by B. V. Larson
“That’s a foulness,” Shaw hissed menacingly. “Excrement pours from your mouth.”
I cleared my throat and nudged forward. “Let me explain, sirs,” I said. “It’s a simple translation error. Colonel, please understand that Commander Shaw has had plenty of battle experience fighting against ships very much like this one. Commander Shaw, I assure you that Colonel Miller meant only that you’d never been inside a ship like this.”
Shaw launched into a fit of alien agitation. His twice-jointed elbows cranked in until his fists were against his chest. Explosively, he threw his hands out to the sides. Pacing, he repeated the odd gesture—like a pro-wrestler posturing before his signature move.
“A misunderstanding, yes…” Miller said hastily. He was clearly unnerved by the big Kehr.
Shaw made a rumbling sound that reminded everyone of a beastly growl, but then he turned away and continued the tour.
“What do you call this vessel?” he asked us several minutes later.
“She’s been designated the U-1,” Colonel Miller said.
Shaw froze and turned to face him again. “The what? That’s no name. That’s nonsense.”
The Kher always named their ships after some kind of creature, either specifically or figuratively. For example, my old ship had been Hammerhead and Ursahn’s carrier was dubbed Killer.
“We could call her Hammerhead,” Dalton said. “In honor of our lost ship.”
“Lost?” Shaw huffed. “Stolen and torn apart, more like.”
“Nevertheless, is Hammerhead acceptable?” I asked.
“Hmm… I suppose.”
At this point, Colonel Miller felt he had to speak up again. “I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen. This is an Earth ship, and the ship has been designated U-1. If you have an objection, you can bring it up with the brass Earth-side.”
Shaw turned toward him slowly, almost disbelievingly. “Blake? What are you going to do about this—individual?”
“What the colonel means to say, sir, is that Hammerhead would be fine—as a nickname.”
“A what?”
“An affectionate designation, rather than an official one. You see, vessels on Earth often have both a number and a name. The crew usually prefers something with more life in it than U-1, for example.”
Shaw glowered at me. “Seems like pointless ape-scat. Complexity for the sheer sake of itself. But I will accept it at your insistence, Blake.”
Shaw moved on. Colonel Miller, visibly baffled, followed him. Every now and then, he rolled his eyes or shook his head behind Shaw’s back. That was a bad idea, but Shaw never caught him showing disrespect.
At last, the inspection was finished. Shaw stood in the hatchway, looking around at the ship’s walls.
“Inferior build quality. The ship leaks radiation and gas constantly—we detected you miles out. Before I can accept this vessel into the fleet, I must insist that you demonstrate the phasing ability.”
I looked at Colonel Miller, who brightened. This was a topic where he was my master. I’d never been taught how to fully operate the phasing system.
“Do you want to be on board, or on your own ship when we engage phasing, Commander?” Miller asked.
“On board, I suppose. I wasn’t sure you would desire it—but it would be better if I could see the effect from inside the field. Ursahn’s team will monitor the effects on the other side.”
“Excellent,” Miller said. “If you would step this way…”
“Why?”
“Well… not every inch of the ship is shielded. The radiation will be significant.”
“Lead the way.”
We parked ourselves on the flight deck and switched on the phasing effect. For a moment, we flickered, half in hyperspace and half in normal space. But then we stabilized and were firmly planted in a tiny region of another type of existence.
The physics were beyond me, but the effects were plain enough to see. The ship simply ceased to exist from the point of view of any observer in normal space.
Unless you were very close, you couldn’t detect a phase-ship. They were effectively invisible. Only trace exhaust particles, projection of flight paths and sheer proximity could be used to find them.
We were more than invisible, for a few minutes, we’d ceased to exist entirely on the normal, material plane.
=18=
In a way, the technology of phase-ships was less impressive than that of a true FTL drive system. In order to jump from one region of space to another instantly, starships had to get themselves fully into hyperspace, then propel themselves through that strange media and exit somewhere else.
That was infinitely harder than what the phase-ships did. Hammerhead had the capacity to put herself into a transitional state between the two forms of existence and operate in both simultaneously. There was no navigation to a distant location required. No beacon stars were used. We simply switched on a field that put the ship into the transitional state, then snuck around until we decided to come out of it and strike.
After the test, Shaw seemed both impressed and disquieted.
“So, it’s come to this…” he said. “It’s taken centuries, but you monkeys have finally brought to us the dishonor we’ve put off for so long.”
“Is Hammerhead going to be admitted into the Fleet?” I asked.
“Yes. I can find no objection. I would like to—but I don’t lie and skulk about the way your people do.”
“For the record, Shaw,” I said, “I didn’t build this thing. I serve Earth, but I don’t rule her.”
He looked at me. “I understand, and I pity you.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Colonel Miller burst out. “Why shouldn’t we use phase-ships? The enemy does it. You have to match enemy tactics in order to win any conflict.”
“You have no honor,” Shaw said, jabbing a finger at Miller. “All of you humans are hereby ordered to meet aboard Killer at the start of the next shift. Don’t be late—we’ll sort out all the details then.”
Then Shaw left, and the hatch shut behind him.
