Vick's Vultures (Union Earth Privateers Book 1)

by Scott Warren

  She turned back towards them. “What you say is true, my Commander.”

  “Dutiful,” said Best Wishes, unsure of how to continue, “have you considered staying aboard the Springdawn once the mission is over?”

  She snapped her attention back to him. “Commander, I … You know my duty is to my house and my caste. I was born to it, named for it. To ignore the purpose of my calling would bring great shame.”

  The skiff slid up to a polycrete platform aside a fabricated metal building crowned with a multitude of antennae and cables stretching up into the cloud bank. A light precipitation of condensate nitrogen had begun to fall in the hub, cool droplets splashing on Best Wishes’ head and neck, immediately boiling off into gas. His ears twitched, attuning themselves to the change in the acoustics. He could tell where rain landed on flesh versus metal and stone. He looked up at the cloud cover in the upper cavern. Was it actually a cooling system for the massive station?

  “I am not asking you to forsake your family. You are a fine officer, and another tour would see you likely captain of your own ship.”

  “How altruistic your offer, commander, to bear me onboard another three years to advance my career,” she said flatly.

  Blood drained from his face. He had been too obvious. But there, the corners of her eyes twisting up. She was teasing him. Perhaps there was yet the possibility.

  “In truth I have considered what it might be like to command a vessel of my own. I have learned much in the sensor centers on Springdawn, though not as much as I have learned on the bridge. There is a peculiar energy to the way you hunt Malagath. Even now.”

  “You don’t feel as though I’m being obsessively thorough?” asked Best Wishes.

  “Perhaps, but if it leads us to places such as this,” she said, gesturing around them as the skiff pulled up to a docking clutch, “then I would like to see where else it takes us.”

  They unloaded outside a permanent building with a bristling coat of antennae and sprawling tentacles of thick wire. Modest Bearing gave him a significant look as they disembarked. He had been listening to Best Wishes’ conversation. From the tilt of his eyes it was clear he did not approve. Administrator Gaelif ushered them inside where several other Salvesei manned a variety of large consoles covered in dials, switches, lights, and plugs.

  “This is the central communication switch where we route all communication through the station. From here we can access any connected speaker, amplifier, vidscreen, or luminous display, wired or otherwise. We have prepared it for your use, commander,” he said. Gaelif lifted a wired microphone to his small, flat mouth.

  “Attention Taru Station,” he said. Outside of the communications center Best Wishes could hear the message being repeated over speakers built throughout the city. “As you are all aware, a Dirregaunt dreadnaught has temporarily barred egress from the station. The commander of this dreadnaught is here with me now to make clear the terms of his visit. I am handing the communicator to him now.”

  Best Wishes accepted the small blue disc, careful not to scratch the surface with his claws. He raised it to his mouth.

  “Good day, Taru Station. I am the commander of the Dirregaunt vessel Springdawn. I track a fugitive ship of unknown origin. We determined that it rode the stars to this system approximately half a standard day ago, likely for repair and refit at this station. Once I find it and its commander I will depart Taru Station. If it has already departed, we require information about their destination. Of our quarry we know this: their propulsion system used accelerated xenon ions. All knowledge of these spacefarers delivered to the central communication switch will be rewarded. That is all.”

  “Whatever you two fools are planning, I must protest.” said Hibbevox. Tessa and Aimes scanned through the directory of Union Earth equipment in the storeroom. Officially it was all registered under Hibbevox’s holdings aboard Taru Station, but it contained everything from replacement starship parts to munitions and vacuum suits.

  “We can’t pass up an opportunity like this, Hibbe. Those shuttles are live Dirregaunt tech, even just a look inside is worth more than everything in this storehouse. If we manage to steal something? Well, I don’t have to tell you what that would mean.”

  Hibbevox vibrated visibly, turning a deep shade of purple, “It means they’d lance this station with enough radiation to cook you both into steak, and damned be the rest of the population. You can’t just kill Dirregaunt spacefarers and not expect repercussions.”

