by Mark Harritt
Taectis’ beak clacked a rapid beat, “There is a first time for everything, but unfortunately, I don’t think this will be the time that our employers surprise me. I think,” Taectis paused to point in the direction that Om Varee had departed, “That gentle sapient knows more than he is letting on.”
Fancheion scratched the side of his face, “Why would you think that?”
Taectis spread hands over the report to straighten out the curved plastic. The section that the report was open to was replete with imagery of the area where the combat between the Turinzoni and the ghost soldiers had occurred, “I have all of this imagery, yet I have no imagery of the soldiers we go into combat against. He has the capability for aerial surveillance, but he didn’t use it when the thregari were fighting the Turinzoni? Why not?” Taectis pushed the report toward Fancheion, who waved his hand, indicating that he had no desire to look at it.
Taectis pulled the report back, staring down at the imagery, “I find that strange. You would think that, with everything that was happening, Om Varee would have focused all of his imagery assets on the area. Personally, I would have saturated the area with cameras after the men were ambushed in the village. I most certainly would have had satellites overhead when they deployed the battalion of Turinzoni into the area. There isn’t even imagery of the large biological that was turned against the Turinzoni. I find that interesting.”
“Interesting?” Fancheion asked.
Taectis stared at Fancheion, “Strange, enigmatic. As if done intentionally or by error.”
Fancheion’s eyebrow arched, “You think him incompetent?”
“He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man that makes mistakes.” A sudden thought came to Taectis, “Oh, I forgot, you have another mission as well.”
Fancheion stared at Taectis, “Gods, what is it this time? You want me to kill him already?”
Taectis chuckled, which sounded as if an animal was being slowly tortured and killed. Taectis raised a hand, “Nothing that drastic, at least not yet. No, I have an invitation to join the Dostori Rev for sexual experimentation. Since I don’t have the necessary equipment, you’ll have to fill in for me.”
Om Varee made a mistake when he walked in to the room and saw, what to him was a man identical to the one that had let him into the suite. Om Varee had met many sapient hominid species, and quite a few non sapient ones as well. This time, though, he hadn’t realized that Taectis was, in fact, a woman. Taectis was in fact, a female, not a male. Had Om Varee known, he would have been able to answer his own question about what the women looked like. The answer was that they looked exactly like the men, except when they were naked, when the truth was obvious.
To him, she didn’t display any mannerisms or physical traits that betrayed her femininity. In fact, she was the mother-bride, the Shaedur, as well as the general, of the thousand plus women and men of her brigade. Fancheion was her prime consort, or Shomcuer, as well as aide-de-camp and bodyguard. The Sh’raithe culture was a matriarchal culture. Women were the leaders, and men the followers. Family lines descended through the females, and they made the decisions concerning the clans. Women were trained as officers, and the enlisted ranks were comprised of men.
The women were the tacticians and strategists that decided how the men would conduct their battles. Some men, such as Fancheion, could rise to the level of trusted advisor and lover, but that was as high in the command structure that they could go, and only with a patron. On their world, across the fens, bogs, mangrove swamps and tidal marshes, it had always been so. The women had designed the campaigns and waged the wars, adept at using political intrigue and the muscle and sinew of the clansmen. When they had taken to the stars, and discovered that other hominid races needed soldiers, the women were the ones that created the mercenary units that deployed to distant planets to engage in war.
In this brigade, the brigade commander, the battalion commanders, the company commanders, and the platoon leaders were all women. And because they were the commanders of the units, they chose which of the finest soldiers would be allowed to breed and carry on the genetic diversity of their species. A company of women deployed with the brigade. These women ran the brigade, operations, logistics, medical, personnel. They had a secondary duty as well. They had to preserve the genetic viability of the clans, to continue the genetic line, mating with the males, the viable embryos frozen, and sent back to the home world to be implanted and carried to term. The promise of sex and procreation was also a way to keep the men compliant to orders. The ones that performed well in battle were rewarded. The ones that didn’t would never be allowed to breed.
