Honor the Threat
Book Twelve of The Revelations Cycle
By
Kevin Ikenberry
PUBLISHED BY: Seventh Seal Press
Copyright © 2018 Kevin Ikenberry
All Rights Reserved
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it wasn’t purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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Cover Art by Ricky Ryan
Cover Design by Brenda Mihalko
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For My Girls.
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
About Kevin Ikenberry
Titles by Kevin Ikenberry
Connect with Kevin Ikenberry Online
Connect with Seventh Seal Press
Excerpt from “Stand or Fall:”
Excerpt from “Assassin:”
Excerpt from “Wraithkin:”
Chapter One
Weqq
Fourth Planet from the Yellow Sun Gharra-4
Cimaron Region, Milky Way Galaxy
Psymrr studied the holographic imagery from the agronomic compound’s security system and couldn’t believe his compound eyes. Technologically-advanced species rarely disappeared without a trace, and those that managed the feat were usually never heard from again. The fates had smiled on his mission, after all.
“You’re certain, Tirr?”
The captain of the MinSha guard twitched an antenna in affirmation. “As certain as I can be without seeing them myself.”
“They could easily be another species. Something we’ve never observed.” Psymrr sighed. His friend of more than twenty years would already have considered the questions in his mind, as well. He’d seen the shadowy forms on the infrared sensors. Though Psymrr couldn’t categorically state the lifeforms were not TriRusk, he also couldn’t deny the mysterious things might be. “Can we enhance the images?”
Tirr huffed. “No. The air is saturated with moisture, and when the temperature drops this low, there is enough particulate matter in the fog to confuse our proximity radar. We’ve made as many changes to our security posture as I’m comfortable with. There’s nothing we can do to get better imagery. I am certain, Psymrr.”
“An up-close investigation is out of the question. I will not risk it.” Psymrr swiveled his head back to the captain of the guard.
“They run, Psymrr. Every time we’ve been out there, they’ve run from us.”
Psymrr clicked his mandibles. “Do you follow them?”
“Not more than a few kilometers. They run generally southeast from the compound, but down in the river valley the vegetation is too overgrown to allow for vehicle traffic, ground or air.” Tirr gestured at the images. “We’ve never seen them here in the daylight. That may be something we can take advantage of. Maybe we can establish an observation post of some type, high in the trees where they can’t sense us?”
“That assumes too much risk,” Psymrr said. “We’ve surrounded our compound with fences to keep the natural predators out. A post outside the compound is too dangerous. There is much about this planet we do not yet—”
A piercing squeal like a cross between the sirens of Earth and a dying Cochkala rose outside the compound to the east. Psymrr whirled toward the noise. “What is it?”
Tirr was already moving, his iridescent blue chiton swirling in his wake. “I want two guards on me at the east portal—now. Get the physician or her assistant.”
Psymrr stopped at the hatch to the command and control room. “What are you doing?”
“Going after it.” Tirr said over his shoulder. The captain continued down the exposed catwalk above the central compound. “Whatever it is, that scream is pain.”
If any of his kind knew that sound, Psymrr acknowledged, it would be Tirr. Psymrr watched two of Tirr’s team flit through the compound to meet their commander at the portal. For a long moment, he considered remaining in safety. Curiosity, and a sense of duty, moved his legs and wings. In a matter of seconds, Psymrr’s brain registered he was running for the first time in months, if not years. The screaming worsened as he pushed through the gate a few meters behind Tirr and the guards. The compound’s lead physician, Fuul, appeared at his shoulder.
Psymrr turned. “What is that screaming?”
“Nothing I’ve ever heard before,” Fuul said, her breathing a huff in the heavy, humid atmosphere. “But it’s something scared and in pain. We must investigate.”
Psymrr said nothing. Whatever it was, it needed to be cared for—or given mercy. Movement in the trees above caught his eyes. The jungle canopy rose more than fifty meters above the ground along the walls of the compound. Deeper into the moist forest, the low fog and vegetation pressed in on one’s sanity. Here, they could at least see a few hundred meters in every direction. The low-lying brush was mostly wide-leafed florals; blooms in iridescent purples and yellows punched through the constant, dreary mist in eye-catching bunches no more than three meters tall.
Tirr’s men fanned out from his position in the center to form a triangle as they slowed and brought their laser rifles up to a shouldered firing stance. They crept toward a particularly large bunch of flowering plants. Psymrr wondered if the plants could project sound to entice prey. The MinSha had never found anything like that in their exploration of the galaxy, but anything was possible.
“Spread out,” Tirr hissed at his guards. The MinSha fanned out, circling the five-meter-wide bunch of plants. Psymrr saw one of them freeze, then lower the barrel of his rifle. The guard signaled he had eyes on the target, and that it was no threat.
