The Tyr: Arrival #1 The Tyr Trilogy

by Richard Fox

  “No,” she said, pointing at the carcass. “It’s a trap. Absolute trap. I am a human being.” She turned ninety degrees and made for the jungle. “I am a human being and there’s no way I’m going to blunder into something—”

  A thin plank of wood snapped beneath her foot and she stepped into a shallow hole. Something constricted around her ankle, her leg shot out in front of her, and the jungle became a blur. Wet leaves fluttered around her and she bobbed up and down in the air, one leg holding her aloft better than the lizards had managed with her arm.

  Bells clanged in tune with her bobs.

  Blood rushed to Yenin’s head as she took in the new upside-down world.

  “Why?” She tried to bend at the waist and grab her ankle—bound with a tightly wound rope—but couldn’t reach it. “What did I do to deserve this?”

  She looked over at the bells, crudely made of beaten brass, none a match for the others.

  Ringing filled her ears as the blood pressure in her head got worse. Whoops came from the distance, a different pitch than the vile flying demons.

  “No…no, no, why does this keep getting worse?” She touched her holster and experienced a brief moment of hope. The weapon was still there. The grip on her ankle shifted.

  “Why did I say that?” Yenin said as she watched her boot slide through the rope. She swung back and forth, which got the bells going again, and the whoops from the jungle came faster. She was more parallel to the ground than not when she slid out and went into a free fall.

  She plopped into a puddle, which still managed to knock the air out of her. Underbrush rustled as whatever was whooping got closer. She limped up and made for the clearing, when she remembered the trap that had just gotten her.

  “More? I bet there’s more. Of course there’s more.” She stayed in the jungle, skirting the clearing as she heard Tyr shouting at each other. She had no idea what they were saying, but it sounded angry enough to her.

  She pressed herself against a tree trunk, glancing around for any sign of the centipedes. The shouting settled to a back-and-forth between two distinct individuals.

  “Maybe they’re blaming each other. Bad trap design. No cookie for any of you savages. Now go home before the rain gets worse and…”

  Yenin crouched and crept away as quietly as she could manage. She pushed aside a branch…and came face-to-face with a spotted Tyr—a boy with eyes like saucers, his face frozen in terror at the sight of her. He wore a headdress of twisted leaves and several bead necklaces covered his bare chest.

  She put a finger to her lips and made a gentle shush.

  “We can be cool,” she whispered. “You know what cool is? It’s being quiet right now. Quiet and just turning around to walk away. Never mentioning you saw me. Anyone asks, you can blame swamp grass or say you ate some bad cheese or something.”

  She pointed to one side. “I’ll go that way. You just stay here with the deer-in-the-headlights thing. Whatever. And we’ll—”

  The young hunter screamed bloody murder.

  Yenin shot up right at the same moment a band of almost two dozen Tyr did the same. They looked at her with the same expression the other one had.

  “Fuck.”

  Yenin ran as fast as she could, one leg aching from the trap. An arrow whizzed past her head and thunked into a tree. She burst through a bush and her feet found no ground beneath them. She fell into a ditch, her naked arm hitting several rocks in the process. One way out led to more jungle. The other was a cave, the opening doubly wide enough for her.

  A Tyr jabbered at the top of the ditch and whirled a sling overhead. He swung his arm down and a stone exploded apart near Yenin’s face.

  “Ow, you primitive screwhead!” She grabbed a rock and threw it back, hitting the hunter in the stomach. He hunched over, his feet leaving the ground with the impact.

  Yenin crawled into the cave, which was far warmer than she imagined. She backed up against a mound of dirt, her eyes on the entrance. The Tyr had gathered outside, all on top of the ditch above the entrance and seeming even more agitated—if that were possible.

  “Here I am.” She drew her laser pistol and activated the charge, a faint glow emanating from the muzzle as it warmed up. “Looks like I’m going to have to be the Connecticut Yankee in King…Alien Clusterfuck’s court. Wait…how did that book end?”

  She aimed the pistol at the entrance, ready to bolt the first Tyr that decided he was going to be the bravest of them all. Discussion continued outside the cave, with one speaking, then a chorus of discordant responses.

