by Jean Johnson
“The higher the rank, the more we can endure,” Jackie admitted, “but while Lieutenant Johnston is quite strong, he is nearing his limits. I have placed him on official rest for the next two weeks, in the hopes he will be able to recover. I will do what I can to pick out a few more targets, but I, too, am beginning to exhaust my reserves in dealing with the dissonances of trying to comprehend their minds.”
“The Seer always sufferrrs from what she sees,” War Princess Pallan sympathized.
“How much cann you get donnne beforrre you mmust ceassse and deparrrt for the next colony?” the Tlassian war leader asked next.
“Not as much as I’d like, and not nearly as much as you’d need, to keep up the current pace,” Jackie told him. “The problem for myself and my fellow xenopaths is a strong one, but with the majority of the war machines of the enemy being destroyed, each fleet of Alliance ships and Terran munitions left in place to monitor each of these worlds should be able to hold them in check until more xenopaths can be brought in to start scanning minds. So while the problem is quite serious for me and my fellow mind readers, it is not actually a true hardship for the Alliance. At least, not just yet.
“Now, can any of you tell me if you’ve worked out a solution for the conflicting problems of getting all Salik everywhere to grasp the fact that their people have indeed surrendered, without allowing any Salik ships to escape and regroup into a fleet?” she asked.
War Princess Pallan answered that question. “The pllan is to strrap a communications satellite to their hulls, and set it to detonate if it does nnnot receive a confirmation signal within a certain time frrame from ships within the correct system.”
“I like it,” Li’eth stated. “It’s straightforward and to the point.”
“It is a horrible idea, very unethical,” President Marbleheart chirped, translator box conveying V’Dan-style emotive tones of a male disturbed by the very idea . . . followed by palpable reluctance in admitting, “. . . but it is the best idea we can come up with. They are prisoners, and sometimes prisoners are just too dangerous to be allowed to escape.”
Empress Hana’ka nodded. “General I’osha learned that lesson when a moment of carelessness in guarding the captured Salik on Ton Bei allowed them to escape. Over two hundred citizens and soldiers died, Terran and V’Dan, before the prisoners were reclaimed or killed. As soon as the Salik High Command has surrendered, I want them shipped off our sovereign colonies and dumped onto their own worlds.”
“You will have no objectionns from my goverrrnment to that,” Pallan agreed, earrings swaying with an annoyed flick of her ears. “Au’aurrran is sufferring similar prroblems.”
“Morning winds come soon, gentle glidings to a safe landing for all,” the Chinsoiy stated. “Long has been this night flight. Glad to see an end to all bombardings will we be.”
“It’s not our preferred choice of dealing with people, no,” Premiere Callan agreed. “But it is saving lives on our side, and our ceristeel casings are thwarting the attempts to destroy them by their defense lasers. Particularly when they try to target the MT bombs, only to find them empty of all munitions.”
Li’eth blinked. They were all speaking in V’Dan, but he finally got the designation. MT . . . is short for Empty. How clever . . . (Jackie, if MT stands for “empty,” what does BM stand for?)
(The onomatopoeia in Terranglo for the sound of an explosion. “Boom.”) She sounded—and felt—tired. Emotionally, not psychically, he knew. Some tasks wore down one’s endurance, but others . . . others eroded a person’s soul. Dealing with the Salik mind-set had to be like bathing in acid. As much as he didn’t want to touch their minds himself . . .
(Is there any way I could take over some of your Salik mind-scanning duties?) he found himself asking. He did not like the idea of touching Salik minds, but . . . he didn’t like the strain she was under, either.
(I think I will have to take you up on that offer. The first dozen sessions, we’ll have to do together. After that, yes. For a little while. But their thoughts are vicious,) she warned her Gestalt partner.
(I know. I can feel the strain you’re under. You’ve also been suffering nightmares as we sleep these last few weeks,) he added.
