Orion's Hounds

by Christopher L. Bennett

  “Remain calm!” Qui’hibra commanded. “Sting team, dig in your talons and open fire! Power teams, divert whatever you can to stings!”

  But Riathrek was not remaining calm. The Fethet was alarmed and unsure of himself, and his grip upon her loosened. Though her arms were bound behind her, she was not helpless. As the gravity continued to fall, she used a mok’bara move to break his hold, then swiftly kicked off the deck, propelling herself above the compass of his meaty arms before he could fold them shut around her. Flipping herself over, she pulled in her knees and kicked out hard at his bear-wolf muzzle.

  The force of it was not enough to do any real damage, but with less gravity to give him traction, it knocked him back off his feet. Meanwhile, since her mass was considerably less than his, her acceleration was greater, so she soared across the room, well away from her captor. Her aim had been good enough that she collided with Qui’shoqai and knocked him away from his controls. The collision bounced her back away from him and she settled gently to the floor, her weight reduced almost to nothing. She pushed herself up into midair to be ready for an attack.

  But then she felt a presence in her mind. Tuvok! The meld had reestablished itself. His mind had actively sought hers out—and there were more minds too, the jellies, merged with his. We have you now, Commander/sister/self. You are safe.

  She felt what was going to happen, felt the connection throughout her body. Of course—the jellies’ transporter beams were part telekinetic. A strong enough psionic link gave them a lock that could overcome the hyperonic interference. (Was that reasoning coming from her own mind, or from Tuvok’s?) Their awareness pervaded her, knew her every atom. In essence, they locked onto her from inside, and no outside interference could block that. Their love filled her, dissolved her, and then she was with them once again.

  “Commander!” Keru was there, reaching down to help her to her feet. For an instant she almost recoiled from the huge, hirsute Trill, having a flashback to Riathrek. But she gathered herself, and realizing that the jellies had not beamed her shackles along with her, she grabbed his hand and pulled herself up.

  “Can they send us back?” she demanded of Tuvok. “Me and the security team?”

  “Back?” There was Will, his image on the sensation wall.

  “Yes! I have to go back, try to talk some sense into Qui’hibra. He doesn’t want to do this, Will. I can reach him.”

  The jelly shuddered. “They have opened fire,” Tuvok announced. Qui’hibra’s sting team must have successfully dug in their claws.

  “You can talk to him later, Deanna. Right now let’s get out of here.”

  “We may not get another chance, Will. He’s wavering now. These tactics rub his feathers the wrong way. But get him caught up in chasing us—in hunting us—and it’ll fire his instincts, harden his resolve. I have got to get back aboard that skymount now.”

  “Oh, Prophets.” That was Jaza. “We’ve got a new problem, everyone. The Crystalline Entities are closing in. They’re heading right for the star-jellies!”

  Shit! Riker thought. The temptation of so many star-jellies must have overcome the branchers’ fear of the graviton beam. “Hang on, Deanna. We’ll come get you out of there.”

  “Sir!” Kuu’iut interrupted. “The hunters’ skymounts are pulling away from the jellies. They’re heading toward us at high speed.”

  Riker realized they must have recovered quickly once they broke free of the draining effect. The hunters came up fast, flipping their ventral sides forward to face Titan and cutting loose with plasma stings. The shields shuddered under the impact. Without Deanna as leverage anymore, Qui’hibra must have opted for a direct assault.

  Mere moments later, the branchers came within range of the jellies and began firing their feeding beams. The jellies tried to break and run, but the branchers were too fast for them, swooping around them in a tetrahedral englobement, penning them in. A feeding beam swept across one of them, and Will could feel Deanna’s resonant agony through their link.

  “Lavena, close on the branchers! Tactical, target—” Another blow shook them, and another. Lavena tried to dodge around the Pa’haquel, but they kept themselves between Titan and the besieged star-jellies. The jellies remained trapped; each time one darted for an opening, a feeding beam struck at it, herding it back into the englobement.

