The sound of a broom sweeping came to her ears, and there at the top of the stairs was the old monk. “So, Granddaughter, does the great task begin?”
“Yes, Grandmother,” the princess replied. “The journey will be long and success is not guaranteed, but to do nothing will only bring pain.”
“More than pain, Granddaughter. Extinction,” cautioned the old monk. “And even if you fight, extinction may still be all you reap.”
“That may be true, Grandmother, but in my heart, I know this to be the right thing to do.” The princess clapped her hands together twice. “Hear me, ancestors. Too long have we cowered in the shadows. I, who have thirsted beyond quenching, hungered beyond satiating, and let the elements tear at my very skin, pledge all that I am to bring us all into the light.”
The sky over the temple darkened, and thunder crashed. The princess stood and turned her face to the gathering storm. “Do your worst,” she cried. “Kill me … if you can,” she taunted. “But I will fight you.”
“We will fight you,” corrected the faceless one.
“I will seek you out where you hide,” said the mist.
There was a sound like stone rubbing on stone. “Slow to move and slow to anger am I,” the stone giant rumbled in a voice that shook the very ground. “When I move, all are ground to dust. When I anger, the heavens tremble.”
The clouds retreated to the horizon, and the sun shone down on the temple. The old monk smiled in approval. “And the Teacher will hold it all in trust for you until you return,” she said. “Good hunting, Granddaughter.”
Kasumi opened her eyes in the darkness. “Good hunting.” She smiled. “Good hunting, indeed.” Kasumi closed her eyes and quickly fell back to sleep.
YEAR 8
32
FIRST BLOOD
“It is astonishing what humans can do once they decide to do something,” Bright Sunlight said. He was staring out of a view port on the Safe Haven. The reason for his admiration hung motionless in a recently created maintenance cradle. The cradle was a technological marvel in its own right. A thousand meters in length and slightly more than half that in width, it was capable of holding even the Safe Haven. Yet as impressive as the cradle was, it paled in comparison to what it currently held.
The vessel was, at three hundred meters in length, significantly smaller than the Safe Haven and no more than fifty meters at its widest point, tapering to ten meters at its prow. It looked more like a dagger than a spaceship. Roughly two thirds back from the narrow prow, two wing-like nacelles rose high and swept back.
“I thought the ships designed by Joseph Franklin looked deadly, but this one looks like a hungry Sky Hunter,” he remarked. “And humans built it in less than a year.” His crest fluttered.
“Humans and Rynn,” corrected the white-haired old man standing next to Bright Sunlight. He waved a hand to indicate the ship and the construction cradle. “Both species working together to create something beyond the capability of either working alone.”
“Alone, we would never have conceived of such a thing,” Bright Sunlight admitted. “And that worries me.”
“You fear that one day humans will surpass the Rynn and … leave them behind,” Jeremy Blunt said gently.
Bright Sunlight’s crest fluttered.
“An understandable fear,” Jeremy agreed. “I won’t lie to you and tell you that you fear for nothing. Humans can be fickle,” he said. “And it may be that we will disagree and possibly even fight each other.”
He paused as a mixed group of humans and Rynn walked by. Laughter, both human and Rynn, came to their ears. Jeremy smiled. “But even if we do, I suspect we will get past our disagreements and remain friends.”
“I hope you are right, Teacher Jeremy,” Bright Sunlight replied. “Just as I hope my … daughter is right.” He sighed.
“She still remains your daughter,” Jeremy said. “But she forges her own destiny.” He put his hand on the alien’s shoulder. “She is most competent.”
Bright Sunlight’s crest rose. He chittered quietly. “That she is.” He straightened and returned his attention to the craft hanging outside the view port. “It does look like a hungry Sky Hunter.”
When Kasumi had proposed going hunting for the Zaski and Polig-Grug, she had, in her mind, imagined doing so commanding her ship, the Seeker. However, it quickly became obvious that trying to retrofit the ship would not only be difficult but also potentially introduce some structural weaknesses. So instead, she had commissioned the creation of a brand-new class of ship. The yet-unnamed ship was to be the first of the Talon class destroyers.
