Satisfied, Oliv turned and strolled away, leaving the nude boxing match behind. She tossed the confiscated MH-7 over the parapet and left the bastion through the central arch, noticing on the way out that a small crowd was already starting to gather around the bizarre, naked fight.
“I truly do hate pimps,” she said mildly.
The Real Fight
20 light minutes outside the Kish System
“Well,” Mishak said, gesturing to the holo in the center of the ready room, “that’s our plan. Does anyone have further changes or suggestions?”
Rimush had none and if any of his captains – his Quailu captains – had any, they were probably still too shaken by the unorthodox arrival of the Human captains to realize that some small part of their current apprehension might be due to the plan. He had to make sure.
“Come now, gentlemen,” he said gruffly, trying his best to emanate reassurance, “I’ve never known you to remain so silent at a pre-battle consult.”
He could feel something. To his left. “Sargina,” he prompted. “You wish to speak?”
Sargina darted a quick look at Eth. “How certain are we that our scouting division will be able to destroy all the debris left in the mine-well?”
Mishak looked to Eth, raising an eye ridge. The Human did him the honor of catching the very un-Quailu gesture and nodded slightly in acknowledgement.
“Not certain at all, Captain Sargina,” Eth answered, “but I hardly need to tell you that. I’m sure everyone here has read the collected lectures from your days at the Imperial War College.”
Rimush fought to keep his disdain in check. Were his Quailu officers really so easy to manipulate? The warm flow of feeling suffused the room as misgivings fought a hasty rearguard action against this show of Human respect. He’s put them in the palm of his hand and all he did was flatter one blowhard. He thought it without feeling it, of course, but it was true. His own misgivings about this sudden new power in their midst – this distinctly un-Quailu power – was increased.
They are a danger to us. How does our lord not see it?
“As you have always advised, Captain,” Eth continued, “a commander must deal, not in certainty, but in probability, for the only certainty in combat is death.”
Rimush tamped down the scorn that threatened to emerge as his fellow captains murmured in approval. At least they’re getting over their fear at seeing Humans suddenly appear in front of their eyes!
“We estimate a high probability of success in eliminating the debris field left in the approach-well by Memnon’s forces,” Eth continued. “In any event, your phase of the attack won’t be trying to path through, unless we transmit a successful clearing phase. If you have to fight your way down-well the old-fashioned way, you should at least have far fewer enemy vessels to fight.”
“No increased risks incurred, either way,” Sargina grudgingly allowed.
“Indeed,” Eth agreed, clearly choosing to overlook Sargina’s unthinking insult.
The Humans of the scouting division would be taking on great risks in the opening phase of this fight. If they were going to ‘open the door’ for Mishak’s main force, they’d need to get right in among the enemy.
“With your leave, lord,” the Human said, turning to Mishak, “we’ll return to our ships and begin?”
“Very well,” Mishak answered. “but be careful out there, commander. You’re going to be on your own until we can get in there. I don’t want to lose my scouting division!”
Rimush, watching Eth closely, saw the corner of his mouth quirk upwards. He knew they relied on physical cues and he was certain he’d just seen one. He looked at his lord, wondering if he’d noticed as well. Mishak had the same up-tilted corner to his mouth. Something had passed between the two.
Perhaps there was more to this gesture-based language than he realized. He twitched slightly, along with the other captains.
The Humans were gone and he couldn’t even say he’d noticed when it happened. This will end badly.
He wasn’t referring to the battle.
He glanced down, surprised to find his right hand patting the tunic pocket where the sealed orders waited. Fifteen sets of orders pressed in court cuneiform and signed by his own hand.
Fifteen of his most trusted captains…
“Full normalization,” Hendy advised.
“Secure the path-drive,” Oliv ordered, “and bring the cryo-exchangers online.”
At a point beneath the engineering spaces, a pair of nano-tubule-coated shields swung out of the way and Noa’s latest modification extended into the freezing slipstream of Enlil, the only cold gas giant in the Kish system.
The array of thin lines, bristling with nanite fins, carried a heat-exchange fluid that allowed a more rapid cool-down of the cryo-banks. It was a massive improvement over pumping a gas giant’s cold atmosphere into the OEM exchangers that originally came with the cryo-units. It also avoided the risks inherent in a line rupture.
Having the planet’s atmosphere accidentally venting into the crew spaces at more than three hundred degrees below comfort levels was always a cause for concern.
“What’s our best trade-off velocity with regard to time-on-target?” Eth asked.
“At three eighths,” Oliv answered instantly, “We reach the minefield with roughly six hours before the EM systems overload and leave us radiating.”
“Time to target?”
“Six and three quarter hours.” She’d clearly worked out the scenarios enough times to have it all lodged firmly in her enhanced brain.
“Very well,” Eth replied. “Once everyone’s out of the atmosphere, I’d be obliged if you could send a narrow beam transmission to each ship with instructions for a three eighths approach.”
He stayed long enough to see the first sensor sweep when they emerged from Enlil’s outer margins. There was nothing unexpected. Their home was playing host to Memnon’s flagship and roughly seventy-five warships – most likely his entire fleet.
