by B. V. Larson
Her words were meant as a compliment, but it was hard to take them that way.
“Thanks,” I said. “Right this way, Captain Ursahn.”
Out in the passageway, I found two MPs standing around.
“Were you guys here the whole time?” I demanded.
“Yeah,” the duty-sergeant said.
“Why didn’t you stop my friend, here, when she forced her way into my quarters?”
He shrugged. “Not in our orders. When an alien shows up, we let it do what it wants—mostly.”
I stared at him. His words could only mean that they’d been ordered to protect the project rather than me. I was probably considered expendable. If Ursahn had come into my room for a midnight-snack—well, that was just too damned bad.
“Thanks guys,” I said with sarcasm that seemed lost on them. “Now, lead the way to Doctor Abrams’ quarters. This Kher wants to talk to him next.”
“Uh…” said the duty-sergeant.
“What?” I asked. “Are there special rules when it comes to him?”
“He is the program director…” the duty sergeant said. “But we were ordered to give this creature whatever it wants, so… this way.”
I followed them with grim satisfaction. At the very least, I was going to enjoy shocking Abrams out of his bunk tonight. I began suggesting to Ursahn she use the same techniques she’d used on me.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked. “Abrams is not combat-trained.”
“That’s okay,” I lied. “He told me only yesterday he wanted to get into shape. That he wanted to experience my perspective to improve his judgment concerning Kher behavior.”
“Very well.”
We moved off down the dark, echoing passages.
=11=
Attempting to escape Ursahn, Abrams came bounding out of his quarters and slammed right into me.
Ursahn had politely allowed him to pass her without catching his scrawny ass and throwing him back in. But he didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture at all. When he recognized me, he stopped running and curled his lips into a snarl.
“Did you arrange this intrusion, Blake?” he demanded.
“There you are, Doc!” I said, giving him a friendly smile. “Captain Ursahn here would like a word.”
He stared at me with deep suspicion. “Why was I assaulted?”
Many a man might have laughed, confessed, or otherwise blown it right then, but I was well-prepared for his question.
“What? Are you saying you’re surprised by Kher social customs? I thought you read my reports.”
“I read them in great detail,” he said, straightening out his boxers. “What of it?”
“Then you know they have unusual interpersonal behavior patterns. They like to test one another, and rank is often achieved through surprising a rival.”
“We’re not rivals…” he said, turning to Ursahn. “Are we, Captain?”
“No,” she said. “We are comrades, but we must help one another achieve personal growth—how else can we face the Imperial Kher?”
It was an odd answer, typical of the Kher. I went with it.
“You see?” I asked the ruffled scientist. “As clear as day, she’s accepting you as one of her own kind. A member in good-standing among the larger community of Kher leaders. This is an honor, sir. You’d best thank her.”
Abrams did as I suggested, but with notably poor grace. Ursahn wagged her large head, and we all turned toward the conference room.
Naturally Abrams balked, as he was still in his skivvies.
“You aren’t trying to insult the captain, are you Doc?” I demanded.
It was my fondest wish to see him sitting through a meeting in a tee-shirt and shorts, but he managed to weasel his way back into his quarters long enough to dress. He met us a short time later in the same conference room where I’d been privately briefed by General Vega a few hours earlier.
Ursahn began explaining to him, as she had to me, that the Imperials were on the march again. She’d gotten no further before General Vega himself showed up, his uniform unbuttoned at the bottom.
His eyes bulged as he looked at the three of us.
“I’m in command of this facility, Abrams,” he said in a booming voice. “Why wasn’t I informed a high-level meeting was in progress?”
Abrams was a smart man—but not people-smart. He tended to bristle when accused of any wrongdoing, rather than calmly explaining the situation. I tried not to grin as he began to sputter angrily.
“I’m the director of the scientific portion of this project,” he said. “Until recently, I was fully in charge. It’s not my responsibility to inform you of your duties, General Vega.”
Again, it was all I could do to hold back my grin. I faked a concerned frown and stayed quiet instead. When your rivals are savaging one another, it was best to stay out of the way. Every Rebel recruit learned that in the first week.
“And don’t forget it,” General Vega said, taking a seat and fumbling with his uniform.
His eyes were red, and there was a hint of booze on his breath. That was a hard way to wake up—especially in the middle of the night.
“Ursahn,” I said, “please continue.”
“Are there any more coming to this meeting?” she asked. “I’d rather not have to repeat myself.”
We looked at the general, and he shook his head. “You can tell the three of us, we’ll pass it on to anyone else who needs to know. Do you mind if I record you?”
“Is this not always done?” Ursahn asked in surprise.
The general shrugged. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ Please continue.”
She did as he asked, and soon we were all putting aside our petty rivalries as the scope of the situation became more clear.
“This time it will be different,” she said. “The enemy isn’t using their manned fleet—they’re using an automated Hunter.”
“Automated? A robot, you mean?”
“A primitive term. Automated Hunters are more like artificial beings with warships for bodies.”
“How big are they?” Abrams asked.