Fancheion stared hard at Taectis, trying to discern if she was playing him for a fool. Slowly, comprehension dawned, and he realized that she wasn’t. He snarled at her, “The last thing in the world that I want, is to have to stare at that hideous woman and get it up.”
Taectis laughed again, her horrible laugh rattling around the room, “From what I’ve been told, she is the icon of ideal beauty that a woman can attain. You should feel honored to spend the night with her. Besides, when do you get to decide what you want, or don’t want to do?”
Fancheion growled, “The Dostori Rev was not the prize that I hoped to win tonight, commander.”
She knew exactly what Fancheion wanted. It was the same thing that she wanted. She growled back at him, ready to jump across the desk and start hitting him. For their race, making love was not an apt description of how they mated. Violence was often considered foreplay if weapons weren’t involved.
“You will only have that option when you’ve accomplished what I’ve told you to do, not before.”
Fancheion glowered at her, “The Dostori Rev will not survive our coupling.”
Taectis slammed her hand on the desk, then pointed at him, “You’d better get that idea out of your head! We need to get paid. You do not have my permission to harm her.”
Fancheion glared at her. There was no subtlety or weakness in the look that she gave him, and he realized that he would not get what he wanted if he continued to press the issue. He took steps to slow down his metabolism, to steady himself. Slowly, he leaned back into the chair. He had not been aware that he’d been leaning forward, positioning himself to attack her. It took him a few minutes to settle. He could still feel his blood pumping hard through his veins, but he allowed the feeling to flow through him. Finally, he spoke again, and nodded, “It will be as you say.”
Taectis stared at him. Her beak clattered in victory. He looked down, indicating his acceptance of her orders. She watched as his head bowed to her. She shuddered as she realized that she wanted him, badly. Still, she had to be firm. Taectis ignored him and started reading the report. She waited to impress upon him that she was in charge, not he, and also to give her lust time to cool. Time passed, the room silent as she ignored him, demonstrating her superiority. Finally, she spoke, “We have an opportunity here. The targets have been able to intercept and ambush four other units that were sent out on slaving runs. That means they have a method of intercepting our operational plans.”
She looked up at Fancheion, “Call Gemthis in. It is time that I dealt with him.”
Fancheion got up to comply, “I obey.”
Taectis spoke as he stood up, “Yes, you do. Remember who you serve. If you’re insubordinate to me again, you’ll be serving with the new recruits and another will be in your place.” She tapped the empty bottle, “bring more.”
Fancheion looked like he wanted to say something, but then he grunted and left. A few minutes later, he brought back another bottle, “Gemthis is coming.”
She didn’t look up. Instead, she made a shooing motion with her hand. Fancheion bowed and left.
She drank and continued to read the report. Having read thousands of reports like this, she could feel that there was something wrong with it. She couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but she knew that there was something she was missing. Whoever had doctored it was an expert in doing so.
She had a feeling that she knew exactly who had changed it, though there was no way she could prove it.
Finally, she heard Fancheion’s steps. He stepped into the room with Gemthis behind him. Gemthis stepped forward, and, went to a position of attention, clenched his fist and slammed the fist into his chest over his heart, “I’m yours to command.”
Taectis’ beak clacked in appreciation of the display. She motioned to the chair, “Be seated.”
Gemthis stepped forward, and took a seat. Taectis looked at Fancheion, and motioned toward the other chair. He stepped forward and sat down.
Taectis studied Gemthis. He sat rigidly, waiting for her to say the words he dreaded. She studied him coldly, clinically. She knew he was waiting for her to say it, but she waited to enforce her status as his judge. When she felt enough time had passed, she relented, and spoke, “Trogidor.”
Gemthis had unconsciously been holding in air, and it came out in a rush as the charge was made. Shame painted his features. His eyes seemed to withdraw into his face, making his brow ridge more pronounced, darker. He nodded, “The verdict?”