  “What’re you waiting for? It’s just me in here…”

  The ground against her back shifted.

  An eye as big as her cheek opened up next to her knee. A dragon. She had no other concept to describe the beast with a shaggy beard when it raised its head off the ground and snorted.

  Yenin shook, too tired and too terrified to even consider using the weapon in her hand. The dragon sniffed the air in front of her face, then coughed a stench of rotting meat all over her. It slunk back and snarled, blackened teeth as long as her survival knife snapping at her, then it turned and ran out of the cave. The dragon’s bulk passed across her back and she hit the dirt.

  The Tyr outside stopped arguing and started screaming. She propped herself onto her elbows and watched as the dragon, which was almost as long as two ground cars and had a bloodred spine ridge, ripped a hunter apart right in front of the cave entrance, then sprang on top of the cave.

  The screams got worse and Yenin decided to make her exit. She ran from the cave, jumping over the partially chewed remains of a hunter, and into the jungle.

  She didn’t look back.

  Chapter 34

  “Good,” Hower said as he paced around the lift platform where Zike and his bodyguards stood. He walked over to the chests and stepped right through them as he ran a hand tool tied to the Matsui’s sensor suite over the tops.

  “Ambary silk, food stuffs, textiles, everything as protocol desires. We’re on track.” Hower snapped the tool onto his belt and went to Menicus. “He looks so much older in person.”

  “Focus.” Zike’s voice boomed from the ceiling. Hower was in a holo suite aboard the Matsui. He was able to walk around Zike and speak to him through the director’s many brain implants, but the Tyr couldn’t see him—and neither could the Myrmidons.

  “Your gifts are received with dignity,” Hower said, and Zike repeated the words from his disc floating just above the grass.

  “Your caste is unknown to us,” Menicus said. “Where is your homeland?”

  “Now read the first prepared statement.” Hower leaned close to Virid, then pressed his face into the holo of her upright hairdo.

  “We are of the stars, not of Tyr,” Zike said.

  “What?” Hower spun around. “No! That’s not what you’re supposed to—”

  “Silence.” Zike’s disembodied voice was loud enough to hurt Hower’s ears. Just how the director was able to speak in person and through a separate line into the Matsui while at the same time being physically on the planet and still seeing what Hower was doing in the holo was starting to bother the zoologist. When the Corporation opted to spend money augmenting its executives, it became hard to gauge the extent of their capabilities.

  Menicus took a half step back, his brows furrowing for a split second.

  “Now you’re completely outside his worldview. The Tyr have no concept of alien life. You’re either of the gods or you’re not—and now he can justify opposing us.” Hower slapped a palm to his face.

  “You attacked the bunker at Mount Bagad,” Menicus said. “You killed my soldiers.”

  “It is for your safety.” Zike leaned forward slightly, looking over Menicus like he was some sort of a curiosity. “Our response to a nuclear attack would be…total.”

  “Is that why you’re here? To save us from those cursed weapons?” Menicus asked.

  “No…we require…territory. Do not resist us.” Zike crosse
d his arms.

  “Director,” Hower said, stepping through the King’s holo and into Zike’s eyeline, “you’re going about this all wrong. The Tyr will be more pliant if you play up the religious angle like I—”

  Zike flicked a finger and Hulegu grabbed Hower by the elbow and dragged him out of the holo tank to a surrounding ring of emitters and bare metal bulkheads.

  “Unhand me, you brute!” Hower tried to pull free, but Hulegu slammed him against the bulkhead hard enough that the back of Hower’s head bounced off the wall and he saw stars.

  Hulegu’s cybernetic hand gripped the front of Hower’s shirt and he lifted the scientist up, his toes scraping the deck.

  “You think you’re in charge?” Hulegu asked.

  “No, I’m…” Hower blinked hard. “I’m just trying to stop any unnecessary suffering.”

  Hulegu chuckled. “I get paid for the blood, leaf-eater.” He released Hower and the smaller man half stumbled back. “My men get paid for the blood. So what if the Tyr bleed for us? What’s it to you?”

