“It’s beautiful out this evening,” Bryluen said, nearly whispering even though she and her wife were alone. “A soft snowfall, and the kind of cold winds perfect for an excuse to stay inside and keep the prettiest woman I know warm.”
Bel’Wa grinned and giggled at the daring nature of the unprompted compliment, then slowly raised a hand and began to stroke the Bryluen’s clavicle with the back of two fingers. Her eyes wandered across the shadows that wreathed Bryluen.
“This has been wonderful, and I can hardly begin to tell you how happy I am to be here with you. Besides, I’m certain my warriors had tired of the stories I’d tell about you!”
Bryluen laughed. The Qixing’s leg muscles warmed as Bryluen gently laid a hand on her thigh.
The Storm Mother took a slow, relaxed breath. “I can’t wait for you to see the gifts I got you! I’m pretty proud of how things turned out, and … I think you’ll enjoy them.”
“I bet I will, you’ve always had a knack for knowing what I like. I’d wager we’ll be able to make everyone else feel inadequate in the morning.”
“Oh, I’m not sure, Vort was going all-out when I accompanied him shopping—he’s done his research!”
Bryluen pulled Bel’Wa closer. “Well regardless, every moment with you is the best gift I could hope for. I’m not trying to be corny, I mean it. I know that … a lot of our marriage has been lost to work, even though you’ve never once made me feel bad for that. I just want you to know I’d garrote the ugliest, nastiest thing in this universe for you, I really would.”
Bel’Wa raised her free hand, gingerly placing it on Bryl’s hip. “Now that’s love. You know I’d do the same. I wonder: how long until dawn here?”
Regardless of a universal time system, the way in which the day and night of a particular planet lined up in terms of hours could vary in almost any conceivable fashion. On Rroth’Bia’s Retreat, the endless darkness made such things an entirely artificial system signaled by the ebb and flow of the powerful lights illuminating the sleepy town. Bryluen and Bel’Wa sat together for some time by the warm and soothing fire before exchanging words, the absence of a time-keeping device allowing them to while away the hours with ease. Bryluen turned her head toward Bel’Wa, causing her wife to flick her violet eyes up at her, their deep color glinting in the firelight. Bryluen returned the stare, bold flames dancing in the dark wells of her own irises.
“I’m not sure. But, whenever it is that dawn will come … I hope it takes its time.”
Bryluen leaned in and kissed Bel’Wa. She enthusiastically returned the gesture, raising her chin slightly with an intake of breath. She slid her hand up from Bryluen’s collar bone to a soft grip on the back of her neck. As Bryluen slowly laid her back into the thick rug, the Qixing shifted her other hand back around Bryluen’s waist, purring contentedly all the while.
◆◆◆
Bryluen opened her eyes, reflexively blowing Bel’Wa’s wayward hair off of her face. They had apparently never made it away from the rug, which Bryluen’s back didn’t particularly thank her for. She gently stirred Bel’Wa to wakefulness before they set about ordering coffee and food for the others. One by one they arrived. Nicadzim first appeared next to the Light Tree for a single instant like a fading after-image, then reappeared outside the cabin door and knocked politely. Vort followed a few minutes later, and then Runner and Kirby showed up together. Though it was technically dawn, the sky would remain as dark as it had been the entire trip. Once Dread Naught was settled about the Tree, Vort became enamored with the casual yet ritualistic fashion in which the holiday seemed to fall together.
Without discussion, Nicadzim took up the duty of doling out presents, a task made simple by his height. Taking one present from each shelf, he handed each to the teammate marked on the label. “Just so we were clear, my presents are making sense eventually. I wasn’t sure how myself, but … perhaps keep them close.”
The gifts ran the gamut from group in-jokes, utilitarian items, and examples of genuine sentimentality. Bel’Wa and Bryluen both slyly handed a gift to their spouse bearing their own name, a knowing smile passed between them. Vort had found a highly sincere set of gifts, and as they were doled out explained a holiday of his people that held some ideological similarities to Brightstar.
