* * *
43 ~ Time’s Up
Southaven Province, Pandora
Valjoth dismounted the gunboat’s ramp ushering Davey and his teacher ahead of him. The Human was clearly worried. If he knew how worried he should be, he’d be cowering not dragging his feet.
Kylar grumbled about the cold. Her boots crunched on the frozen snow as she peered around hopefully. There were no vermin near, or there shouldn’t be. Being potted by a vermin sniper would be very inconvenient.
“This is a risk,” Usk muttered. “We’re too old to be playing in the snow.”
“Speak for yourself old fool,” Kylar boomed. She roared like someone fresh from the vats. It echoed in the cold air. “There’s no silver in my fur!”
Valjoth laughed. “Really Usk. Where is your sense of adventure? A new world to tame and vermin to control. You should be eager to explore!”
Usk grumbled, keeping his eyes on the sensor tablet he held. “I dare you to say that when your fangs hang around a vermin’s neck. They’ll make a fine decoration.”
Valjoth gnashed the fangs in question, and grinned. “They look better on me.”
Evrei whispered something in Lamarian to Davey. Valjoth didn’t catch all of it but whatever it was perked Davey up. He glanced furtively around and nodded.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” Davey whispered. “No matter what it is. I promise you. I don’t want us punished.”
Valjoth approved of the sentiment. He was very pleased with Evrei. He was even happier with Davey. He’d been a fine challenge. There’d been times when he’d doubted the young Human would break at all. A fine challenge indeed. He’d found the right key in the end. All vermin had one.
They crossed the open snow between the gunboat and the grav sleds waiting to escort him. They boarded one of them and Usk took the controls. It was a rare treat for him. Kylar took the gunner’s position hoping to kill something on the way.
Valjoth contented himself listening to his pet practising his Lamarian rather than taking an interest in the scenery. Usk drove fast, he always did, but there was good reason for it. They were out of time. The timeline was central to the entire cleansing effort. Coordination between each of his five commanders and their hosts was of paramount importance.
Davey had picked up the Lamarian language quickly once Evrei took him in hand. He’d turned out to be quite bright given the right motivation. He spoke Merkiaari well, though his accent was atrocious. Physiology played a part in that.
“Why am I here?” Davey said. Evrei nudged him. “Great. Lord.”
Valjoth grinned. Davey was only barely tame. He still wasn’t comfortable with his station. That was to the good considering what he wanted of his pet. He needed him broken to harness not broken in spirit, and that’s what Evrei had supplied him.
“You’re my pet,” Valjoth said. “I don’t need a reason.”
“You do nothing without one.”
Valjoth waited.
“Great. Lord.”
Kylar’s quiet laughter made Valjoth grin. Females had their own definition of the word quiet. Davey did that Human thing. The flushing thing. He needed some fur to cover that reaction. It revealed far too much.
Valjoth activated a tablet to reveal their destination and showed it to his pet. Davey studied it but said nothing. Valjoth flicked a look at Evrei who also studied it. Neither spoke. He changed settings and the map expanded. This time Davey reacted.
“It’s a trap.”
Valjoth nodded. “Very good.” He didn’t reprimand him for his lapse.
“Why are we walking into it?” This time Evrei hissed at Davey and he added, “Great. Lord.”
“We aren’t. They are.” Valjoth tapped a claw on the tablet and revealed the strange looking column of walking things he had no name for. “These walkers intend to help your people trap mine. I’m not going to let them.”
Davey frowned at the image. “What are they?”
Interesting that he didn’t know. Davey could lie. He’d done it often in the beginning as part of his rebellion against captivity, but not since Evrei became his teacher and friend.
“Something new,” Valjoth said and took the tablet. He adjusted the view and offered it to him again. “Interesting aren’t they?”
Davey nodded as he watched the column navigating the snowy ravines. The overhead surveillance was quite good, but the angle didn’t do the things justice. They were bigger than they looked. He approved of the size. A challenge always excited him.
“Why are you letting them approach?”
