Assured (Envoys Book 2)

by Peter J Aldin

  “Yes, sir. He is.”

  “Good. We’re looking forward to seeing him the most. Out.”

  Bradstock gave Buoun a hard stare that clearly meant, What did he mean by that?

  Buoun had a nasty feeling that he knew exactly what Captain Pan meant. And what the man had discovered.

  “It’s set on stun, same as yours was,” the colonel said. “In case I have to shoot you too.” Fowler poked the back of Piers’s head with the rifle, causing him to wince and stumble a few steps closer to Ana.

  Fowler looked less healthy than the frightened pilot did, one eye twitching as if in rhythm with the pounding of a monumental headache, one shoulder drooping. The wry joviality in his tone seemed forced. He had the rifle held in his left hand, Ana saw now, a reverse hold for him with his right forearm steadying the foregrip. The colonel’s right hand had curled in on itself, spasming with the aftereffects of the initial stun-bolt.

  Ana didn’t remember drawing it, but her 12-mil was in her hands. She’d leveled it at the fraction of Fowler’s head visible to her. “Stay right there!”

  She should have shot him a few more times while he was stunned on the floor—him and Umby both.

  “Oh, my favorite rebellious child. Where else am I going? Did I tell you I have the rifle on stun? I think I said that.” His eye fluttered a moment as if it were a clapped-out workstation screen struggling to load data. “You shoot me and I shoot him. At this distance, it’ll fry his brain. Please put your weapon away. I don’t wanna hurt either of you.”

  “You kill him, you got no pilot.”

  “I disarm, I’m probably dead.”

  “I don’t wanna kill you, sir.”

  A ragged chuckle. “Yes. You do. Not sure what I’ve done to earn that, but we’ll work around it. That still leaves us at this …” The eyelid flickered again. “… standoff.”

  “You don’t know what you’ve done to earn my complete hatred?” she asked.

  Trapped in front of Fowler and between the business end of two weapons, Piers shook his head at her. His eyes pleaded: Do not antagonize this maniac.

  I can’t help myself, she wanted to tell him. This has been a long time coming.

  “You don’t remember pitting me against other Tacticals, against Hecate?” she continued.

  Fowler’s drooping shoulder sat higher suddenly, his eye not blinking as much. “I do. I was making you stronger. I was helping you find out what you’re capable of. And look what it accomplished. You took down two of us without us seeing it coming. What was that thing with Umby? You drugged his food? Or … Ah, I get it! You put something in his retina feed. Bloody clever, Ana. Bloody clever.”

  Ignoring that, still incensed at his initial stupid question, Ana said, “You don’t remember trying to torch an entire starship full of people?”

  “Full of enemy, Ana,” he said, scolding her with his tone. “They’re enemy. He’s enemy.” He poked Piers again. “But I’m not. And you’re not. We can come back from this. I am proud of you, you know. Honestly. Let’s put aside the weapons and talk it out. Then we can get on with our mission.”

  “Put aside our weapons?” She shifted a tad closer, and to the side, improving her angle. Her pistol jerked toward Piers and back again. “How about both of us give ’em to him.”

  Fowler’s laugh seemed genuine this time. And stronger. He was stronger. Stronger was dangerous, very dangerous for her and for Piers. He said, “You always did think well on your feet, Ana.”

  “Know what I’m even better at?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Killing assholes.”

  In the half second it took to steady her aim, Fowler saw it coming. Ana saw him see it coming. The very moment her finger tightened across the trigger, Fowler pushed Piers forward in hopes he’d block the shot. The two weapons muzzle-flashed in unison.

  The stunner hit her like a hard-packed ball of ice, lancing across her right temple, kicking her head back, spinning her sideways. Her vision hazed a bright blue. With her thoughts in fragments, she tried to squeeze off another shot Fowler’s way, hoping she did, hoping she hadn’t hit the pilot …

  Her body went numb.

  The floor rushed up.

  The blue in her vision turned to black.