Vort’s species evolved on a world with a particularly harsh star and thus his civilization mostly developed in vast subterranean locales, their wings able to carry them between cities in speedy sprints over the surface when needed. This made early travel and mercantilism a struggle to avoid prolonged exposure to the exceedingly intense heat and radioactivity above. As such, they held a holiday roughly once every two and a half Human years where every city would be lit near-blindingly brightly for an entire week in metaphorical defiance of their home star. The holiday’s celebratory aspects were rooted in familial connections and a sense of civilization-wide welfare, the ever-present artificial light also representing the protective elements of their society and the advancements they had made toward a peaceful existence in the face of a hostile universe.
Each team member spent some time contemplating what Nicadzim bought for each of them, with no swift conclusions drawn. For Bryluen he had bought a hefty, military-grade vise of the sort used to help pry apart armored vehicles in rescue operations. Nicadzim’s gift to Bel’Wa was an engraved metal rod inscribed with a rhetorical passage in Qixing Imperial characters—such rods were ancient devotional symbols often mounted by the insides of doorways, and hearkened back to ancient beliefs. Each, for similarly traditional reasons, was required to be strong enough to be used as weapon to defend the home where it was mounted. For Vort, Nicadzim bought a commemorative snow globe, showing a tiny model of Rroth’Bia’s Retreat. Nicadzim gave Runner a small notepad with a pen chained to it. The pen bore a guide that helped an individual place their fingers in the optimal grip. To Kirby, Nicadzim gifted an action figure—a plastic Marine whose armor could be modified with a variety of more or less fantastic additions.
Later that evening, Dread Naught would pack up and return to Raven’s Landing. Though following events would stand prominently in the minds of those assembled, the simple experience of a shared holiday—not to mention the ongoing question of Nicadzim’s gifts that even he could not yet answer—would stay with Dread Naught for a long time.
24. Descent of the Doomed
The lingering cheer of Brightstar hovered over the team, and likely would have done so for quite a while had pressing events not intervened. Within a couple of days of returning to Raven’s Landing, Kirby had completed the installation of the improved plating on the Marduk. Her action figure stood atop a shelf in the workshop, surveying her work like a stern overseer. The skin over her former wound site had healed excellently, but she had not yet found the time to get the missing and damaged tattoos redone. This left a cloudy area on her side, her pale skin like an island among a sea of vibrant ink. She was calibrating one of the Marduk’s less-used weapon systems when Runner entered, again shirtless. Kirby was relatively certain that the last time she saw him, Runner was heading to the library and was definitely wearing a shirt.
“Wh-what is that? You hav-ve a cannon?”
The jockey turned, her grin undimmed by the oily streak on her forehead. A long barrel, normally withdrawn and folded down in segments on top of the chassis, was unfurled and extended along the top of the exosuit.
“Yeah, ain’t had time to whip it out, but I figure I will eventually. It’s no Hadrian cannon, but it’ll put a big-ass hole in anything that needs one, and it ain’t every day you can fit a hi-ex cannon inside a hallway. You seen the fresh beauty I lathed out over there?”
Runner turned about, his eyebrows raising as he caught sight of a shining metal shape. A heavy hammer as long as Runner’s entire body laid on a work table: thick, menacing, and clearly built for massive hands. The head of the hammer must have weighed over one hundred fifty kilograms, and terminated in a pneumatic plate with a square hole in the center
. The haft bore a large button halfway down its length.
Kirby walked over to the hammer, fondly stroking the edge of the head plate. “I push the button to arm it, then when the head hits hard enough, a shaped charge takes a chunk out of the poor sumbitch I’m after. Got the idea from Bel’Wa the other day. Figure the next time I see an Urbisu it’d make things easier to start by blowing a limb off.”
Runner smiled and crossed his arms. “Damn, she kn-nows how to party. Qix-xing royalty ended up a litt-t-tle different than ours, hu-uh?”
“Well,” Kirby muttered, “I don’t s’pose you end up a civilization-wide constitutional monarchy without the ovas to back it up.”
“Actually I g-guess ya do, since Qixing wom-men don’t have those.” Runner smirked.
“Oh damn, that’s right. You’d think that’d be easier to remember. Still a li’l out there to think about sometimes. I had to look it all up again the other night, ’cuz Bel’Wa made a joke about her bein’ a danger to pants a few times a year, and I just did not catch what she meant.”