(I know. We’ll discuss it later; we need to pay attention,) she reminded him. The others had moved on to talk about how to receive the formal offer of surrender from the Salik leadership on their Motherworld without the Salik somehow ambushing the surrender site, whether that was in space or on the planet.
“Gentlebeings,” Hana’ka stated, “it has occurred to me that the Salik have planned in advance for every contingency. Even as arrogant as they are, surely the Salik have arranged some sort of command code to confirm an authentic full surrender? Perhaps the xenopaths among the Terrans can pluck it from their minds? That, more than any location for hidden military equipment, is vital for bringing this war to an end. Once they stop fighting, we will have the leisure to uncover such things at a more comfortable pace.”
“. . . That is correct,” Jackie agreed. “That, we could save our strength to do. I agree that it holds a higher priority if they do have anything like that prepared in advance.”
“They have to,” President Marbleheart stated. “They have never had instantaneous interstellar communications. Everything they do must be planned in advance or conducted independently . . . and a full, nationwide surrender must be something considered in advance.”
“Not/Not necessarily/possibly, given/understanding their/the Salik natural/inherent arrogance/pride/blindness . . .” President Anoddra hedged, turning an upper hand palm up in silent philosophical commentary, his skin flushing a mixture of annoyance, grimness, and a few other nuances Li’eth wasn’t experienced enough to discern in his colormoods.
Listening to the debate as it continued, circling around whether or not the Salik could and would plan for such a thing, Li’eth could feel Jackie’s subthoughts swirling and churning with a seed of an idea. Sampling it, he turned it over a few times in his own mind, then asked, (Do you really think we could do that?)
(We’d be fully rested, no spontaneous teleports draining away most of our strength, and our needs would only cover a very small area,) she reminded him. (Put enough layers on, make them flexible enough . . .)
“Gentlemeioas,” Li’eth interjected as soon as there was a break in the flow of conversation, “the Grand High Ambassador and I have an idea that just might convince the Salik that we are even more ruthless and powerful—or at least that our new allies are far more ruthless and powerful—than anything they have ever dealt with before. It is an idea I think might just be the psychological deathblow to the conquest ambitions of our mutual foe, if we are on Sallha when we accept their full surrender.”
President Marbleheart lifted a foreleg. “Your offer intrigues me. We will listen.”
JANUARY 4, 2288 C.E.
AUT 25, 9508 V.D.S.
CITY OF BUBBLINGS, SALLHA
SALLKHAG’GNITH SYSTEM
“Water, water, everywhere,” Jackie murmured in Terranglo, mangling the original quote. “And so beautiful I could hardly blink.”
“It is spectacular, isn’t it?” Li’eth murmured back, equally impressed by their surroundings. Over their heads, a quartet of cameras hovered, remotely piloted and staying close, dutifully recording and broadcasting this momentous meeting.
Both their eyes darted here and there, taking in the liquid coursing over sculptures and flowing through pipes that ranged from opaque to transparent, so clear that the water almost looked unsupported as it flowed from one place to the next. Spheres predominated in the architecture, most transparent, some translucent, spun from metal, blown in glass, carved from stone, and crafted in dozens of exotic materials.
A hint of sulfur perfumed the warm, moist air, a rotten-egg scent that spoke of the many mineral springs permeating the local landscape. Waterfalls cascaded
down the sides of buildings, rippled along windows, washed in shallow rivulets over the pathways. Behind them, the bulk of the Embassy 1 thrummed and lifted off again, kicking up a small amount of spray from a nearby reflecting pool. Within moments, their group was alone in a city with hostile aliens lining the windows of the ornate office buildings around them.
War Prince Naguarr had requested the right to represent Solarican interests. His cream robes, brocaded in tiny, plantlike designs, echoed the cream robes of the Warrior Caste representative who towered over him by several centimeters. First Star Admiral Hainann was not nearly as highly ranked as the two War Princes, one V’Dan, and one Solarican in their midst, but she was the Tlassian who had managed to wrest control of the orbital skies around this world, leading a full fifty Tlassian warships stripped from every colony and even their own Motherworld, just to join the battle to annihilate Sallha’s insystem defenses.
