“Hold. Think about it, Sward. This could get messy. Forget the jibes about the Legion being perfectly behaved war drones. If you were a jack-head under a lot of strain and you reached a town where you thought you were safe for a day or so, where would you go?”
“A bar.”
“Right. Now imagine you’re a rebel soldier, fought your way through orbital defenses, made a landing against defended territory. Probably lost a few comrades in the past few days. For the first time, you’re off duty in a town where you’re safe. Where would you go?”
“I take your point,” said Sward. “Let’s find a jack and kidnap him before the Panhandlers kill them all. You should have been kissing that human rebel, Lily. He would deserve it because his friends are going to do our dirtiest work for us. We’ll be returning to Iceni in a few days as heroes.”
Lily screwed her face up. This latest mess Vetch had dumped on them was turning into farce.
Sward’s eyes widened. “Uh oh. We… we don’t want the jacks dead, do we?” He shot his words at her like an accusation.
“You heard what the colonel and the lieutenant told us.”
“Lily!” he warned. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Fine. We need to keep our legionary friends safe, and I answer to Vetch, not Shen. Though he’d better get his bloody act together and take charge.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Sward. “I’m not stupid. I’m just... not human. I think differently.”
“Got it. Guess that makes me a xeno-bigot same as that Panhandler. Soz. Whatever. Come on, let’s go find ourselves some drunken jacks before they all get themselves killed.”
LAEL KAYSHEN-OEYL
Even on this frozen world, over 10,000 light-years from the warm embrace of the ancestral waters, the Goddess provided her followers with lakes and rivers to swim, and fish to hunt.
The light from underwater lamps picked out iridescent purple scales from bearded eels circling above Kayshen-Oeyl’s head. The fish were confused by the brightness of the underlit ice that capped the frozen lake, mistaking it for sky. She drifted through the water watching as several extended their jaws into cylinders and flicked their tails. But instead of leaping clear of the water and scooping up mouthfuls of hovering insects, they bumped against the underside of the ice, thrashed their tails angrily, and then dove for the depths.
Kayshen-Oeyl flicked her long tail and set off in pursuit, easily outpacing the native fish she had selected as prey. She stretched out her neck and snapped her jaws, biting off the tiniest morsel of the eel’s tail, which she spat out in disgust as she allowed the creature to dodge sideways and escape into darker waters.
Some people actually ate the foul things, but even when cooked with the finest seasoning, they tasted like putrid slime. But for a little sport on the swim back from work, bearded eels were awesome.
“We greet you, Kayshen-Oeyl,” called a voice in the darkness.
It came from three young unmarrieds of the Lael clan on the way home from the underwater farm, likely on a mission to ingratiate themselves with her in their quest for patronage.
“We are eating out tonight,” said one Kayshen-Oeyl identified as Lael Hrish-Ek. “We’re celebrating my promotion. Will you join us?” The farm girl thrashed her tail shamelessly as she approached. “There will be entertainments.”
Kayshen-Oeyl barrel-rolled while she considered the request. The carousing of young unmarrieds was usually raw as hell and she was sorely tempted. By the Serene Song she deserved a little debauchery, but this was not a time to be seen relaxing – not when the clans were so perturbed by the human crisis.
She blew a long trail of remorseful bubbles. “I regret I must attend a xeno-political briefing this evening. But I wish you congratulations on your advancement, Lael Hrish-Ek, and a blessing upon your revelries tonight.”
“The regret is all mine,” Hrish-Ek replied. With a burst of speed, she drew alongside and allowed her tail to slide brazenly over Kayshen-Oeyl’s before racing back to town as if a monster were snapping at her tail tip.
Kayshen-Oeyl floated in stunned silence at the retreating youngsters, and then laughed to see her claws were out.
I seriously need to loosen up, she told herself as she hinged up her claws and swam around in a tight circle, flattered by the flirtatious junior.
But she was tense, and if the clans really were about to face a crisis over the humanoids, then their best minds had a duty to keep themselves supple.