The vigilante leaned against the table holding the hammer. “I’m sure sh-he feels the same way about us sometimes. I couldn’t tell you how many idioms I’ve used that m-m-make her look a-at me like I’d just dropped my pants-s.”
Kirby paused to think for a moment. “She wouldn’t be the target audience for you droppin’ your pants, nah.”
Runner smirked at the jockey and snorted. Bryluen’s voice suddenly emanated from overhead, her tone direly serious. “Dread Naught, hit the meeting room: Gru’Thiall is back in the news.”
Within three minutes, Dread Naught was gathered around the meeting table. Bryluen was wearing the new pair of pajama pants Runner got her for Brightstar. Nicadzim was wearing a dark button-up shirt tucked into a pair of khaki pants, and secured by a polished leather belt. Runner and Kirby filed in alongside Vort. Bel’Wa wore yet another colorful robe, this time a blazing yellow. She claimed to only own five articles of outer-wear, but her multi-piece garments were able to be worn in such a variety of configurations that she appeared to rarely dress the same twice.
Kirby motioned toward Nicadzim. “You got a hot date, Nico?”
The big man looked down at his attire, furrowing his brow. “... I thought not?”
The instant the last of them settled into a seat, Bryluen triggered the projector. A hologram of Gru’Thiall appeared above the table, and a shining light indicated a location on its western hemisphere.
Bryluen pointed to the light as if she were a court prosecutor. “A Ranger unit searching for the presumed Dreaded goal-point on Gru’Thiall has discovered something. They’ve followed CSOE contact protocols and have kept their distance until they receive word from me. At one of the higher points in the mountains, deep inside of what we’ve determined to be the approximate sensor disruption zone, they’ve discovered some form of monolithic complex.
“At the distance where they’ve remained they’ve been unable to identify the material used in the structures observed, but say it has no visual similarity to anything we’ve found related to The Dreaded. The Ranger Captain used the word ’temple’ in describing it, which is an awful loaded term for a Ranger to toss out on first observation. Presumably that means it’s damn impressive, and anything about it that relates to The Dreaded could be extremely important.
“We are going to immediately suit up, and take the Atet down near the complex at an AA-avoidance vector just in case. No one wants any more surprises. From there, we proceed on foot. Dismissed!”
Dread Naught equipped themselves, the pace feeling almost leisurely in comparison to the emergency deployments they had embarked upon previously. Bel’Wa’s armor and gear had been set up next to Bryluen’s, her angular red plate a brazen sight next to the more muted colors of the Human armor around it. She secured her robe in short, practiced motions before snapping on her armor plates. Her re-breather gave out a bestial hiss as she ran a final check on her equipment. Bel’Wa glanced at the devotional rod Nicadzim bought her—it was now mounted on the inside facing of her shield. The smiling, elegantly robed Qixing had effectively vanished, replaced by the iconic, aggressive image of the Gate Sentinels at war. Her fully opaque visor and the quiet hiss of her suit’s environmental systems further reinforced the martial elegance of her panoply.
The design of Qixing infantry armor had taken a different tact from that of the Astral Marines. While the Marines relied on the open demonstration of Human anatomy to purposefully assert their nature on the battlefield, the Qixing designed efficient, cold armor with almost no meaningful organic forms aside from their decorative fins. In contrast to this depersonalization each suit most often bore bright colors and vivid heraldry to an open battle, giving a Qixing army a unified martial appearance less like soldiers and more like the ancient symbols and motifs of their species given life. In early contacts Humans were continuously surprised when a Qixing removed their helmet, as every visual signal of the gear lent an expectation the person would either be a fish person or robot.
Kirby stomped up the entryway hall in the Marduk, it’s new, subtly blue armor tinting the reflections of the ceiling lights dancing across its surface. Kirby’s new hammer was slung on a custom clamp across her back, where it could be retrieved and swung in one smooth motion. Bryluen armed herself with her two usual weapons, as well as her liquid metal rifle. Runner bore his antiqued sniper rifle, his ax, and his trusty shot-pistols. The fully equipped team marched up the Atet’s ramp, with everyone taking their usual positions—or in Bel’Wa’s case, the same seat next to Nicadzim she had taken when traveling to Rroth’Bia’s Retreat. Kirby guided the Atet with all the usual haste and smoothness. Within the hour, Dread Naught was descending toward Gru’Thiall.