Beside them, Commander-of-Millions Tlik-tlak moved with a machine-smooth grace that could only come from a creature used to marching formally with more than two locomotive limbs. Li’eth walked on that side of the group, so that Jackie did not have to be near the object of her phobia. To her right marched the Left Palm of Cho, third-highest-ranked leader of the Choyan military. Her four crests stood stiffly upright, a combination of bravery and anger mixed with a touch of fear, Jackie had learned in the months since reaching V’Dan.
Beyond her strode a Gatsugi general whose name translated as Stormblade. They stalked with a strange grace that was both more fluid than not yet as exactly precise as the K’Katta on the other end. The Chinsoiy did not, and could not, attend, but they had indicated their willingness to abide by the choices and outcomes determined by the others. Surrounding them in the mottled grays of urban camouflage strode Lieutenant Commander Buraq—her limb replacement deferred until this moment was over—Lieutenant Paea, and six other Terran Marines detailed to be their escort.
Everyone in this acceptance delegation was a fully informed volunteer. If the Terran plan did not work . . . only fifteen souls would be sacrificed. Jackie had confidence it would. Each of her Marines wore their weapons holstered, for each one carried a pair of stunner-disrupting grenades, pulsing in staggered patterns at a rate of several per second. They did so in faint flashes almost completely lost under the bright local sunlight. That was their first layer of defense. Their second lay in keeping the others all within a tight radius of ten meters, in order for their third layer of defense to work properly.
Their target lay at the far end of the great plaza they had used as a drop-off site, a low stone platform ringed by a shallow moat crossed by five bridges. Most of the plaza was empty, save for a cluster of formally uniformed Salik officers awaiting them on that stone circle. Naguarr flicked his ear and looked at Li’eth and Jackie.
“Can you rrread their minnds from here, Ambassadorr?” he asked in Terranglo. Everyone in this delegation spoke it, allowing them to speak freely to each other.
“They have indeed prepared a massive ambush, as we figured. This entire plaza is filled with trapdoors, and I can sense well over a thousand aliens ready and waiting to emerge. They are not aware of our anti-stunner technology,” she added, mind reaching out and down, sampling the thoughts of dozens of Salik soldiers lurking within a dozen meters.
They were still at war with the Salik, and the rules for telepathy during war were a little bit different. Her scrying would have been immoral and unethical in peacetime, in a peaceful situation, but telepaths were not hobbled by the rules when it came to surviving a battle. She was still forbidden from attacking any minds telepathically if there was some other method she could use with an equal or greater chance of success—which was why telepaths were so valuable against the Greys and their extremely advanced technology—but she was allowed by the rules of warfare for psychic conduct to sample surface thoughts to get an idea of exactly what danger level awaited her.
“They are a little disappointed there are so few of us,” she added, leaning on Li’eth’s presence to shelter her mind from the almost feral hunger she sensed in those brutal, icy-hot thoughts beneath the plaza street. “They are willing to fight each other to get a single bite of alien meat.”
“Are you holding fast in your mind-health’s grip, Seer? Or are the visions clawing into you?” Naguarr inquired softly.
“I have my mate to support my mental state. I will be fine.”
“I am glllad. Seerrs are a rare and prrecious gift,” he told her. “Especially ones of your powerr.”
Li’eth arched a brow at that and let his lips curve up in a smile, something he knew the Solarican would interpret correctly. “Are you flirting with my mate?”
“I am a War Prrrince. I merrely flirrt with dannger.”
Jackie tightened her gut against the urge to laugh at that quip. Confining her reaction to a closed-mouth smile, she poured her energy into her shields instead.
They reached the low, curved bridge; at its apex, they saw clearly the famous mosaics decorating the huge, circular platform. Some artist had shaded the surface in large swaths of tiny pentagonal and star-shaped tiles, forming a macroscopic image of boiling water. According to old tourist brochures for this city, the Bubbling Mosaics were over eight hundred years old, carefully maintained as a point of pride.
