Titan, Book Three

by Christopher L. Bennett

  Now, though, Qui’chiri did not seem too pleased about the livemounts’ efficiency. “This is ridiculous,” she said. “This place is so empty. How can we support whole clans this way? How can a mount be home to hundreds if seven or eight can run the whole thing?”

  “There is still much room for occupancy,” he replied.

  “Yes, many could live here, but what would they do? How could they be happy without purpose? And what happens to all that youthful male aggression if it cannot be sated in the Hunt? This is why the sedentary peoples have so many wars—because they have nothing better to do with their hostilities. And when they do not war, they wallow in depravity and indulgence and the other sins of leisure. Must we see the Pa’haquel reduced to that?”

  “There are other ways we can find to be useful. Look at the crew of Titan. They toil in science and learning, seek ways to better people’s lives.”

  “Pfa. Most of it is sophistry, nothing anyone will ever need. They just imagine it keeps them useful. And it has caused us no end of trouble.”

  “Good point.” He exchanged a small smile with his daughter—not mount-induced this time, but the genuine good humor that, since his last wife had died, he shared only with Qui’chiri. “I have no answer beyond hope. Hope and trust. I trust the Pa’haquel to find ways to lead lives of meaning, no matter how our circumstances may change. No matter what, we exist to preserve the balance.”

  “Well, females trust in the tangible. I will believe it if it happens.”

  Before Qui’hibra could respond, a hail came in from another livemount in the school. “Elder,” came the voice of Huntsmaster Chi’tharu. “We have detected a group of spinners on the other side of this star system. I think they would make an excellent next test.”

  “How many?”

  “Four, Elder.”

  Qui’chiri appeared skeptical. “Spinners can be dangerous, Father. Perhaps it is too soon.”

  “Yes, they are dangerous,” Qui’hibra said. “That is why we should not pass up a chance to kill them. If they have come to this system to procreate, we should prevent it. And the danger to a skymount is not that great.”

  “If the mount is accurate in its aim.”

  “I have confidence in these mounts. They have done their job well.”

  “Against things that cannot harm them.”

  “And now we must learn how they react when faced with things that can. I have made my decision, Chiri. And I advise you to think confident thoughts—for the benefit of our host,” he finished, gesturing at the mount around them. Qui’chiri fell silent and nodded in understanding.

  “All fleet,” Qui’hibra said into the comm, “the hue and cry is given. Proceed to intercept the prey, maximum warp.” He paused. “Mount, would you hail Titan, please? And ask Commander Troi to come to the control center.”

  A moment later, an image of Riker appeared on the sensation wall. “Riker. We have detected prey on the far side of the system. We are proceeding to engage them. I recommend you follow and observe.” Even as he spoke, he felt the mount building up its energies to warp.

  “What kind of prey?”

  “Spinners. They are not sentient, so you should have no concern there. But they can be a hazard. They are vast sails of fine mesh, light in mass but as wide as fifty skymounts, rotating and given rigidity by a set of heavy nodules around their perimeter. Normally they travel propelled by light pressure, but the nodules contain maneuvering jets. The spin induces a magnetic field which they can also use for maneuvering, or to gather hydrogen for their jets. The mesh absorbs energy and can change its shape magnetically. If a starbeast or ship approaches too near and is too slow to dodge, the spinner will wrap around it, encasing it in multiple layers of sail, and drain its energy away.”

  Riker frowned. “How great a risk does this pose to the star-jellies?”

  “Little, if they perform as well as before and avoid being caught. Spinners are flimsy, slow-moving things. The main peril is that they are hard to kill. Blast a hole through the sail and it is barely felt, since there is so much sail remaining, and the energy of the blast feeds it. You must strike the nodules, which contain its organs and what little brains it has. But they are small moving targets and there are eighteen per spinner. I would call it more of a challenge than a risk. The kind of challenge that would make excellent training.”

