Third Don: Ardulum, #3

by J. S. Fields

DECEMBER 15TH, 2060 CE

  There was a certain discomfort in standing in a Risalian cutter with a former Ardulan slave. Either Salice was taking it a lot better than he was, or she had some fantastic compartmentalizing mechanisms. Yorden had expected to see other Ardulans onboard the cutter—had, in fact, suggested that Salice stay on the pod, but she had insisted on coming along. That seemed like a horrible idea to Yorden, but what did he know? Maybe she wanted to exact revenge. Maybe she thought she would see family. Unfortunately, every being he saw on the cutter, aside from the Mmnnuggls that had come aboard with him, was Risalian. There were firsts and seconds in light-gray tunics, thirds in tunics a shade darker, and the captain hirself in yellow, but that was it. Everywhere Yorden looked, he found blue-skinned bipeds with black hair. Complete uniformity.

  “Welcome, Captain Hhffvnoll and crew. I am Captain Ian of the Kelm.” The young Risalian captain, clad in a form-fitting tunic that highlighted hir wiry musculature, inclined hir head, hir posture tight and rigid. Hir eyes moved to Yorden and Salice, who stood a bit apart from the Mmnnuggls. Xe frowned. “We made preparations for the Mmnnuggls, but we are not prepared to house this.”

  Hir gaze was fixed on Salice, which only furthered Yorden’s confusion. The tone was expected, but surely the captain had seen an Ardulan before. They were standard issue on all border cutters, and right now, they were hovering on the edge of Risalian space. What the hell had happened? Emn and Neek couldn’t have liberated every single Ardulan, could they? What could possibly have caused the Risalians to discontinue the Ardulan program?

  “Our guest, Conqueror Terran Yorden Kuebrich—and his Ardulan, Salice.” Hhffvnoll floated to just behind Yorden’s hip and then bobbed once. “He is here at your request, as a negotiator between our peoples. His wisdom is invaluable. Our homeworld is in…difficulty at this time. There is much instability.”

  Yorden suppressed a shudder. Just what he needed—unstable beach balls. With his luck, Captain Hhffvnoll, his Captain Hhffvnoll, would end up officially in charge of the Mmnnuggl fleet…and Yorden would be stuck at the helm with him. It was an ideal place to be, if one were trying to direct a war, which Yorden was not.

  Captain Ian shook hir head but did not take hir eyes from Salice. “Can you keep her under control?”

  Yorden’s patience waned. He’d expected snide jabs between the Risalians and the Mmnnuggls. There was so much ammunition. Who wouldn’t want to throw a quip or two? Salice though—she was a different story. The Mmnnuggls had an excuse for acting weird around Ardulans. The Risalians did not. How had Ian graduated from a captain training program this young? Xe didn’t even look to be at hir full height yet. Were they this short on trained captains that they had to employ teenagers? That would have been like putting Nicholas in charge of the Pledge.

  “She’s fine.” Yorden glared at the Risalian captain. “If she hasn’t blown up your ship yet, she is unlikely to do so. That’s just basic courtesy.” He pointed to the open door at the far end of the hangar bay. “I suggest we get on with this meeting and stop gawking. How’s that sound?”

  A blush of purple blossomed on Captain Ian’s neck slits as xe looked away from Salice and motioned for the group to follow. “Of course. This way, please. Our conference room is just down the hall.” Xe turned and walked to the doorway, three Risalian seconds following closely behind.

  “You okay?” Yorden whispered back to Salice. “You can still go back to the pod. No sense in dredging up bad memories without anyone to talk to. Or ‘empathy to,’ or whatever it is you do.”

  To Yorden’s surprise, Salice slipped her hand into his and looked resolutely at the door. “Hshh,” she pressed through her lips in an abrupt puff of air.

  Hell. If Salice was game, then he had no excuse. Yorden followed Ian from the docking bay door into the connecting hall. The Mmnnuggls trailed behind in one tall column, Hhffvnoll at the top. As they walked, Yorden delighted in stretching his back and pushing himself to his full height. Risalians were a tall bipedal species. Not as tall as Yorden, but he was an outlier even amongst Terrans. Still, Yorden’s head didn’t even brush the ceiling of the cutter, and the longer they walked, the more cricks he was able to work out of his neck and back.