  “Riker!” Qui’hibra’s image appeared in an inset on the viewer. “Give me what I need and I will help you rescue your wife and crew. Refuse and I will prevent you from saving them.” Riker had been premature; Qui’hibra still had his leverage after all.

  Again the branchers struck, and again Will felt the jellies’ agony hit Deanna. “Kuu’iut, hit the Pa’haquel, hard! Get us past them!”

  Phasers and torpedoes lashed out from Titan. Kuu’iut, no slouch as a predator himself, went for the jugular, his beams and salvos targeting the weakest points, the meridional fissures and weapon emitters. But the skymounts moved swiftly and dodged, and continued to pound at Titan. One was struck a crippling blow and drifted off, but the others kept coming. Kuu’iut knocked another out of the fight, but still the stings pounded the shields, eating away at their strength. One particularly direct blow knocked Riker off his feet. Sparks flew from the ops console, and Dakal recoiled from the discharge, shielding his face. No matter how much Starfleet improved the surge protectors, there were still fundamental physical limits on what they could absorb.

  Riker climbed to his feet and checked to make sure Dakal was all right. His face and uniform were a bit singed, but he was back at work already, reinitializing the console, his tough Cardassian hide serving him well. So Riker took a moment to judge his own condition. He seemed largely intact, but had sustained numerous scrapes and had a very sore left elbow. Belatedly, he sat down in the command chair and activated its restraint harness, ignoring Vale’s I-told-you-so glare.

  And still the branchers’ feeding beams ripped at the jellies’ armor. The trapped jellies had begun returning fire, trying to blast an opening in the englobement. But they only succeeded in splitting two of the branchers into smaller units, which resumed their attack after mere seconds.

  Meanwhile, the Pa’haquel’s stings were still eroding Titan’s shields to critically low levels. The ship rocked under a particularly severe impact, and Riker was grateful for the seat restraints. “Starboard phasers are down!” Vale cried. “Starboard impulse reactor in emergency shutdown! Life-support alarms on decks four through six!”

  This isn’t working, Riker thought. Titan could stop the branchers with its graviton beam, if only it could reach the jellies. But Qui’hibra wouldn’t let him get near them, and even if he could, there was still the question in the back of his mind of whether he could allow that knowledge to fall into….

  Wait. That was it! In a flash of insight, it all came together. The key was putting the knowledge into the right hands. Or rather, tentacles.

  “Riker to Tuvok. Respond.”

  “Tuvok here, sir.”

  “Do you know the specs for the graviton beam we used on the branchers?”

  “Aye, sir. I familiarized myself with it as a possible weap—”

  “Never mind that! Just think about it. Focus on the specs. Show them to the star-jellies! Show them how to use it to fight the branchers!”

  Titan shuddered under more stings. The jellies screamed psychically under more feeding beams. But then: “It is done, sir! The jellies are replicating the components now.”

  Moments later, the branchers began to shudder and jerk away. Jaza superimposed a false-color effect on the viewer, making the gravity beams visible. Riker watched as the jellies struck at the branchers, holding the beams on them until they began to tremble. “Deanna, make them stop! That’s enough!” Seconds later, the beams broke off. But the branchers had had enough. One by one, they slinked away.

  Riker noted that Qui’hibra’s fleet had stopped its attack. “What just happened, Riker?” the elder asked.

  He met the Pa’haque
l leader’s eyes. “I’ve just solved your problem, Qui’hibra. I’ve just given you a way you can use the live jellies in the Hunt, and become even more effective hunters than before.”

  The raptor eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

  “We’ve just given the star-jellies a kind of graviton beam that allows communication with the branchers. As you’ve seen, it can also be used as a weapon against them. If the jellies had sustained their attacks, then the branchers would have been completely destroyed.”

  “So you offer us a better way to kill branchers? That is valuable, but it is not enough. There are too many other threats.”