  “They—the Tyr aren’t spear-wielding savages. With proper leadership, they could be a problem for the director.” Hower rubbed a growing welt on the back of his head.

  “We’re not armed with single-shot rifles. You’ve never seen a Compliance action, have you?”

  “I’ve heard details from Clay.”

  “Him…” Hulegu rubbed the back of his cybernetic hand across the bottom of his chin and turned back to the holo tank.

  Zike had a map projected between him and the Tyr King, the Azure Islands highlighted with a pulsating border. Menicus was stoic, his head shaking as Zike spoke.

  “Just as I predicted,” Hower said, flipping his hand up.

  The holo tank fizzled into static, revealing Argent standing on the other side of the room. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and she held a slate tightly to her chest.

  “Well?” Hulegu turned to a screen showing the Tyr delegation on the ground below. He ran a fingertip down the side panel and cross hairs appeared over the aliens. “The boss want us to take them out or not?”

  A hatch opened in the center of the holo tank and Zike floated up into the room, the crates of gifts from the Tyr wobbling in the air at the same level as the platform. The hatch closed and his anti-grav platform sank down with a gust of ozone-laden air, the crates hitting with a thump.

  “Get this off me.” The director held his arms akimbo and Argent rushed forward and grabbed the golden cloak by the back. Zike stepped off the platform and the cloak slipped away.

  “I gave them two dawns from now to abandon our first development zone,” Zike said. “Ample time, yes?”

  “There are nearly three million Tyr on those islands,” Hower said. “Even if they mobilize their entire navy, there’s no way—”

  “Plenty of time,” Hulegu said. “I’ll break out the Marauders detachment. We’ll advance on line from north to south, push the slower ones into the sea if we need to.”

  “I just released the fabrication drones from the Leopold,” Zike said. “Be aware those units comes with a significant price tag.”

  “Too easy. Shall we cripple their command and control now?” Hulegu motioned to the targeting screen.

  “You can’t!” Hower spoke up. “Menicus is…he’s not unreasonable. His brother is far more militant and the Tyr will rally behind a martyr if you give them one.”

  “Menicus was not amenable to any of my demands,” Zike said. “But I was quite plain with my description of what would happen to any Tyr we found on the development zone. If we show him that we’ll follow through on our promises, then getting him to support evacuating King’s Rest and the coastal areas will be easier, won’t it?”

  “If he doesn’t declare a holy war first,” Hower deadpanned.

  Zike raised an eyebrow at Hulegu.

  “So long as they’re not lobbing nukes at us.” Hulegu shrugged. “We’ve got the infrastructure survey done. I can cripple the kingdom in two orbits.”

  “Then two dawns it is.” Zike smiled. “Hower, Argent, with me back to the Leopold. I’m sure our Compliance branch will have everything under control.”

  The side of Hulegu’s mouth twitched and Hower held back. Zike was leaving Hulegu behind to have full command of what would be a slaughter on the Azure Islands, providing himself a degree of plausible deniability in case Corporate had any future reservations about how the Tyr were treated…or if that prime real estate was damaged by Compliance and the client took umbrage.

  “Easy enough, sir,” Hulegu said.

  “Then let’s away, yes?” Zike snapped his fingers at the crates and made for the doors.

  ****

  Hower sat in the shuttle bay with his shoulders hunched and his arms crossed over his waist. He glanced up from the deck to see robots running decontamination wands over the crates.

  Argent slid across the bench, breaking the personal-space bubble he’d come to appreciate on Tyr. The young woman had her slate clenched in her hands, a half mask of sterilizing fabric tight over her mouth and nose.

  “There’s no risk from anything in there, right?” she asked him.

  “Not if you trust the company’s bio filters,” Hower said, his gaze on his toes.

  Argent stiffened.

  “The Leopold’s processed enough serum from me and our…guests. You’ll be fine,” Hower said. “Besides, doesn’t Zike consider you ‘mission critical’?”