From space the world looked like a green-blue sphere, whose surface was rusted over in splotches of lengthy continents. The complex lay in one of the world’s jungles, dense and treacherous in the extreme. The local atmosphere did not lend itself to unprotected travel, and its soil was of little use to Qixing agriculture. As such, it was a little-traveled world mostly subjected to exploratory expeditions and scientific study. The majority of actual geographical information available was wrought from satellite images, though much of the underlying topography was obscured by the towering flora.
A triad of Qixing craft currently maintained orbit over the target site: two frigate-class vessels and a destroyer, each a flattened shape bristling in weapons and the lateral thrusters that typified Qixing ship design. A pair of bulky Marine destroyers moved alongside them, the bright colors of the Qixing craft offset by the dull, metallic shades of the Human ships. Bryluen told the Destroyers she would provide landing coordinates after the initial surveillance of the site was complete. Several hundred Astral Marines awaited her sign to secure the complex, but for now Bryluen was keeping them in orbit. A small team had a much better chance of avoiding danger should the Gru’Thiall site prove treacherous—after all, Bryluen had experienced trap-laden structures a number of times before, and a lost jungle complex could certainly be a dead ringer for any number of unpleasant surprises.
The Atet bolted past the assembled warships to penetrate Gru’Thiall’s atmosphere, and took a low-altitude course toward the goal site indicated by the Rangers. Captain Wongsawat had found a suitable clearing for the Atet at a safe distance from the complex. Kirby hammered toward the coordinates, hovering just above the increasingly tall trees. The mist-wreathed mountains reared up ahead of them, sienna soil and broad outcroppings of chalky stone breaking the copper sea of massive leaves. The sky was broiling into a menacing gray mass overhead. The jungle was assailed by heavy rains daily, so the thickening clouds were an unsurprising sight.
As the craft approached the edge of the disruption zone, Kirby slowed the craft and switched the Atet’s primary navigation over to echolocation, allowing her to see a projection of the Atet’s surroundings well enough to land. Sure enough the more sophisticated visual displays soon fizzled out, leaving K
irby with only the pulsing vision of the jungle provided by the ship’s sonic projectors. A wide plateau, like a carved outcropping among the jagged peaks, loomed ahead.
The squad of Rangers waited at the edge of the clearing arrayed in a neat line, silent as ever. As Kirby gently landed the Atet, the ramp hissed open. Bryluen emerged from the craft first, the sight of her blue armor markings causing the Rangers to simultaneously salute as if they were on parade. Bryluen snapped a salute back as Dread Naught gathered behind her at the bottom of the opened ramp. The Captain of the Ranger unit then stepped forward.
“Captain Wongsawat, any updates?”
For most with a military history, hearing a Ranger speak aloud was an odd experience. On the battlefield they typically spoke only on their squadron channels, the highest ranking Ranger occasionally curtly reporting to their superiors. They were by nature quiet people, unimpressed with showmanship and rarely emotive. Captain Wongsawat was an exemplary display of just this, his even voice adding almost nothing to the content of his words.
“An honor to meet you, Dame. We have still observed no activity, and all wildlife we’ve observed has kept outside a roughly three kilometer perimeter from the site.”
“The honor is mine, Captain. Lead us to the complex. I’ll signal your team’s entry after our initial assessment.”
Bryluen would normally have explicitly stated that she would be giving specific instructions on who should enter what parts of the complex and when. Rangers, however, were explicitly careful. Most of their time was spent on unmapped or actively hostile worlds, and they therefore weren’t prone to making unnecessary movements or unneeded actions. Captain Wongsawat knew what it meant when an Operative lead a mission, and his Rangers would certainly entertain zero notions of potentially dangerous curiosity.
The Shadow Among The Stars: Book One of the Dread Naught Trilogy Page 27