Taectis leaned back, “You are guilty. You knew that, of course. You failed to take the wall in the allotted time. Because of your squad’s failure, the gun housing on the wall was able to delay the advance of the company into the city. We lost the bonus.”
Gemthis’ head dropped as he contemplated disgrace. Failure was not an option to the Sh’raithe. Leaders that failed to achieve results did so at their peril. A leader’s personal honor was at stake. Honor grew with bonuses received. It was an affront to a leader’s honor for their unit to fail to achieve their objective in the required time. As such, the the leader would often erase the unit’s failure by surrendering their own lives in ritual suicide. One individual was a small loss. Better to sacrifice one leader than the entire platoon or company. That was a loss of resources that the brigade could not afford. So, better the leader offered his life for the failure than the squad or platoon.
The Sh’raithe took this idea to the extreme, but with good reason. One man’s death was an example to the other men. Honor only existed if they continued to win. To take an objective before the contracted time meant bonuses, and more money for their brigade, their families, and their clans. A failed objective meant the brigade lost money. If they lost money, they couldn’t honor their contracts for maintenance and supplies. If maintenance failed, or they couldn’t purchase more batteries for the weapons, more shells for the mortars, then there might be another failure, with more lost revenue, and less money for maintenance and supplies. Such a cycle could quickly become a downward spiral that would doom the brigade, and the families and clans they supported back home.
Their planet was resource poor, and this was the only way to ensure that families didn’t starve. Their only real natural resource was the men they sent forth to fight for other worlds. Their children were trained from an early age how to fight and kill. Those that showed exceptional capabilities were mentored in the skill of leading soldiers into battle. Few rose to the position that Taectis or Fancheion held as a brigade commander and enlisted advisor. Fewer still had held the position for as long, or as successfully.
Gemthis nodded, “I am ready to atone.”
Taectis nodded, “I’m glad you accept my justice. But, I have a different course of action than just accepting your life. In fact, I have a mission for you.”
Gemthis slowly raised his head to look at Taectis, “You mean, you would allow me to serve again.”
Taectis nodded, “Yes, your honor would be returned to you.”
Gemthis’ eyes narrowed, “And how would that be allowed.”
“You complete the mission, and you reclaim your honor. In fact, you would be allowed to breed before you left on mission.”
And, with those words, Gemthis understood. What she offered was unprecedented. This would not be a mission that he would return from, “Why do you allow me this privilege?”
Taectis studied him intently before she spoke, “Eighteen worlds. Eighteen worlds you’ve fought your way across, doing this unit and your clan honor. Bringing bonuses home to help feed and house your nieces and nephews, ensuring that the next generation is capable of making money for the clan.”
He sat still, thinking, and then he nodded, “How do I reclaim my honor?”
She told him.
He stared at her, “It is such a small thing you ask of me.”
She nodded, “I know.”
He leaned back, “I will do it.”
She leaned back, “It is done then. She looked over at Fancheion, “You are my witness.”
Fancheion nodded, “I am your witness.”
She turned to stare at Fancheion, looking for any indication of insubordination. Seeing none, she continued “Now, go take care of the other mission I gave you.” She looked over at Gemthis, “And take him with you.”
Fancheion hesitated, and then nodded. He stood up and motioned to Gemthis, “Come with me.”
As they left the room, she turned back to the report.
----------------------------------------------------
Chapter Three
The globe rolled across the table, stopping at Mike’s right hand. He used that hand to roll the globe back in the other direction, where it stopped in his left hand. With his left hand, he rolled it back towards the other. He kept doing that for some time before he realized that, lost in it’s depths, the globe was sucking his attention away again.
Mike paused to take a sip from a steaming cup of tea. He sat the canteen cup back down and then rolled the sphere again. Rich found it when he’d explored the area with Geonti, lying in the middle of one of the many entrances to the maze of canyons. Even after exploring the area, they still didn’t know why the globe had been left there.
