Third Don: Ardulum, #3

by J. S. Fields

  “Your assumption is correct, and please do so.” Ekimet turned back to face Atalant as her mind wormed through the chorus of andal voices and finally connected with Arik.

  “I’m glad you came, and not the planet itself,” Ekimet began. “I apologize for gambling with Neek lives, and I’ll apologize to Ardulum itself, if I get the chance, for the death of the trees. I gave you a brief overview of my reasoning during our contact before you arrived on-planet, so I’d rather not get back into that now. Of immediate concern is how to pacify the Mmnnuggls.”

  Does zie want us to send the whole Ardulan fleet? Arik asked. How many ships are out there? Do we have a chance of winning? Atalant relayed the message.

  “If I may, Eld?” Miketh stood in the doorway, looking questioningly at Ekimet. Her hair was disheveled, but she stood almost defiantly, seemingly certain of her relevance. Atalant smiled despite herself.

  “Come in, please.” Ekimet motioned the woman inside. She moved to stand just behind zir. She made no eye contact with Atalant, keeping her gaze near her shoulder instead. That was a little too reminiscent of being on Ardulum. Atalant huffed.

  “She’s showing respect, Atalant. It is your choice to waive formality on a personal basis, but doing so can put others at ill ease.”

  “I’m fine with being treated like a normal person, especially in an isolated apartment on my home planet.” Some of the tension fell from Miketh’s shoulders as her eyes lifted up.

  “I appreciate it, Eld Atalant. I’ve just come from Emn’s rooms. She and Nicholas are resting. Representative Hepatica is in their own room in an andal box, per their request.”

  “Thank you, Miketh.” Ekimet gestured for them all to sit at a small, oval table near the kitchen. “We have a few more moments, then, so let’s discuss. Atalant, Miketh is a Mind Talent, with a primary specialization in piloting. She’s also been the one monitoring the fleets.”

  Which would explain why Atalant already felt a certain kinship for the woman.

  “We have sixty-nine low-cellulose or cellulose-less ships in orbit and some four hundred standard cellulose ships, give or take a few. Since you are, forgive me, new to the Talent structure, I wish to point out that our various Talents are limited to working with cellulose and work much better with andal cellulose. This hemicellulose—the xylan they’re using—utterly confounds our sensors. The Lucidity is a Keft ship, and so works on slightly different principles, but Ardulan ships use targeting sensors specific to cellulose. Our weapons, which work on the principle of starting chain reactions in the amorphous regions of cellulose to unbind the polymer and structurally weaken the metal, are useless against hemicellulose.” Miketh put her hands on her hips and frowned. “No matter how well reinforced the Neek ships are, or how dexterous their pilots, it’s not going to matter. The only weapons we have are meant for cellulose. Short of propelling sharp objects into hemicellulose ships, or directly ramming them, we have no practical approach to engagement.”

  “That means a flare wouldn’t be of any use either, correct?” Atalant asked.

  No, answered Arik. We…they can control cellulose, the same as a normal Ardulan, just on a much more refined level.

  Atalant repeated Arik’s words as something moved in her peripheral vision. She turned around and caught a flash of crimson. The whine of a settee engine filtered past the glass and into the room, loud in Atalant’s ears.

  “You think we need non-cellulose-based ships?” Atalant asked. “To match the Mmnnuggl forces somehow?”

  Miketh moved to stand next to her. “The cellulose in our ships isn’t the problem. The problem is finding pilots who can fly without telepathic interfaces and gunners who can target manually. These skills just aren’t in our population, and the Mmnnuggls know it. I’ve been flying since I was a first don, and I wouldn’t have any idea where to start with manual piloting. And forgive me, Eld, but the Neek are not strong pilots. Since we arrived, I have been training the settee pilots on tactical maneuvering—even going as far as attempting to upgrade their ships’ shield plating—but that won’t amount to much.”

  The engine whine faded and was drowned out by the whirring of the air conditioning unit. Atalant tugged at the edges of her mind, bringing herself back to reality. The one true strength of a settee was agility, and while they couldn’t take on an armada with fourteen small ships, they could still make an impressive spectacle. Maybe, with whatever Yorden was planning, it would be a start, assuming he wasn’t planning to simply destroy Neek and conquer Ardulum along with the Mmnnuggls.