Colonel Miller turned on me, baffled. “How long until the shift he’s talking about begins?”
“About two hours, sir.”
“What was that all about?” he demanded. “Why was he insulting me?”
I sighed, groping for words.
“They don’t think the way we do, sir,” I said. “They really don’t. Think about our recent history on Earth. Did the Japanese in World War II fight the same way the Americans did?”
“No, of course not.”
“Right. They’d rather die than be captured. Their pilots had no parachutes. When they were captured, they committed suicide if at all possible.”
“Hmm…” Colonel Miller said, “I see your point. I have a new job for you aboard my ship, Blake. I need you to serve as my liaison. I’ve read about the Kher—a lot of it from your personal reports. But that’s different than having a true guide at your side. What do you say?”
I stared at him for a moment. He wasn’t really a bad guy—just misinformed.
“I’ll tell you what, sir,” I said. “If you’re still in command of this ship in a week, I’ll serve in any capacity you want.”
“Is that some kind of odd threat?”
“Not at all, sir. That’s a promise.”
He didn’t know quite what to make of that, but I slipped away before he could demand any more answers.
The next shift came too soon. We all assembled in our full uniforms at the docking hatch. No one came to collect us, so we waited.
“Why don’t they send someone to escort us up to the bridge?”
Samson and Dalton exchanged glances. Those two were thinking bad thoughts, I could tell.
“That’s not how the Kher do things,” I said. “They’ve already told us what to do. We’re expected to figure it out.”
“By all means then, lead on, Blake.”
We opened the hatch and all ten of us—Miller
, Henderson, three more Air Force types, and my old crew marched together into the docking tube.
It was pressurized, and we could walk upright. Miller and his people marveled at the Kher technology. They could tell the ship wasn’t rotating, and therefore the pull we felt keeping our feet on the deck had to be artificially generated.
When we reached the open hangar area, everyone present stopped and stared. Most of the crews were absent. I wasn’t sure if that was due to the time of day, or if Killer had yet to pick up her full complement of conscripts. I suspected the latter.
The stares ranged from curious to hostile. I waved at a few others I recognized, but they didn’t wave back. I didn’t see any true friends, like the cat-folk of Ral. Even the Terrapinians were missing.
We walked to the lifts and were carried swiftly up to the command deck. There, the story was different.
Ursahn was present, with her personal squad of goons. It had always seemed like she used her own people primarily as guardsmen.
Whatever the case, the sight of a dozen looming hairy figures—beings that were clearly not human and not friendly—freaked out Miller and his crew.
“Ah… what seems to be the agenda for this meeting, allies?” Miller asked.
Shaw and Ursahn exchanged glances. Ursahn decided to speak.
“This is an unusual situation,” she said. “I must apologize—”
“No need, no need,” Miller said, interrupting.
She looked startled. “Then you accept the necessity of this action? Excellent! Normally, when a spacefaring race is first met, they’re dealt with greater respect than those from primitive worlds. But in this case, we can’t see how that would work out.”
Miller blinked in confusion. “I—I don’t understand.”
“There it is,” Shaw announced suddenly. “Confusion among their ranks! They don’t even know who’s in command of their own ship. When I first boarded her, it had function, but no spirit. They didn’t even have a proper name for the vessel until Blake gave it one!”
“Such a strange people,” Ursahn said, shaking her head. “Regardless, we have time-tested methods for solving these problems. Here, each of you take one of these, and grasp it firmly.”
She handed each of us a metal tube that resembled an aluminum baseball bat, and then she stepped back quickly.
“Things are done differently when we have a conflict between officers,” she said. “The combat will be resolved from the lower ranks to the commanders—but the winning team will advance to supremacy as a group.”
“What are you talking about?” Miller demanded. “Is this one of your mad trial-by-combat events? We don’t need any such insanity! Earth’s forces are organized, disciplined. Everyone here knows I’m in command of U-1.”
Oblivious of Miller, Ursahn looked at us one at a time. “Which two are to go first?” she demanded.
No one moved, so she made her own choices. She pointed to the two women. Gwen and Major Henderson stepped forward.
“Who is in command of your vessel?” Ursahn demanded.
“Colonel Miller is,” Henderson answered firmly. She raised her chin and looked tall and proud.
Ursahn looked at Gwen, but before she could ask the question again, Gwen answered it.
“Leo Blake commands Hammerhead!” she shouted, and she slammed her tube into the back of the major’s head.
After that—it was on.
Hostility surged through my body. I knew in an instant what had happened. The Kher had switched on our syms.
My team had all been infected with artificial symbiotic organisms long ago. They served several purposes, one of which was to set us apart from the rest of humanity.
Early on, when the Kher had first come to Earth, the syms had gotten us to fight among ourselves. Those who were infected had sought one another out and attempted to murder each other. In some cases, we’d been successful. In others, we’d failed and become tight friends.
The raging, blood-lusting aspect had gripped us until we left Earth, where it was dormant most of the time. But today, I felt it. My sym was goading me, urging savage action.