  “You’re not getting it, Qui’hibra. Look what happened here. We didn’t kill the branchers—we controlled them.” He exchanged a look with Vale. “And with that power…they can be herded. Possibly even trained. As you saw before, we also have a way to feed them energy. Reward as well as punishment. And maybe communication as well, up to a point.

  “This is what I’m proposing. The Pa’haquel resume their efforts to work with the live jellies. But instead of using them as battleships…you use them as sheepdogs.” Doubting the metaphor would translate, he elaborated. “They now have the means to control the branchers, and once I give them the specs for the energy beam, they’ll have the means to reward them as well. You use those tools to tame the branchers. Herd them away from worlds with intelligent life, and focus their hunger on another rich source of bio-energy: the cosmozoans that you hunt. Make the branchers your hounds. That way the jellies don’t have to go into combat themselves, and you turn one of your most powerful enemies into a powerful new weapon of your own.”

  Qui’hibra stared at him, standing silent for a long moment. Vale stared too. “Sheepdogs for hounds?” she muttered. “Let’s hope your plan works better than your metaphors. The shields are critical and we can barely maneuver.”

  Se’hraqua came into the frame. “Elder, you cannot be considering this! He insults us by suggesting we become herders, weaklings!”

  “Silence,” Qui’hibra told him. But to Riker he said, “The boy has a point, I fear. The Conclave will not think well of this scheme. It is not our way. I have doubts myself.”

  “Is it so different from what you already do here, with the Proplydian?” Riker asked. “You don’t destroy it, since it doesn’t threaten planets. Instead you travel with it and use it to aid you in hunting other species. I’ve just given you a way to do the same with both the star-jellies and the branchers.”

  “It is very different. Trying to tame branchers, and having to hold the hands of live skymounts at the same time…it is overcomplicated. Risky. The Hunt, the way of tradition, is proven by time. We know it works. Give us the means to counter the skymounts’ advantages and we can restore it again.”

  “I know you don’t truly believe that, Qui’hibra,” Deanna said from her star-jelly. “You know that things have changed forever, that a new solution must be found.”

  “I thought I did at first, but many wise Pa’haquel believe otherwise. I am just a hunter, not a philosopher.”

  “But you know the skymounts,” Deanna said. “You know them as living beings, better than any Pa’haquel ever has since before your people left Quelha. You have felt the rapport that can exist between your species, and you know in your bones that you can be stronger as partners than you could ever be as enemies.”

  “That is what I would like to believe. But the Conclave has declared that the Hunt must resume. And the Hunt demands that I do what I must, not what I desire.”

  “So you keep saying,” Deanna fired back, her voice hardening. “And I believe it. I believe that you will do whatever you must in the name of what you think is right. So if the Conclave says one thing, and you know that another thing is right, what does your loyalty to them matter? What does their authority matter? What does your tradition and cultural preference matter?

  “You keep insisting that nothing matters to you as much as fighting the chaos, as much as preserving life throughout the galaxy. Well, here is life for you to preserve! Here is a whole species that you have it in your power to spare, right here, right now. A species that you revere and cherish, a species that is willing to forgive everything you’ve ever done to it and stand by your side as friends. A species that could be the greatest ally you’ve ever known.

  “If they give you that, and you repay them with betrayal, with death—where is the balance in that?”

  Qui’hibra was silent again for a long time. Deanna tried to read his body language, to strain her senses across space and pick up something from him, but she got nothing. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out. “Hunters! Stand down. There is no more prey here today.”

  “What?” Se’hraqua challenged. “You would defy the Conclave?”

  “You would defy me?” Qui’hibra’s voice was softer and more dangerous than she’d ever heard it.

  The youth seethed. “I will stand down for now. But the Conclave will hear of this.”

  “Yes, they will. I will tell them myself.” He faced the visual pickup again. “If you, Riker, and you, Troi, can prove to me that the branchers can be herded and used to hunt…then I will stand with you and prove it to the Conclave.”

  “Thank you,” Riker said sincerely, and Deanna felt his flood of relief. “I hope this day will mark the beginning of a new era for this region of space.”

