SeptStar

by Blaze Ward

  Daniel never regretted killing him. The galaxy was a better place with that branleur in hell.

  “I will be expecting at least two new recipe books upon your return,” Ndidi interjected with a grin on her face.

  “Two?”

  “One filled with all the Anndaing things you learn,” Ndidi nodded solemnly. “And the other from whatever interesting folk you find when you get there and they find out you can cook.”

  “I shall keep you apprised of my progress,” Daniel replied dryly.

  The group laughed.

  “Joane, your job is keeping him alive,” Kathra said, her voice growing far more serious now. “We’re going to Kanus to trade and recruit, but I need the Anndaing merchants on our side. And we’ll presume that the Ishtan can still track Daniel until someone delivers me the rest of their heads. Or at least their soul gems.”

  Joane nodded. She was a quiet woman at the best of times, which made her an ideal traveling companion for an introvert like him.

  “So what do I do if they make us an offer of more ships, and crews for them?” Joane suddenly asked, smiling again.

  “Unless you plan on starting your own clan with your own ClanStar, make sure they’re warships,” Kathra teased.

  “Not ready to start making babies,” Joane countered. “Too many of you trouble-makers around that I need to keep out of harm.”

  Daniel chuckled along with the women.

  That was one iron rule in the comitatus. No mothers. If you wanted babies, you retired from the flying and fighting, so that the tribe didn’t end up with orphans.

  Not many of the women sworn to Kathra had ever made that ultimate sacrifice, but she had no flexibility on that one matter.

  Daniel wasn’t sure what it would mean in a few years when both Kathra and Erin went to the sperm bank at the same time, set to raise cousins that would be the next generation to protect the Mbaysey. He’d never imagined, back when he took a job as her personal chef, that he’d be here that long.

  Now he wasn’t sure he would ever leave.

  Ndidi did not surprise him when she hugged. Like him, she tended to touch. And like anybody who spent time in a kitchen, it was always safe touch, because someone holding a knife or a hot pan who objected would teach you better manners quickly.

  Kathra did surprise him with a similar hug, leaning down from her tremendous height to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It was like he was ten again, since she was an entire head taller than he was.

  “We will do you proud, Kathra,” Daniel said as they separated.

  “Just be safe,” she replied.

  He nodded. As long as he had the gem, there were painfully few things in the galaxy that threatened him.

  Besides his curiosity.

  Seventeen

  Crence had retired to his cabin after they had gone through all the ceremonies of welcome for a visiting trademaster coming aboard Koni Swift. Daniel wasn’t such a person, but he was both more and less, so Crence figured that it would all balance out.

  Nobody would be able to accuse him of insulting such an important trade ambassador when they got to Ogrorspoxu, even if the man had immediately headed down to the kitchen with his assistant to inspect and taste everything.

  Humans were as omnivorous as Anndaing, but relied more heavily on roots and dried vegetables for their nutrition than his kind did. Still, Jine was plotting the sort of high-speed run to the capital that would get Daniel and Joane there before he accidentally poisoned them.

  At least he hoped.

  On the desk in front of him, Crence studied the collection of odd coins he had traded Kathra Omezi for as part of the many side deals they had done before departing. No doubt, she was equally interested in Anndaing currency and doing something similar, but when trading tons of materials, everything was usually done on a barter system. Things you could get here and sell or trade for a profit over there.

  Coins were for crew experiencing shore leave on a station.

  Kathra Omezi had let him know that she had no more Sept Crowns, but the notes he had taken contained a full breakdown of how such things were valued against the Free Worlds Guilders he had.

  Crence especially liked the bit about how the Free Worlds had initially settled on a system based on fours, rather than the ten fingers that they used, or the twelve of Anndaing. It let them completely derail negotiations with the Sept Empire, because things never ran evenly.

  There was something utterly amusing to baking such a practical joke permanently into your economy.

  One Guilder had a picture of the Free Worlds logo on one side, and an engraving of an animal called a sloth on the other. Good for a beer or a slice of argha.