“Great Lord, Davey,” Valjoth said, trying not to laugh and spoil it. “You really must learn your place. One more lapse and I’ll have to punish you both.”
Davey shot a look at Evrei. “Sorry,” he said and then to Valjoth. “Great Lord, why do you let them approach?”
“Am I doing that?”
“Yes, Great Lord. You are Great Lord. You could destroy them from above. Great. Lord.”
This time Valjoth did laugh. Davey could make a simple statement sound like an insult. Valjoth grinned at Evrei. He must reward him. He’d been an excellent teacher. Valjoth wasn’t willing to tell his pet the real reason for this visit. He chose another.
“I want to see them in action.”
That was true as far as it went. They did intrigue him but another reason was that his interceptors had already left the planet. The host would jump on time, and although he could afford losses he didn’t feel like losing any to an unknown threat. He would rather see what his grav sleds could do. He could lose many of those without feeling the loss.
Usk slowed their sled and his escort continued to the attack. Valjoth watched them pull ahead on his screens. They were racing each other. Kylar grumbled about not being part of it, but she’d had her fun on this world. He’d sent her down in the first wave. He would never have heard the end of it if he hadn’t.
Usk slowed the sled to a stop and they climbed out to watch the battle. Kylar herded Davey ahead of her. The young Human stumbled and glared at her. She laughed and shoved him again using her rifle. Evrei didn’t need encouragement. He stayed by his student’s side.
“Join me,” Valjoth said to Davey. “Here in front of me. I want you to watch. This is a small example of your people’s future. I’ll end them forever. What do you think of that?”
“I think you’ll fail,” Davey said in Merkiaari. “We’ll win. Great. Lord.”
Valjoth laughed. He pointed to the fighting. “Do I look like I’m losing?”
The sleds were fully engaged with the walkers, and although none had yet been destroyed, they were stopped in their tracks. His forces were more manoeuvrable than the walkers; they were circling them unimpeded, but their guns weren’t very effective. Valjoth scowled at that. The walkers had excellent armour.
Valjoth winced when a four-legged variant stomped on one of his sleds, crushing it, but he grinned when a two-legged one fell in flames a moment later. Finally. Nineteen to go. The battle might be a lengthy one. They were tougher than he liked. They needed to be hit from the air or long range. He’d plan for that in future.
Davey scowled when another walker exploded and toppled.
“I asked you a question. Do I look like I’m losing?”
Davey remained stubbornly silent, and Valjoth shook his head trying to mimic vermin sadness. He pretended reluctance and retrieved his pet’s controller. Davey recognised it and backed fearfully away from him.
“Answerrrrrr,” Valjoth said aiming the controller at his pet and drawing the word out. “Answerrrrrr... Answerrrrrr... I won’t tell you again.”
Davey remained silent, and Valjoth triggered the collar.
Evrei screamed and fell writhing to the ground. Davey gasped, grabbing his own collar in shock. Valjoth roared in pretended surprise and anger.
“Run!” Evrei screamed. “Ruuuuuuuun!”
Davey bolted.
Valjoth put the controller away and allowed Evrei to recover. The
servitor had played his part. He glanced at Kylar and held out a hand. She showed fang, reluctant to surrender her cannon. He grinned. She never liked being unarmed even aboard the ship when she didn’t need a weapon.
Valjoth wiggled his fingers. “Hand it over.”
Kylar grimaced. “I could hit him with my eyes closed.”
“That’s what worries me.”
Usk laughed. “He’s getting away.”
Valjoth grunted in annoyance. “Hand it over if you ever want it back.”
Kylar reluctantly gave up her cannon, and Valjoth aimed carefully. He fired to make Davey dodge. His pet changed direction randomly to throw off his aim, and he stopped firing after a few bursts. He didn’t want to accidentally kill him. He handed the gauss rifle back to Kylar and watched Davey sprinting toward his own kind as if the entire host was on his heels. He laughed at the thought. He hoped the fool didn’t die by accident.
“You missed again,” Kylar grumbled. “A bad habit. I could fix it for you?”