It was hyperspace capable but, more importantly it carried the Franklin-designed thrusters, making it faster than anything its size should be. It had Rynn inertial compensators, though these had been improved by Joseph Franklin as well. The entire ship was protected by both the best force screens possible and the thickest armor practical.
Finally, it was armed with the most lethal weapons that humans and Rynn could conceive of. The list of offensive weaponry was incredible, but the deadliest was the quantum disruptor: the true incarnation of that science-fiction staple, the disintegrator beam. The same weapon had destroyed 90 percent of the nuclear weapons in the now lost city of Atlanta.
As if that wasn’t enough, the ship carried a score of Shrike-class fighter craft—Franklin’s original fighter design. Sleek and deadly, the arrowhead-shaped craft waited in their docking cradles. One fighter in particular had a pair of human legs sticking out of an access port.
A door slid open, and four Rynn walked into the hold. “I told you we’d find him here,” said Red Clouds Paint the Sky, amused. He walked over to the fighter and kicked the legs. “Come out, Core Brother,” he said.
“Come out or I’ll crawl in there and pull you out,” said Light of Three Moons.
“She’ll do it too,” Red Clouds Paint the Sky said in dire tones.
Franklin exited the access port. “I was just making a few adjustments,” he complained.
“You have been making ‘a few adjustments’ for the past three work segments,” Light of Three Moons said tartly. “That’s nearly five human hours.”
“It hasn’t been that long,” retorted Franklin. He looked at stern visage of the single female in his core. “Has it?” he amended uncertainly.
“Yes, it has,” Light of Three Moons replied. “And I’m certain you have not eaten,” she scolded. “I will not have you collapsing from hunger like you did three ten-days ago.” Her crest rose. “And the two ten-days before that.”
“But …” protested Franklin.
“No buts … you are going to eat, and then you are taking a nap,” Light of Three Moons declared. “Now move.”
“I’d move if I were you, Core Brother,” Black Rocks said. Frozen River chittered in amusement.
Franklin sighed. “Okay, okay … I’m moving,” he grumbled. He shuffled toward the elevator. Light of Three Moons followed to make sure he didn’t get … distracted.
“She’s an excellent core sister, is she not?” Frozen River said. “And exactly what Franklin needs.”
“He still gets too fixated,” Black Rocks said. “But she is a most excellent core sister,” he chittered. “And just as fixated.” Frozen River and Red Clouds Paint the Sky joined Black Rocks in laughing.
Kasumi entered the bridge of her yet-unnamed ship. She sat down in her command chair and chirped to her Torque. Instantly, her vision was augmented by the Torque, and she was able to ascertain the status of every system. Another command, and she felt her mind integrate with the ship’s weapons system. “The quantum disrupter is offline,” she stated.
“That is intentional, captain,” the human tech replied. “She’s a massive drain on even this ship’s power generator.” The tech patted the station in front of him in an affectionate matter. “No reason to stress the girl more tha
n she has to be.”
“Why do humans always refer to ships as ‘she’?” Kasumi asked.
The tech shrugged. “I guess because they act like women,” he said. “They’re temperamental, fickle, and need lots of attention.” He rubbed his hands along the console. “And they’re beautiful.”
“A beautiful hunter,” Kasumi mused. “Torque, search Earth mythology for a female hunter deity.” She smiled. “She should also be beautiful.” The Torque accepted the command, and Kasumi returned to reviewing the systems.
The Torque chirped. “Possible choices would be Diana, goddess of the hunt, also referred to as Artemis; Flidas, goddess of hunting and fishing; Mielikki, goddess of forests and the hunt; Nieth, goddess of war and the hunt, also known as the ‘Opener of Ways’ …”
“Hold,” commanded Kasumi. “Tell me more of Nieth.”
“Nieth or Net, a major and ancient Egyptian deity, goddess of war and hunting, creator of the universe, goddess of life and death …” the Torque intoned.
