Call of Courage: 7 Novels of the Galactic Frontier

by C. Gockel

  “Maybe it’s got nothing to do with the captain’s death,” protested Rebecca. “This isn’t rational. Martham, you are such a believer in science, does any of this speculation strike you as rational?”

  “It’s rational to try to avoid being killed, Emery. Is there some other method of figuring this out? Because if you have a suggestion, by all means, go ahead.”

  “We could try talking to it.”

  The room erupted in angry protests.

  “We need to kill it, is what we need to do,” said Titov. “It’s the only way to be sure.”

  “But it didn’t even do anything!” said Spixworth.

  “We don’t know that. And even if it didn’t, do you really want to risk making it angry if we don’t take it? We don’t have a choice.”

  Liu shook his head. “We don’t know if it would hurt us. You saw what it did when we tried to blow it up— it backed off after warning us. It had Gabriel. It could have killed him right then, but it left him alone when he asked. I don’t think it killed him. What’s more, I don’t think it would try to hurt us if we just decided to leave.”

  “That’s too many assumptions, Liu,” said Martham.

  “Okay,” Blick broke in, “but even if we can come to some agreement about whether killing Issk’ath is the right thing to do— how would we? Our weapons don’t work at all. It walked out of an explosion without even a dent. And if it’s telling the truth, it’s lasted decades, maybe centuries out in the elements without any noticeable decay. How are we supposed to do it?”

  “We have to stay,” said Alice abruptly. It was the ideal solution. She wouldn’t have to convince them or stop them. The Keseburg would assume they’d been lost. They’d never know about this place. The room fell silent around her.

  “What?” gasped Al Jahi. “What are you talking about? We can’t stay here. That thing outlasted its own people by years. We don’t stand a chance.”

  “I wasn’t implying that we did,” said Alice. “But the Keseburg still has a chance, as long as we don’t lead it back to them.”

  “What chance? There are people waiting for us. For this place. You want them to just keep wandering for another millennium? Dying out as the Spindling gets worse or the elemental printers break or the ship deteriorates? You’re as bad as Emery. We can’t stay. In fact, what’s the next flight window, Liu?” She turned to the pilot. He tapped his feed and his eyes flickered as he read.

  “Eighteen hours.”

  “Make it happen. All of you. That’s my order. No more discussion, we’re going home. We’ll let the Admiral sort it out. Get your gear and your reports—”

  “And Issk’ath?” asked Emery, “What do you mean to do about it?”

  Al Jahi stopped for a moment. “We’re taking it,” she said at last.

  “You’re leading it right back to our families,” cried Titov.

  “I’m leading us back to help. Look, we know it might be in our systems. And we know we don’t really have anything to disable it—” she held up her hand as Rebecca started to protest. “Disable it, Emery, not ‘kill’. At least not yet. If we think of something, we’ll change plans. We can’t risk it destroying the ship for the same reason we can’t stay here. The Keseburg has to know. So it has to come with us. It won’t destroy the Wolfinger while it’s on board.”

  “But it will get access to the Keseburg’s systems the same way, as soon as we clear the interference,” said Liu, “They’ll be hostages too.”

  Al Jahi hesitated. She tapped her feed, clicking it off. The others followed her lead. She glanced up at the small camera above the food printer in the corner. Blick saw. “Think I need a cup of coffee after all that,” he said casually, heading for the printer. “Ah,” he said leaning on the wall. “These bunks are so uncomfortable. Be glad to get home to my own bed.” He stretched, his body covering any view the camera might have of the room. Al Jahi didn’t wait, she spun around and pulled the old manual wrench from Liu’s pocket. “Think I’d like to see one more sunrise here,” she said, handing it to him, “Not sure how soon we’ll be back. Wouldn’t you?”

  Liu looked confused. “Sure,” he said slowly, trying to remember what they’d been doing during that first sunrise.

  “Emery,” called Al Jahi over her shoulder, “You can let Issk’ath know the good news. Maybe get its help to fix the equipment lock door. Shame how old ships like this don’t have draybots. No way to fix stuff like that except good old-fashioned manual labor. No electrical shortcuts out here.” She was staring at Liu.

  “Of course, Captain,” stammered Emery.

