Humans
Published by A.G. Claymore
Edited by Beryl MacFadyen
Copyright 2019 A.G. Claymore
This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Places, Incidents and Brands are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of any products referenced in this work of fiction which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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The Illusion of Control
Preoccupation
Susa, planetary capital of Tadmor.
“You hand the bastard an empire on a platter and what does he say?” Eth tossed down the last of his espresso and slammed the tiny mug on the counter. He paid no attention to the weapons fire coming from the intersection behind him. “Not half bad,” he allowed. “I’ll have another.”
A slightly bluish hand darted up to snatch away the mug. Its owner, not caring the least about whatever the ‘bastard’ had said, did his best to refill the mug, though he dropped it once when a flurry of small arms fire impacted one of the carboncrete columns where he’d set up his stand.
“That’s fine,” Eth told him. “Don’t bother cleaning it. Just fill it up again.”
The hand placed the chipped mug back on the counter in front of Eth.
“So he says to me,” Eth continued, looking with appreciation at the light brown layer of crema on top of the drink, “Get your lazy arse over to Tadmor cause we gotta steal… don’t even recall the name of the damn thing.” He poured the hot liquid down his throat as Gleb ran past behind him, arms flailing and a respectable plume of flames lighting up the back of his armor.
“The golden hunk of… shit, I suppose.” He waved the empty mug airily as their shuttle emerged from an underground parking elevator, drifting his way on autopilot. “Supposed to help stop one of the dozens of private little wars, or so he thinks.”
The shuttle suddenly exploded, sending combatants scrambling for cover. A large chunk flew past Eth’s right hip, smashing away half of the small coffee stand. The stall-owner let out a rattling croak of terror.
Eth set the mug down on the remaining half of the counter and drew his sidearm, swinging it up into the face of a Tadmoran security officer who’d thought he was being sneaky.
“I came here to help you idiots avoid a war,” he snapped at the officer, “and I’ve had nothing but trouble ever since!” He squeezed the trigger and a tiny sphere flew out from a chamber under the main rails.
It stuck to the left side of the officer’s forehead and he went down, twitching uncontrollably, electrical arcs snaking around his body. The sphere snapped back into Eth’s weapon and he holstered it again.
“Look, our ride’s on its way,” he said, leaning over to look down at the stand owner. He reached down with his left hand, fist bent back in the universal gesture of payment. The owner responded out of sheer habit.
“There’s a little extra to cover damages,” Eth told him. “Can’t help but feel partially responsible for all this.” He waved vaguely out to the debris field that had been a shuttle.
He turned and walked over to where Gleb was directing the rest of their small team of Humans. They were in a large landing where three broad sets of stairs converged before leading down to a mass-transit node.
“You got it?” he asked Gleb.
“Yeah, we got it,” Gleb answered. “Glad to see you taking an interest in the operation…”
“Hey!” Eth spread out his hands. “I was showing confidence in your leadership!”
“And all this time I thought you were being a self-absorbed jackass in need of a caffeine fix.”
“Yeah, well… it can be both. C’mon, you didn’t even need me along for this.”
“Whatever. Let’s just get out of here before we have more company than we can handle. They still hang thieves here…”
“Tadmorans,” Oliv scoffed, “couldn’t hang a curtain!”
A deep, thrumming moan rumbled through their bones.
“Heavy response unit’s here,” Eth said.
They all dropped their weapons and knelt in a single line, helmets open and hands behind their heads. The Tadmoran heavy response team crested the top edge of the stairs and stopped in mild confusion.
“C’mon, fellas,” Eth called up to them. “It’s not like we’ve got all day, y’know.”
The heavily armored officer with a centurion’s glyph pulled out a couple of drone clips and the rest were broken out of their surprised immobility by his example.
The resulting flock of drones buzzed down to the waiting humans, each attaching first to one arm and then pulling it up to where they could get a grip on the second. By the time the security team had descended to the landing, the Humans were all restrained.
The centurion’s helmet snapped open and folded itself out of sight. “Even as an elector, the Prince Mishak still resorts to petty thievery?” the officer sneered in a voice like a bubbling stream. “The empire will see how you hang for his crimes…”
Eth turned to look at Gleb and the two burst out laughing.
“Very mature, assholes!” Oliv muttered.
“What?” the centurion demanded. “What’s so amusing about being hung?”
“Oh my gods!” Oliv started to chuckle. She shook her head at the officer. “You’re doing this on purpose now, right?”
The centurion drew himself up to full height – the better to glare down menacingly. “You find it amusing to be hung?”
“Amusing’s not the word I’d choose,” she said, giggling. “Gratifying, maybe, for all concerned…”
The whole team roared with laughter now. Gleb was pressing his elbows ineffectively against his armored abdomen. “Stop it!” he wheezed. “My sides!”
“Enough!” the centurion shouted. He waved his team forward. “Get them loaded up!”
The Humans were hustled aboard the armored security shuttle, the centurion pinioning their drone clips to the ceiling with a touch of his wrist pad. Two officers brought the case containing the golden lump of misplaced meaning and secured it under a side bench.