“Nieth,” Kasumi mused. “Would you be willing to crew in a ship called the Nieth, technician?”
“Is Nieth the name of a hunting goddess?” the technician asked. Kasumi nodded. “Sounds mighty fine to me,” he said. “Captain.”
Kasumi and Mel sparred under the stern and watchful eye of Jeremy Blunt. To those who only saw Jeremy in social settings, this Jeremy would be a shocking stranger. Gone was the amiable philosopher, replaced by a stern and critical taskmaster. He seemed to be able to find flaws in the most perfect of skill exhibition.
“Kasumi! The blade should be higher; you’re cutting your opponents throat, not his shoulders,” he barked. “Mel! Are you trying to get killed?” he snapped. “You left your stomach completely open.”
The two women barely nodded at each correction. They just made the correction and continued sparring.
Bright Sunlight watched wide-eyed. He leaned over to the tall human male sitting next to him. “I’ve watched tens of times now, and each time I think there is no possibility of her being more skilled, and each time she somehow improves.” His crest fluttered. “She’s already better than any Rynn sword artist I have ever seen,” he said. “And what is even more amazing is that Mel is even better.”
“From what Mel tells me, she’s studied since she was five.” David Eisenstadt pursed his lips. “Humans are barely coordinated at five.”
“Remarkable,” said Bright Sunlight. “Small …” Bright Sunlight paused. “My daughter began training at eleven sun paths … years.” He chirped to his Torque. “Our years are shorter, but physically she had not yet begun …” Bright Sunlight chirped to his Torque. “Apparently, our species have one more thing in common,” he said in amusement. “We also go through a period similar to what humans call puberty.” He watched the match for a while.
While Mel and Kasumi were wearing pads and using blunted swords—sabers to be exact—they were not holding back. Even with the padding, both combatants would wince when a particularly telling blow would land. They’d usually wince again when Jeremy invariably had a critical analysis of exactly why the blow landed.
Usually, whenever Mel and Kasumi sparred, there would be few if any observers. Eisenstadt would be there primarily because he too was studying swordplay with Jeremy. He’d already finished his training and remained to watch Mel and Kasumi. Bright Sunlight was a frequent observer.
“As impressive as they both are, I’m not sure I understand why they train as hard as they do,” Bright Sunlight commented.
Eisenstadt looked at Bright Sunlight and then spoke quietly to his own Torque. A globe sprung up, and an image appeared. “This is a recording of the last Polig-Grug attack,” he said. “The Polig-Grug are pretty consistent in their strategy. They overwhelm their prey’s defenses and then butcher them.”
“Our personal shields were developed to prevent that,” Bright Sunlight replied. “As long as the shields have power, they are protected.”
“And when they run out of power, they still end up being butchered.” David nodded at the playing recording. “Which is exactly what happened.” He spoke a command, and the image vanished. “I’ve seen that recording a dozen times,” he said quietly. “It does not get any easier to watch.”
“No,” agreed Bright Sunlight in his own hushed voice. He swallowed. “You were going to explain why they train so hard.”
“It’s not just them. Mel and Kasumi are given additional training, but all the marines—human and Rynn—are being trained in using hand weapons.” He smiled grimly. “One thing about the Polig-Grug, they do not use personal shields.”
“They don’t need shields. They are naturally armored,” Bright Sunlight pointed out. “And they wear additional armor over their vulnerable points.”
“Yes, but according to all the data the Rynn have on the Polig-Grug, that armor has weaknesses—weaknesses that can only be exploited by certain types of weapons.” Eisenstadt nodded toward where Mel and Kasumi were sparring. “Weapons like sabers.” Suddenly, Eisenstadt laughed. “And you really should see what the Ape and Bird squads are using.”
33
WAR PAINT
A recently promoted Lieutenant Hendriks held up a tubular construction. It was actually two tubes, each about three inches in diameter, connected by a sphere over twice that in diameter. “Listen up, ladies,” he growled. “This …” he shook the construct “ … is a Polig-Grug leg. There are six of these on a Polig-Grug.” He pointed to the sphere. “That is its knee.” He looked at the double squad. “Each leg has two knees.” He grinned. “Can anyone, other than Franklin, tell me how many knees you’re going to have to break to stop a Polig-Grug?”