Fuul rushed forward. The young physician seldom left the secure compound anymore. Cataloging alien flora and fauna consumed much of her time. With so many new species within a few meters of the compound’s walls, she spent more time languishing behind her work table and laboratory equipment than treating injuries or doing real science. Like the guard, she moved around the flowering shrub and stopped.
“It’s a child, I think.”
Tirr took cover behind the tree. “What are you talking about? A child?”
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“Something young.” Fuul lowered herself toward the ground, bending at her foreknees, and the screaming abated. Psymrr could hear her talking, or vocalizing, something strangely like the sounds MinSha mothers used to comfort their young. “It’s a child, I’m sure. But it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
“Is there a threat?” Psymrr asked.
“No.” Tirr moved around the tree. He glanced at the youngling and stood on the far side, keeping his eyes on the bush around them. “Fuul, you have three minutes to investigate.”
“Understood.” She returned her attention to the little one Psymrr could not see. He stepped around the bunched plant and saw Fuul reaching out a hand to the small, gray creature. The youngling lay on its left side. Powerful forearms ended in articulated hands with a wide thumb separation. Dirt and muck on its front hands suggested the creature walked on its hands like a Jivool, or a gorilla from Earth. The elongated face and small, solitary horn jutting up from the end of its beak was unmistakable. The curvature of the skull fanned out behind the creature’s pink eyes like a shield over the vulnerable neck and spine. Humans, Psymrr knew, would equate the being to something like the Triceratops of their Jurassic fantasies, but to him, the species was clear. Save for the swollen pink eyes, the creature was a TriRusk.
“Gods,” Psymrr said.
Fuul swiveled her head and studied his face. “What is it?”
Psymrr shook his head. “I can’t believe it.”
“What are you talking about, Psymrr?” Fuul demanded.
“Two minutes.” Tirr called.
“Tirr?” Psymrr asked. “We have a problem.”
“I know.” Tirr replied. “Get that thing sedated, or put it out of its misery.”
“We’ll do nothing of the sort!” Fuul scrambled to her feet. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Psymrr’s jaw worked as he tried to form the phrase correctly. “This is a known creature, Fuul, one that our planet has been looking for over the last few hundred years. Maybe more.”
Fuul’s lower jaw opened, but she said nothing. “A known creature? What are you talking about, Psymrr?”
“It’s a TriRusk,” Tirr said looking over his shoulder at her. “Something’s wrong with its eyes, but that is a TriRusk. I’d bet it’s no more than four or five years old at most. We’ll have to consult the Archives, but I’m relatively sure I’m right.”
“A TriRusk?” Fuul asked, bewilderment in her voice. “The ones who fled during the Flesset War?”
Psymrr nodded. Almost five hundred years before, the TriRusk and the Veetanho went to war over a collection of moist, oxygen-rich planets deep in the Jesc arm of the galaxy. For more than a hundred years, they fought planet-to-planet and city-to-city in a desperate grab for resources, until the Veetanho feinted a massive attack on the TriRusk forward positions. Their real target was the TriRusk home world, and the near-genocide of the technologically-advanced species. “Does it speak?”
Fuul knelt again. The youngling cooed but made no attempt to vocalize Standard or any other language. “I don’t think so.”
“They’ve gone feral,” Tirr said. “Look at this awful planet. There are a million species trying to kill them at every turn. It’s easy to reach that conclusion. We’re moving in one minute.”
Psymrr stepped forward. The youngling half-rolled to look at him and flinched. “Easy.”
Fuul looked at him. “Should we treat it? Bring it inside the compound?”
Psymrr hesitated. According to standard procedures, only small fauna that could be held in plasticene tubes were allowed inside the compound. He looked over the TriRusk. One rear leg was clearly injured, bent awkwardly at the hip joint, and it was bleeding from many puncture wounds that looked like teeth marks in its rough hide. Moving it would be cumbersome and terrifyingly loud. There were no medicines in Fuul’s kit to sedate the youngling. Leaving it to die would be loud and an awful weight on his conscience. He looked at the nearest guard. The larger, younger MinSha and his partner could carry the TriRusk. “Give me your weapon.”
“You’re not going to—” Fuul started.
“No. We’re moving the youngling into the compound.” Psymrr took the rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He turned to the other guard. “You. Come here and grab its legs.”
Sensing trouble, the youngling screamed again. Fuul tried to hush it, but it screamed and cried as the guards lifted it from the ground. On the periphery of his vision, Psymrr saw Tirr raise his rifle to a shooting position. “Incoming. From the trees.”
Psymrr looked up and saw them. The spindly-legged creatures looked like ghosts as they flitted from one high branch to another. The bird-like creatures cried as they spread out. Psymrr counted a dozen Urrtam. They fanned out further and dropped to the soaked jungle floor. Tirr fired twice in rapid succession and dropped the leader. The others merely tightened their ring and advanced. Their small jaws seemed impossibly wide and were filled with razor-sharp teeth.