  “Have you…received any strange communications from the Mmnnuggl ships, by any chance?” Atalant asked.

  Ekimet pulled out a thin leaflet from zir pocket and shoved it towards Atalant. “Daily dispersals of these, but nothing else. Should we be expecting something more?”

  Atalant read the paper and then pushed it across the table. The pamphlet was in stilted Common, typical for the Mmnnuggls. “Have you been in contact with any of the pods?”

  Ekimet shook zir head. “Not since the fires started. We’ve had no reason to. The Mmnnuggls made their intentions very clear.”

  “Well, I think that’s a good place to start. I have a…someone I’d like to try to talk to. Might be a long shot. Might be a dead end, but it’s something.”

  “On a Mmnnuggl pod?” Miketh raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, Eld, but if you have Mmnnuggl friends, we could end this blockade tomorrow.”

  Atalant leaned back against the wall. “It’s not that simple. I need to…I don’t know if my contact is a friend or not. Not anymore. I’ll explain tonight. Could you arrange a call to the Ttynn? Then, round up the settees and any other ships we might have on-world and tell their pilots to get some sleep. Tell Emn I need to talk to her, privately. I don’t have a firm plan yet, but we can’t go on like this. Tomorrow, one way or another, we’re ending this blockade.”

  Chapter 18: Ttynn

  I don’t care what you think, and I don’t care who you report to. You get me Exile on the line or I will come down there in my Nugel pod and give you my own personal retelling of the Neek holy books. Slowly. While you are tied to a chair.

  —Communication from the Mmnnuggl pod Ttynn to the Neek primary line, January 26th, 2061 CE

  JANUARY 26TH, 2061 CE

  “I was thinking we could talk more about you, Captain Hhffvnoll.” Yorden eyed the round food on his plate with distaste. “We’re pretty close to being done here at Neek, aren’t we? The forests are almost entirely charcoal.” Yorden pushed the hard spheres of food around his plate. “Seventeen percent of our fleet’s ships are cellulose-free. It’s enough to shake up the Ardulans once they arrive, maybe even destroy their fleet. But what about after? You beat them once, and then what? You think they’ll just roll over and give you Emn? Tactically, that…well, it’d be stupid.”

  Salice stirred beside Yorden. Under the table, he reached over and put a hand on her knee in what he hoped was a comforting gesture and not a creepy one. Across from them floated Hhffvnoll, his female mate, and their two children—a primary female and a secondary female. They were in Captain Hhffvnoll’s private quarters in the Ttynn’s main living space. Yorden and Salice knelt before a hovering round slab of metal while the spheres floated around the remaining circumference. The table was spread with ten dishes of various sizes, each containing a uniquely colored variant of the round pellet food Yorden had no desire to ever eat again. And yet, here he was.

  He and Salice had been invited to a family meal interval. Two hours into the longest meal of his life, he wasn’t certain if he’d attend another. If the food didn’t kill him, the small talk certainly would.

  Hhffvnoll let out a long whistle. “You assume that she wishes to stay with the Ardulans,” he said as he chewed. “If Emn were to join us, she could be our protection. From the Ardulans.”

  Yorden shoved a blue sphere the size of his pinkie nail into his mouth and swallowed it whole. “Yes, but what makes you think, once you capture her,
that she will go along with your plans?” Yorden washed the taste of bland from his mouth with fermented bilaris juice. “You can’t force her to defend your ships against her own people.”

  The smallest sphere, the primary female, emitted a high-pitched twitter and bobbed up and down. Hhffvnoll’s right ear curled in on itself. “My daughter asks you a question in return. She asks why Emn would care about a people so intent upon her destruction? You understand that on Ardulum, Emn would be, and is, considered defective? Were it not for her current power, she certainly would have been terminated. Indeed, it was our job to terminate her before her adulthood was realized.” He rose a few centimeters from the ground. “I am also curious to hear your perspective on this, Conqueror, and that of your Ardulan, if she is capable.” He rotated once counterclockwise. “Why not help us? Why help Ardulum?”

  Yorden sat back in surprise. “Well, they’re her… She’s…. It’s her home,” he finally managed. Flustered, Yorden turned to Salice. She was staring at him and slowly shaking her head back and forth. “No?” he asked her hesitantly. “Don’t tell me you agree with the Nugels.”