“Trick question,” Franklin replied. “You don’t strike the knees, you strike the leg segments themselves.”
“Ooh, we got a smart-ass on our hands,” Hendriks sneered.
“I have not heard the humans have two brains,” a Rynn trainee muttered. “And why would they have one in …?”
“It’s just a saying,” Hendriks said in annoyed tones, to accompanying chuckles and chitters. “TS Franklin is correct. Those knees are virtually indestructible. The legs, however …” He raised a steel alloy mace over his head and brought it down hard on the analog Polig-Grug leg. There was a loud snap, and green ichor splashed everywhere. “Now Lieutenant Breeze is gonna show you that you don’t have to be a human to break a bug’s legs.”
“Bug?” muttered another Rynn. “They’re only superficially insectoid.”
“Maybe,” chirped Cool Evening Breeze. Like Hendriks she had been recently promoted. As they has similar authority, Kasumi had decided to follow Hendriks recommendation to make their ranks the same. “But it’s easier to say and expresses how I feel about them.” She went over to the analog leg and raised her own mace. She brought it down hard on the unshattered leg segment. More green ichor splashed. “They’re bugs,” she said with a hawklike screech. “Dirty. Stinking. Bugs.” She raised and lowered the mace another several more times before she stopped. She was panting.
Hendriks gave his friend, lover, and second in command a concerned look. “You okay, Breeze?”
Cool Evening Breeze shook herself. “Weirdly enough, yeah,” she said. “Strangely cathartic.” She looked at Hendriks. “Don’t tell Crystal, okay, Fuzz Ball?”
Lieutenant Hendriks snorted. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Feather Head.”
“It was bad enough when Rynn started painting their faces,” Bright Sunlight complained. “But why the ship?”
“Does she frighten you?” asked Technical Specialist Joseph Franklin. He grinned when Bright Sunlight nodded. “Good,” he declared. “That was the general idea.”
He and Bright Sunlight looked out the maintenance window at the recently christened Nieth. She was indeed painted in red and black slashes similar to those worn by the Rynn. The prow was painted to resemble a face, with tw
o black-rimmed eyes stylized to resemble the Egyptian Eyes of Horus and a fanged mouth. “Hard to believe she’s complete,” he said almost to himself.
Turning to Franklin, he asked, “Do you and your core still intend to be on board when she leaves?”
Franklin smiled and nodded.
“I can’t say I understand, but may the spirits protect you.”
“Thank you,” Franklin replied. A tone sounded over the station communication system. “Speaking of which, that’s my signal to report.” He briefly covered his eyes at Bright Sunlight and then hurried away.
Bright Sunlight watched as Rynn and humans rushed by him. Some of the Rynn’s faces shimmered as the Torque applied their war paint. While humans normally did not use war paint, a number passed that had black swirls and lines on their faces.
Bright Sunlight followed. By the time he reached the access port to the Nieth, there were over two hundred humans and Rynn assembled. He could see Franklin, whose face was now adorned with black swirls and lines, standing with his core, all of whom wore the red and black war paint adopted by the Rynn.
Standing just in front of the access way and on a raised dais stood his daughter, her face painted half red and half black, and her core of Morning Mist, wearing red and black war paint; Mel Blunt, wearing red and black war paint; and David Eisenstadt, who wore black swirls and lines.
Kasumi raised her hands and the crowd quieted. “Warriors!” she cried, and the crowd went silent. “The great Earth Teacher K’ung Fu Tzu once said, ‘Before going on a journey of revenge, first dig two graves.’” She briefly covered her eyes, as did the assembled humans and Rynn. “But we are not going on a journey of revenge,” she said. “We are going on a journey to reclaim our pride.”
“Oo-rah,” grunted the assembled Rynn and humans.
“We are going on a journey to claim our place, not just for Rynn, but for Rynn and human.”
Redemption Song Page 25