“Move!” Tirr roared. “Covering fire, Psymrr!”
Tirr moved backward, firing as he did. Psymrr raised his rifle, sighted on the nearest Urrtam, and fired. The bolt passed harmlessly over the beast’s head. He lowered the barrel and fired again as the bird-things darted forward to attack. Behind Psymrr, the youngling screamed as the guards ran with it in their arms. He couldn’t see Fuul, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was killing the advancing threat to their front. He centered on an Urrtam’s horrifying face and pulled the trigger. The animal’s head detonated in a spray of black mist and detritus.
Psymrr fired, again and again. Tirr yelled at him to move back and cover. Psymrr turned and ran twenty meters, propped his frame against a ragged tree, and fired several bolts at the Urrtam as Tirr ran back toward the portal entrance. Time seemed to stand still. Psymrr fired three shots in rapid succession and dropped at least one of the Urrtam. As soon as he saw Tirr fire into the swarm, Psymrr ran for the portal entrance. There, he could see two more guards sighting their weapons and firing. Psymrr ducked and ran past them. He tripped in the doorway and fell forward, his face tearing a gouge in the loamy soil. Tirr thumped to the ground next to him as the portal door clanged shut, and the walls electrified on the outside. The overhead laser net hummed to life. A few squeals of protest came from the Urrtam as their meal opportunity ended, but that was it.
Tirr laughed. “When’s the last time you fired a weapon, Psymrr? Diplomatic corps initial training?”
“Something like that,” Psymrr said. After a moment, he chuckled. “I didn’t do too badly, did I?”
“Too bad?” Tirr rolled over on his back and looked at the canopy above them. “You shot sixty rounds, Psymrr. Maybe hit five targets.”
One out of twelve?
Psymrr snorted. “That’s pretty terrible.”
They laughed for a moment. Tirr rolled to his foreknees and extended a clawed hand to Psymrr. “It was good enough, Psymrr. But I recommend you spend some time at the range. Soon.”
Psymrr found himself nodding. Throughout training, even for scientific leadership positions, the council members stressed that a true leader never needed a weapon. Staring at his oldest, truest friend and smelling the dirt on his chiton and smeared across his face, Psymrr remembered the cold, flashing eyes of the Urrtam as they advanced on him. He’d felt like prey only once before, as a small child facing off against a larger bully. The cold iron he felt in his gut that day stuck with him for years.
“I will.”
Tirr stood and pulled Psymrr to his feet. “You did well, Psymrr. Many more trips outside the compound, and we’ll all be forced to do better.”
Psymrr nodded. He was about to speak when a guard yelled from the closest tower.
“There are more of them!”
Tirr whirled and looked at the guard. “Those damned birds?”
“Whatever you picked up, sir. They’re loitering out there, about a thousand meters out. We can’t identify them or get a clean shot. What do we—”
“Hold your fire,” Psymrr called. “They’re not our enemy.”
Tirr glanced at him. “We don’t know that, Psymrr.”
The captain was right. For the last six months, they’d been trying to find medicinal compounds in the flora and fauna to cure a pox that had killed more than a million MinSha over the last twenty years. They’d found and classified a thousand new species, but nothing in the serums and compounds they’d synthesized cured the pox. The rest of the medicinal trove was much needed, but there was nothing new in this biosphere to combat their biggest problem. Psymrr felt his stomach flutter in anxiety. In his quarters, hidden among the files on his messy workstation, was a list of critical reporting requirements. He knew the discovery of a TriRusk was on that list. They had been valuable allies of the MinSha for millennia. Finding them was an unspoken priority of every MinSha across the galaxy.
“We have to report this,” Psymrr said. “The council’s guidance is clear.”
“But the council can’t protect them, Psymrr,” Tirr said. “We have to involve the Peacemaker Guild. This situation could inflame the Galactic Union. The Veetanho will most certainly lay waste to this entire planet if they find out the TriRusk are here.”
“They’re feral. You said it yourself.”
Tirr shrugged. “They could be, Psymrr. We don’t know. What we do know is we have a species, new to the Union, that merits observation and consideration. We have to protect them from manipulation.”
Psymrr sighed. “I’d forgotten about that legend. Do you really think they can do that?”
“We’ll have to observe, Tirr. Do you think it’s an albino?”
Tirr nodded. “Certainly looked like it. If so, we’ll know definitively within 24 hours. With a little one, maybe as little as six hours. You have a call to make, Psymrr. Request a Peacemaker for protection and observation of a potential species for induction. Even if the ones we saw are feral, or some genetic relative of the TriRusk, we know from history what that species is capable of.”
Honor the Threat (The Revelations Cycle Book 12) Page 1
