the towering matriarch climbed back to her feet. Alicia didn't. She simply stood there, waiting until the Rish turned back to face her and bowed her head in formal token of submission.
"Then I am your captive," the matriarch said. "Do with me as you will."
"I do not will to slay you," Alicia told her. The Rish stared at her, golden eyes—beautiful eyes, Alicia thought, even now, and all the more beautiful for the hideous saurian mask in which they were set—wide.
"Then what would you?" the Rish demanded.
"I would spare you, and your line-daughters and your war-daughters," Alicia told her. "I would have them live and return home in honor, rather than see my line-sisters and they kill one another when there is no need."
"And so you have fought your way into the heart of this, my sphere, and bested me, hand-to-hand, to win life from death," the Rish said.
"Is that not how those of the Sphere have dealt, one with another, from the day of the First Egg?" Alicia riposted.
"Indeed," the Rish replied after a moment. "But only one with another. You are not of the People."
"Yet I hold your life in the hollow of my hand. It is mine, fairly won in honorable combat."
"Indeed," the Rish repeated, and bowed deeply. "Yet there are prizes, and there are prizes, War Mother."
Alicia felt a flicker of relief as the Rish bestowed the Rishathan honorific upon her, but something about the matriarch's body language made her uneasy.
"My name," the Rish said, "is Shernsiya niha Theryian, farthi chir Theryian. I cannot give you what you seek."
Alicia stared at her in shock. She'd expected a senior war mother of Clan Theryian, but not the clan's farthi chir! Her mind raced, trying to cope with this totally unexpected development.
"Skipper?" Lieutenant Jefferson said after a moment. Alicia looked at the platoon commander. "What's going on, Skipper?" Jefferson asked over their private, dedicated channel.
"It's —" Alicia turned back to Shernsiya, staring into those golden eyes once again. "I just didn't count on . . . this," she said softly.
"On what, Skipper? I'm not a Rish expert like you."
Those eyes were bigger than ever, Alicia thought. They were fixed on her own face, gazing at her while Shernsiya's scarlet cranial frills folded themselves close. It was almost as if the Rish were trying to tell her something, she thought.
And then she knew what it was.
"You are a war mother of war mothers, Shernsiya niha Theryian, farthi chir Theryian," she said quietly.
She met the towering Rish's eyes a moment longer, and bowed, ever so slightly . . . then drew her pistol and shot the matriarch three times through the torso.
Chapter Thirty-One
"Skipper!"
Angelique Jefferson stared at Alicia in shocked, horrified disbelief as Shernsiya shuddered under the impact of the pistol rounds and then crashed to the floor.
The lieutenant whirled to face the other Rishathan prisoners, her weapon snapping up into the firing position in anticipation of their berserk charge.
But there was no charge. Instead, there was a wailing burst of high-pitched Rishathan, and the kneeling prisoners bent to press their faces to the floor.
Jefferson allowed her plasma rifle to return to the "safe" position and turned slowly back towards Alicia. But Alicia wasn't even looking at her lieutenant. She was kneeling on the floor beside Shernsiya, and as Jefferson watched, she reached out and laid one hand on the Rish's massive, heaving chest.
"My thanks . . . War Mother," the mortally wounded matriarch got out.
"It was your choice, farthi chir," Alicia said quietly.
"Indeed." The Ris
h managed a snarling chuckle. "But I could not tell you. I am honored that you guessed."
She and Alicia looked at one another for a moment, and then the Rish waved one hand at the other prisoners.
"I must speak to my eldest daughter," she said, panting with the pain of her wounds, and Alicia nodded.
Shernsiya raised her voice, calling a name, and Alicia looked up quickly.
"Let her pass!" she said sharply to Jefferson, and the lieutenant nodded. It was a nod of obedience, not of understanding, and Alicia smiled mirthlessly.
A shadow loomed over her as another Rish appeared at her side. The newcomer went to one knee beside Shernsiya, reaching out to lay a clawed hand on the dying matriarch's chest beside Alicia's.
"I am here, Mother of Mothers," she said.
"Good, Rethmeryk," Shernsiya said. Her own hand moved again, indicating Alicia.