Delving further into the Empire’s translated records of such things—out of curiosity and boredom on the faster-than-light trip to get here—Jackie had learned that the boiling waters in question were a tribute by the artist in reference to the hottest mineral spring, a deep pool used by the city’s school for graduation hunts. The artist in question had been slated for slaughter along with four others upon graduation but had unexpectedly gone on to slaughter all twenty of his high-ranked graduating classmates, earning the right to live his life as he liked.
Despite their almost psychotic mind-set, art was prized among the Salik, particularly water-based art. It just had to be coupled with ferocity to survive. They respected fierceness, prized ruthlessness, honored remorseless strength. The Salik only bowed to those who proved themselves superior and scorned the rest.
The minds of the aliens in front of her were, one and all, the most ruthless, arrogant, and disciplined in—or under—the whole plaza. They were also as open to her light scans as any of the rest.
“Idennntitiess?” the Left Palm of Cho asked quietly. Her name was too difficult to pronounce in V’Dan, so she had requested the others simply refer to her as her title.
Jackie took a few moments to consult with Li’eth, then nodded. “Confirmed. These are the Grand Generals, with the Grand High General of their military in their center.”
She did not add how the male salivated internally as he stared at her Gestalt partner, taking in that distinct burgundy jag of jungen marks angled across his right brow, eye, and cheek. A very-high-ranked prize he would soon eat, one screaming bite at a time, all of it recorded by the horrified operators of those hovering cameras.
“Sssuch a small delegationn,” the Grand High General observed, eyestalks shifting to take in each member, mottled-beige skin smooth and relaxed. “I exssspected more of hhew to be hhere.”
Li’eth, considered the highest in rank of the coalition of races present, and the one Alliance member who could reasonably speak for the non-Alliance Terrans, reached for Jackie for mental support. She gave it fully, knowing as he did that someone as canny as this high-ranked warrior would be proficient at reading Human facial expressions. While not technically an empath, she was his Gestalt partner, able to soothe much of the fear and loathing within him. Allowing him to speak without any external sign of his inner turmoil.
“We are all that is necessary to accept your full and unconditional surrender, Grand High General K’plish.”
“Your accssent is atrociouss.” His statement was nothing more than a little posturing, a little attempt at rattling the V’Dan Imperial War Prince.
>
“So is your attitude,” Li’eth replied. “You will order your entire nation to surrender, fully and unconditionally. You will inform us of all bases, manufactories, and facilities capable of producing starships, fighter craft, weapons, armor, and other materiél designed to be used for waging war. Those locations will be destroyed, and you will construct nothing new along those lines, under penalty of those facilities also being destroyed with little to no warning.
“Your people from this point forward will live confined within the atmospheres or gravitational pulls of the planets and moons you currently occupy in the eight star systems designated as purely Salik territory,” he continued. “All Salik colonists will be deported from all other locations and delivered to those designated colonies. You will be permitted no insystem travel and no interstellar travel without escort and authorization by a joint fleet of Alliance forces. In short, Grand High General K’plish, you and your people will be blockaded, confined, and limited to these eight systems, subject to frequent inspection to ensure you cannot and will not ever again rebuild your capacity for interstellar war.
“If you wish to hunt and fight and eat other sentient beings, Grand High General . . . you will do so from this day forward strictly upon the surface of your own worlds and strictly within your own species,” Li’eth asserted. “Travel to and from each of your colonyworlds and your Motherworld will be strictly monitored, regulated, and, for the most part, interdicted.”
“Forr hhhow lonng?” K’plish asked, stepping slowly forward. So did the two officers flanking the alien war leader.
Jackie let the trio cross their third line of defense.
“Ffor an Allliance yearrr?” the Grand High General inquired, curling up a tentacle-limb. “Fforr a decade?”