He supposed he should feel a chill down his spine at the sight – some kind of existential dread – but he couldn’t summon more than a mild annoyance at finding an enemy fleet over his home.
Kish is home for us, so why don’t I seem to give a damn? He shrugged. “I’ll be in my quarters,” he told Oliv, turning for the aft hatch.
We were grown for the lord of Kish. Does that make it our home or just our workplace?
Hela yawned hugely, stretching her arms out and working her shoulders to drive out the kinks. Her cabin had been ripped out to cram more cryo-units into the tiny scout-ship and the crew were expected to just sleep wherever they could find a semi-comfortable perch.
She’d spent the last few hours dozing on top of a weapons locker they’d pulled off the wall to make room for cryo-units. It was brightly-lit, noisy and completely lacking in privacy.
Naturally, she slept far better than she would have in her cabin. She grinned up at Hill, her latest engineer.
There had been so many new positions to fill with the new Scorpion Class ships coming online it seemed as if she lost crew as fast as she could train them.
Gleb, her original ops-rating, was now captain of a shiny, or rather, anti-shiny new scorpion class corvette. She didn’t begrudge the mix of circumstances that had elevated him but she was ready for something new herself and she’d made it clear to Eth.
The next corvette was hers; just as soon as they got the time to make one. Assuming she didn’t get herself killed in the next few hours, of course.
“Coming up on the debris-field, boss,” Hill told her, returning her grin. “You listening for one of us to say that or do you just have a talent for waking up at the right moment?”
“Pure chance,” she told him. “Then again; might have caught something in your tone while sleeping.” She slid her legs off the side of the locker and stood. “We ready to rig for action?”
“Soon as you say the word.”
“She closed up her suit, the helmet
flowing into place around her head with a series of chatters and clicks as the various, non-nanite elements were shunted along in the flow, protruding like shards of glass from a lacerated arm.
The HUD came up. Now anything she said was carried by the comms system. It was the best way to avoid missing someone who might not hear her shouting an order this crucial. “All hands prepare to rig the ship for action.”
Hill’s helmet closed up and he moved over to the weapons locker she’d been sleeping on. He opened it and pulled out a warhead. It was coated with carbon nanotubules everywhere except for the array of handles that both offered a grip and protected the delicate coating from getting crushed.
“Mika, the ship is yours,” she announced, barely hearing the answer from the ops station. She tuned out Hill who was moving to the growing opening in the side of the small ship, ready to toss out his first warhead.
Memnon had cluttered the approach through Kish’s minefield with large chunks of the planet’s defensive ships. It would play havoc with any force attempting an approach through the gap.
She could count on her crew to prep the debris field for demolition. Her task lay ahead of them. She reached out, searching for the faint hint of Quailu consciousness. It was far harder than using Humans to pinpoint a destination. Humans were like different fingers on the same hand but the Quailu were more like a different part of the body entirely.
There was a link, but it was weaker when it was another species. She smiled involuntarily, remembering Scylla’s advice.
When there was uncertainty, concentrate instead on what is certain.
The control pedestal for the central holo is always clear in the middle. She closed her eyes.
Gleb opened his eyes.
He’d volunteered to go after Memnon. He knew the ship and all of her Human crewmen. He’d seen that they were all in their shared sleeping room and there hadn’t been a moment to wait.
One of the Human crewmen was on his knees, waiting in terror for the end to come. A Quailu petty officer was standing over him with his sidearm at the back of the trembling man’s head.
The remainder of the Humans were standing in a row, their hands bound by drone-ties. They’d been alarmed to begin with, but they jumped, nonetheless, at Gleb’s appearance.
It was if he’d been there all along but they’d failed to notice him, standing there with his knife in the side of the Quailu’s head. He had to admit, that could be a startling thing to notice.
He let go of the blade and turned on the second Quailu who’d been standing by the door, clearly radiating his desire to see death. “Haven’t I given you what you wished for?” Gleb asked him reasonably.
The Quailu shook his head mutely, more in denial of the situation in general than in any answer to the question.
“No?” Gleb asked. “You wanted to see death. It’s disappointing isn’t it? Not what you thought it would be.”
He could feel the thrill of it. He knew the others he served with didn’t take the same pleasure in killing but he saw no reason why he shouldn’t enjoy his work.
The guard still hadn’t moved but Gleb could feel the impulse bubbling up in the alien’s mind. “I’ll do you a solid,” he told him, conversationally. “I’ll help you experience it firsthand.”
He felt the alarm in his prey, a sudden flare like a ship exiting path. He reached into the Quailu brain, drawing heat from his cardiac array for the energy required to sever the brainstem.
Gleb turned back to his first victim of the day. This one was still conscious, despite the knife blade in his brain. The fear pulsed out of him like an arterial spray and Gleb soaked it up.
It was a dimension of his violence he’d never fully appreciated until he’d begun his training with Eth and Scylla. He knew Eth tolerated the thoughts of a doomed enemy through sheer force of will but Gleb reveled in it.
“To each his own,” he mused quietly, reaching out to grasp the handle of his knife. He yanked it out and the Quailu finally fell, jerking spasmodically on the decking. Gleb savoured the moment before turning to the Humans and opened his helmet.