  Whether the extra Risalians about were honor guards or the ship’s crew was simply wary, Yorden couldn’t tell. His time on cutters had mostly been relegated to cargo bays and—on the occasions when he needed to have it out with the captain—the bridge. He’d once told Markin Kelm, the Risalian the current ship he was on was named after, to shove an andal tree through hir neck slits in a cutter’s dining hall, but that was the limit to his experience.

  Salice, on the other hand, seemed much more interested in their surroundings than she had been of anything else onboard the Mmnnuggl vessel. She ran her fingers over the porous walls and scuffed her heels on the floor. She studied Captain Ian—hir tunic, hir hairstyle, hir perpetually purple neck. It was almost as if she had never been on a cutter before, except Yorden knew that wasn’t true.

  The Risalians they passed made no effort to hide their surprise at Salice’s presence. Some backed into the doorways they were probably supposed to be guarding. Some gasped and looked to their crewmates for an explanation. The neck of an older third turned completely purple.

  “Your presence intimidates the Risalians.” Hhffvnoll floated up and whispered in Yorden’s ear, “I’m pleased you suggested this involvement. We have much to learn from you, Conqueror Kuebrich.”

  “Could you learn personal space?” he hissed back.

  Before Hhffvnoll could respond, Captain Ian opened the door to a small conference room. Surrounded by chairs affixed to the floor around its edge, an oblong, wooden table took up most of the available space. Its purplish tint made it clear that it wasn’t made of andal, but it was a striking piece in an otherwise monochrome and windowless room.

  The Mmnnuggls broke apart and moved to hover between the chairs. Although they didn’t have discernible facial features, Yorden had the sense that they were disgruntled. Ian sat at the head, and the accompanying Risalians dispersed to stand around the room. Hhffvnoll stayed to Yorden’s left. Salice continued to hold his hand and lingered just behind him.

  “I think you will find the seats comfortable, Captain Kuebrich.” Ian swiveled the chair next to hir. “They can tolerate the weight of three Risalians simultaneously. Your girth should not present a problem.”

  Really? Risal’s mortal enemies were here, and he was the one getting jabbed? Well, fine. He knew how to purple a neck slit or two. Yorden sniffed, moved forward, and gestured for Salice to sit. As she did, Yorden watched Ian’s hands ball into fists and then struggle to relax again. God, he’d really missed pissing off Risalians. Being back in the Charted Systems was great, warmongering beach balls aside.

  Captain Ian rubbed at hir neck. “Shall we begin with the hemicellulose discussion?”

  Yorden frowned. “Wait, aren’t we still missing people? Where’s the head of Cell-Tal?” His eyes widened. “Don’t tell me it’s you. Are there only a handful of adult Risalians still pushing around out here?”

  This time, Ian’s neck purpled entirely. “Captain Ran’s progenitor inherited the company. Xe is unavailable for this meeting as xe is meeting with delegates from several other Charted Systems worlds, as well as certain members of the Alliance, to discuss cellulose needs for the next fiscal cycle. We have supplied both in the past, although our chain with the Alliance was not previously public, outside of to a few member transports. Regardless, I have been approved to receive your requests.”

  Hhffvnoll emitted a low chitter. Yorden had to agree.

  “So, this is a waste of time. We’re negotiating with a peon.”

  Ian pursed hir lips together and curled hir hands again into tight fists. “Captain Kuebrich—”

  “Captain?”

  Ian, Yorden, and Hhffvnoll turned simultaneously towards the door, where an uncomfortable Risalian youth in a light-gray tunic shuffled on hir feet.
“Captain, Markin Pihn is on tightband—”

  Ian stood and bowed to the Mmnnuggls. “If you would excuse me for just a moment—”

  “Apologies, Captain,” the youth cut in. “The markin is calling for Captain Kuebrich.”

  A very uncomfortable silence descended. Yorden kept his eyes on the youth in the doorway, trusting his face not to reveal his confusion tinged with smug delight. The old Markin were dead. The Mmnnuggls had been very clear on that. They’d been irritating, but they were a known quantity. Noting the ages of the crew around him, the current Markin might be populated by preschoolers. He didn’t particularly want to deal with Risalian youth, no matter how amusing it might be.

  Salice nudged his lower back. Yorden stifled a grunt. When had she gotten so assertive? Yorden imagined the possibility of her roasting the current residents of the conference room in his absence as he moved to the door. At least she would probably defend herself against an assault.

  Probably. Yorden turned back to Salice and raised an eyebrow.

  “Pup pup,” she pushed through pursed lips.