The situation always seemed like madness to any military man of Earth. But the Rebel Kher weren’t like us—or like the Imperial Kher they loathed. They believed in strict individualism. Their code of valor and the honor of a single warrior was everything to them. Differing from Earth’s military history, they hadn’t really progressed beyond what the Romans might have called a “barbaric” culture.
For all that, they were more organized than most barbarians. Like the Golden Horde of Mongolia, they had consumed lesser nations and whipped them into a frenzy to attack their enemies, the Imperials.
To the Rebel Kher, humans were just one more tribe of villagers on the Steppes. We were fodder for the enemy cannons, one more subspecies to be driven into a blood-rage and sent toward the front lines.
Right now, their tactics were working on my people. Dalton and Samson needed no urging to violence, being vicious bastards from the day I’d first met them—but Gwen and Dr. Chang normally required some stoking up to fight. Gwen had clearly already given in to her sym today.
Clubbed down by Gwen, Major Henderson quickly fell. Perhaps she’d been visualizing some kind of orderly affair. If so, she had been disappointed and enlightened all at once.
“Who’s next—?” Ursahn began.
“Are you crazy?” one of Miller’s men demanded, grabbing Gwen’s arms from behind to pin them down.
That was a mistake. Gwen was a thin-armed girl, but she wasn’t the weakling she seemed to be. She had a sym in her, and that gave her both ferocity and a level of natural physical ability that belied her appearance.
Stomping with her foot on his and smashing backward with her head, she bloodied the larger man’s nose and set him to howling, but he held onto her arms.
Dr. Chang stepped forward and whacked him methodically, laying him out on the deck. He didn’t stop there, but proceeded to strike him repeatedly after he was clearly unconscious.
“Well executed,” Captain Ursahn said. “The taking of initiative has been noted. Next?”
Miller finally took action. He’d been too stunned at first—at least that was my assumption. Matters had taken such a shocking turn he’d required a few seconds to react.
He smashed down Dr. Chang first, making a “thwock” sound as he brought his weapon down on his skull. Then he turned on Gwen.
Samson and Dalton made their moves then, each sparring with one of Miller’s men.
I rushed to Gwen’s defense but arrived a moment too late. Miller hit her shoulder, breaking bones. Her right side hung oddly, the collarbone clearly snapped.
Undeterred, Gwen snarled and tried to lift her club with her other hand. Blood ran from her mouth, and her teeth were each ringed in bright red. Her eyes contained madness—a madness I’d seen before and experienced myself.
Miller backed away from her, shaking his head. I thumped him in the back of the leg, then tried to put him out as he fell.
But the colonel had been chosen purposefully. He caught me with a flying hand and somehow, I found myself lying on my back on the deck. I knew right away he was a trained fighter. The Pentagon had possessed the presence of mind to send a personal-combat specialist.
Dalton and Samson weren’t having an easy time of it, either. These guys fought like demons—or Special Forces, at the very least.
Miller and I got to our feet and circled, breathing hard.
“Why aren’t you as crazy as the rest?” Miller demanded.
“Never has affected me quite the same way, but I’m feeling it, believe me.”
“Yeah? Feel this!”
He threw his club at me and rushed in behind it. I took the club in the ear—damn, that hurt—then we were trading a flurry of blows.
He grabbed the fingers of my right hand, his grip powerful and precise.
He moved to snap down my fingers—and he should have been able to do it. But I
wasn’t a run-of-the-mill ex-fighter-jock. My sym affected my body more than it did my mind.
Through sheer strength, I pushed his fingers back. Twisting them viciously, I caused them to make a crackling sound, and he howled.
He fell to his knees, dumbfounded. He looked up at me, shaking his head.
“Blake, I outrank you. I’m ordering you to stand down!”
I shook my head.
“No sir,” I said. “On Earth, you’d have the right. But up here, we’re part of something much bigger than our home planet’s military. We’re part of the Rebel Fleet. The sooner you learn their rules, the better it will go for all of us.”
Then I clocked him with a solid blow from my club, and the battle was over.
=19=
We stood breathing hard over our fallen foes. It seemed strange that on a ship full of non-humans, six out of ten of us were stretched flat on the deck. Gwen wasn’t much better. Her broken collarbone was visible, and her skin was purple already.
We calmed down and began helping one another. Dr. Chang recovered first, as he had a sym in his blood to effect internal repairs. We opened our metal tubes and applied the salves and cool liquids there to ourselves and Miller’s team. The healing process was greatly accelerated by Kher technology.
“That was conclusive,” Shaw said. “Blake’s team clearly won. They command the new phase-ship.”
Ursahn studied him, not us. She spoke at last after appearing to think things over for a full minute.
“Commander,” she said to Shaw, “the new humans had slow reactions. There was no fury in their eyes. I can only conclude they didn’t possess syms. Why not?”
“Well…” Shaw said slowly, “they weren’t part of any trial down on Earth.”
“Then they should have been given syms upon arriving aboard my ship. The contest wasn’t fair. Also, they’re likely to die of their injuries.”
“I’ll see to it immediately. They will all be infected.”
“Good… but too late. I don’t understand why this important step was skipped.”
“Perhaps I forgot,” Shaw said, without looking at her.