Valjoth gnashed his fangs and shook his head. She would never understand his strategy. It wasn’t her fault. Not a fault in her at all. She’d been bred for battle not strategy. He liked her anyway.
“How many times must I tell you? He never misses,” Usk said. “Time my lord.”
Valjoth nodded at the reminder. “Up!”
Evrei climbed shakily back to his feet, and bowed to him.
“You’ve done well,” Valjoth said and gave the servitor a brief surge of pleasure as his reward.
Evrei gasped and shuddered. “Thank you, Great Lord.”
Valjoth handed the quivering servitor his controller for safekeeping, and turned back to observe the battle.
What were the walking things called? They were something new in an old game. Powerful but limited in scope. He wondered at their development and sudden appearance. Why here? Why now? Had they been designed specially to oppose him, or were they meant for their war games? The latter he decided. They would’ve taken time to build, and Humans did so love killing each other. He’d need to factor them into his future plans. He’d been right to choose their game world for his first strike.
“Time my lord,” Usk reminded again.
“Yes, yes I know. Sound the recall. The host will jump on schedule. Precisely on schedule. Any left behind will fight to the death.”
“Of course my lord,” Usk said knowing they would have anyway. Raging troops listened to no one and Merkiaari did not surrender.
Ever.
Valjoth watched the giant machines turning his sleds into scrap one by one. They’d begun cooperating. They seemed to be learning on the job. Very odd tactics, but effective in a clumsy way. He wasn’t too upset. He didn’t like to lose but he’d planted his seed in the vermin’s vitals with his use of Davey. That was his real goal here, not killing a few more vermin. He would call this a victory.
Usk would disagree.
Usk wasn’t First Claw of the Host.
Valjoth tried to see Davey but he’d gone to ground like sensible vermin in the presence of predators. He wondered if they’d meet again. Not very likely. He’d miss him. He watched the walkers destroying his grav sleds for a moment longer and then turned away.
“Sound retreat and begin withdrawal to orbit,” he said.
“Already done,” Usk said.
Valjoth climbed aboard his sled and imagined his next victory. The vermin were going to be very vexed with him when their ships arrived to find him gone.
The sound of the sled drowned out his quiet laughter.
* * *
44 ~ Remember Me
Southaven Province, Pandora
Tei’Shima kept her head below ground level. The trenches were deep enough to do that standing on two legs if she crouched just a little. Her warriors mimicked her and kept out of sight.
Her efforts to change or come up with a new plan had been for naught. Eric and Stein were kind to listen to her, but they’d already thought of her ideas and discarded them. She didn’t have enough experience. She would learn if she lived long enough, but for now she had to believe in them.
Only she didn’t. She really really didn’t, and neither did Varya and Tei’Laran. Both males had spoken of their fears to her privately, and arranged contingencies. The plans amounted to running away. Oh, they couched them in grand terms like tactical withdrawal, or strategic realignment. All of it was skaggikt dung.
They would run away.
Of course, they would call it something else for their warriors’ ears. Tei’Laran and she would shoulder the dishonour to protect their followers. That was a part of being Tei not often spoken of. Warriors gained honour by doing their duty, and their duty was to follow their Tei. In this case, it meant following the Blind Hunter to glory or death... or to ignominious retreat.
She hated it. Hated the need for such plans, but the situation clearly demanded they be ready. If required, they would run away and fall back upon tried and tested Shan tactics. Hit and run warfare was a traditional form, called guerrilla by Humans for some reason. It had served them well in the past.
Tei’Shima hoped her fears were unfounded. If the vipers could lure the Merkiaari without being killed. If the Marines could hold them in place. And if the Titans could prove themselves in their first real battle, then they had a chance. As Stein said, they would take the Merkiaari’s stuff and use it to steal more until they could oppose them on an equal footing.
A lot of ifs.