The globe, when looked at, was mesmerizing, and frequently, after being distracted by it, he would find that time seemed to slip away. It seemed to draw him in. It had some kind of striated, pearlescent liquid that flowed constantly, even when it sat perfectly still. Small, intense colored lights sparked through the liquid as it swirled inside the casing. Other than that though, it seemed to be inert. The brain trust had done every test they could think of on it, and they hadn’t been able to determine what the casing was made of. They’d tried to cut it with the pulse laser, and nothing had changed. The laser hadn’t even affected the swirling liquid inside.
“What are you?” he thought.
There was yell from outside, “Hey Mike, you in there?”
“Come on in,” Mike yelled back.
Everett stepped through, sweeping the curtain at the entrance to the side and pulling the colder air outside in with him. Tendrils of mist floated in behind him until he pulled the curtain closed. Mike pulled his coat tighter around him. The air in the canyon was warmer because of the geothermal springs in the area, but the wind off the mountains had a tendency to whip through the labyrinth of canyons in fits and gusts, driving down the air temperature. The air was cold here, colder than Mike was used to after living so long down in the lowlands. Still, the canyons and mountains blocked the worst of the the bitterly cold winds.
It had been brutal outside the canyons as winter progressed. They were farther north, and the mountains were higher here, which made this area much colder. It was a godsend that they had geothermal springs back in the mountains, the hot water spilling out in streams that wended down through the canyons. That warm water trickled through the canyons, which brought up the ambient air temperature and created a perpetual mist when it met the cold air. The mist hid their physical presence, and the hot springs and ambient temperature helped to mask their thermal signature.
Mike waved at the disorder in the room, “Don’t mind the mess.” He pointed at the other chair in the room, “Have a seat.”
Everett walked over, pulled the chair up to the table, and sat down. He looked around the room. Carved by the pulse laser, it was small, a twenty by twenty cell with two bunks
pushed together to create a queen sized bed for Mike and Jennifer. The bunks and mattresses had been seized from the grey man compound. In the corner of the room, a small fire flickered in a brazier.
Mike put his hand on top of the globe, and used his other hand to pick up his canteen cup and take a sip of tea.
Everett looked at the globe, “You still screwing around with that thing?”
Mike looked at the globe, and, with one hand on top of it, rolled it around in a circle, “Yeah. Kind of interesting, don’t you think?”
Everett held out his hand, and Mike tossed the globe to him.
“What do you think it is?” Everett asked.
Mike shrugged, “Dunno. Who the hell knows. Could be anything. Looks like shampoo in a bottle to me.”
Everett smiled, “What, you think somebody left this here so we could clean our hair?”
Mike leaned back and grinned, “Possibly. What do you think it is?”
“Cue ball for giants?” Everett snapped his fingers, “I know. Maybe it’s a Palantir.”
Mike raised an eyebrow, “Geek knowledge? From you? How the hell did you know what a Palantir is?”
Everett grinned, “How do you think? The twins made me watch the damn movies. Those girls were in love with Legolas and Aragorn.”
The twins were Everett’s twin daughters, Rebecca and Samantha, from his life on old Earth.
Everett stared at the artifact, “Have they figured it out yet?” They were the three amigos.
Mike shook his head, “I doubt seriously we’ll ever figure it out. Whatever it was, whatever purpose it served, we’ll never find out.”
Everett cocked his head to one side, “We could always hit it with a hammer.”
Mike took another drink, “Already been done. The three amigos did everything to it they could think off. They checked it for energy emissions, everything from low frequency radio all the way up to gamma radiation. Nothing. Then they tried hitting it with various types of radiation. Nothing. Then they hit it with a hammer. Hell, they even tried to use the pulse laser on it, to see if they could cut into it. Nothing happened.”