Eth nodded across to Oliv and Gleb. “Wait till the ramp is closed.” He turned to the centurion’s quizzical glare and gave him a friendly grin.
The centurion turned to face him but the ramp had just clanged shut. Oliv stared intently at the large Tadmoran for a few seconds. His face suddenly went slack and he clattered to the deck.
The rest of the security force had fallen as well and Gleb let out a sigh. Eth wasn’t sure whether it was from the effort of knocking out the rest of the crew or from the orders not to kill them.
Even though Gleb had been the first to start studying under Eth, Oliv had quickly proven a better student when it came to affecting matter with her mind. That was why she’d been tasked with knocking out the centurion. They needed him to fall the right way and she’d shown far more finesse than her fellow student.
Of course, that didn’t mean the big oaf wasn’t free to fall on top of his left forearm.
Grunting, Eth jumped backwards, swinging from his restraints, back down to deliver a kick at the officer’s shoulder. He tried again, and the Tadmoran rolled over, exposing his control pad.
“We’re wasting time,” Gleb grumbled. “I can just…”
“No!” Eth insisted. “None of us has fine enough control yet. If we smash the controller, then we’re stuck here till another team arrives. I’ll try with my foot, first.”
“Yeah,” Oliv mused, watching him scrape his armored toe across the control pad. “That’s not gonna break it at all!”
“Just… let me…“ Eth didn’t finish his sentence. The clips all released, dumping the Humans to the deck.
“Oliv, get us moving,” Eth ordered, rolling to his knees.
“You got it, boss.” She clambered over the fallen Humans and unconscious Tadmorans.
“Let’s hope Orbital Control doesn’t pay too much attention to a police shuttle,” she muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Eth called after her. “That’s my job. By the time they notice we’re not headed for the detention orbiter, we’ll be back aboard the Mouse.”
The Tadmorans might be willing to hang a few Humans, but a heavy cruiser in Mishak’s service, along with a horde of those deadly dark-ships, was another matter entirely.
They didn’t want that kind of trouble.
Peacemaker
The Dibbarra, Tadmor System
The arguing had died out, unfortunately.
Now both the Tadmorans and the Ninevans had turned their attention on Mishak and he wasn’t ready.
Mishak had arrived before the Ninevan assault fleet and he’d dispatched Eth with a team to secure the golden… what the hell was it called again? Anyway, it had been stolen from Ninevah thousands of years ago and it was at the base of all ill feelings between the two fiefs, even today.
Mishak frowned down at the table. It wasn’t the entire reason, of course. The lord of Ninevah wanted to advance at court and taking a second system was a very important first rung along the way. The golden whatsit was an important cultural icon… probably… but it served nicely as a pretext.
Tadmor was horrendously unprepared for the situation. They produced a range of products but nothing terribly lucrative. Textiles accounted for more than half of their GDP and the margin was slim.
Too slim to field more than a few obsolete frigates. Ninevah wasn’t much better, but they were strong enough to swallow up Tadmor.
So why was Mishak even here? Why care if one little fight flared up and resolved itself quickly?
This was more about him than the combatants. This was to be an easy intervention. He’d show up with a sizeable force but he’d bring the dispute to an end without fighting.
As long as his Humans could hold up their end of the plan.
He almost sighed and that surprised him. It was a Human reaction, or was it? He searched his short-term memory, realizing the Ninevan admiral had just sighed.
It was amazing how little the Quailu attended to physical cues. As empaths, they didn’t notice such things. Mishak had been mostly dismissive, until he’d started an illicit relationship with one of his Humans.
A holo notification popped up in front of him. Eth’s team was on approach to the forward hangar bay. Mishak waved it away and stood. “Perhaps a break, my lords? We can reconvene in fifteen.”
“And what could possibly be different from what has already been discussed?” Gobryas, lord of Ninevah demanded. “We’ve been more than patient, my lord.”
“Indeed you have, my friend,” Mishak assured him. “I only ask that you give me the chance to reward that patience properly.” He left without a further word.
He entered the hangar as Eth and his team were descending the boarding ramp of… a Tadmoran security shuttle? “Where’s my personal shuttle?”
“Ah,” Eth sighed. “Well, lord, it’s going to need a little work…”
“A little work?” Gleb blurted, his surprise clear as he set a large case down on the deck. “The fornicating thing blew up all over us!” He held up his right arm to show where the shrapnel had scored deep gouges in his armor.
“Alright,” Eth conceded, “it’s probably a lost cause but at least it got us down there in one piece without interference from Orbital Control.”
This time, Mishak did sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. “At least tell me there’s something useful in that box.”
“My lord!” Gobryas’ voice thundered across the hangar.
Mishak turned to see the Ninevan delegation moving toward him.
“We have given you the respect due to your exalted station,” Gobryas said, voice lowering as he came close, “but it is time for us to carry on. Our cause is just and we intend to see it through.”