  26

  Pan met them with few words, ushering them tiredly inside the tunnel entry. Buoun’s hearts stuttered in his torso as he followed the group inside the mountain. It was not from the fear of enclosed or dark places: he had spent too many orbits inside asteroids to be worried about that. His fear stemmed from knowing what this place must be. The entrance, the collapsed remains of a transmission tower on the slope above it, the fact that there had been a Domain Space shuttle investigating the site before Xenthracr shot it down—all of it fit with what Pi had told him on the frigate.

  Five Humans waited in the first chamber they came to. All stayed seated on the floor. All but one of them greeted their Human comrades with warm words and gestures. For Buoun, they had nothing but stony stares.

  They know, he thought. They already know. What did they find in here that told them?

  “Everyone stay here and rest, please,” said Captain Pan. “Except you, Envoy Buoun. You’re with me.”

  I am about to find out. He plodded after the captain. And when I explain it, they will probably shoot me.

  Part of Gregory was relieved to see Buoun enter the small chamber: this Tlu was his friend, after all. A professional colleague he cared for.

  A different part of him was angry. At the secrets Buoun’s domain continued to keep. At his suspicion, Buoun was party to those secrets. At the disaster those secrets had brought upon the human delegation. The body in the sarcophagus was the latest in a long line of unpleasant surprises. There was a mystery here, one he had a strong gut feeling about.

  There was yet another part of Chris Gregory, the numbness that was fast spreading from his soul to his body, the part of him that wanted to curl up in a corner and go quietly bonkers. Gregory was finding it harder and harder to resist. But resist, he must. For the moment, at least.

  If I’m going to die here, then I want to know why before I go.

  Buoun’s tone was subdued as he told him, “I am pleased to see you.” He wore the same tunic and trousers he’d worn on Assured—no e-suit—but the clothing was soiled with dirt, the tunic and torn along one sleeve. Perhaps the gash was from his scuffle with Hecate. He’d also strapped a utility belt around his hips, bearing a holstered gun. Pan, standing at Buoun’s shoulder, hadn’t yet disarmed him. The envoy added, “And you, Ms. Renny.”

  Grace regarded him with silent hostility from her corner of the ‘crypt,’ as she’d started calling this room.

  “Glad you’re alive,” said Gregory. “Because we need someone to explain that.”

  Buoun’s eyes grew wide as he noticed the sarcophagus, and his ears began twitching, Tluaan body language Gregory knew indicated anxiety. He shuffled over with his hands clasped at his waist, then began subvocalizing a Tluaan phrase over and over as he regarded the body. Gregory couldn’t tell if the four syllables were expletives, a question, or even the name of the person in the coffin.

  “Buoun,” he said, approaching him. “Please hand over your weapon.”

  Buoun did not ask why. Did not object. Did not even glance aside. He merely took the gun’s grip between thumb and forefinger and handed it back. Then clasped his hands over his midriff.

  I’m sorry, my friend, Gregory thought with a pang of guilt. In times like these, we humans tend to view all members of a hostile faction the same.

  Gregory handed the weapon off to Pan.

  Hiding it in a suit pouch, the captain said, “Maybe read that before you answer, Envoy.” He shone his flashlight on the wall plaque when Buoun turned around.

  The envoy took a few steps closer, squinting as he silently mouthed what he read. He told them, “Most of this does not make sense. Some of it does. But I know what it is, what it means.”

  �
��Well, that’s good,” said Gregory with a shaky laugh. “Because it’s Infuriating Revelation Season here on Kh’het3. And I feel like you have an infuriating revelation to share. Is there something you’d like to tell us?” He kicked the sarcophagus with the side of his boot. “Able Spacer Esana tells us the machine wasn’t good enough to keep this person alive. They’ve been dead a long time. Centuries, maybe. So tell us. Your current mission to the Kh’het system: it’s not the first time Domain Space has been here, is it? And the last time you were here was a very long time ago.”

  “Probably time to let him speak,” Pan said gently.

  Gregory folded his arms, waiting.

