“And?”
“The Klethos-lee are strong on traditions, traditions that have allowed us to survive longer than you have been out of the trees and walking upright. We rely on our females to protect us from our enemies, both within and without. They have been bred for aggression, both physically and emotionally. Without honor, without fassonay,” he said, using a term Sky had never heard, “their aggression would have destroyed us, a fate that almost occurred twice in our past.”
He waited as if trying to formulate his thoughts, then said, “We males, we’ve been the glue that provides for our very future. We set on our eggs, we raise the d’lammo to provide the next generation. We may be the weaker of the genders, and we are not as wedded to tradition and honor as our females. But we will do whatever is required to make sure our d’lammo survive.”
“To include making sure that the Klethos do not get into a destructive war with humans when the Dictymorphs are the true threat,” Sky said quietly.
“It is so, Skylar.”
Gary brushed by the unresisting Sky and out the door.
“Holy shit,” Keyshon said, the second time in ten minutes that he’d let his language slip.
“What do you think?” she asked her EA.
“He seemed to be on the level,” Keyshon answered. “What about you?”
“I think we need to get all the recordings and analytics up to the minister. The rules of the game have just changed."
DESTINY
Chapter 31
Hondo
Hondo stood at their checkpoint on the road beneath the monastery. Below him, the bulk of the Marines were finally getting underway. They were displacing to the other continent where the Grubs had taken everything in their path. Hondo was not privy to the top-level plans, of course, but he knew that the intent was to stop the Grubs on that side of the planet and not let them expand their footprint to the more populous western hemisphere.
“What happens when the Grubs attack more than one world at a time?” Wolf asked him. “I mean, they all look good down there,” he said, pointing at the Marines. “But that’s a third of our force, all for one Brotherhood planet.”
Wolf wasn’t completely accurate. The force below was a third of the Marines, but not the UAM. The Confederation and the rest of the governments in the fight had two times the strength of the Marines, and the FCDC was even larger. But Wolf’s point was a good one. So far, the Grubs had attacked one planet at a time. If they attacked more concurrently, then humankind and Klethos would be hard-pressed to withstand that.
And the Klethos were not even here on Destiny. The Klethos force at J-Point hadn’t even left. It sort of made sense to Hondo. The Brotherhood had abandoned the war effort, so he could understand the Klethos not wanting to help. Hell, he didn’t want to be there. Right now, he pretty much hated the Brotherhood and everything they stood for.
“Let’s just hope they never do that,” Hondo said, which was pretty much BS.
Marines didn’t rely on hope—they took charge of their destinies and made sure they could meet any contingency.
“Maybe they will, maybe they won’t,” Wolf said. “Meanwhile, we get stuck here babysitting refugees.”
That wasn’t true, either. Tens of thousands of refugees from the eastern hemisphere had been brought to the valley, Q-huts springing up like mushrooms after a rain to house them all. But they were being managed by the Brotherhood civilian administrative police, not the Marines. What was left of Alpha Company was augmenting the small Marine security force being left behind to guard the rear area camp. Their secondary mission was to assist in the security of the big monastery on the hill.
No one in the company knew why the monastery was important. Hondo thought that the monks or priests or whatever could just evacuate like anyone else. And why would the citizens of Destiny be a threat to their own monastery?
He was just a grunt sergeant, though. What he thought didn’t matter one whit in the grand scheme of things, so if First Squad was tasked with manning a checkpoint on the highway leading into camp, then that was what they were going to do.
EARTH
Chater 32
Skylar
Skylar felt faint. Her heart was racing, her palms sweating. She still couldn’t believe that she, a mere assistant vice-minister for the Federation, was being put in this position.
Not everyone wanted her in the position, and she agreed with them. But Gary had chosen to inform her, not anyone else, for reasons unknown. But “unknown” didn’t mean “unimportant.” The powers that be had decided that they’d better error on the side of caution. Now, after six hours of extensive preparation, Sky, flanked by Foue and Pavoni, was as ready as she would ever be.
They marched three abreast, heading for the triumphal arch. Sky wasn’t sure why the UAM had set up the meeting in the Parc du Cinquanteraire in the city’s European Quarter. Foue thought the arch would be a show of strength, but that assumed the Klethos knew what the arc represented. Sky didn’t even know that. There were so many triumphal arches scattered around human space that this one could commemorate a basketball championship, for all she knew.
Pavoni had a more pessimistic viewpoint. If Sky failed, the three of them could be abandoned by the UAM as rouge players in the game of thrones. It would be harder to do that should they meet inside the UAM complex.
As they approached, Sky could see the quad was already there. The Brussels city gendarmerie had cleared the park half an hour before, so within 800 meters, it was only the seven of them.
Not that they were really alone. Every listening, holo, and cam device in and above the city was making sure what happened was recorded for posterity—or possibly as evidence against the three of them.
“You OK,?” Foue asked as they approached the waiting quad.
“Oh, yeah. I’m just fine. We’ve got our whole relationship riding on this, so why should I worry?” she said, too quickly and too high-pitched.
“Calm down,” Pavoni said. “You’re going to do fine.”
“You always wanted to be the team lead, so why don’t you take over?” she snapped.