  “We may not have to, Tessa look at this,” said Aimes. He swiveled his panel towards her. She laughed.

  “Nice find, do you think it still works?”

  Hibbevox slid forward reluctantly, “What did you find?” he asked. Tessa lowered the panel so that the diminutive alien could take a look, though she was completely oblivious how the Jenursa processed sensory input, they looked like nothing so much as the lovechild of a mushroom and a jellyfish.

  “It’s a rifle attachment, Hibbe. A tranquilizer mod for the forward rail on the X-87’s. See this tank? It’s a refrigerant. Once it’s introduced to the cartridges in the receiver it shoots a frozen needle of concentrated sedative from this secondary barrel, which melts as soon as it pierces skin and disperses into the body. We don’t generally use them anymore. Xenos mostly come aboard willingly when we dock, not like when we first started privateering.”

  “And you just happen to have sedative effective with Dirregaunt biochemistry laying around? Humans. Why am I not surprised?” asked Hibbevox.

  “No,” said Aimes, “But we can synthesize it. The device to make the rounds is part of the mount’s package.”

  “You’re going to get us all killed.”

  “Well hey,” said Tessa, “It’s better than skulking around in these ridiculous hooded cloaks like a medieval vagabond waiting for some xeno to realize there are still humans aboard Taru. The last place the Dirregaunt would think to look for us is in their hangar bay.”

  “I suppose in your twisted little human mind that makes sense,” said Hibbevox. Whatever he was about to say next was cut off as the main circuit crackled to life from the various speakers installed in the walls of the storeroom.

  “Attention Taru Station.”

  “That’s Administrator Gaelif,” said Hibbevox. Tessa shushed him. The three listened to the introduction, and then to barking tones of the Dirregaunt commander. Aimes groaned at the conclusion of the message.

  “That’s it, Tess, he’s got us dead to rights. Who else uses xenon fueled ion engines?”

  “Perhaps not, not every empire does a full spectrum analysis of every ship they come across, and many have never met your ship in the void. And not every privateer uses identical propulsion systems. It is not common knowledge,” said Hibbevox, leaving a slimy trail towards the door and his waiting skiff.

  “Hey Hibbe, where you going?” probed Tessa.

  “Isn’t it obvious? To the communication hub.”

  Heat flushed Tessa’s cheeks, “You traitorous little gelatin cube!” she shouted. Hibbevox turned a vibrant red.

  “Think, human Tessa. I’m the foremost authority on your species on this station. If they call upon me perhaps I can learn what they know. More importantly, I can find out what they learn from the one other entity on-station with knowledge of human presence at a Malagath wreck.”

  “Bargult.”

  “Bingo, as you humans say. He’s probably on his way to the communication switch right now.”

  He slipped towards the door, brushing a slimy tentacle against the access pad. As the door opened he began to slide through, but stopped. Tessa wasn’t sure how, but she got the impression that the Jenursa had turned toward her.

  “My office is not safe for you now. My company maintains a private residence on the second shell, section 452 room 12. No one will look for you there. Please, counter to your species’ insane, suicidal nature, do not do anything foolish.”

  The door slid closed and Tessa was left alone with Aimes. S
he looked at him, a half grin across her face.

  “Insane? Suicidal? Foolish? Us? Who does he think we are?”

  “No idea, Tess. Ooh, look! EM grenades!”

  Best Wishes was growing frustrated. Thus far in the time since his broadcast, now set to repeat every twenty degrees of the local star’s journey across the planet of Taru, he had received naught but fools and charlatans. Who were these imbecilic cretins believing themselves wise to waste his time? Did they not know that lies were universal? That he could smell the stink of their nervous breath upon the air, even past his supplemental breathing stream? That he could hear their hearts beat faster and see the blood heat underneath their skin as they spun their falsehoods in hopes of meager scraps from his table?

  He turned to his sensor officer, “Perhaps our ship did not dock at the station after all? There is little knowledge of it.”