“They displace approximately six hundred thousand metric tons.”
General Vega whistled. “Five times the size of an earthly supertanker. Do they have support ships?”
“Yes—but not with them. They have a supporting task force of manned ships that stay to the rear. Typically, a rip is formed in space-time, and the Hunter is sent into it. When it returns, the target system has been destroyed.”
“The target system? The whole thing?”
“Yes. Is that not clear?”
The general sat back and sucked in a deep breath. “And here we are making a big deal out of one gunship… We’re outclassed and irrelevant.”
“Untrue,” Ursahn said. “Your champion did very well on Earth’s behalf the last time the Imperials unleashed their fleets. That’s why I’m here—to collect him.”
General Vega made a brushing-off gesture in my direction. “By all means, drag him into that transmat you left here and take him away with you.”
Ursahn stared at him for a few long seconds. I knew from her pose, she was thinking speculatively. That took her kind more than a few seconds to pull off, typically.
“Hold on a minute,” she said. “What was this about a gunship?”
“Nothing,” Abrams snapped, shooting a deadly glance at me. It was very clear he wanted me to keep my mouth shut.
I didn’t say a thing, but Ursahn looked at me.
“Blake,” she said. “I’m hereby reinstating you as an active-duty member of the Rebel Fleet. This appointment supersedes any local affiliation you might have. Tell me about this gunship—that’s an order.”
I glanced at Vega and Abrams. They both glared at me, but they didn’t say anything. Did that mean Earth already had some kind of treaty with the Kher? I suspected that it did. We were a planet with a puppet government—at least, that’s what it seemed like to me.
“I see,” I said, “but I can’t honorably obey your order.”
“You accept its legitimacy?” Ursahn asked.
“Yes, but we’re on my homeworld now. I have a conflict of loyalties, and I beg you to reconsider.”
She slid her eyes around the group, then she pulled out a communications device. She spoke into it, and I only caught one word: Godwin.
“You’re summoning that agent of yours?” the general asked. “Why? Just take Blake and go back to your ship.”
“This matter must be handled correctly,” Ursahn said. “As it’s not directly fleet-related, an official government representative must handle the case.”
This had my mind whirling. The Rebels didn’t operate like Earth. They had their fleet, which was like a mish-mash of ships from a dozen loosely-allied worlds. But they also had a more permanent government to oversee them all. Apparently, she was saying that the thing I’d thought of as Godwin was just such an individual.
All of this was of great surprise to me. I’d known Godwin was a free-agent, but I had no idea he had any legitimate authority. I’d also assumed he was human, when apparently, he wasn’t.
Godwin didn’t take long to show up. That part didn’t surprise me. If he was a Kher agent, he would have access to the transmat device, the same as Ursahn.
What did surprise me was the nature of his entrance. He walked into the room, picked up a steel chair, and whacked General Vega in the head with it.
This single blow was so swift and hard I could hear the general’s skull thump twice—once as the chair smashed into the back of it, and then again as he flopped forward on the deck and sprawled there.
=12=
A rush of guards came into the conference room immediately after Godwin had bashed General Vega. They drew their pistols and pointed them at Godwin.
“Hold on!” I shouted. “Ursahn, is this Godwin?”
“Yes, of course.”
“He’s a Rebel Fleet agent, is that right? He’s Kher, not human?”
“He’s a Rebel Government agent. His authority supersedes my own.”
The guards checked Vega, who was out cold on the deck, and they called for medical aid.
“You’d better talk fast, Blake,” the duty-sergeant said. “I’m for gunning down both of these freaks right now.”
Abrams leaned back in his chair and crossed his skinny arms. A shitty smile formed on his lips. He wanted to see me squirm.
“Yes, Blake,” he said. “Talk fast.”
“We can’t kill Godwin or Ursahn,” I said. “They’re Kher representatives. They have diplomatic immunity.”
“It could be an accident,” the sergeant suggested.
“That would be a big mistake,” I said, turning to the creature I knew as Godwin. “Agent, why did you strike General Vega?”
“To assume his authority, of course,” he said. His tone suggested he thought my question was an odd one. Then he turned toward Ursahn. “The humans have built a ship, they copied one of ours. These primates are at least as tricky as any of their brethren among the stars.”
Ursahn nodded, unsurprised. “I mentioned this fact at the briefing before this mission began. Now that you’ve struck down their local official, I recognize your authority to assume command here.”
“Excellent,” the agent said. “Let’s go inspect their ship. A new levy must be determined.”
Godwin turned to lead Ursahn out, and she moved to follow him. I rose up to stop them both.
“You need to explain things to my people,” I told them, or there will be further violence.”
Godwin looked at the armed guards. He shook his head. “Your race is such a strange one. I’ve moved among you for months, and I’ve seen a consistent misconception of your status. You’re a single world without a fleet. Any sane sub-species would be compliant and respectful.”
“I know, I know,” I said, “but let me give it a try.”
I turned to Abrams, who still had the air of a man who was enjoying the misfortune of others. Without a doubt, that was exactly what he was doing.