“Yes, I thought I should have been the lead. That’s not to denigrate your potential. I’ve got the experience, and you don’t. But Gary chose you for a reason. So, just buckle down and do it.”
They marched another 50 meters before she said, “Sorry, Norelco. That wasn’t fair. I’m just—”
“I know. Don’t worry about it. You’ll do fine.”
It took another minute to cross the wide-open area leading up to the arch. Instead of all four Klethos being abreast, Glinda stood out in front with the other three behind her.
The moment the three humans reached them, Glinda said, “Time is not more. You with your United Assembly of Man are not all of your kind. There exists d’lessu, those who have foregone honor. It is now a matter of honor for the Klethos-lee to remediate that honor, as you are abdicating that responsibility.
“Furthermore, by abdicating your responsibility, we now—”
“Ambassador, you are correct,” Sky interrupted. “It is not time, and we are ready to take action.”
Glinda paused, then took a breath to continue.
Sky didn’t let her, cutting her off with, “As the d’lato of humanity, we invoke d’lamma for our lost brethren.”
Glinda’s eyes widened in shock, the same way a human’s would, and her neck frill fully raised. She actually sputtered before saying, “You cannot! Your d’lessu know honor and abandoned it. They are not d’lamma.”
“I invoke d’lamma,” Sky repeated, wishing Gary had given her any formal format that should be used. “And I require Klethos assistance in teaching the Brotherhood honor.”
All four Klethos had their frills up, including Gary. She hoped that was merely for show, and not that she has screwed up.
“I hear your request. In honor, I must listen, but I do not acquiesce to your contention.”
That wasn’t expected, so Sky had to play it by ear.
>
“The Brotherhood have, in fact, acted without honor. But they are like d’lammo, children who know no better.”
The neck frills on two of the Klethos stood up even straighter, and Sky wondered if she had crossed the line mentioning the Klethos young. She hurriedly went on.
“They believe they are acting within their own honor.”
“There is only honor, which is true and unchanging,” Glinda said.
“You said you would listen. Now you lecture me. Is this honor?” she blurted out, before thinking of the consequences.
Hell, Skylar. Don’t piss her off.
She could almost imagine those huge clawed feet striking out to disembowel her.
Glinda turned her head low, exposing her neck, with all four arms spread out before she straightened and said, “Proceed.”
Except Sky had pretty much shot her load. She didn’t have anything left in the chamber.
“The Brotherhood does not understand what true honor is, and we will teach them now,” she said, simply rephrasing what she had already said.
“And what will you do, Vice-Minister? Will you be teaching them?” Glinda asked.
She was about to say that a team of representatives from the UAM was ready to be dispatched to the Brotherhood home world, but the slightest shift of Gary’s expression stopped her. She hesitated a moment and remembered something he’d said, something about “she” who invoked d’lamma had to fix the situation.
“I am going to Destiny to teach them honor,” she blurted out.
Sky could almost read the disappointment in Glinda’s posture—although that was probably wistful thinking. The Klethos were not human, and a scientist could not afford to anthropomorphize them.
“We do not concur,” Glinda said, and Sky’s heart fell. “Your d’lessu knew honor, then abandoned it.
“But honor must be maintained, and you, Vice-Minister, are d’lato until declared otherwise. So, we must confer as to the merits of your invocation.”
Without another word, the four turned and strode off, leaving the two humans alone.
“Did that work?” Foue asked.
“They didn’t declare us d’lessu,” Pavoni said. “I’d call that a win.”
“For now. They are conferring,” Sky said. “There’s still time for them to do that. Let’s get back. Our bosses are probably pissing their pants right now.”
“Which they just heard, Sky,” Foue said with a laugh.
They’d gone in without any way to communicate, all to give the UAM as a whole plausible deniability, but everything they said was being recorded, and Sky had just said the the ministers—heck, the chairman herself—were soiling themselves. She broke out into a laugh, more from the relief of being finished rather than anything else.
The other two joined in, and they started the long march back to where their handlers were gathering. It took five good minutes of walking, but a host of official hovers were ready to whisk them back to UAM headquarters. Keyshon stood by the first one, holding the door open.
“What now, ma’am?” he said as they took their seats and the autodriver kicked in.
“Get transport for two to Destiny.”
“Ma’am?”
“Destiny. Travel for two. You and me. I told the quad I was going.”
Sky had thought her part was going to be over after today. She was only a mouthpiece, after all, and she could pass the mantle to the professionals. Now, it looked like she was still in the thick of things.
Why did I say Destiny? Why not Saint Barnabas?
Sky had contact with the Dictymorphs before, and they struck fear into her very bones. Something told her, though, that it had to be Destiny. That was where nexus was, not the Brotherhood homeworld.
Somewhere on the planet was the key to the problem, and it was up to her to find it.
DESTINY
Chapter 33
Hondo
“What’s your power reading?” Hondo asked Pickerul. “I can’t pull you up.”
“I’m at eighty-two percent. Why can’t you read me?”
“Don’t have a clue. When you’re relieved, go find Gunner Moeryanti and ask him to run a check.”
