by Martin H.
“Could be one and the same, it could.” Kell smiled slowly. “And recovering one of them would put us in possession of something as unique as your bluewing. I think, tomorrow, we head out on the same patrol, starting at the lake and working backward. See where we run into them, and see if our contact points can let us triangulate back to their base.”
“Sounds like a plan, sir.” Sara stabbed the flechette into the tree to which they’d tied the tarp. “Plots on the other sightings don’t have a pattern, but the Primary probably saw to that. If they’ll come out and play, we can probably follow them home.”
“Good enough.” Kell picked up his towel again and shooed bluewings away from his armor. “I’ll take first watch so I can clean up this armor and patch it. Bragb, you’ll go next, and you’re the anchor, Sara. We’ll see sunrise over that lake.”
The Bouganshi smiled. “You just wish to see if trout will be hitting at insects.”
“She has her hobby, I have mine.” The man laughed. “Rack out now, morning will come much too soon.”
Dawn broke over the lake, and Kell’s trout were hitting the surface hard. Bluewings, in swiftly diminishing numbers, lay on the water and were scattered around in the marsh. Sara knelt on one knee to get a closer look and found dozens of them mashed into the mud by little feet. A few discarded flechettes likewise had been worked into the mud. Of the lake croc there was no clear sign, though lots of crushed grasses and more footprints suggested it had been dragged off into the jungle.
Sara frowned. “Wonder what the bluewings did to offend the juniors?”
Kell, crouched well away from the shore, shook his head as he scanned the Zsytzü backtrail. “No lasers used. Wasn’t war against them, I’m thinking. Something else.”
“Captain, take a look at this.” Bragb stood next to the dead tree and pointed at a splash of blue. Sara and Kell both approached. Two bluewings had been stabbed through the thorax, one on top of the other, then pinned to the tree with a flechette.
“The junior had to be moving that needle very fast.”
Kell tipped his helmet back on his head. “Faster than even Sara here. Don’t be jealous, lass.”
She glanced over at him, but before she could snap off a retort, a throbbing pulsed from the rain forest. The three of them came around, weapons raised, and watched a small, disk-shaped ship rise from the jungle. The rate of climb could best be described as slow, but the ship remained stable in flight and moved upward at a steady pace.
Kell immediately keyed his radio. “Ground Lead to Chzrin, we have a Zsytzü craft coming up.”
“Chzrin copies ground report. Zsytzü warship has just appeared in the solar system, headed this way. Tschai Mriap says we can burn your upcoming ship, but then will be destroyed by the warship.” The Qian communications officer delivered the information flatly, with no inflection and no indication of personal involvement in the unfolding events. “He says five minutes go/no-go on the burn. Your mission, your choice.”
Kell closed his eyes. “Stand by, Chzrin.” He pointed his carbine at the Zeez ship and triggered the laser. The red beam tagged the ship, but did nothing to it. “They’re leaving, so do we assume they are retreating and let them go, saving the Qian ship, or have they accomplished their mission, in which case we can’t let them go? Input?”
The Bouganshi growled for a second or two. “Have to assume they accomplished their mission, whatever it was. The Zeez will burn Chzrin, then come down. Has to be done.”
“Sara?”
Something odd here. She glanced at the bluewings pinned to the tree. This is the key, I know it.
“Sara?”
A smile blossomed on her face. “Of course, yes, they accomplished their mission.”
“That’s what I’m thinking, too.” Kell shrugged uneasily. “Gotta burn them.”
“No, no, no, you don’t. Let them go.” Sara turned away from the tree. “Let them go. It will do more harm than good.”
Kell frowned. “You’ve got two minutes to explain.”
“It’s all right here, the dead bluewings, the flechettes, the two pinned to the tree.”
She opened her arms. “You’re thinking about stuff from an adult point of view, but the juniors, they aren’t adults. They are treating this like a game, and they’ve won.
Think about it. They scouted our scientific teams. They saw them taking samples, but the Primary probably recognized what was going on and was able to put those things in proper perspective.
“The juniors, though, once he died, only had orders to avoid detection and to study us. The Zsytzü mission here was the same as ours, to see what the enemy was doing on this planet. Face it, it has no obvious value, yet is quarantined. They suspect we’re hiding something here.”
Kell narrowed his blue eyes. “You’re saying they think we’re here to harvest bluewings?”
“Makes no sense to an adult, but to a child? We killed one of them, then killed the monster that killed their Primary. That got their attention, made us important in their eyes.” She pointed at the two bluewings pinned together. “One saw me stab one out of the air. They got two, just to show who was better. The other needles here show other attempts. It was a kid’s game, and just as we scored against them yesterday, getting two with one needle, that beats us today.”
Bragb squatted on his heels. “So juniors are carrying a lake monster and bluewings.
They think we came for them.”
Kell smiled. “And the Zeez will spend time and resources trying to figure out why we want them.”
“And when they can’t, they’ll be back with another survey team, or something more, and we’ll know they’re coming.” Sara smiled. “The Zeez may not be trout, but chances are they’ll be swallowing that bait whole, and be back to be caught.”