Tei’Shima chose to dwell within the Harmonies to bolster herself against her doubts, and maintain balance. She needed to set a good example. Tei’Laran was nearby. Like her he was deep within the Harmonies and monitoring their surroundings. He was strong. Tei’Shima wasn’t sure of his range but it might eclipse hers. She wanted him close by for that reason. If he sensed the vipers returning before her, she wanted to know.
She briefly checked closer to home. The Marines were in position and ready for the attack. Metal men her people called them back home. Their powered armour was a great advantage despite the situation regarding their weapons. They could take a few hits from the Merki and survive. Not something a Shan warrior could do.
Despite her people’s lack of armour, something that was being addressed at levels far higher than her need to know, Tei’Shima much preferred being armed. If she lived long enough to be armoured as well, she’d reassess her feelings on the matter. She wouldn’t want armour that restricted her movements no matter how much protection it offered.
“No sign of the Titans,” Tei’Laran said quietly, and Kazim edged closer. “Even when I stretch my senses to the maximum.”
“They’re late,” Tei’Shima confirmed.
“More than late. I have a feeling they’re not coming.”
There was no way to know that for sure, but when Tei said they had a feeling it was significant. Tei’Shima tried not to put too much stock in his feeling, but he was strong in the Harmonies. Was he stronger than she?
“Tei?” Varya said from just beyond Kazim.
“Wait,” Tei’Shima said and cast her senses as far as she could.
There was a vagueness to the Harmonies when stretched so thin, but she had a feeling the Titans were there. They were out there far away, but... stuck? Not stuck, fighting. They’d been intercepted.
Maybe.
She couldn’t be sure. The feeling was very vague. Too vague to voice her doubts. She had to consider what the news might do to her warriors. They needed confidence and certainty from her.
“They’ll come,” she said, unwilling to say more. Even that was enough to spread confidence among those who heard her assertion. They grew braver in the Harmonies. She felt it.
Tei’Laran gave her a look that said he knew better, but he didn’t. She must be stronger than him if he couldn’t feel the frustration emanating from the direction of the Titans. It was there. The feeling wasn’t her imagination. It was just very vague.
“I wish we could ask how long they’ll be,” Varya
said.
Tei’Shima flicked her ears. “Eric blames himself for that.”
“He did order the damage,” Tei’Laran agreed. “Then again, if he hadn’t done that it’s unlikely Cooper’s Commandos would be piloting the things in person. Things tend to balance within the Harmonies.”
“That is a truth,” Tei’Shima said.
Titans were meant to be used like the Marines used their drones. Remotely. Eric’s brief demonstration against the idea had damaged four of the machines and convinced Colonel Jubb not to take the risk with the rest. His men were driving the machines manually under his direct command. They were lucky the cockpits installed for the test pilots hadn’t been deleted from the designs yet. They probably never would be now.
“We need to find a way to break Merkiaari jamming,” Varya said. “We’re lucky our comms work.”
“That is a truth,” Tei’Laran agreed. “If they ever block short range comms too... well, let’s hope it never occurs to them.”
“They’d block themselves if they tried,” Tei’Shima said, but it was only a guess. No one knew how Merki jamming worked. Some speculated they used foldspace. An impossibility for the Alliance.
“So it’s said,” Tei’Laran agreed. “Let’s hope it remains so.”
Tei’Shima flicked her ears. Merkiaari were masters of slaughter, but they did know technology. Their jamming was an utter menace. Remote piloting the Titans, just as Eric had said, was a bad idea. The Merki could deactivate them. Worse, they might take control and use them against their owners. No one was sure what their abilities were in the area. Losing surveillance drones to jamming was a small thing. Surrendering 80 ton machines armed for war was something else entirely.
“What do you think of the walking machines?” Tei’Shima said.
“Big,” Tei’Laran said. “And powerful, but unwieldy. Not very stealthy. Not Shan.”
Tei’Shima laughed and the others joined in. They weren’t Shan at all. Her people didn’t design ugly machines. They preferred beauty and symmetry in their lives. Balance.
“Where are the vipers now?” Kazim said.
Incursion: Merkiaari Wars Book 5 Page 33