  Instead of answering, Dutiful Heiress’ eyes grew wide and she bared her teeth. “Dead stars,” she swore under her breath. Best Wishes found himself momentarily confused by a new scent in the air until a low hissing voice behind him uttered a single word.

  “Humans.”

  He turned, staring down the largest primal horror of chitinous legs and oily carapace he had ever seen. Every creeping crawling skittering nasty he had seen planet side had been supersized and dressed in glossy black. Shiny mandibles large enough to crush his head hovered just before his face.

  “You seek humans. Xenon ionic propulsion present at a Malagath wreck. I am correct, yes?”

  Best Wish’s heart attempted to beat its way out of his chest. He steeled himself, taking manual control over the organ and slowing his heart rate. By the Praetor, this thing even sounded like a jungle full of insects when it spoke. Physiologically speaking, a creature like this shouldn’t exist, it should be collapsing under its own weight.

  And yet it wasn’t wrong. They mentioned nothing in the broadcast of a Malagath wreck. And the name, humans, had an ominous feel. A genuine feel. This was no charlatan. He could hardly believe such a creature to be a fool.

  “How do you know of this?” asked Best Wishes. One eye swiveled, noting the Taru security force arraying themselves along the edge of the platform. The creature must have noticed them too, it extended onto the tips of its legs, though how it saw them was a mystery. He could see no eyes.

  “We shall converse over nutrients. Come, eat, sustain,” it said, and began jilting away on long legs.”

  Best Wishes leapt down from the platform behind the creature. The voice of Modest Bearing called out behind him.

  “Commander, wait,” he said.

  Best Wishes turned briefly, “I have waited long enough. I grow hungry, for food and information. You wait here should you wish, and interview anyone else who comes by,” he said. He eyed a small slimy alien moving towards the hub. “Look, there is your next interviewee.”

  He looked as though he wanted to join him, but eyeing the giant creature he backed away. He was swift and brilliant, but bravery was not favored among his qualities. Luckily, Best Wishes had use for an officer that counseled caution. Just not at the moment. The security detail made to follow him but a raised hand held them in place. One leaned down at the edge of the platform.

  “Take care, Commander. They are dangerous beings.”

  “Who, the insects?”

  “Yes. But I was referring to humans. You saw the aftermath of their anger when you arrived. If it is them you are seeking, be wary.”

  So the Salvesei knew of them too. Why had they said nothing? Perhaps he should have words with the administrator on his return.

  He made his way after the plodding alien, obviously in no hurry despite the path that cleared before it. It walked with a strange canter, as if its attention were elsewhere. Best Wishes followed closely behind, claws resting upon his bone protuberances. It led him below the primary level of the city, into a literal underworld, a layer deeper in the rock of the station. Immediately the population became less savory. Clearly, Taru Station was not free of crime and poverty if the destitute urchins were any indication.

  Families and gangs huddled in the muck that lined the tunnel walls, eying the pair but not approaching. Here the waste of the central hub gravitated, without purpose or place. He suspected that the Salvesei gave up trying to herd them together and ship them off station. There were too many places down here to run, too many to hide and the deprived knew it better than the security forces ever would. Between the gang graffiti and the smell of unwashed bodies he could see the odd handheld maser and other presumably illegal contraband changing hands. As the minutes passed he heard his own recorded broadcast, muffled through the stone and steel of the station. Whatever audio equipment may once have been here had long since been salvaged for parts.

  Best Wishes’ guide seemed to be heading for a cavern from which the unmistakable smell of cooked fat and meat wafted. A cantina then. He had passed several on his way to the communication switch, serving patrons with protein constructions and amino acid supplements shaped and flavored with the tastes of their own planets and tuned to their biochemistry. Where had this one gotten real meat?

  Ducking into the dimly lit cantina, he was greeted with a menagerie of predatory looking aliens hunched over private tables eating, or consuming intoxicants, from the pungent smell. Some conversation quieted as they noticed the massive alien lumbering towards an area big enough to seat it comfortably. Best Wishes slid onto a chair opposite as it arrayed its many limbs in what he assumed was a comfortable position.