“Ground lead to Chzrin. You’ll be wanting to move our ride home out of the way.
Let the warship get its little craft.”
“Copy ground.” The barest hint of relief threaded through the Qian’s voice.
“Running now. We will return, with help.”
“Copy, Chzrin.” Kell slowly smiled. “We’ll have to check the Zeez camp, see what they left, then wait for our lift home.”
“If taskforce comes back, could take days to organize.” The Bouganshi squatted, resting a hand on the hilt of his knife. “Perhaps the Zeez will land more teams and give us something to do.”
“I think I’d prefer they didn’t.” Sara smiled at Bragb. “Not that I’d want to ruin your fun.”
“I’m agreeing with Sara there.” Kell dropped to one knee and fingered a bluewing out of the muck. “Having been swallowed by a monster, I’d be content with some peace. And given as how them trout seem to be liking these blue-wings, we won’t be lacking for something to do.”
“Fishing never struck me as the sort of thing Qian Star Guards would do.” Sara arched an eyebrow at Kell. “Won’t our commander take a dim view of our spending our time that way?”
“He will indeed, lass.” Kell laughed. “And that will make it even that much more fun.”
THE END
ALLIANCES
by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
In 1999, Kristine Kathryn Rusch won three Reader’s Choice Awards for three different stories in three different magazines in two different genres: mystery and science fiction. That same year, her short fiction was nominated for the Hugo, Nebula, and Locus Awards. Since she had just returned to writing short fiction after quitting her short fiction editing job at The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, she was quite encouraged by this welcome back to writing. She never quit writing novels, and has sold more than forty-five of them, some under pseudonyms, in mystery, science fiction, fantasy, horror, and romance. Her most recent mystery novel is Hitler’s Angel. Her most recent fantasy novel is The Black King.
“Forgive me, sir.” Captain Roz Sheehan could barely hide her disgust, even if she was speaking to a superior officer. “I don’t believe we should trust the
word of a Cra-tiv’n, two Dulacs, and a Hacrim.”
Admiral Allen Galland reached across his wide oak desk and handed her an information pad. She did not look at it, instead studying the office around her.
Roz had been here a dozen times-and each time Gal-land had proposed some half-assed scheme. Most of them she’d been able to get out of, but lately that had gotten harder and harder.
She had a reputation for being the most creative captain in the fleet, and that had brought her to Galland’s attention.
That, and the loss of her ship in the Cactus Corridor. She kept her command-after all, her crew got back alive and she had managed to defeat an entire squadron of Ba-am-as-but Galaxy Patrol rules were hard and fast. Any captain who lost her ship had to go through retraining and reassignment.
Galland had prevented that, but he hadn’t let her forget that favor. And so far, it had cost her eleven unsavory missions. Eleven missions that had fattened Galland’s private purse and had left her with the feeling that she should never have taken his deal, even though it helped her retain her command.
The office wasn’t making things any better. Oak desk, real Earth plants-spiders (which were hardy) and violets (which were not)-paintings older than the Galactic Alliance, and leather furniture that had antique stamped all over it. Every time she came here, she saw some new treasure, and she wondered how much of her sweat had gone into paying for it.
Not to mention the fact that Galland kept his office too damn hot. Hot and humid, filled with “real” sunlight. Good for the plants, he said.
Bad for her. Especially when she was trying to look cool and calm, unruffled by his latest stupid plan.
If only the Alliance had stricter rules for its base commanders. But they were military governors who operated without much oversight-and were as good, or as bad, as they chose to be. And Galland certainly wasn’t choosing to be good.
“I could download the information to your personal account,” Galland said, capturing her attention just like he wanted.
She sighed and looked at the information pad he had given her. A highlighted route appeared, running through the Cactus Corridor and beyond, well into uncharted space.
A small blue planet pulsed, begging her to touch the screen and enlarge the image.
She didn’t. Instead, she handed the pad back to Galland.
“A treasure map,” she said. “How delightful. Am I acting as a member of the Patrol now or as part of a newly created piracy force? Should I wear an eye patch, get a peg leg, and start calling you matey?”
“You forget, Captain, that you are talking to your superior.”
She let out a large sigh and let her shoulders relax. “No, I haven’t, sir. But frankly, you’re not acting like my superior here. You’re acting like a little boy who just found out that there’s gold at the end of the rainbow.”
“And you, Captain, should take this assignment more seriously.”
“I would,” she said, “if you had a reliable source. And if you were pursuing something that was possible. They’re sending you-me, actually-on some kind of wild goose chase.”
“I’ve heard enough about this universal translator to believe it’s something we have to investigate.”
“Then have someone bring it here,” she said. “What’s to stop someone from bringing the technology to us?”
“The Hacrim say that these creatures don’t want to sell it.”
This mission was getting worse and worse. “Then why would you want me to go to this place?”
“To see if the rumors are true,” Galland said.
“They aren’t,” Roz said.
“Then find out.”
“Through the Cactus Corridor. Into uncharted space. Breaking God knows how many regulations to track down a rumor?”
“You’re an explorer, Captain.”