She swam through the proud industrial architecture of the mineral filtration hoops and parked herself in the Place of Beauty.
It was small and unassuming in comparison with a great Place of Beauty, such as were dotted around the temples of Bresca-Brevae. Here, the Lael maintained a circle of polished rocks in which engines of artistry produced unending streams of bubble statues.
“What matters is not the opulence innate to the artwork,” Kayshen-Oeyl explained to the silent rocks, “but what the art lover brings into being through the act of observation.”
She was adept at this. In ancient times, she told herself sometimes, she could have trained for the priesthood. It was said that the high priests could do more than observe the ebb and flow of the universe, but inject themselves into the current so that they might drift out of time and perceive the near future and the deep past.
Kayshen-Oeyl wasn’t that talented, but she was what passed for an adept in the modern age. She closed her eyes and sent pulsing shivers down her tail so that its tip beat a hypnotic tone in the water. The Place of Beauty grew steadily more vivid in her perception. Her soul connected to the warp and weft of the universe, and the conceit that she was an independent being sloughed away into the cold lake water.
She floated within the Song of the Goddess. Not merely existing there passively but singing her own contribution to the infinite complexity of its harmonies.
Suddenly, her collar trilled with the high priority comm alarm.
And then, when she didn’t immediately respond, it vibrated annoyingly.
She opened her eyes on the Place of Beauty. Once more, the layered harmonies of the universe were hidden within the mundanities of rock and water. Of eel and ice.
“Go for Kayshen-Oeyl,” she acknowledged.
“My apologies, I hope I haven’t disturbed you. I am Tamxil Vinishin-Sknorr, a name I don’t expect is familiar to you.”
“On the contrary, I know you as a midranking member in the Heart-Strand of the Tamxil clan. Your expertise is in xeno-contract law.”
“I perceive you are as well-briefed as I was informed. That is well. I request your aid in the humanoid crisis.”
This town-dwelling Tamxilite requests my aid? Calling me out of the deep? Who does the rascal think he is?
More importantly, who does he think I am? The Lael clan is not the servant of the Tamxil.
“Honored cousin, are you angry with me?” he said. “I apologize for the forwardness of my communication.”
“We are not cousins, Tamxilite.”
“Lael and Tamxil are related. We share ancestors.”
“Distantly.”
“And we share none at all with the humans and their lookalikes. The humanoids are killing each other. These could be the opening skirmishes in a civil war. We must push differences aside and unite for our mutual protection.”
“Which our clan leaders are already doing. Why do you discard protocol and call me so directly, Vinishin-Sknorr?”
“Our clan leaders bicker. They are too proud, too set in their ways – too old to respond to this crisis.”
For the first time in her life, Kayshen-Oeyl wondered just how private their secure communications network really was. Conspiracy theorists and malcontents contended that the network was monitored by the authorities.
That question had been academic until now. If anyone was listening in for proscribed thoughts, this Tamxilite had just triggered the biggest.
“They meet to discuss humanoid activity across Rho-Torkis,
” said Vinishin-Sknorr, “but they do not act. Honored cousin, even if you were inclined to do so, your clan cannot hide under the ice among your farms and industrial workings. The influx of outsider humanoids to Raemy-Ela is already underway. Three groups have arrived since yesterday. We must learn their intent and, if necessary, confront them.”
“The whole of Rho-Torkis is overrun with the humanoids who work the deep ocean scavenger mines.”
“Not this far inland it isn’t.”
“Not hitherto,” Kayshen-Oeyl replied contemptuously. “These humanoid invaders, do they advance from building to building, slaughtering the townsfolk with blaster rifles? Has the town been pulverized by artillery barrages?”
“You would not jest if you knew what I do.”
Kayshen-Oeyl stared at the smooth ring of rocks, contemplating the threshold she was about to cross. If anyone really was listening in, then so far only the Tamxilite had revealed forbidden thoughts. Yet, although this Vinishin-Sknorr was annoying, he was also right: the paramount echelon of the two clans had led them well but were proving unresponsive to rapid change.