  Salice shrugged her shoulders. She then traced the outline of a square in the air with a finger and pointed at Hhffvnoll.

  “Your Ardulan speaks of a communication we shared with her, I believe, this morning.” Hhffvnoll chirped. “You have been with engineering, Captain, so she has not had time to share the details with you. The Risalians sent her their logs on the first Markin interaction with Ardulum, when genetically deviant Ardulans were stripped of their sentience and sold as livestock.”

  Yorden took another long sip of the bilaris juice. Salice had mentioned something about contacting the Risalians, and Markin Pihn had promised to be more forthcoming with information, but this… God. Christ. Andal, maybe, or however Ardulans cursed. He dug his nails into the tabletop.

  Hhffvnoll’s mate cut in before Yorden could answer. “It was not our intent to anger you, Conqueror, and despite Ardulan orders, it was never our intent to terminate Emn. Mmnnuggls do not kill beings because of their birth status.”

  “Really?” Yorden snapped back. He’d meant to temper his tone and had clearly failed. The conversation was fast becoming uncomfortable. It was too easy to slip into rationalizing a full-on war against Ardulum from this point. Best to talk about something else. He could question Salice tonight, if she was willing. “Perhaps we should get back to my original question. Or, at the very least, chat in greater detail about this little siege we’ve rigged up.”

  Both of the children rolled their ears tightly to their bodies and rolled from the room. “I will attend to the children,” said Hhffvnoll’s mate. “I have no stake in this either. Your interest in pursuing fallen gods is a waste of resources, Hhffvnoll.” She sped backwards from the room, trailing the children.

  Hhffvnoll turned and chittered delicately after his mate, which gave Yorden a chance to address Salice. He slowly rotated his head, pursed his lips, and widened his eyes, hoping that his what the hell look would translate. He was met only with a silent, dark stare.

  The chittering stopped. Hhffvnoll settled onto the tabletop and rolled to Yorden. He stopped only a few centimeters from Yorden’s plate and rotated so that he rested on one ear, the other sticking straight up into the air.

  “Apologies for that, Conqueror. My mate’s view is part of the minority on our world, but her voice is heard. We consider our options carefully on this front. We cannot hold Emn, as you say, against her will. We hope instead to persuade her to be with us. Not just us, rather, but those here from the Alliance that rally with us. The Keft, the Xylnqs—perhaps even the Neek, in time. There has been so much injustice brought by the Ardulans, even against those such as Emn. We deserve a voice, but Ardulum will not listen without fear, I believe.”

  “You’re clearly not a united front though,” Yorden argued. “And if you hate the Ardulans so much, why copy their methods?” He put a hand on Salice’s shoulder. “She’s not some goddamned lab rat, and neither is Emn. Your logic is all over the place.”

  Hhffvnoll rolled back to the opposite end of the table. “Disordered it may be, to you, but it is ours all the same. Some Mmnnuggls require recompense—others wish for peace. We all wish for protection. Prosperity. We did not understand the Ardulans. Even you do not understand the Ardulans. We have the Risalian reports. We have our own reports. We have studied Salice. This understanding has changed our goals. We’re not a simple species, Conqueror, as the Ardulans seem to think.”

  Yorden looked at Salice, who was staring at Hhffvnoll with a strange expression on her face. Yorden humphed and sat back. Had everyone gotten a manual on this conversation except him? “What the hell, Salice?” he hissed at her. When she didn’t acknowledge his words, Yorden crammed his hands into his pockets and glared at Hhffvnoll.

  “You wish to speak of the blockade,” the sphere continued, as if he had not noticed Yorden’s discomfort. “Then, we shall speak of it. I question your judgment in allowing the Neek, Terran, and Keft to land on the planet. This could undermine our progress.”

  The indirect formality of the conversation had all but dropped. “Hey, listen.” Yorden jabbed a finger at the other captain. “That Neek is my friend. You know the kind of people I keep for friends. Besides, it was strategic. She was kicked off that planet for trying to convince people that Ardulans weren’t gods. She’s exactly who we need on the ground.” There was a light tap on Yorden’s thigh, and he tried to rein in his temper. “I’m going to call her after our chat here. We can use her to finish where the leaflets let off.”