“I’m a military officer, Admiral. I’m supposed to be patrolling a sector, not going on fantasy vacations in your stead.”
“You’re being insubordinate, Captain.”
“And you’re not acting like my superior officer, Admiral.” Roz picked up the pad and looked at it one last time.
There was a lot of information missing from that route. The section of space after the Cactus Corridor was empty- completely black. Then there was the pulsating planet, and nothing else.
Space was never empty and it never had nothing there. Especially over distances that vast.
“Let me remind you, Captain, who saved your butt-”
“Yeah,” Roz said. “In an incident that happened in the Cactus Corridor. No offense, Admiral, but I really don’t want to take my ship back there.”
“You won’t be, Roz,” Galland said, lowering his voice. “You’ll be taking a prototype vessel. A small one. One that can handle the prickly nature of that nebula.”
“And the Ba-am-as?” she asked.
“You let me worry about the Ba-am-as.”
“No offense, sir, but I’m the one whose going to be taking a prototype ship through the Cactus Corridor, heavily mined and guarded by the Ba-am-as, into space that isn’t properly charted, in search of something that’s scientifically impossible. I respectfully and forcefully decline.”
Admiral Galland let out a small sigh. “Roz, I don’t think you’re in the position to argue-”
“Admiral,” she said, putting her hands on his desk and leaning close. “Let me ask you a few questions.”
He raised his dark eyes to hers. She thought she caught in them an expression of wary amusement. She didn’t like that at all.
“Fire, Captain.” Back to captain, then, were they? None of that too-familiar Roz crap any longer.
“Did the Dulacs speak English when they told you of this great find?”
“No,” Galland started, but she didn’t let him finish.
“Did the Hacrim? How about the Crativ’n?”
“No.”
“Did they use one of these devices to communicate with you?”
“No,” Galland said.
“So you had to speak to them through translators.”
“Yes, but-”
“Human translators, trained at some university and hired by the Patrol, right?”
“Yes, but-”
“Don’t you find that somewhat suspicious?”
“No,” Galland said.
She couldn’t believe he had just said that. “No?”
Galland nodded. “No.”
She stood up. Now she was confused. “Why not?” And then she mentally kicked herself for asking the question.
“Because,” he said, “they claim these creatures don’t want the translator in anyone else’s hands.”
“So,” she said, “on the off chance that this universal translator does exist, what am I supposed to do? Steal the technology?”
“That’s your suggestion, Captain.”
She let out a surprised laugh. “I was being sarcastic, Admiral.”
“Really?” he said, “Somehow, I hadn’t noticed.”
She stared at him, shocked. “You can’t be serious.”
He grinned. “It was your suggestion.”
She shook her head. How she hated the meetings with him. The thing was she knew she had little recourse. The
Alliance let a lot of things slide, particularly if the end result benefited Alliance members.
And to think she had been idealistic when she joined up, believing that “for the good of all races” crap that had been in the recruiting ads. To think that she once believed she and her crew would fly all over the galaxy doing good.
How naive was that?
Probably as naive as letting Admiral Galland help her avoid reassignment.
“Admiral,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “we couldn’t invent a universal translator for human languages. Human beings-the same species-don’t base our language on the same structure and concepts. How can there be a universal translator for humans and aliens? It’s not possible and you know it. You want me
to risk my life and my crew’s for someone’s con.”
“It’s not a con,” he said. “Three different kinds of aliens-”
“Yeah. They couldn’t all have been bought off.” She put up her hands as if to ward off his next remark. “That was sarcasm too, in case you didn’t catch it.”
“Look, Captain. You and I have both seen a lot of strange things in our careers.
That’s part of what space is about.” Galland was being serious now. Somehow that disconcerted her even more. “What if this translator works for some alien races? If it works forty percent of the time, then it’s better than anything we have.”
“And if, in the remaining sixty percent, it mistranslates and we don’t know it, aren’t we setting ourselves up for something completely terrible?” she asked.
“Let’s find out if it exists first, Roz. Then we’ll worry about it.”
“So I cross the Cactus Corridor, fight my way through an uncharted section of space, find out the damn thing exists, come back, tell you, and you’ll send me out again?”
“I’d rather take your first suggestion,” Galland said.
“It wasn’t a suggestion,” she said. “And I won’t steal for you or the Alliance. I’m not that dumb.”
All the humor left Galland’s face. “Really, Roz?” he asked. “Your record suggests otherwise.”
“It does not. I’ve been one of the best officers in this fleet, and you know it.”
“I know it,” he said. “But it doesn’t show in your record. In fact, the last eleven runs you did for me were off the books. Officially, Captain, you’re grounded.”
Her mouth went dry. “What?”
He shrugged. “We’re pretty much an isolated outpost here, Roz. No one knows what happens out here unless we choose to tell them. For the past several years all your communications, all your assignments, and all of your command decisions have been run through me.”
Of course it had. That was standard policy. She was feeling light-headed. He had manipulated standard policy to his own advantage? That was even lower than she had expected him to go.
“There aren’t that many starships,” she said. “Patrol Headquarters has to know that someone has been running the Millennium.”