“Doctor Abrams,” I said, “with the general down and out, you’re in charge here.”
“Not so. This is a military operation according to Washington. Let me contact Vega’s exec—”
I stepped toward him, gripping his shoulder firmly.
“Listen,” I said, “you’re witnessing a diplomatic meltdown. Take over and show them the ship. According to Rebel Law, they have the right. Remember we did steal the design. Don’t complicate this any further.”
“This is your shit-show, Blake,” he said. “Why should I help you?”
“Because if you don’t, they might destroy your entire project. Hell, they might blow up this mountain.”
Abrams blinked, and he looked alarmed. Apparently, he hadn’t considered his project or his own person to be in any jeopardy.
“Oh…” he said, waving back the guards. “Blake is right. These beings have diplomatic immunity. Step aside. I’ll give them a tour of the project facilities.”
“That’s contrary to our orders, Doc,” the duty sergeant said.
“I know that. I’ll accept full responsibility. On the other hand, if you don’t comply, the responsibility for what happens next will be entirely yours.”
The guards looked upset. They didn’t know what to do.
“Just follow us and play along,” I told the sergeant. “If Godwin whacks anyone else, I’ll take him out myself.”
That seemed to get them to step aside. The medical people arrived and went to work on General Vega. The rest of us stepped over his body carefully.
Abrams led the way down into the newly dug vaults. The edgy guards followed us. They had their pistols out, and they clearly wanted an excuse to use them.
We saw the ship down there in the gloom, in all her glory. Abrams was proud of his work, and he hit a switch that lit it up with floods. The metal hull of each module reflected like jewels filling a cave.
“When assembled,” he said, “this ship will be the first of Earth’s fleet. We’ll use it to support the Rebel cause—this vessel and all her sisters to come.”
The two Kher circled the ship, barely looking at him. They studied the subsystems. Ursahn in particular was glowering. She seemed on guard, sniffing the air and crouching periodically.
“Would you like to see the interior?” Abrams asked.
“What is this protrusion here?” Ursahn demanded. “I do not recognize this.”
“That’s a field projector, nothing else.”
She walked around the ship twice, looked inside, then returned to face Godwin and Abrams.
“This ship isn’t a copy of the one you stole from my carrier,” she said.
“We made modifications, certainly,” Abrams said. “And I must object to the suggestion we stole the original from you. It was clearly documented as—”
“Shut up,” she told him. “Blake, come to me.” Captain Ursahn shambled several paces to the side of where the others stood.
I did as she asked, worried. “What is it, Captain?”
She studied my face and sniffed at me. “This ship is dishonorable. It’s a phase-ship.”
If she could have read human emotions in facial expressions, she’d have known I was looking very guilty. Fortunately, she was still weak in that area.
“What? Really? I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true. I don’t blame you for this crime—not directly, but I must alert Rebel Command. They’ll know what to do.”
“Hold on,” I said to Ursahn. “Do you think the agent knows this is a phase-ship?”
“No,” she said, “he would have reported the violation. He’s only been working this case to make sure Earth is required to contribute the correct levy.”
I frowned uncomprehendingly. “The levy? I don’t get that. What difference does it make if we have one ship or zero?”
“All the difference in the world. Rebel Law says worlds without ships mu
st provide a single crew to die in the Hunt. But if you have real warships, that means you must provide at least one to fight with the rest of the higher-level civilizations.”
“I see…” I said. “Is there a special rule for phase-ships?”
“Only that they are forbidden, dishonorable.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked her.
“Destroy this abomination, of course. Then you and I will return to Killer and die gloriously, you in your fighter and me at the helm of my carrier. It will be as it should have been the first time.”
“Hmm…” I said thoughtfully, not liking her plan. “It seems to me the Imperials are the dishonorable ones here. They’re sending an automated Hunter at us this time. Would the Rebels build such a thing?”
“No, not even if we could. They’re worse than phase-ships.”
“Exactly!” I said. “Here’s what I propose: let me talk to Rebel Command. Let me explain that using phase-ships might keep us all from dying.”
She stood up angrily. “Phase-ships are dishonorable! You are asking me to soil my den!”
The idiom had been weakly translated, but I gathered her meaning clearly enough.
“Listen,” I said. “All I want is to kick the decision up to the next level. That’s it. Humans helped you defeat the enemy before, remember? Trust us again.”
“That has turned into a disaster. They’ve sent a worse monstrosity at us now—and they’ll never leave us alone. The Hunter will exterminate our peoples because you embarrassed them last time.”
“Then we have nothing to lose.”
“We have our beliefs, our memories. What more can a warrior hope to have when they die the final death?”
I sighed. “Are you going to let me talk to the Admiralty or not?”
She looked like she was thinking hard. Her small eyes were almost shut, and she stepped from foot to foot for a moment. I let her do so uninterrupted.
At last, she turned back to me.
“I suspect you of trickery,” she said. “Duplicity lives in your very soul—but I will allow the Admiralty to decide.”
My face wanted to smile, but I fought the urge. Now wasn’t the time to gloat.