  A Four Guilder coin had large, predatory bird on the obverse called an eagle, and could buy someone dinner and a beer in a nice dive.

  Eight Guilders was a boar. Twenty-four on the human’s base-10 system was a tiger. Ninety-six was a snake. Three hundred and eight-four was a unicorn. Seven hundred and sixty-eight was a dragon.

  Truly rude. It spoke well of the Free Worlds. The Sept was apparently a rigid, decimalized economy that didn’t take well to non-humans.

  Crence had caught undertones, even through translation, that Kathra Omezi would eventually be seeking allies to help her push back against the Sept. He still wasn’t sure how she would do that, with an entire squadron of unarmed transports around her, but she had struck him as capable of doing such a thing.

  And someone had supposedly killed Urid-Varg.

  Worse, done it in such a way that they didn’t immediately brag about it to the entire galaxy. Did the humans not understand what that monster had been?

  Granted, after the K’bari and their allies had finally turned on their god/emperor, he had vanished, fleeing into the darkness faster than the pursuing squadrons had been able to chase.

  But a great deal of time had passed, if he only reappeared in human space in the last few years.

  Where had the monster gone?

  A knock disrupted his ruminations.

  “Come,” he called.

  Dane opened the hatch and slipped in.

  “The two ambassadors are done in the kitchens, Crence,” he said.

  Crence gestured the shark to sit and studied him.

  “How’s Mase doing?”

  That got a grin.

  Mase Jacksanch, the kitchenmaster, was a fussy old fish, tasked with keeping things simple and running for the thirty crew members of Koni Swift.

  “Daniel did not challenge his professionalism nor his credentials,” Dane laughed. “Not directly.”

  “Not directly?” Crence perked up.

  “There was a brief explanation of what a Golden Diamond was,” Dane chuckled. “And how the human came to be the personal chef for the human woman Commander Omezi. I suspect there will be a bake-off, probably about the time we reach Ogrorspoxu.”

  “Should we have Jine plot a slower course home?” Crence grinned. “Give Daniel and Mase time to work out their communications, and let Daniel learn about Anndaing food?”

  “Televise it on pay-per-view?” Dane sat up sharply, hammer flexing forward.

  “Might make the biggest possible splash around,” Crence teased.

  “Our stock values would go through the roof!” Dane gasped. “Should we issue more, grant the two humans some serious options with a good vesting schedule, and use that free money to finance our run into human space with as much stuff as we can carry?”

  “I’ll make a trademaster out of you yet, Dane,” Crence smiled. “Plus, if Daniel’s any good, he’ll have to practice on the way home, so we get to experiment with something more interesting than casserole and stew.”

  “I wondered why you didn’t complain about taking the human woman’s primary cook as our ambassador,” Dane replied.

  “That was only part of it,” Crence let himself grow serious again.

  “Oh?”

  “Daniel’s interested in the Ovanii, Dane,” Crence said.
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  “So?”

  “So a human should have never even heard of the Ovanii,” Crence said. “Even to the Kaniea, they would only be distant legends. And yet he treats them like a thing. Part of the research he wants to do at Ogrorspoxu is to find out more about them.”

  “Why?” Dane’s hammer twitched forward and back with a confused rhythm.

  “I don’t know,” Crence said. “But remember, they claim to have destroyed Urid-Varg, Dane. These humans. By themselves. Not with the aid of the entire species amassing tremendous warfleets, like when the Anndaing have called the Armada.”

  “How could they do that?” Dane leaned forward now.

  “That is the reason I wanted the cook,” Crence explained. “There were hints that he did it himself. Alone.”

  “Urid-Varg?” the shark’s hammer was flexed as far forward as it would go.

  The obscenity that he whispered under his breath was one that Crence mirrored in his own soul.

  “What are humans?” Dane asked.

  “That, my friend, is a very good question.”