“Hey, fellas! What did I miss while I was away?” He bent over, retrieving the wrist pad from the Quailu he’d stabbed in the head. He hit the release command and the restraint-drones let go of the prisoner’s hands and flew to hover above him in a small crowd.
“Gleb?” one of the engine-room cleaners asked.
“Hey, Mik,” Gleb greeted him. “So these two,” he nodded vaguely at the corpses, “were planning to kill you all, huh?”
“They were?”
“Oh yeah!” Gleb nodded. “I could see it in their minds.” He darted Mik a glance. “Just like I can see you thinking I’m full of dung and did I have anything to do with Siri and Mel disappearing…”
He grinned. “Don’t have a lot of time here. I came for my lord’s brother. The only reason I came here first is because I need to dock a shuttle with the bridge in order to retrieve him. If you guys want out of here I can offer you a ride and a job on a Human-crewed corvette.”
He shifted his gaze to the right. “Yeah, Davu?” He nodded. “Of course I killed him. He was a piece of garbage.”
“Gods!” the man he’d addressed this answer to exclaimed in shock. “How did you know?”
“Like I said, I can see what you’re thinking. I usually stay out of other people’s heads but we’re on a tight schedule here and I need to convince you quickly.
“If you want to come then let’s go. Just leave the Quailu to me.” He turned and walked out the hatch into the main ventral corridor.
There was one senior petty officer walking toward them. “What are you filth doing out here?” he shouted. “You’ve all been confined to quarters till we sort out who we can trust!”
He slumped to his knees, collapsing sideways against a bulkhead as the animation drained from his body. Gleb shuddered and moved on.
Hela stood over the captain’s body, her breath shuddering from the exertion of stabbing so many bridge crewmen in rapid succession. She still didn’t trust her ability to focus on something as precise as a cranial nerve while in the middle of a fight and she knew that trying to draw energy from her victims at the same time was asking too much.
Hela was very good at projecting herself. She had far more confidence in her ability to appear behind an enemy and knife them. She glanced down at the corpse, realizing that she had no idea which ship this was but it hardly mattered.
The Nergalihm were tasked with disabling as many of Memnon’s ships as possible before the scout-ships cleared the approaches of debris.
She keyed in a lockout on the main terminal and closed her eyes, searching out the next bridge crew of unsuspecting Quailu…
Gleb held up a hand, stopping the gaggle of Humans. He waved them up against the wall and concentrated.
This crew had already been exposed to rumors of the underworld god. They were ripe for more.
He slipped into his alter ego as a servant of Nergal. He reached out, found the nearest Quailu on the bridge and opened his mind to the poor fool.
Gleb was coming to take them all. His master wanted their souls.
He felt the terror swamping back into his own mind. It was reflecting off of the other minds on the bridge as well and, when he could feel them looking at his first victim, he stole his heat.
Heat energy, kinetic, he thought idly as he reached out for the cranial nerve. Same ingredient, just a different way of cooking it up…
The first victim’s mind went dark but the fear from his crewmates would have been incapacitating for anyone who didn’t understand what was happening.
Even Gleb was fighting a feeling of impending doom and he was the cause of it all.
He worked his way through the bridge crew, one at a time, pausing in grim amusement when he stumbled into Memnon’s mind. The young noble was horrified, unable to understand why his bridge crew was simply dropping dead around him.
Gleb moved on, finishing off the
last of the crew before shaking off the mental cobwebs and turning back to the Humans behind him. “Follow me in but stay quiet.”
He stepped into the bridge to find Memnon clutching at the central holo-projector with a white-knuckled grip. The Quailu stared blankly, drained by the horror of the last few moments.
“My master,” Gleb began calmly, “sent me for you, Memnon, son of Sandrak.”
It was like rolling in candy. There was the stunned amazement from his fellow Humans. They’d seen what he’d done to several Quailu already and they had no doubts about who’d wiped out the bridge-crew.
Far more enjoyable was the numb disbelief coming from Memnon’s mind.
Gleb walked up to him; halting with the bulk of the central holo projector between them. He felt Memnon’s sudden wish to draw his sidearm.
“You don’t want to do that,” Gleb warned. “You’d be on the floor before your hand reached it.” He grinned, reading the Quailu’s reaction. “No, but you could say the Underlord lets me know what you’re thinking.”
He reached up into the interface and set a lockout command. “You’re thinking about shooting me again,” he said, leaning in so one of the holo panes bisected his face, leaving a bright green line on his skin where the two met.
“Where exactly would you aim?” He asked, gesturing at his chest. “Here?” He pulled back from the three dimensional space and reinserted himself behind the brash young noble. “Or here?”
Memnon let out a deep rumble of alarm and spun around, eyes wide.
“You need to understand,” Gleb explained as an opening began to grow on the starboard side of the compartment, “that I’m not letting you keep your weapon because I’m careless. I’m letting you keep it because it poses no threat to me or to those I serve.”
He gestured to the opening. “As I said, my master sent me to fetch you.”
The thing that surprised Eth the most about being in command was how much he envied those beneath him. Most people he knew wanted advancement.
Humans Page 28