Besides, the hints of secret intelligence and righteous conflict were so exciting they sent jolts of electricity along her spine. “Enlighten me,” she said in a haughty tone.
The Tamxilite had the audacity to laugh at her. “The humans have deployed nuclear weapons on each other. Soldiers of the Rebellion have landed – apparently unopposed – and even now their logistical scouts are in our town demanding accommodation and other resources to station their troops. Here! In Raemy-Ela! We are to suffer an occupying force.”
“We are to be conquered? Surely the Tail-Strands will wage war before surrendering to the humanoids.”
“Our Tamxil Tail wishes to drive out the humans. But our Heart says no because the human soldiers come bearing financial bribery and the promise of great wealth in return for cooperation.”
“That sounds like conquest by means other than guns,” said Kayshen-Oeyl.
“My thinking exactly. We must…” Vinishin-Sknorr paused and continued in a calmer tone. “Too much of this is speculation. The Rebellion extols a political ideology of openness and equality. It is possible that they speak honestly.”
“Do you believe that in your spine, Tamxil cousin?”
“No. But I acknowledge that I am less than fully informed.”
“Your words are dangerous,” said Kayshen-Oeyl. “Compelling too. But you have not yet asked anything of me.”
“One group arrived shortly after dawn on hoverbikes. They claim to be miners, or more accurately traders in mineral exploitation rights. One is requesting access to the town authorities to discuss mineral rights.”
“Speculators, then. Did this human comport itself like the executive of a Zeta-Arcelian mega-corporation?”
“Hardly. They all looked like bandits to me, including the male who sought to make contact.”
“Humans usually do. But it is possible that you only saw the speculators’ mercenary escorts. I presume you wish me to deploy my expertise in human languages to interrogate them?”
“Yes.”
“And our seniors are unaware of this?”
“The human directed his enquiries at me, and now I am directing mine at you.”
“Where is this human?”
Vinishin-Sknorr cleared his throat and spoke in formal mode. “Lael Kayshen-Oeyl, I invite you, as a guest of the communal habitation of Raemy-Ela and the Tamxil clan, for an evening drink at the Vengeance of Saesh Tavern. It will be my pleasure to supply you with fine drink and sustaining victuals. And if you should encounter a talkative human there. Well, it is only natural that you should seek to practice your linguistic skills on the drunken fool.”
“Do they still serve brackling pie at the Vengeance?” she enquired.
“Of course. The finest on Rho-Torkis.”
“Order the food now, honored cousin. I will be there in twenty minutes.”
LAEL KAYSHEN-OEYL
Why the hostelry was named Vengeance of Saesh was a strangeness that made sense only to the townsfolk of the Tamxil clan. Despite the violence of the name, the interior ambience was simply yet sweetly scented. The victuals were renowned even amongst her Lael clanmates who generally kept to the lake and the environs of Raemy-Ela.
She looked longingly at the steamed-up window that looked out onto the floating and underwater bar areas. The pools were deep and well heated here, the stock of ornamental fish delightful.
Maybe later. For now, she must keep to the dry area to mingle with the outsiders, some of whom were from xeno races.
Such as the human male who sat on a couch on the far side of the table, sitting on it like a bench, rather than lying on it as Kayshen-Oeyl did with hers.
He stared at her through those slitted human eyelids that gave her the creeps. His narrow mouth switched from speaking to ingesting the beer in his tankard. Goddess! Those humans knew how to drink.
“Listen, Sybutu,” she told him, when she judged by the up-and-down motion of his eyebrows that he was signaling her to speak. “You are hardly the first to propose the use of orbital mirrors to accelerate the melting of the ice. You have yet to convince me why such a project would be conducted at Raemy-Ela.”