The squad’s PICS hadn’t had their arrival upcheck, what with being diverted to Destiny and then the armory getting all the PICS for the assault force upchecked. The combat suits were pretty robust, but the mere fact that Hondo wasn’t picking up Pickerul’s readings was proof that something was wrong. It was probably her upload wizard—Hondo could read everyone else’s PICS as normal.
Technically, Hondo should send her back now. If he couldn’t read her, then she was combat ineffective and admin deadlined. But they were in the rear with the gear, and Hondo doubted very much that the refugees were going to boil out of their camp and assault the Marines. Besides, with everyone else in the squad on post as well, he’d have to ask Cara to send someone to relieve Pickerul, and they’d just gotten off an eight-hour watch.
“Was that the VIPs that just landed?” the PFC asked him.
“Probably. Don’t know for sure.”
He’d seen the ship’s shuttle flare in for a landing twenty minutes before. The lieutenant had told them during the morning brief that some VIPs were expected, but the squad was pretty low on the food chain, and no one had bothered to check in with him to let him know if that shuttle was them.
Hondo was more concerned with what was happening on the other side of the planet. The fighting between the Brotherhood and the Grubs had been fierce. Initial contact between the Marines and the Grubs had been made, but, Hondo didn’t know how the Marines were faring. Three Pelicans had made it back to the rear, and Hondo had seen the ambulances streaming from the LZ to the field hospital, but he didn’t know how bad or how good things were going.
Once again, he wished he was there. They’d been training to fight the Grubs, and after essentially running away from them on Purgamentium, he had a burning desire to make up for that and to see if the new training and weapons would make a difference.
Instead of the Grubs they’d been gearing up to fight, they’d fought the Brotherhood, and now they guarded Brotherhood refugees. It didn’t seem right.
“Sergeant McKeever, did you find what’s wrong with PFC Pickerul?” the lieutenant asked over the P2P.
“Roger that, sir. She’s at her post, and she’s fine. She’s at 82 percent. Her PICS isn’t uploading.”
“Understood. Have her check in with the armory after her watch. Second thing, stay on Alverson. The VIPs are about to go call on the brothers in the monastery, and I want everyone on their toes.”
“Is there a threat to the VIPs, sir?”
“Not that I know of. But we’re here to provide security, so let’s do our job.”
“Aye-aye, sir. I’ll let everyone know.”
Pickerul, Hanaburgh, RP, and Lance Corporal Bill Morales had posts along Alverson, the main road leading from the camp to the town of Berea and passing the monastery. Morales was a stay-behind from 2/14 when his PICS was deadlined, so he was at the main gate in the guard house. Hondo passed the word, then started to walk up the hill to the monastery.
He was curious about the place after the lieutenant had mentioned that some of the weapons the Marines used against the Grubs had been developed based on the research done there. It seemed odd to him that a monastery would be into weapons development, but then again, the Brotherhood was based on religion, and he knew from experience what they could do on the battlefield. His interest piqued, he looked the place up and found out that the Jesuits had a long history of scientific development over the millennia. The brother and sister monks discovered many of the principles that made everyday living possible. If the VIPs were going to pay them a visit, Hondo thought he might be able to get a glimpse of a few of the monks when they came out to meet them.
Hanaburgh had the post outside the gate into the monastery, and he greeted Hondo as he strode up to him.
“Have you beaten off any Grubs?” Hondo
asked him.
“Not many. About fifty when I got here, then another hundred or so since then. It’s been pretty quiet.”
“Well, the monastery is still standing, so I guess you did your job. Keep it up.”
“So, who’re the VIPs?” Hanaburgh asked.
“Who isn’t a VIP now?” Hondo answered with a laugh.
“You’ve got that right, I guess.”
Since the task force had departed, more than a few officials, both UAM and Brotherhood, had come to be briefed by the rear-party commander. These VIPs, though, were probably a little more VIP-ish than the others, given how they had arrived and the interest that was given to them.
“Sergeant McKeever, they’ve just passed me,” Morales passed.
“How many are they?”
“Two beetles,” Morales said.
“There’re only two beetles,” he told Hanaburgh. “So, maybe they aren’t all that.”
“Only two? Heck, we had ten big black hovers when the provincial staff came.”
A beetle was the nickname given to the four-passenger expeditionary hovers that were used to transport personnel back and forth in a secure area. Most VIPs seemed to travel with a retinue whose size corresponded with how important they thought they were. If there were only two beetles, then these VIPs might not be that high on the pecking order, despite the briefing the Marines had received.
Hondo turned back towards the camp, and in time, the beetles appeared from behind the curve. A few minutes later, they arrived, coming to a stop outside the stone-covered walkway that led up the hill to the main gate.
The front door of the first beetle opened, and to Hondo’s surprise, First Sergeant Nordstrand stepped out. The first sergeant was recovering well, the plastiflesh peeking out from under his collar the only sign of his injury. He should have been medivaced back to division to undergo regen, but he’d managed to work his bolt to stay with the company, as depleted as it was. There was no way he was combat effective, but the SNCO mafia had ways to bend the rules when they wanted.
The Price of Honor (The United Federation Marine Corps' Grub Wars Book 2) Page 18