"This war mother of the humans has given you life, Eldest Daughter. You will take it, and all of my daughters with you. You will give the order I cannot and lead them from this place, return them to their own sphere. The clan's honor is clean once more with my death. I name you farthi chir in my place, and I command you to remember with honor this war mother who has given our clan back its life."
"As you bid, so shall it be, Mother of Mothers," Rethmeryk said, and turned to Alicia.
"How shall we name you in the annals of Clan Theryian, War Mother?" she asked.
"My name is DeVries—Alicia DeVries," Alicia said, and Rethmeryk jerked as if she'd been struck. She started to open her mouth again, then stopped and looked down at Shernsiya.
The dying matriarch seemed as stunned as her line-daughter. She stared at Alicia, then looked back at Rethmeryk.
"Go, Eldest Daughter," she said softly. "I see here the hand of the Greatest Mother. Symmetry must be served."
"Yes, Mother of Mothers," Rethmeryk agreed. She looked back at Alicia. "War Mother, may I use our communication equipment?"
"You may," Alicia agreed, her own eyes on Shernsiya's face.
"Skipper?" Jefferson sounded totally out of her depth, and Alicia smiled without humor.
"Let her use the com, Angelique," she said. "She needs to pass the surrender order."
"Just like that?" Jefferson waved at the dying matriarch. "They're just going to surrender after that?"
"Especially after 'that,' " Alicia said.
Jefferson looked at her, then drew a deep breath and nodded.
"Whatever you say, Skipper," she said, and beckoned for Rethmeryk to accompany her towards an intact communications console.
"War Mother Alicia," Shernsiya said, "this is not the first time we have fought, you and I, though you knew it not, and we did not meet then hand-to-hand. Nor were you to know. But the Greatest Mother orders the universe as She would have it, and I would not have fallen into your hand, nor would you have spared my line-daughters, had She not willed it.
"Symmetry must be served—a gift for a gift, War Mother. And as your gift to me, so mine to you will have two edges. I do not think you will thank me for it, but by the steel in your soul, by the honor in your hand, by the truth in your mouth, so shall you have it, and I think you will count the having worth the pain."
Alicia knelt very still, her gaze fixed on those glorious golden eyes.
"Bid your war daughters stand back, War Mother Alicia," Shernsiya said. "My gift is for you alone."
"Give us some space here, Angelique," Alicia said without looking up. "You, too, Ludovic," she told Thönes.
Her wingman looked briefly rebellious, but after a heartbeat of hesitation, he followed Jefferson across the room.
"Thank you, War Mother," Shernsiya said. "Now listen well; my time is brief."
"That was something else, Captain DeVries!" the Marine major said jubilantly as Alicia stepped through the inner hatch of the transport/command ship HMS MacArthur.
"Man," the major continued, "I've never heard of Lizards just rolling over this way!"
"I'm glad it worked out," Alicia told him, and her own voice was flat, her tone almost absent-minded. The Marine didn't seem to notice, nor did he notice the clipped-off syllables of the tick.
"So am I," he said. "And a lot of other Wasps aboard this bucket are going to want to buy you drinks!"
"I'm sure we can work something out." Alicia smiled briefly, and the major chuckled.
"I hope you've got gills," he said. "But, in the meantime, what can I do for you?"
"I need to talk to Colonel Watts. That's why I jumped one of your recovery boats instead of waiting for Marguerite Johnsen's."
"Not a problem, Captain. Uh, if you don't mind leaving your armor in our Morgue, that is."
"I can do that."
"In that case, Captain, step this way."
Alicia walked down the passage towards the portion of MacArthur set aside for the Expeditionary Force CO's staff. The talkative major who'd welcomed her aboard had insisted on escorting her personally, and she felt more than a few curious gazes as she walked along behind him in the utilitarian catsuit she'd worn under her armor. Most of the people behind those gazes seemed to know who she was, but they were giving her space, and a distant, frozen corner of her brain was grateful.
"Here we are, Captain DeVries," the major said. Two other Marines with the brassards of ship's police stood outside the intelligence center door, and the Marine officer nodded to them.
"Captain DeVries to see Colonel Watts," he said.
"Yes, Sir," the senior of the two sentries acknowledged, and Alicia stepped past them.