  Buoun’s sigh was long and ragged. “Yes, I will speak. It will be a relief to explain this. After Councillor Pi revealed it to me two of your shipdays ago, concealing this information has made me want to explode.” He winced, his choice of words no doubt making him think of Assured and its fate. “The reason I cannot read all of the writing on the wall, and the reason for that very old body in a very old machine, is that Domain Space were not the first Tluaanto to develop space travel.”

  “Here we go,” Grace muttered.

  “Eighteen hundred of your years ago, we had many advanced civilizations on our planet. One of those factions traveled here. He is one of them.”

  “What faction?” Gregory said. “Who were they?”

  “Their science and much of their history was lost during a prolonged war between clans. The war brought all Tluaan civilization back to what you would call pre-industrial. Our return to technological advancement took us well over fifteen human hundred years, regularly delayed by further warfare and mutual sabotage. Two hundred of our orbits ago, Domain Space’s predecessors had researchers and these researchers rediscovered the Hanushto. That is the name his people called themselves.” He indicated the body in the box. “A little of their history and of their science became known, but only to our council and the few Tluaanto they trusted. They redeveloped space travel and managed to climb out of our own atmosphere. Other factions discovered our technology, though not the history behind it. We had gathered and hidden the Hanushto artifacts we found in orbit and beyond. Other alliances of clans tried to join us in space. Another world war threatened but was overcome by the establishment of the Domains.”

  “I wouldn’t say it was overcome by the establishment of the domains, exactly,” Gregory suggested. “Given what’s happened in the last two weeks, I’d say it was paused.”

  Buoun bobbed his head. “I agree.”

  “Just finish the story,” Pan said and put a shoulder against the entrance jamb.

  “Sahss,” sighed Buoun. “Before we created the Domains, before we recovered modern technology, we had a dark age like you did. Before it, many of our civilizations had been … magnificent. The Domain Space Council is … proud. Their goal has been to recapture Hanush glory and to exceed it.”

  “Your bosses sent a team here looking for ‘magnificent’ Hanush technology,” Pan said. “But what exactly are they looking for? What’s here that you want? Some dead fellow in a fancy refrigerator?”

  “Not the dead fellow, but the work that the dead fellow’s people started. I don’t know who he is, specifically. But when his people discovered a way to travel to a neighboring star system, they left Chaatu system and came here to experiment, far away from the other factions. They were here for at least fifty years. Your years. They achieved much, but after so much time, another faction found a way here—a religious faction. They fought the Hanushto and destroyed them. Now I think about it, that dead fellow might be one of the religious fighters. I don’t understand enough of the writing on the wall to be certain. Although if he is one of them, I’m not sure why his pod would be placed where Qesh could care for it.”

  “That’s why it’s here?” Gregory asked. “For the Qesh to maintain?”

  “That much is clear from the writing. These two runes here, they mean Qesh.”

  “There’s a question you haven’t answered,” said Grace, losing patience and sounding like the cop she’d once been. “What are your bosses looking for here?”

  He blinked hard. “For … for the Qesh. They came to find the Qesh. And … they came to find the Xenthracr.”

  Gregory traded stunned stares with Grace and Pan, then asked, “Both species? Are you saying that this planet is the Qesh’s and the Xenthracr’s?”

  Buoun nodded.

  “Oh, my God,” Grace rasped. “We’re the hacking invaders here!”

  Gregory added, “You made us attack the Xenthracr in their own territory! They were defending their own territory!”

  “My ‘bosses’ made you, yes. I … I am deeply ashamed at assisting them. But whether the territory can be called the Xenthracr’s is a complex question.”

  “Don’t stop now,” said Pan. “Talk us through it.”

  Buoun asked, “Please, may I sit?”

  “Sit, stand, hang from the roof,” said Grace. “We just want answers.”

  Buoun slid down the wall below the plaque until he could stretch his legs out in front. “And, please, could I have water? It was a long walk here and I’m not a young Tlu any longer.”

  Pan hit his comms switch. “Westermann? Bring a water bottle in.” He released the control.