  Riker hesitated. Clearly the human was uncomfortable having his mate still aboard during a hunt. Not to mention the Vulcan tactical officer, who was aboard one of the other livemounts, assisting in the training. But he accepted Qui’hibra’s estimate of the risk. “Very well. It’s your fleet, it’s your call. Titan will follow and observe.”

  It took a while for the mounts to cross the star system even at warp. Qui’hibra used the time to fill Troi in on the situation once she arrived. The quartet of spinners turned out to be on the far outskirts of the system’s cometary belt, making it a somewhat longer flight. Qui’hibra ordered the school/fleet to maximum warp, knowing that Titan would need some time to catch up, but not concerned by the fact.

  He was a bit concerned, however, by what the sensation wall showed when they came out of warp. Chi’tharu reacted to it as well, speaking over the comm. “Look how fast they go! How did this happen?”

  His Vomnin scientist, Fasden, spoke. “They are still on the system’s outskirts. They would not have been decelerated much yet by the star’s light pressure.”

  “No, there is more,” Qui’hibra said. “I have never seen spinners move this fast.”

  After a moment, Titan’s scientist Jaza spoke from his own ship, lagging behind but still in communications range. “There’s a pulsar seven light-years back along their course. Its emission cones sweep right through their path. They must have used that radiation to gain an extra push, and gotten a gravity boost from the pulsar as well.”

  “Is this a problem?” Troi asked.

  “It will take some work to match velocities,” Qui’hibra said. “It makes for a more interesting chase.”

  She studied the sensation wall. “It looks to me like they’re coming right at us.”

  “Yes, they are. Fleet,” he commanded, “make backward thrust, and stand by to fire. They will overtake us before we can match velocity. We will meet them face-on and take what shots we can. All mounts, aim for the nodules around the outside, not the sail. And make sure to stay well clear of them once they pass.”

  “Wouldn’t it be safer to stay out of their way and then approach them from behind?”

  “That would let them gain more of a lead, and more time to react to our approach,” he told the Betazoid. “Right now we are backlit to them, hard to detect—we have surprise on our side, and they will have more trouble dodging at this speed than we will.”

  “Firing range in five,” Chi’tharu announced.

  “Mounts, fire at will. Good hunting!”

  But he felt that something was wrong. A sense of unease pervaded him, and no stings were launched. “What is wrong?”

  “They’re reluctant to fire,” Troi told him. “The creatures don’t pose an immediate threat to the jellies, and they don’t want to provoke their hostility.”

  “Do not fear,” Qui’hibra called to the mount around him and to its schoolmates. “We have trained for this, we are ready. The spinners react slowly. As long as you remember your training, you will be fine. This is just another game! Try to hit the spinning balls! You can do this!” The optimum shot, of course, was to sever the radial cord which held the nodule in place, amputating it from the spinner. But that was a much harder shot.

  His coaxing seemed to do the job. The livemounts moved into attack formation and began firing. Their first few shots went wild or pierced the sail uselessly. “The star-jellies are unused to leading the targets,” Tuvok reported from aboard his mount. “I suggest the gunner crews concentrate on aim, and let their thoughts direct the jellies’ fire.”

  “Gunners, do as he suggests.” With the gunners’ experience
guiding the mounts, the shots began to fall truer, and one by one the nodules began to be blasted open, their hydrogen ignited. But the losses were fewer than they should have been at this stage, with the spinners nearly upon them. “Concentrate your shots on a single side of each,” Qui’hibra commanded. “Unbalance them enough and they will spin out of control.”

  But there was too little time. A few more nodules fell, and one of the spinners began to wobble and drift off course. It instinctively tried to compensate by trimming the sail between its radial cords, changing the way it caught the light, but of course out here the light was too feeble to matter. Qui’hibra could tell from the way its sail was undulating that it was no longer a threat; it was too unbalanced now to stabilize itself, and the oscillations would build until it tangled and tore itself to tatters. But the other three were still intact and almost upon the school/fleet. “Evade,” Qui’hibra called.