  A section of carapace on the creature’s head slid back, revealing a slick black membrane with a wet glossy sheen. A sensory band, like the Kossovoldt, though unidirectional.

  “Do you know what I am, Dirregaunt hunter?” it asked. Again, the strange low chirping behind the words, as though they were being synthesized instead of constructed with vocal chords.

  “No, your empire is unfamiliar,” replied Best Wishes.

  “I am Grah’lhin, many from one. I too am a hunter. I am called Bargult. I sit before you, I stand upon the prow gazing at Malagath fragments many stars away, and beyond Taru Station I burn as radiation bleeds from my ship and vacuum ruptures my organs. Do you understand?”

  “No,” said Best Wishes. How could he? It sounded like inane babble. Could this forsaken creature really have useful information?

  Bargult’s mandibles clicked together appreciably, “There are few who do, Dirregaunt hunter. I know what it is you would track. Human Victoria and her Vultures.”

  Victoria. He didn’t know what significance the name might hold in the human tongue, but he mulled it over in his mouth. Vic-to-ria. It had a regal feeling. Who was he? He had to learn more of these humans.

  His thoughts were interrupted as a server meekly placed a platter between Bargult and Best Wishes before scuttling away so quickly that its legs became tangled in a chair as it retreated. All mystery as to where they had gotten the meat vanished as Bargult picked up half a carcass and bit into it, cracking ribs between his jaws and prying off the meat. Cleaned and cooked, it was still not difficult to recognize the torso of one of the many different species he had counted along his trip through what he’d mentally dubbed the hollow. A juvenile, from the size of it.

  Eating the flesh of sentient beings was not a practice within the Praetory but neither was it banned outright. The lesser empires were barely above animals at any rate, and it had been months since he had tasted real meat. Best Wishes’ stomachs rumbled as he reached for the steaming platter.

  “Tell me of these humans,” he said.

  Bargult began to speak despite continuing to eat. However he was producing the sound it was not through his mouth. “Scavengers, picking across the bones of star runners and disappearing into the void. They are prey, swift, deadly, and rare,” he said.

  Best Wishes’ savored a mouthful of meat. It was overcooked, poor quality, likely incompatible with his biochemistry, and absolutely delicious. Above
all, Dirregaunt were carnivores, and it had been months since he last had the taste in his mouth. Deep space missions involved a great deal of protein rations, but few meals with meat. He looked across at Bargult, who was cleaning blood off his face by scraping his mandibles across his jaws. “You give them too much credit, Grah’lhin Bargult. They do not face the Salvesei or any of the lesser empires. They have drawn the attention of the Dirregaunt, who have hunted across the stars for millennia, halted Malagath expansionism, and held back the Kossovoldt.”

  “And yet you have not seen their like. The humans are as ghosts. They are unpredictable, disappearing at will, striking without warning with weapons none can sense. They walk the void between ships and they speak all languages.”

  Best Wishes waved a hand dismissively. It was only when Bargult growled that he realized that the gesture bore resemblance to shooing an insect away. Perhaps seen as an insult between the Grah’lhin?

  “I am not interested in hearsay and fanciful tales of space walkers. I need to know where the human planets are.”

  “None know where the human planets lay, only that they are few in number and far from here. The human range far exceeds their fields. But you do not need to know. Human Victoria is not going home.”

  “No? Where then?”

  “To know your prey you must know their habits. You well know this. When the humans come upon a wreck with survivors they ferry them home. It is not known why. Aboard Taru Station they took on stores compatible with Malagath digestion systems. I saw them myself as I hunted them through the caverns. They make for the Malagath frontier.”

  Best Wishes cursed, “There are thousands of stars spread between here and the Malagath territory.”

  “Yes, but many of them hostile, or incapable of reaching with the human engines. I know what path they take, and I will share it with you for an exchange.”