  Liu finally understood. He gripped the wrench. He’d been trying to position the communications array during that sunrise. If they disabled it, they’d prevent Issk’ath from accessing the Keseburg until they were aboard, but they’d also have no way to warn them. And they’d have to rely on ancient navigation equipment that had never been upgraded after the invention of the feed. It had been generations. Liu had been trained in it, he’d had to rely on it when they’d arrived, but it still made him nervous. He wanted to tell Al Jahi, to warn her about what she wanted him to do, but he couldn’t think of a way to do it without being overheard. So he nodded slowly. She nodded back.

  “Okay, people, let’s get that mobile lab secured and our samples back to the ship. I want to make that launch window.” Al Jahi turned back to them and people began to move.

  “What about— what about Gabriel?” asked Leroux. “We should do something for him. Maybe like we did for Dorothy.”

  “I’m sorry, Joan. We can’t. We have to find out what happened to him. We seem to be stuck, but the Keseburg will know what to do. We have to take him home.”

  “And in the meantime? You expect us to share a ship with a murderer?” demanded Martham. “We have to figure out who did this and how before we’re trapped in a tiny metal box with them. Or it.”

  “What do you want to do, Martham? Sit around until one of us confesses? We don’t even know that it wasn’t an accident or a glitch in the system.”

  Martham didn’t have an answer. “Look,” she said at last, “I just think this is a bad idea. A terrible idea.”

  “We all think it’s a terrible idea,” said Blick, “but it’s the only one we’ve got. Maybe we can take precautions.”

  “What kind of precautions?”

  “I’ll authorize sidearms. For now,” said Al Jahi. “It won’t do any good if it’s the robot, but if it was one of us—”

  “Giving out weapons isn’t going to help,” said Dr. Cardiff. “It could lead to accidents or misinterpretations. And if there is a killer among us, why wouldn’t they use the jolts to put us all out and then kill us?”

  Al Jahi sighed. “Suggestions?” she asked.

  “We group up,” said Rebecca. “There’s ten of us, we’ll go in three groups, nobody ever alone with one other person. You, Leroux, and Liu need to stay on the Wolfinger anyway for flight prep and Dr. Cardiff can help Leroux, she has medical training. Martham, Blick, and Titov still have samples to pack in the mobile lab. Spixworth, myself and Alice all have tasks to finish in the nest. We’ll take Issk’ath with us, it’s offered to help us fill in the gaps in our data. Everyone stays in their groups when we aren’t all together. It’s eighteen hours and a forty-eight-hour flight, we can keep each other safe that long.”

  “You okay with taking the robot, Spixworth?” asked Al Jahi.

  He nodded. “Don’t think it much matters how far away that thing is, if it wants to get us, it will. But I don’t think it does. It has no reason to. Besides, Issk’ath knows everything there is to know about the nest and its colony. It says it’s the last one. I may never get another chance to study them.”

  “Oxwell?”

  Alice nodded. It gave her exactly what she needed. “Sure, If Emery says it’s safe, then it’s safe.”

  “Anyone have any objections?”

  The room was silent.

  “Let’s go then, people, three teams. We eat
together, bunk together, bathe together until launch. I want your feeds on the entire time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Rebecca twisted her helmet on with a grimace and the oxygen cycler started with a cool hiss against her neck. Two days of fresh air and the stuff in her suit already tasted flat and sour. But Alice had insisted that it was necessary in the nest. They followed Issk’ath down the spiral ramp. It was very careful, stopping often to warn them of any gaps or uneven spots. It led them back to the Nursery, because Spixworth wanted to photograph the empty moltings. Rebecca set up the mobile lights and waited as Issk’ath lifted one of the cases from the molted chitin. Alice was already darting forward to scrape the old shell. “I better take some visuals for the guys in the lab,” said Spixworth bending to pull his own equipment from the case. “They’ll never believe me otherwise.” Issk’ath backed away to watch.

  “These casings— were they enemies? Are they trophies?” asked Rebecca.

  “They are moltings. From our greatest heroes. Each nest had a gallery like this. Mine placed ours in the Nursery so that our nymphs would know the stories.”