  The mounts began to dodge, but one remained on course, still firing. He focused his thoughts on it, knowing his mount would direct a comm signal there. “You are too close to its path! I said evade!”

  A voice came back—Se’hraqua. “We are off its direct path. Just a few more hits…”

  “Do not let it move to grab you!”

  “This far out, the star’s magnetic field is too weak to tack against!”

  Idiot! Se’hraqua knew the physics well enough, but not the tactics. “You fool, they can tack off each other’s fields!”

  Even as he spoke, he saw the spinners repelling apart and knew it was too late. What happened next was almost too quick to see. The spinners swept by, and the sail of one caught Se’hraqua’s ship. The force of impact wrapped that part of the sail around the livemount, and the spinner’s momentum swept it forward. That sector of the sail began retracting along the radial cords, giving it slack as it wrapped itself layer by layer around the mount, trapping it.

  Troi gasped, and Qui’hibra understood why. The trapped livemount was frightened, sharing its fright with the others, and their hormones fed it to him and his people. “Remain calm!” he urged everyone. “We can rescue them. Keep firing at the nodules, make it lose control of its wrapping! Se’hraqua, if you still live, fire out from inside, try to burn a hole through.”

  “They are pulling away too fast!” Chi’tharu cried. “We cannot do it in time!”

  “Keep your focus, Huntsmaster! Keep the skymounts’ emotions apart from your own! And mounts, do not despair! You can rescue your schoolmate, we will help you! But you must manage your fear!”

  Someone was screaming now—it sounded like Se’hraqua. On the sensation wall, livid violet stings were shooting out from the enfolded spinner as the captive mount tried to blast its way free. But the blasts were feeble, most of their energy absorbed by the mesh, doing limited damage. After a moment, the shimmer of the mount’s teleportation beams began playing over the sail from inside, disintegrating its inner layers. But it kept wrapping more and more layers around the mount. Stings from the other mounts lanced into view as they tried to assist its escape. They were picking up speed, gaining on the spinner, which had been slowed some by the impact, falling slightly behind its two surviving fellows. When they grew close enough, they added their teleport beams to the effort. Soon, the livemount broke free and shot unevenly away from its tattered cocoon. Crows of relief and triumph from Se’hraqua and his crewmates sounded over the comm. The other mounts began moving to rendezvous with their schoolmate.

  “No,” Qui’hibra ordered. “We must engage them again. Finish this one off and take out the others!”

  Troi shook her head. “They don’t want to do that. They’re had enough.”

  “Enough? This is nothing! No one has been lost.”

  “They’re still new at this, Qui’hibra. Isn’t this enough for one test run? Give them a chance to get used to it.”

  But suddenly he saw something on the sensory wall. “Everyone, hunt stations! The prey is turning to fight!” Or rather, one of the other two spinners was slowing, letting the school/fleet catch up with it. It must have pushed off its partner’s magnetic field to get the deceleration.

  Troi grabbed his shoulder. “The jellies want to flee, not fight.”

  He didn’t need her to tell him that; he could feel the panic building inside him. He refused to give into it. “No. Hunters, we must master this fear! Stand and fight! A few more hits will cripple it! Keep firing!”

  A few of the mounts, including his own, moved hesitantly toward attack positions, while others hovered uncertainly, torn between fleeing and aiding their schoolmates. The resultant formation was a mess. “Pull it together! We must act as one!”

  “The jellies are conflicted,” Troi told him. “They don’t know what to do. They’re starting to panic.”

  “Do all you can to keep them calm, Troi.”

  “They’re not ready for this, Qui’hibra! Let them run!”

  No. He could not do that. It would mean giving in to the cowardice he felt inside him. True, it was hormonally induced, but that was all the more reason why it must be conquered. Unless the Pa’haquel’s courage could overcome the livemounts’ timidity, the Hunt could never endure.