  Eighteen

  A’Alhakoth was pleased to be headed home, now that Koni Swift had departed for the Anndaing capital. It had been several years since she had seen Kanus, and she was beginning to think that she might have finally started to grow up.

  Humans grew and aged faster than Kaniea. They might be considered an adult as early as sixteen, where she was only now barely reaching that state at twenty-three. But then again, humans only lived for perhaps eighty to one hundred years, depending, where she might see two hundred, since the genes in her family were known for great age on both sides.

  But she would not be returning as a Kaniea seeker, even if her quest had been successful.

  She was comitatus. A member of an elite, human, warrior band made up entirely of women. Mother would be appalled. Father, knowing him, amused.

  Kaniea society would split right down the middle if pressed, between the conservatives pining for the days before indoor heating and plumbing on one hand, and the progressives who looked up at the night sky and wondered what might be out there.

  And who they might find.

  It wasn’t a generational thing, since her great-grandsire had been young when the first Anndaing Contact Ambassador landed and brought them into the modern age. But perhaps there would be two cultures for a time, until the stodgy ones finally got over themselves and admitted that being able to watch a comedy vid from the comfort of their warm bed wasn’t a sign of moral decay.

  But she was going home. At least temporarily.

  Did she want to remain longer, when the Mbaysey moved on? A’Alhakoth didn’t know.

  She checked the clock and decided it was close enough. She would have language lessons today, teaching the comitatus Anndaing and a little Kaniea. The latter was more common on Kanus, but everyone with any aspirations to depart the planet or work with any of the aliens was bilingual.

  In a way, she supposed that was the easiest way to mark the cleavage through Kaniea society. Whether or not you got jokes that Anndaing told.

  She had never really understood it in such stark terms before, but there it was.

  Father and three of her four brothers were multi-lingual. Mother only spoke Kaniea, as did her brother Goli and her sister E’Elbarth.

  Most of the women A’Alhakoth knew didn’t speak Anndaing, come to think of it. She could remember discussions with Father about why he insisted, and would not allow her to stop.

  Had he seen her future?

  And when looked at that way, how many other women would be even capable of running away with a group of alien women? Many men would volunteer immediately, especially with the possible romance of war, but Kaniea men were raised on ancient, martial glories.

  Kathra Omezi only wanted women as her warriors.

  A’Alhakoth entered the dining hall with a smile, noting that she was still far too early for the group who would be practicing conversational Anndaing with her.

  Too many nerves and too much twitchiness driving her today.

  Ndidi was putting out what smelled like fresh brownies on the serving table. A’Alhakoth was drawn by the smell.

  Kaniea didn’t have the same reward receptors in the brain as human women did for chocolate, but A’Alhakoth did have a sweet tooth, especially with fresh cacao grown on the Zalman ClanStar.

  Ndidi smiled at her as A’Alhakoth took a bar, still warm from the oven.

  “Thank you,” A’Alhakoth said.

  Ndidi studied her for a long moment, as though the woman had Daniel’s ability to look inside someone.

  “Everything okay?” Ndidi asked.

  A’Alhakoth froze for only a moment, but they both noticed it.

  “Sit,” Ndidi commanded.

  Kathra’s new chef was tinier than any of the rest of the Mbaysey on this ship, but still half a head taller than A’Alhakoth. Daniel’s size, almost exactly, which was apparently about average for a human woman, while he was small for a man.

  A’Alhakoth was too used to home, where she was average, at 153cm tall using the human scale, and the men in her family were average for males at 183cm. Kathra would tower over everyone, as would much of the comitatus.

  That was going to be interesting to watch.

  “How are you handling things?” Ndidi asked carefully.

  A’Alhakoth started to reply, but realized that the woman had already seen past all her evasions.

  She opened her mouth, and then closed it without speaking. Took a bite of brownie bar to buy herself some time.

  Ndidi studied her while she did. At least the human woman seemed sympathetic.

  “I wonder who I am,” A’Alhakoth finally managed, hoping it made sense.