  “Ohhh,” breathed Alice, taking a quick step back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize these were— I should have known better.”

  Issk’ath turned to her. “You do not need to ask permission. Emery and I have already agreed. And they are just casings. The memory lives in the colony. It will not decay like these. Take your samples. Make more data. Maybe it will help your people.”

  Alice hesitated. It suddenly hit her that it was a waste of time. She’d come along because it was a chance to talk to Rebecca and Spixworth alone, but the excitement at finding something new was hard to resist. She didn’t need more samples. They’d never be used. They’d all have to be destroyed before they reached the Keseburg anyway. But the others were looking at her. She knelt down and began scraping the shell again.

  Rebecca turned away toward the massive sculptures behind them. “You said you were named for someone— was it one of them?”

  “No. I was named for the boy who burned the clutch. He was not a hero. Issk’ath lived just after the destruction of the first nest. His colony was seeking a new place, but it took them a long while and their queen died just after laying a last small clutch of eggs. The Takesh found the colony and began attacking. Issk’ath was only a nymph at the time, but every other member was needed to battle the Takesh. He was left to guard the clutch and warned that he shouldn’t let the Takesh take them, nor the cold winter wind freeze them. Issk’ath was fearful of failing. He thought the eggs looked a little too far from the center of the small pit he guarded them in. So he gathered them one by one and moved them closer to the center. But then the bed of twigs and straw that had been made to keep them warm was too far to shield them. It would take too long to build a new one, and the clutch would die. Issk’ath made a fire instead. It warmed him and the eggs, but the sounds of battle drew closer. He inched the eggs closer in. They started to redden, but Issk’ath didn’t notice, distracted by the frightening sounds just beyond the edge of the small pit. He chirped and buzzed but no answer came. He whirled around the pit, stabbing at the dark beyond the firelight, but met nothing. He was desperate to protect the clutch. They were the last young of his queen and the colony was already dangerously small. He pushed the eggs farther behind him, toward the warmth of the fire, away from the creeping shadows at the edge of the pit. At last, the People returned. Many of them wounded, some without wings, but they had defended their colony. They found Issk’ath, still wild with terror and all the eggs charred in the midst of the flames. I was named for Issk’ath by my queen for what I had done to defend the colony. She resisted the longest. She has still not forgiven me, all these mating seasons later.” Issk’ath tapped its chassis. “She lives here, with the others, and her anger still wakes her occasionally.”

  “What was your name before that?”

  “We did not have designations beyond our function. I was only Guardian, like all the others.”

  Alice was restless and frustrated. She checked her feed. Sixteen hours. Spixworth finished his work and Alice helped him replace the case. “I believe we are ready to move,” said Spixworth, “If you are, Emery.”

  Rebecca was reluctant, there was so much unknown just in this one gallery. But their time was short. “Yes. I would like to see more of the nest.”

  “I’d like to see where you kept water supplies and food storage— if your people had them. I have so many questions. And that would be the most likely place for any remaining biologicals for Alice,” said Spixworth.

  “Yes. I will take you there.” Issk’ath glided back toward the ramp. The footing became more stable as they descended, protected from the rain and wind by layers above. But when they turned into the lower chambers, they began to find standing water and passages that had slumped closed, clogged by collapses of mud and stone. “Many of the rooms are lost. I did not expect them ever to be useful again, so I allowed them to melt away over time. The deep water reclaims them. Dorothy says you lived under the sky, once. She does not think you will need them.”

  “How did you keep them from flooding before?” asked Spixworth, kneeling to help Alice take a water sample from an ankle deep puddle that stretched over the passage. “Did your people dig runoff channels? I’ve never seen tunnels this hard packed in an insect habitat before.”

  “The colony had maintenance machines. They were fully automated and ran for many mating seasons after the nest was abandoned. I shut them down, one by one. It is— irrational, but I felt discomfort at the idea that they would continue to run, to smooth the pathways and pump the deep waters away and repack the walls, long after their purpose had disappeared.”

  “Is that why you said you were the last one?” asked Rebecca as they followed Issk’ath into a wide, low chamber. It sloshed through the puddles. Rebecca tried to avoid them.