  But just then, disaster struck. The livemounts’ erratic courses had brought one too near the spinner’s outer perimeter. A plasma jet shot out from one of its nodules, blindingly bright, the hydrogen heated to fusion temperatures. It sliced across the livemount’s carapace, knocking it into a spin and leaving a glowing, blue-hot welt across its armor.

  At that, the panic erupted through him at full force. He struggled to resist it, but to no avail. All he could think of was fleeing. He rushed to the nearest neural membrane wall, pushed at the nodules, not knowing or caring where he was going.

  Then the ship shuddered, and a shroud fell across the sensation wall.

  Riker watched in dismay as the star-jelly bearing Deanna and Qui’hibra began to be enmeshed. The school’s members were panicking, flying every which way, and that one, in trying to escape the mostly intact spinner that was attacking, had shot off in the direction of the damaged one from which the other star-jelly had been extracted. Apparently, even though much of its sail had been holed and many of its outer nodules destroyed, it still had enough control to have untangled itself. It reached out and snagged the jelly, beginning to engulf it. Its movements were slow and erratic, and the jelly almost broke free, but the spinner managed to hold on and wrap more layers around it, holding it more and more securely. Stings shot out, transporter effect shimmered, but one jelly alone couldn’t do enough, and the others were in panicked flight or crippled. “How soon before we get there?” he asked, striving to keep his voice level.

  “Ninety seconds, sir,” Lavena told him.

  “Will, look.” Vale gestured at another portion of the screen. The more intact spinner fired another plasma jet at a passing jelly, knocking it out of control, then fired a few other jets in the opposite direction in order to thrust a corner of it forward to snag the wounded beast. Now there would be two to rescue, at least.

  On this vast scale, the attack came with stately slowness, so it was only moments later that Lavena reported, “Closing to engage, sir.”

  “Drop out of warp.” Weighing the variables, he chose his target. “Target phasers on the damaged spinner. Sever the mesh around Qui’hibra’s jelly.” Deanna’s jelly. Was he playing favorites? Maybe. But this one would be the easier target; it was wounded, slow-moving, its sail already damaged. They could deal with it quickly and have more time to tackle the other. He glanced at Vale; she nodded, supporting his tactical call.

  Phaser beams lashed out, sliced through layers of sail. Wisely, Kuu’iut chose to cut where the jelly’s sting had already burnt a hole through, widening the tear. Still, it was slow going; the mesh absorbed much of the phaser energy before it vaporized. “Tractor beams,” Riker ordered. “Pull that slit apart.” Kuu’iut split the beam in two and used it like a surgical spreader to widen the incision, tearing it further, slo
wly, laboriously. Finally the jelly wriggled out and shot away. Deanna?

  We’re all right, Will. Save the others.

  “Helm, move to intercept the other spinner. Jaza, status on this spinner. Is it alive?”

  “Yes, but its sail is pretty torn up and it’s lost a lot of its nodules. It might not be able to recover.”

  Will frowned. Even though these weren’t sentient beings, he’d still rather not play a part in killing them if there were an alternative.

  The other jelly was now wrapped in considerably more layers of sail, with more being added. It would be hard to free in the same way, especially since it was inactive and doing nothing to attack the sail from within. Brute force might not be a viable option here.

  Although that depended on what kind of force, he realized. He studied the way it cocooned its prey—not curling in from the edge like an enchilada, but doubling over in the middle and then rolling to pull the edge inward, something like an Argelian potsticker. And what could be pulled in could be pulled out. “Ensign Lavena,” he said, “put us on a vector tangent to its rotation. Mr. Kuu’iut, as we approach, put a tractor beam on the retracting edge near the trapped jelly. Make it as wide a beam as possible—I want to unfurl that sail, not rip it.” He leaned over Lavena’s shoulder, caught her eye. “Once we have a grip, I want you to put us on a spiral trajectory, tracking the sail as it spins and pulling it straight out. Understand?”