“Rivers. Raemy-Ela was founded at the confluence of three rivers, and there is your critical advantage. There are many areas rich with minerals on Rho-Torkis, but the safe drainage of the ice melt presents a massive engineering problem. The river that flows out of the Raemy-Ela basin can carry water more effectively and cost efficiently than any artificial drainage system. And when the ice has gone, the mineral extraction and processing will require a constant supply of water – fed by your upstream rivers. Last, and best of all, Raemy-Ela is a fine town, but nonetheless a small trading settlement on the edge of a barely inhabited wilderness. Grow now, before the ice melts and more investment and settlers arrive on this world. Get first mover advantage by the use of our orbital mirrors, and in thirty years, you and I will be toasting our success here at the Vengeance accompanied by the sound of lucrative activity at the dockside. Just think of it. Raemy-Ela could be one of the major trading ports on the planet.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Or it could stay a small town on the edge of nowhere.”
“Not everyone will relish the prospect of expansion,” Kayshen-Oeyl replied. Her mind, though, was filled with the imaginary sights and smells of portside bustle. Of prestige for the Lael clan, and, yes, for the Tamxil too.
“That is your decision, naturally.”
Kayshen-Oeyl returned to the present and sniffed at Sybutu. Strange how the human appeared so relaxed at the prospect of a rebuff for the vision he’d sold so powerfully.
“And if your clans prefer the mineral wealth of this area to remain undeveloped, then you and I will know that the exploitation rights are worthless. Sell them to me for a modest price and I will sell on to another rights trader who does not know this. There will be a generous share of any profits for those individuals who made a sweet deal possible.”
“What are you, Sybutu? A trader or a mining engineer?”
“Both.” The human bared his teeth. “That’s the beauty of it. I can win both ways. So can you.”
Kayshen-Oeyl reached for her drink but the moment she’d taken the tankard from its holder, a drunken oaf slammed his body against her couch so hard that a little of her beer spilled.
She tipped out most of the rest herself.
“He appears legitimate,” she snarled in Littorane at the inebriated fool, taking care to use modern regional vernacular.
The clumsy male – who, of course, was Vinishin-Sknorr – dipped his body submissively and crooned in an apologetic tone, “Did he mention the Rebellion?”
“No!” she yelled, lifting the upper half of her torso to vertical. She shoved her tankard at the cowering male who took it and slunk away to have it refilled.
“My apologies for the interruption,” she told the human in his tongue when she lay on
ce more along the length of her couch.
“No harm done,” Sybutu replied. “The rate they’re knocking back their drink, I expect my own team will be making a nuisance of themselves too before the day is done.”
The prospect of associating with more humans gave her a jolt of distaste, but she’d spied only two more at the Vengeance. It wasn’t enough of an infestation to spoil her evening’s entertainment. “Tell me more about the wealth in the ground beneath our feet,” she said, licking her lips. “Sell me a vision of a glorious future.”
BRONZE
His knowledge of the local Littorane dialect was nonexistent – he hadn’t even known the names of the clans until he’d started working the patrons of the Vengeance – but he knew enough Core Littorane to see through the charade of the spilled drinks.
The locals had been checking Sybutu out, and Bronze was pretty sure his sergeant had passed the test.
He sucked in the smoky air and set off in search of Stryker. In contrast to his sergeant, Tavarius Stryker was failing his test big time.
Bronze discovered the sapper in a gaggle of drinkers. They were perching on stools that lined one side of the tiled passageway leading to the west bar. The legionary was the center of attention, spinning a drunken tale that enthralled his modest crowd of admirers: a Gliesan, two Littoranes, and a human.
It looked as if Bronze would have to wade into the group and grab Stryker like a naughty child staying out late, but the drunken SOTL was alert enough to notice the cloaked human nursing his drink a short way up the corridor. Stryker quickly wound up his tall tale and came over.
“Hey, Bronze,” he said, leaning against the wall.
“I told you to throw up your drink every time you visit the bathroom,” Bronze said, not looking up from his tankard. “Spill it too if no one’s looking. Never get drunk under cover unless you plan to do so in advance, and you should only ever do that if you’re truly secure in your setting. Getting drunk professionally is an advanced skill. Not for noobs like you.”
Chimera Company - Rho-Torkis Box Set Page 17