  “I’m sure he does.” Argent set the slate on her lap then quickly rubbed her palms against the outside of her legs. “It takes time to learn all the…quirks of any director-level employee of the Corporation when you become an executive assistant. But handling all the less-than-urgent demands on Director Zike will increase the cost-benefit analysis when it comes time for bonus payments.”

  “That’s what the Corporation’s focusing on? The return-on-investment potential from each employee?”

  “There’s an advanced AI that does the final tally.” Her face lit up. “It’s really spectacular to see it work. Total compensation’s gone up nearly a half percent since the new system was put in place.”

  “Wondrous. Truly.” He got up and went to the nearest crate. He turned the latch and lifted the lid, shooing away the disinfectant droid as it thrust out an air nozzle to suck in any particulates. Hower held up a spool of brass-colored thread on a gold dowel the length of his forearm.

  “Made from ambary,” he said, running the side of his thumb against the threads. “Incredible plant. The seeds provide oil that’s used for lubricants and paints and it’s rather nutritious for the Tyr. The fibers in the stalks are synthesized into biodegradable plastics. Then there’s the thread, obviously. Different regions have plants that can be refined into what feels just like silk to coarser fibers equivalent to burlap. Then there’s the medicinal uses. Analogous to hemp, if you’re familiar with that.”

  “My training academy had a module on that,” she said. “Required learning on market manipulation, legal and otherwise. Perhaps we can establish a number of reservations—company-run attractions to showcase the primitive lifestyles.”

  “I’m sure the Tyr would enjoy that,” Hower sneered. “Living in zoo exhibits. Maybe we could stage slaver raids on a bronto-herding clan?”

  He drew out a glass jar full of frosted nuggets the size of the tip of his thumb. “Ah, tardash.” He looked over one shoulder then twisted the lid off, took a sniff of the contents, and smiled.

  “Oh, that smells lovely.” Argent leaned closer.

  “They were my wife’s favorite.” He popped one into his mouth and nodded. “Fit for a king, no surprise.” He canted the jar to Argent. She plucked one out, put it to her lips, then glanced at the robot as it ran wands glowing with UV light over another case. Argent bit the nugget in half then looked at the inside.

  “Sort of…umami with a walnut aftertaste.” She ate the rest.

  “Julia always had me pick up as many jars as I could when I went to collec
t specimens along the coastline. She was so angry that I specialized in avian and aquatic species while she was more focused on the megafauna…it meant I had more access to her favorite treats. I would’ve switched disciplines with her, but she did love her giant dumb animals.”

  “They don’t have tardash deeper inland?” Argent ate another.

  “Well, not many sea slugs that far from the ocean,” Hower said.

  Argent stopped chewing.

  “Yes, sea slug.” Hower held the tips of his pointer fingers about ten inches apart. “You’re eating the preserved egg yolk of a sea slug. The slugs lay them in the fecal deposits of yitigri—think a turtle with squid-like tentacles for flippers. The coating is dried amniotic fluid from the same eggs. Purists will say that the coating has to come from a different nest, but I’ve never been able to tell the difference.”

  Argent swallowed hard, then shook her head quickly when Hower offered her the jar again.

  “Before my wife…” he paused and swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, “we and the Clays went to a little fishing village down coast from King’s Rest. Michael was barely ten years old and could finally speak the local dialect without too much trouble. We bought lunch from a Toiler clan and spoke to several generations that had worked the same boat, the same waters. It was atavistic, a memory of the way humanity used to be before we innovated ourselves out of the need for physical labor to survive. Now we preoccupy ourselves with amassing wealth…or digging out of debt to finance wealth.”

  “You’re almost romanticizing them.” Argent ran her tongue against the inside of her cheek and made a sour face.

  “They have their bright points, but there’s nothing noble about their savagery. They’ve massacred each other for caste and country for as long as they’ve kept records. If the Worthy People hadn’t ‘acquired’ a few nuclear warheads, I doubt King Iptari would have left them to their own devices as he did before his untimely death.”

  “Hower.” Zike came over, holos flashing on his contact lenses. “Compliance has located Daniel Clay, but the Tyr have not mentioned his spouse or child. Would the Tyr keep them together or separate the family?”