"Alley!" Watts looked up with a smile as she entered the compartment. "Wonderful job—just wonderful!" he congratulated her. "I know I had my doubts, but you and Charlie Company have pulled it off again."
"Thanks," Alicia said, and wondered how she kept from screaming.
"What can I do for you?" Watts asked her, and her mouth moved in someone else's smile.
"I need to talk to you," she said, glancing around the compartment. "Privately." She half-smiled apologetically at the other Marine's present. "I'm afraid this is pretty much need-to-know stuff."
Watts looked at her for a moment, his eyes hooded somehow, then shrugged.
"No problem," he said. "Step into my office."
He gestured at a side passage, and Alicia followed him down it to a much smaller compartment. He waved her through the door, then followed her in, stepped past her, and seated himself behind the desk.
"Have a seat," he invited, pointing at one of the two chairs in front of his desk.
"No, thank you," she said. "I've got too much post-op adrenaline still pumping."
"Not too surprising, I suppose," Watts said as she began to pace back and forth across the cramped space. He watched her for several seconds, then cleared his throat.
"You said you needed to talk to me," he reminded her.
"Yes. Yes, I did."
Alicia paused in her pacing and stood facing him across his desk.
"Tell me, Colonel—Wadislaw," she said after a moment, "how long have you been in Intelligence?"
"Excuse me?" Watts looked puzzled, and her lips twitched another smile.
"Trust me, it's relevant. How long?"
"Just about since the Academy," he said slowly. "I caught the Office of Military Intelligence's eye in my junior or senior year. Why?"
"Back before Shallingsport, Vartkes Kalachian—you remember him? He was one of the guys in my squad? No?" She shrugged at his look of polite incomprehension. "No reason you should, I guess. But he was assigned to our embassy on Rishatha Prime, one of the embassy guards. He said he remembered you—probably because of the way the Lizards PNGed you."
"Kalachian? Kalachian." Watts pursed his lips, then shook his head. "No, sorry, Alley. I don't remember him. And I'm afraid I still don't see where you're going with this."
"Well, I know you've spent a lot of time since then working with the Cadre, as well as with Marine Intelligence. And I know Brigadier Sampson specifically requested
you when he was alerted for Louvain. I hadn't realized until very recently, though, that you were one of the Corps' leading authorities on the Sphere."
"I wouldn't put it quite that way myself," Watts said slowly. "I've put in my time studying the Rish—I understand you have, too. And I've had a few successes against them. But I'd hardly call me a 'leading authority' on them."
"Really?" She tilted her head to one side. "I'm surprised to hear that."
"Why?" He was beginning to sound a little less relaxed, she noticed, watching him from inside the tick's time-slowing cocoon.
"You knew, of course, that Clan Theryian was responsible for the Louvain attack," she said, and his eyes narrowed at the apparent non sequitur.
"We all did," he said slowly, tipping back in his chair and opening the top drawer of his desk to withdraw a stylus with his left hand. He left the drawer open as he drummed absentmindedly on the desktop with the end of the stylus, obviously thinking hard.
"Of course, I doubt it was ever Theryian's idea," he continued. "Somebody on the Great Council of War Mothers with a grudge obviously engineered this 'honor' for them." He shrugged. "The Sphere is such a catfight that somebody always has a dagger out for somebody else."
"That's true," Alicia agreed. "On the other hand, when the Sphere has one of the clans 'volunteer' for something like this, they don't usually push it all of the way to mysorthayak. That's actually one of the things that bothered me about this operation from the beginning. Did it bother you?"
"Not especially." He shrugged. "I agree, it was unusual. But I was more concerned with the practical consequences than with wondering why it happened."
"Oh, I'm sure you were," she said softly, and his eyes widened.
"What are you trying to say?" he demanded, his voice harsher.
"You must really have been in two minds when you heard about this one," she said. "Clan Theryian, and mysorthayak—and there you were, Brigadier Sampson's specifically requested Intelligence officer. Tell me, how did it feel when they told you where you were going?"
The stylus stopped drumming. He sat very still behind the desk, his eyes fixed on her face, and her smile would have frozen the heart of a star.