  “The maintenance machines were not like the Guardians, Emery. They were not like me. They were like your machines. Tools. They were unaware and could feel neither distress nor contentment at my actions. That is why my discomfort was irrational.” It paused a moment and twisted its head to look around. “This was one of the larders. It was the scene of a great battle at the end. Part of why the other Guardians and I chose to act.”

  Spixworth swept the room with his light. It was empty now, several mounds of fine silt poking up through the still water were the only indication anything had ever been there at all. “Can you show us?” he asked.

  “The colony can, as it did in the Nursery, but your feed is erratic.”

  “We must be too deep underground for the signal from the Wolfinger,” said Rebecca.

  “I could physically access one of yours, with your permission,” said Issk’ath. Rebecca glanced warily at Alice.

  “I’ll do it,” said Spixworth eagerly. He began to fumble with his helmet.

  “No!” cried Alice, “We don’t know what organisms are down here yet.”

  “I do not require your wire,” said Issk’ath, one of its glittering pincers reaching toward Spixworth’s arm. “Just the data port in your suit. Dorothy showed me the required shape and we have replicated an extension to match it.”

  “You— what?” asked Rebecca.

  “Apologies, Emery. It was done days ago. Before I knew how you would react. I had to be sure I could access your information if you were unwilling. I had to know if you were planning another attack on the colony. On me. I was uncertain whether to tell you.”

  “Have you been listening to us the entire time?” It wasn’t a surprise, they’d been careful, but Rebecca was still somewhat shocked. It was irrational, she told herself, she knew next to nothing about Issk’ath. About its history, its culture, its morals. She had mistakenly attributed it familiar ones in the absence of concrete knowledge, and honesty had been one of those.

  “Yes. I had no choice. I cannot let you destroy the colony.”

  “We don’t want to,” said S
pixworth.

  “You may not want to, Nicholas Spixworth, but some of your fellows do not seem to feel the same. Would you like me to show you what happened here now?”

  Spixworth nodded and held out his arm. A panel in Issk’ath’s thorax slid open and a thin antenna unfolded from it. It slid home into the suit’s emergency data port and a flickering pane of light erupted from Spixworth’s arm.

  Rebecca reeled back for an instant at the sight of dozens of fragile wings lifting and settling, pallid eyes and slender legs scuttling over the packed dirt. The buzz and rasp of them overwhelmed her and she put her hands up, forgetting she couldn’t cover her ears because of the helmet. Alice’s hand squeezed her arm. “It’s a memory, Beck, just a movie.”

  Rebecca nodded and took a deep breath. The view shifted as another member of the colony took over. Underfoot they could see shining dunes of grain being smashed and spoiled by a thousand legs and red berries overturned from a clay container, their juice dark and running, staining the soft gold of the insects’ casings. Two reared up in the mob, grappling and slicing at each other, lunging and biting. Another joined, and then another, chirping and hissing, until the screen was filled with flashes of closing pincers and gaping mandibles and the sick crunch of collapsing chitin. The screen faded to a dull gray and then relit as two shining Guardians stood in the silent room. A nymph skittered forward, pushing aside the shattered casing of an adult to pick up a smashed fruit. One of the Guardians turned its pale gold eyes on the child and chirped. The nymph looked up, its antennae quivering. The Guardian chirped again and the nymph reluctantly dropped the fruit with a low buzz of its legs. The Guardian lowered itself with a mechanical whir and helped the nymph climb up its thorax where it perched. The other Guardian hissed, and the small group turned and left the room. The picture faded.

  “Can you tell us what they said?” asked Rebecca.

  “Some of the context will be lost— it is lost in this form as it is, without the pheromones. But to put it simply, there were too many of the People for the food stores. They argued, begged to take their allotment for themselves, for the nymphs they cared for, but there was not enough. The swarm had grown too large. They fought. A few escaped with a small portion of food and a tattered wing or broken tarsus, but most— most lay here in the end. The other Guardian and I were too late. We were far from the nest when it happened. We were recalled. The nest was a raging battle. Only this room was silent. The young— most of their carers were gone. They lingered near the storage when the fighting moved far enough away from the Larder to be safe. We found it this way. The food was trampled, soaked in the viscera. Spoiled. Unclean. We could not let them eat it.”