  “Thank you,” Buoun said. “Hnnnh. As I said, two thousand years ago, Tluaan science was more advanced than it is now. And two thousand years ago, the Qesh and Xenthracr were not as we see them today. Both species were animals. Neither … what are your words I learned the other day? Ah, yes. Neither sapient nor sentient. But they were intelligent, or so say the records that Pi told me about. The Qesh were a communal animal, warm-blooded, users of simple tools. The Xenthracr were a hive species with many subspecies within it.”

  “Castes,” Gregory said. “Like we’re seeing now. Their pilots. Their slave masters at that city.”

  “And they will have other subspecies. Tluaanto are similar to them in a way. We too have castes, although ours are more social than physical. Except warriors—warriors are very different physically …”

  Gregory gestured impatiently. “Focus on the Xenthracr.”

  “Sorry. Yes. The … primitive species found by the Hanushto were expert builders—within limits. And they showed mathematical intelligence. The Qesh were a simple creature who used simple tools and who shared the same environment. Groups of both species had developed a cooperative relationship with each other.”

  “Symbiosis,” murmured Pan. “It wasn’t slave overseers that the Lioness saw.”

  “No, probably not. They would be a soldier form of the species.”

  Gregory said, “I get it now. Your ancestors came here, found two species with potential and tampered with their evolution.”

  “They improved it and sped it up.”

  “And directed it?”

  “Directed? Yes.”

  “To what end? For what purpose?”

  “To solve the problems Tluaanto could not. Among them, to develop a star drive.”

  The technology my ancestors discovered by accident, Gregory thought.

  Pan had removed his suit gloves an hour earlier. Now he rubbed tired eyes with the heels of his hands. “My God. Tluaanto are insane.”

  “Yes,” said Buoun. “Yes, we are.”

  “Insane and persistent,” Gregory said. “Your people gennied not one, but two races of beings. Entirely to create an FTL drive.”

  “That is what Pi told me. I’m sure there’s more she didn’t.”

  “I’m sure too.”

  “Genetic engineering and interstellar travel in what was Humanity’s 13th Century,” Pan said to Gregory and Grace. “The Tluaanto were a millennium ahead of us.”

  “You offered us your biotech as a trade, Envoy,” said Grace, “but your ancestors used it to play God.”

  “What is play god?” he asked.

  She dismissed the question with a shake of the head.

  “To be fair,” said Pan, “w
e like playing God too. Back in the 21st and 22nd Centuries, our ancestors were doing pretty nasty things with gene coding too.”

  “Genetically engineering chimpanzees to mine asteroids is not the same as creating a race of technological, space-faring, aggressive monsters!” Grace replied.

  “I hate to say it,” Pan said, “but it kind of is. And you don’t know the worst they did.”

  Bringing the conversation back to the main point, Gregory interrupted. “Buoun, once the ancient Tluaanto killed each other off here, these two indigenous species kept developing in your absence? The orbital, the Kh’het4 artifact, the space fighters—we’re seeing eighteen centuries’ worth of divergent engineering and development at work.”

  “Mostly. The Qesh artifact was built during the Hanushto time but damaged in battles with the religious faction. Pi’s records show it was the focus of FTL development at the time. It could have been the first FTL vessel. But the conflict destroyed the research. The Qesh on board were abandoned to die.”

  “But they didn’t die. They did what they were good at. They used their innate ingenuity to maintain their environment, grow food, keep their tiny, closed ecosystem running.”

  “Yes.”

  “For eighteen hundred years.” Gregory shook his head. “Plucky little buggers.”

  Grace asked them all, “What the hell do we do now?”

  Pan gestured toward the passageway outside. “We share the latest good news with our colleagues. And we do what the Qesh did on the artifact. We survive. Starting with making sure this facility is a safe place to shelter for now.”

  The others accepted the revelations with a kind of exhausted fatalism, listening without interruption.

  Hecate was the first to actively reply. “Wooooo. And I thought we’d been good liars. Hey, Buoun, congrats, guy. Tluaanto get the prize for keeping the Confeds in the dark.”

  “Shut your yap, Silver,” Westermann growled.