  Right. She’d just have the guns fire at their owners. He shouldn’t have worried, but he was going to keep at it anyway. Yorden returned his gaze to the youth. “Private call, then? Shall we?”

  As he exited, Yorden caught a low mutter in Risalian. His grasp of the language wasn’t stellar, but he knew enough to get a feel for the short sentence:

  “Ran, you’re an idiot.”

  Yorden snorted. Idiot indeed. If Ran had been the one who had severed the Pledge in half, assuming it would kill Emn, then it was a good thing that particular Risalian was out of the gene pool. Cell-Tal would miss hir, no doubt, but then again, what use was Cell-Tal without Ardulans?

  “Captain Kuebrich.”

  The blue face on the screen was older, thank god. Markin Pihn sat as rigidly as Yorden expected—back straight and hands clasped in front of hir on the table. Behind the markin was a wide bay window containing a star field. It was likely that this particular markin was the head of the Sheriff sector. The leaders of the Genomics, Science, Ship Operations, and Capitol sectors seldom traveled.

  Yorden settled into the thin metal chair. The room was small enough that he could touch opposite walls at the same time, and the only thing in it besides the chair was the small communications console. The markin cleared hir throat, and Yorden noted that the tinge of hir slits was a deep indigo.

  “Been having a rough time of it, I suppose? Crippling War and all?”

  Pihn nodded wearily, although hir eyes were sharp. “As you say. The Council has reviewed the previous markins’ logs. We understand your…unique relationship with the Council. I’m surprised to find you with the Mmnnuggls. Based upon the markins’ notes, you aren’t one for rigidly controlled governances.”

  Yorden shrugged. “Some telepathic trees have my pilot, maybe. Also, there’s likely another war brewing, if you haven’t noticed, or hell, maybe you’re the one brewing it what with your little call to the Alliance. What do I know, except that the Nugels are terrified of your modified Ardulans? And I find it sketchy as hell that you agreed to meet with them, with or without a Terran negotiator.”

  Pihn rubbed at hir eyes. “We’re aware of the destabilization of Ggllot, which is one of the reasons we’ve not been keen to meet with any delegates from the planet. Your presence with them is…interesting, at least in that we’ve some lens to view them from. And quite frankly, the interests of the Alliance and the Charted Systems are no longer separate. We’d have acquiesced to meet them with or without you, when the time was right. The Mmnnuggls aren’t the only ones concerned about the Ardulans. We have made some dramatic changes as of late, as I’m sure you noticed when you came aboard.”

  “That you seem to have gotten rid of all of your Ardulans?” Yorden huffed. “Yeah, I noticed. Is the hysteria catching?”

  Pihn brought hir hands down and stared at Yorden. “Why do the Mmnnuggls need hemicellulose, Captain? One can intuit, but I want to hear you say it.”

  “Where are all your Ardulans?” Yorden countered.

  Pihn looked surprised. “They’re dead, Captain. Surely you know that. The escaped girl that you harbored killed them all. Even the babies at the crèche are dead.” Pihn’s neck began to turn green, which was not something Yorden had ever seen before. “I didn’t expect you to kill them, Captain,” Pihn said in a whisper. “I don’t understand your logic. When I sold Chen that containment gun and leaked information about the Mmnnuggls, I thought you would liberate the poor things.” Pihn’s gaze came back to Yorden’s. “What went wrong?”

  “I…” Yorden’s mouth hung open. He tried to formulate words, but his mind was reeling. Pihn…and Chen…and… “I don’t know,” Yorden finally managed. “I was captured by the Nugels, along with Salice, the Emn-replacement Ran tried to pull off on the Neek people. Up until yesterday, I thought Neek, Emn, and Nicholas had died in the ship impact. I… You sold Chen weaponry and information?” Yorden circled back to the bigger question. “You and your buddies just, what? Got together at Markin school and thought you’d undermine the Systems’ entire structure?” Yorden pulled at his beard. “I mean, more power to you, but, Jesus Christ, have some fucking understanding of the game first.”

  Pihn cleared hir throat and then rubbed hir neck. “Captain, you dealt a lot with the Markin—and Ran, to some extent. That’s a very narrow, privileged group. Added to that, Risalians aren’t stupid. A group of us were provided some information perhaps a decade back by an elderly third-don Ardulan woman. We took it to the Council, but it was ignored. Some of us, however, did not ignore it.” Xe stared pointedly at Yorden. “In between training at the Markin Academy, I corroborated the information with Cell-Tal’s files on the Ardulans. I researched them. I read the science. I read the Neek holy books and studied their religion. I petitioned the Markin repeatedly to hold a hearing on sentience. They refused. I met with Captain Ran personally. Xe refused to listen. Then, I stumbled upon some records about you and got creative.”