  “Some things may change,” Qui’hibra said, unimpressed by the rhetoric. “But the Hunt goes on.” He paused. “Commander Troi…once again I offer my apologies for what I believed the Hunt required of me. I hope that now you are willing to forgive me.”

  She crossed her arms and thought about it. The jellies were willing to forgive worse, as she had pointed out so emphatically moments ago. It would be a bit hypocritical not to follow suit. Still, she had to ask one thing. “Would you really have let Riathrek eat me alive bit by bit?”

  He seemed surprised by the question. “Yes.”

  She blinked. “Well, all right. Just as long as I know what I’m forgiving you for.”

  CLAN AQ’TRI’HHE LEAD SKYMOUNT, STARDATE 57221.8

  The Conclave of Elders watched the sensation wall speechlessly as it showed a trio of branchers, herded by live star-jellies under the direction of Huntsmaster Qui’shoqai and his clanmates, made short work of a group of spinners basking in the light of the Proplydian’s star. Deanna reached out with her mind, gauging their reactions, and found them too much in flux to let her judge how this would turn out. She turned to Will, who looked at her expectantly, and gave a fractional shake of her head.

  “Now you have seen with your own eyes,” Qui’hibra declared when the demonstration was concluded and the branchers were being led meekly away. “We have achieved this much after only a few days of training. Imagine how much more we can accomplish. We can still be hunters, even more effective than before. The balance of life and death continues…but we and the skymounts need no longer be on opposite sides of that balance. And we need no longer lose so many of our wives, sons and daughters, see so many worthy lines diminished or snuffed out in Houndings. Imagine how many of your kin would still be here today if we could have sent the branchers against the harvester.”

  Se’hraqua shot to his feet and spoke angrily. “You speak of the balance, but you do not understand it. The balance of life and death is not preserved if we no longer have the courage and commitment to sacrifice our own lives to the Hunt!”

  “And how is it balanced,” Deanna challenged, “if there is so much death on both sides, and so little life? Death will always be there—it doesn’t need you to help it along.”

  “This blasphemer has no right to speak here!”

  “She is here as my advisor,” Qui’hibra countered, “and an honorary member of my clan. That gives her the right.” He addressed the Conclave as a whole again. “And she speaks wisely. The more of our lives we throw away, the more we diminish our strength against the chaos. Consider it. Consult with your singers of history. H
ave we ever had so few in a Great Hounding before, or come away with so few left alive? Our old ways were not in balance—they gave too much of an edge to death.”

  Now Aq’hareq rose. “Our ‘old ways’ are our only ways, Qui’hibra! They were handed down to us by the Spirit, passed on from generation to generation pure and unchanged. They are the way we were meant to be. Follow this corrupt path and the Spirit will never forgive you.”

  “And what about the skymounts?” Deanna said. “In your tradition, you pray to them for forgiveness as well. And they are willing to forgive what you did to them when it was the only way for you to survive. But now it isn’t the only way anymore. You have a new way, a better way that lets both you and them live in harmony and far greater safety. If you try to hunt and kill them now, when there is no need for it, they will not give you their forgiveness.”

  “The Spirit governs them too,” Aq’hareq replied, unruffled by her words. “They stray from Its path by seeking to evade the Hunt, and they will be shown their folly in time. The branchers will turn on them, or they will sicken with disease from having Pa’haquel live inside them, or the hotsprings of their breeding worlds will grow cold. One way or another, the true balance will be restored.”

  “So it must be,” Se’hraqua added, “for so it is written.”

  Deanna realized Aq’hareq was a lost cause, and probably Se’hraqua as well. For someone whose standard of truth was based solely on scriptural precedent, no argument based on reason or fact could ever be convincing. Fortunately, though, she sensed that other minds were more open. Her point about the jellies’ lack of forgiveness had affected many of them, as she had hoped it would. For all their violence toward the jellies, the Pa’haquel felt genuine reverence and gratitude toward them. It was nothing personal. She pitched her next words for them.