  Ndidi smiled and chuckled.

  “Then you’re doing fine,” the human woman said warmly.

  “I am?”

  “It’s called growing up,” Ndidi continued. “There is a you who left Kanus three years ago, but she’s not the woman coming home today.”

  “No, she’s not,” A’Alhakoth replied, seeing the truth of the words.

  “Are you going to remain with us?” Ndidi asked, cutting right to the heart of A’Alhakoth’s misgivings.

  “I want to,” she said.

  “But?” Ndidi pressed.

  “I realized, just now, how few Kaniea women might be interested in even traveling into space at all, let alone doing something as serious as joining the Mbaysey,” she said, reaching inside to study that knot of vertigo and fear that had formed, something she had never dealt with before. “Or the comitatus.”

  A’Alhakoth knew a sudden rage at herself. She was a warrior, as Father had insisted she be trained, in spite of her expressing other wishes as a child.

  But she could not see any other avenue where she might have been as happy. He had understood her, better than she had.

  “I am a second daughter,” A’Alhakoth said fiercely. “And I come from a large family, with five older siblings. My parents are both Jarls, one of the lower ranks of the nobility on Kanus, but I still wonder how many such women the Commander might recruit.”

  “Any who are good enough,” Ndidi said. “And wish to come. Perhaps only one Kaniea will.”

  “But…”

  “Are you afraid of being alone?” Ndidi asked.

  A’Alhakoth considered that thought. Compared it to the knot in her chest.

  No, that wasn’t it.

  She shook her head.

  “Children?” Ndidi asked.

  A’Alhakoth nearly passed out at the strong surge of emotion.

  “Yes!” she gasped. “The Commander will have very few slots for Kaniea men. And all of those on the ClanStars, where they will be required to do labor many will find beneath themselves, unless Kathra recruits from the peasants and yeomen.”

  “And you, like the others of the comitatus, will want children eventually,” Ndidi nodded.

  “Will I have to depart, in order to mate?” A�
�Alhakoth’s rage finally found that center that had depressed her.

  All the other comitatus could take for granted that they could go to the sperm bank and select for the characteristics they desired. Doubly so if they personally knew the donor and he had already proven himself as a valuable member of the tribe.

  “I doubt it,” Ndidi said. “While I haven’t spoken to Kathra on the topic, I’m sure she’s given it thought. Maybe that’s why she’s starting here.”

  “So I could find a male?” A’Alhakoth asked.

  Ndidi laughed.

  “Knowing Kathra, she’ll hold a series of competitions and pick the top dozen to make contributions to the bank, for you to use later as you see fit,” Ndidi said.

  A’Alhakoth felt all the breath rush out of her lungs. A competition? Her, the subject of a challenge for Kaniea men to compete over?

  “Really?” she squeaked, still amazed. “Me?”

  “You’re comitatus, A’Alhakoth ver’Shingi,” Ndidi’s voice turned deadly serious. “Only the very best will even be considered.”

  Nineteen

  Hadi Rostami sat at his new command station on the compact, almost claustrophobic bridge of SeptStar as the clock counted down. He could not call it a Command Node, like he had commanded from Vorgash, as there was no Great Causeway here, where he and Pasdar could pace, above those twenty men, who had commanded the thousand who commanded the three hundred thousand that made up a Septagon.

  He was only taking sixty-eight men with him directly. The seven women brought along as sex-objects did not count, except that they had to be fed and housed. In addition, there were two freighters attached to his independent command, hauling supplies and replacement parts. Those would be his lifeline to the forward operating bases that would keep him in the field as he sought Kathra Omezi.

  Seventy-five then, technically, plus four.

  He did not understand the Ishtan. Amirin had allowed the creatures into his mind and been changed, so Hadi had kept them at a more polite distance.

  But he was also not the great warrior-commander that a former Sardar like Amirin Pasdar was. Nor was he a member of one of the Seven great clans that had originally banded together into the Sept, first conquering Earth, and then moving on to take human space.