As if to underscore his words, Gobryas’ delegation had broken off and was now moving toward their shuttle. The Tadmorans, who’d followed their enemy down to the hangar, were making no corresponding move to their own shuttle.
Of course they weren’t.
They were looking at defeat and they had to know it.
“We got it, lord,” Eth assured him quietly.
That was a relief. Mishak was about to close the deal when Tashmitum glided into the hangar bay, accompanied by her personal secretary, four of her Varangians and two Scensors. The pungent aroma from the slowly burning chitinous projections on the Scensors’ heads lent the moment a distinctly formal feeling.
“My dear.” Mishak greeted her with a bow. “You’re feeling better?”
“Much better,” she said before turning to Gobryas. “I have heard much about you, my lord,” she told him. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you face to face.”
“Highness!” was all Gobryas managed in return. He bowed deep to cover his surprise at meeting such a high-born Quailu.
Mishak took a half step forward, wanting to strike while the other noble was distracted. “As you’ve said, Gobryas, your cause is indeed a just one. That is why I offer you this token of our esteem.” He stepped to the side, gesturing to Eth, who knelt and opened the case.
Mishak frowned a little, though he didn’t notice this time. His anger was clearly projecting, though.
“You’re offering me sandwiches?” Gobryas asked, a hint of derision coming from his mind.
Eth was still staring down into the box. “Gleb,” he said softly, “there was more than one box under the bench?”
“I’m thinking yes…”
“Go get it,” Eth suggested, packing a great deal of urgency into his quiet words.
Gleb ran back into the shuttle. There was a loud crash followed by muffled curses and then he came running back out to place the box next to the first.
Eth opened it up and a buttery golden glint finally put Mishak’s mind at ease. More or less. “Is that…”
“That,” Eth stated in a flat tone, “most certainly is.”
“From the fourteenth emperor of the Holy Quailu Empire,” confirmed Gobryas in reverent tones. “It remained like that, even after his death so it was removed and gilded.”
“He certainly seems to have died happy,” Mishak mused.
“I doubt his empress had any complaints either,” Gleb added, then offered a quick bow. “Begging your pardon, Highness.”
Tashmitum waved off the apology, her amusement evident.
“We urge you to take your relic and return home in peace, my lord,” Eth said. “Let old grievances remain in the past where they belong.”
Gobryas brought his gaze back up to meet Mishak’s. “I regret that I cannot. We have stated our intentions before the entire empire and can’t simply walk away, having accomplished only half of our goal and without firing a single shot.”
He brought his left palm up, flat and facing toward his right hand. He balled his right into a fist and hammered it into his left palm in an ancient gesture.
“The ram has touched the wall,” he insisted. “We must continue.”
He must increase his influence, Mishak thought. Taking a second world would do that.
“You are an intrepid lord, Gobryas,” Tashmitum intervened. “Your true reasoning in this matter is subtle and you pursue your aims with a single-mindedness that we admire.” She’d all but called him out on his desire to increase his standing at court.
“When my noble father passes to the next Universe, we shall find ourselves in need of wise council.” She leaned forward. “I would like to think that I could call upon you when that time comes.”
Gobryas drew himself up to full height, right hand above his
hearts. “I would be honored to serve, Highness!” His pride, though mingled with surprise, proved the truth of his words.
Tashmitum turned to her secretary. “Sabitum, queue up a special dispensation for the Lord Gobryas. Upon our ascension to the throne, it shall give him leave to triple his allowed presence on Throne-World as well as the right to maintain a barge in the throne-room.”
Gobryas was clearly thrilled.
“You understand, my friend,” Mishak cut in, “that this must be contingent upon your keeping the peace?” He spread his hands. “I hope to join my wife on the Dais, when the time comes, but that’s already complicated by my father’s holdings.
“My fellow electors will be leery of an emperor who is also one of the most powerful lords in his own right. You will need to avoid the perception of being a system-hungry opportunist and I will need to explore ways of lightening my own… burden.”
Gobryas was somewhat befuddled at that. He was probably trying to work out whether that was a threat or a promise. Mishak might have been hinting at giving away some systems…
Tashmitum judged the moment to perfection. “I’m sure you have much to prepare, my lord.” She stooped to retrieve the golden phallus and handed it to Gobryas. She placed a guiding hand on his shoulder, steering him toward the Ninevan shuttle. “You will need to start preparing your eldest to look after your holdings, selecting retainers for Throne-World, shopping for a new residence there…”
As they walked away, Daon, lord of Tadmor, came stalking up. “You stole the sacred phallus and you gave it to… to… that fool?”
Mishak looked at him for a few moments. “That sums things up pretty nicely, I suppose.”
Daon was visibly taken aback. “And he’s to be an advisor at court?” He pounded his chest. “What do I get?”
Mishak gestured past the stolen security shuttle to where the curve of Tadmor filled half the view. “You get to keep that.”
“I already had that,” Daon spluttered.
“But you would have lost it by now, if I hadn’t intervened.” He suddenly stepped in close, forcing the Tadmoran noble back a pace.
Humans Page 1