  “How?”

  Yorden snorted. “Twist the knife. She’s seen Ardulum. She knows the truth, and she’s Neek. In their eyes, you might be lying, but one of their own, especially one who warned them of this?” Yorden smiled tightly. “Even the high priest won’t be able to keep the faith. She’ll destabilize their entire worldview.”

  Hhffvnoll squeaked in apparent delight. “I did not realize her affiliation. It is reasonable, effective, and a much-needed call to the Neek people. We Mmnnuggls have no wish to unnecessarily harm others misled by Ardulum, but the Neek must first see the harm before they can seek to rectify it. This, then, is an acceptable situation. In one week’s time, a quarter of the Mmnnuggl pods will be without cellulose and, of those, seventy-five percent will have functioning xylan weaponry. Is this sufficient time to finish with the Neek? Their fires are contained. We could continue to light more, if needed, although I would prefer to not move along this course. It was never our intent to harm the Charted Systems’ economy and infrastructure.”

  They were back to familiar territory, but the disquieted feeling in his gut didn’t go away. He needed to leave. With Salice. They needed to chat and Yorden needed to…to think. “Should be plenty of time, but I’ll check tonight.” Yorden moved to stand and then sat back down and faced Hhffvnoll. “Captain,” he started, his words drawn out in hesitation. “I’d like to thank you for introducing me to your family. You’re… I get where you’re coming from. I do.” And that makes this whole thing harder, he added to himself.

  “Indeed. Goodnight, Captain.” Hhffvnoll rolled from the table and floated near the ceiling. Taking that as his cue to leave, Yorden stood with Salice, and they hunched to the door.

  “You going to tell me more about this conversation?” Yorden whispered to Salice as they exited into the hallway.

  Salice let out a small snort and walked to an interface panel. She placed her hand flat upon the black surface, and immediately, text began to scroll across the screen. She stepped back and gave Yorden a gentle nudge forward.

  Yorden, unsure what else to do other than follow directions, slowed the speed of the text and began to read about Risal’s first encounter with the Ardulans, the use of flares, their place in Ardulan society, and Pihn’s conjecture on what arriving on Ardulum might have meant for someone like Emn.

  THE COMMUNICATIONS PANEL was already lit when Yorden and Salice stepped into N
eek’s old room in the small pod. Salice moved to initiate their end of the transmission, but Yorden grabbed her sleeve. She turned back to him, her brow wrinkled.

  It was silly to hesitate. He knew that. This was Neek, after all. But, here he was, on a Mmnnuggl pod, having obliterated her homeworld’s forests, and there she was, back from the dead again and in league with a morally dubious planet. There was no way this wouldn’t be awkward. They were on the same side—at least, he hoped they were, but that could look very different, if viewed through a Neek lens. Especially if viewed through an Ardulan lens.

  Salice blew a raspberry at him, which felt intentionally extra sputtery. Yorden dropped her sleeve and wiped at the spit in his beard. “Yeah, okay. Put her on. Just…we don’t have a lot of time to talk, and there is a lot to say, you know?”

  Salice shrugged. It’d taken them six tries to get through, between Mmnnuggl wariness and Neek tech, and they’d finally had to settle for Atalant initiating the call. Salice tapped the screen, and the panel immediately filled with Neek’s face, exactly as he remembered it, if not a bit haggard. The same light hair was pulled back into a braid, but wisps of it were loose and hung about her face. Her face was streaked with dirt or soot, or some combination of the two, and there was darkness under her eyes. Still, the grin she wore was uniquely hers, and he couldn’t help but match it.

  “You bastard.” Neek’s grin broadened, moisture that wasn’t stuk beading in the corners of her eyes. “You owe me a story.”

  Yorden’s tension eased, and he pointed at the bottom of the screen, at Neek’s robes. They were gold, tied with a purple sash, and garish. It hurt to look at them, but after some time with the Neek holy books, he knew exactly what they represented. “I owe you a story? Something you want to tell me? Especially given that bold fashion choice? You’ve never spoken well of robes or dresses, and I’ve never heard you mention the word ‘Eld’ without an expletive near it.” He was fishing, and from the look on Neek’s face, she could tell. Still, pointing a finger and asking why your favorite pilot was impersonating a god seemed rude at their current juncture.