  “And it worked out, because you’re a markin now.” Yorden sneered. “You’re damn lucky the whole of the Systems didn’t fall down around your slits any more than it did. Whatever you’re playing at now, you’d better have some idea of the stakes.”

  Pihn’s expression did not change, despite Yorden’s goading. “The Council now is made up of my cohort from the academy. We worked together, with Chen, and with a few other beings too, including the Ardulan woman who is part of some resistance on her homeworld. The Crippling War gave us an unprecedented opportunity for change, and the Council is taking that opportunity. We’re educating the captains and the populace. If we’d had any Ardulans left, they’d have been freed. In that same vein, we’re trying to figure out sheriff operations without Ardulan aid. All we’re doing with the Alliance is trade renegotiations and…discussing our shared concerns over the Ardulans.”

  “But we’re not talking about your Ardulans now, are we?” Yorden asked. “Or are we simply talking about one Ardulan in particular?”

  Pihn’s voice remained neutral. “The Markin have no concerns about the planet Ardulum as a whole, Captain. Not at this time.”

  Yorden looked at the ceiling and sighed. When his eyes fell to Pihn again, the markin’s face had fallen into a grimace. “What of you, Captain? Whose side are you on?”

  Yorden stabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m on the side of not getting blown up. I’m on the side of safety for Salice—and Emn, if I find her—and getting my pilot out of Alliance clutches. I’m on the side of the Systems not becoming intergalactic flotsam.”

  “And you think ships made of xylan will do that?”

  Yorden sat back. “Not all of it, but part of it. For instance, it won’t solve your border skirmish issues, because I doubt the Nugels will convert the whole fleet, but it will cut down on the number of ships you have to deal with.”

  Pihn sighed and put hir head in hir hands. “So, the Mmnnuggls make ships that A
rdulans can’t touch but that everyone else can obliterate? Why? Protection only? Mmnnuggl goals are expansive. Protection from Ardulum cannot be so easily engineered. The Mmnnuggls would be better off negotiating a peace. What is the actual objective here?”

  “Vengeance, more than anything, rooted in deep feelings of betrayal. Imagine if your god turned out to be kind of an asshole and didn’t own up to it. Now, imagine your god is really powerful and you’re still kind of afraid of it, but you’re also mad at it. That’s where we’re at now. I don’t think Captain Hhffvnoll drinks the same tea as the rest of them, if you follow, but he can’t ignore the Nugel populace. They think the Ardulans lied to them, and they’re terrified of Emn. That’s a powerful combination.”

  Pihn frowned and rubbed at hir neck. “The Markin share the concern that Emn, as you call her, will return. That she will seek reparations, and that those reparations will destroy Risal. We would gladly meet with her to discuss amends to be made, but—”

  “You think she’d rather blow up your planet,” Yorden finished for hir. “You think because she killed all the Ardulans that she’s out for blood.”

  “We were hoping the Mmnnuggls might help us find her,” Pihn said in a small voice. “That they might afford some protection against her, even though this hemicellulose technology is nonsense.”

  Yorden began to speak, but the markin cut him off.

  “I know you, Yorden Kuebrich of Earth. I have Kelm’s first report on you right in front of me. Do you remember meeting hir? How excited you were to get off Mars? How excited you were for a bit of illegal adventure? Tired already of the peace treaties and their restrictions and filled with some youthful Terran desire to cause trouble in a decommissioned shuttle.”

  “That was half a century ago,” Yorden muttered. “I’m not a doe-eyed twenty-year-old anymore. I’m also not the one with an irrational fear of a being they’ve never met.”

  “My point is that you care about the Systems. You’re happy here, and you were happy on the Pledge. You did well on the work the Markin provided and the hauls you ran yourself. Peace was good for you, as much as you complained about it. You care about peace, even if you’d prefer some of the lines we drew to be a bit closer to your side than ours.” Hir voice dropped. “Whatever you are doing with the Mmnnuggls, we don’t care. How you survived the collision with Captain Ran’s cutter, we don’t care. The Markin Council barely sleeps in order to put the Systems back together, to reestablish cellulose trade in the Systems and the Alliance, to train a volunteer sheriff force, but that will mean nothing when she returns.”