Rebellion of Stars (Starship Blackbeard Book 4)

by Michael Wallace

  It was the pod all right, way down in the mud, where it must have been settling since it fell, sinking until it was nearly buried. Another day or so, and it might disappear entirely. Tolvern came up, lungs bursting.

  “I found it!”

  Nobody cared. It was all commotion on the bank. Carvalho yelled at her to get out of the water. She swam furiously for the shore, and he came in up to his waist to grab her arms. He dragged her into the reeds, where they promptly fell into the mud.

  The Hroom were shouting, and the air sizzled with the sound of electricity and the smell of ozone. Something huge splashed behind Tolvern, but she was tangled with Carvalho and mired in the mud and couldn’t get up. Brockett screamed for them to get out and onto dry land.

  “Get off me!” Carvalho said.

  “I’m trying!”

  A roar of pain from behind them, another huge splash, and the Hroom fell silent, except for gasps and short, relieved-sounding conversations. Whatever it was, it was over.

  Tolvern was face to face with Carvalho. He looked up at her and grinned through his mud-splattered face.

  “Well, Tolvern, I thought it might be pleasant to have you naked on top of me, but I thought perhaps we might do it in private.”

  She picked herself up with a grunt, then helped him to his feet without covering herself. She refused to be embarrassed by her state of undress. The scoundrel had the nerve to let his eyes roam up and down her muddy body.

  “Are you literally waggling your eyebrows at me?” she asked.

  “Very well, I will stop.” He gave her a mocking shrug and turned his back.

  She returned cautiously to the water’s edge to wash up. Without ever taking her eyes from the water, which still swirled from whatever had disturbed it, she hurriedly splashed some of the mud from her body. Carvalho did the same to one side, no longer staring at her.

  Once back on shore, she told Pez Rykan what she’d found as she picked off leeches. He still seemed suspicious.

  “I’ll swim down with the rope myself,” she said. “There’s a big hook along one side where I can tie it. There’s that monster to think about, though.”

  “We gave it a severe jolt with our weapons,” the chief said. “I believe it will look for an easier meal, at least for now. There would be no better time to go than this moment.”

  Tolvern didn’t relish the thought of returning to the water. But there seemed to be no other option. Carvalho offered to go, and she supposed she could have even pressed Brockett into action. He’d been lounging on the shore this whole time, after all. But no.

  Soon enough, she was back in the water and diving with the rope. For all Pez Rykan’s reassurances, he kept his forces poised at the shore to defend her. Thankfully, the creature didn’t return. Soon, she had the rope secured and was safely out of the water.

  The rope was strong enough, but the pod had nearly buried itself deep in the mud. Working together, human and Hroom, they heaved for several minutes with little effort, but by now, Pez Rykan seemed convinced and wouldn’t give up. He sent his Hroom to dive and dig through the mud to try to free the massive thing. Shortly, the straining rope caught a little slack. They redoubled their effort.

  The pod came loose at last, popping out like a rotten tooth. There must have remained a small pocket of air, because once it was free of the mud, it had enough buoyancy that they were able to drag the whole thing into the reeds. There it sat, immobile, as inky water, mud, and squirming, eel-like fish drained out.

  It took a few minutes of hauling out the sealed supply boxes before they got to the larger containers holding thousands of doses of sugar antidote. Carvalho and Tolvern dragged out one of the containers to Brockett, who popped the seal. Tolvern held her breath, worried that water had infiltrated and destroyed it all.

  It had not. Inside, the individual boxes were all intact and dry. The individual gelatin caplets containing the antidote were undamaged.

  Tolvern, excited, grabbed Carvalho by the shoulders and shook him. He stared back, grinning.

  “All right, Tolvern. All right. You are going to shake my teeth right out of my skull.”

  Pez Rykan stood next to them, watching with a solemn expression. “What is this?”

  Tolvern stretched to clap him on the shoulder, forgetting momentarily that he’d been threatening to torture them to death only minutes earlier, and that in any event, he was not Nyb Pim, but a strange and brooding Hroom.

  “This, my friend, is your magic weapon. It may not look like much, but it will change the course of the war.”

  “It does not look like anything. It looks like little pills.”

  “Only to the untrained eye, you grumpy Hroom. This is a weapon, believe me.”

  “Speak plainly. I do not like your riddles.”

  “A cure, Pez Rykan. An antidote. Feed this to an eater, and he is cured forever.”

  #

  There was a great deal of excitement in the camp when the Hroom realized what their chief had brought back with him. Arguments broke out, presumably about whether or not it was another human lie.

  Tolvern insisted they release Nyb Pim. They shoved him roughly from the house where he’d been confined all day, and he told the other Hroom that he’d received the sugar antidote himself, and that it worked. Brockett produced a sugar sample, at which point the entire village fell silent. Horror on some faces, naked desire on others. Long tongues darted over lips as if in anticipation.

  Once an eater, always an eater.

  Tolvern had heard that expression a thousand times, usually from those convinced of the weak moral fiber of your typical Hroom and the weakness and decadence of the Hroom civilization. Practically speaking, there was some truth in it. You could cure a Hroom of short-term addiction, but you could never cure him entirely. He was always one taste away from utter collapse into depravity.

  Nyb Pim tore the top off the sugar packet. He tilted his head and poured the sugar into his mouth. There was a collective gasp.

  The Hroom watched Nyb Pim, wide-eyed, waiting for him to swoon. Tolvern half expected it herself, even though she knew better.

  “I don’t like the way they’re looking at me,” Brockett whispered.

  “They know you have more sugar.”

  “I do! There’s some in my pocket.”

  “I wouldn’t advertise the fact.”

  She glanced at the Hroom. Most of them were staring at Nyb Pim, but some fixed their attention on the young science officer, as if they would tear his clothes off to search every body cavity for hidden sugar. How did Pez Rykan lead these people in attacking the sugar plantations without them fighting their way to the nearest mill and eating themselves to oblivion?

  Nyb Pim remained calm and clear-eyed. It soon became obvious that nothing would happen to him. The sugar had been rendered harmless.

  Someone exclaimed in surprise, and then all the Hroom exploded into chatter for several minutes. Tolvern watched them, amused. For a people who had built a long-lived empire stretching across dozens of star systems, they were surprisingly naïve. How easy it would have been to fake the whole experiment. How did they even know it was sugar Brockett fed Nyb Pim? Could have been some other substance. Could have been salt. The whole thing could be a plot to addict the remaining free Hroom on the planet. That’s what a human would be thinking.

  Two Hroom began to edge over to where the three humans stood together. The rest clustered around Nyb Pim, babbling questions.

  “You have got some of that antidote on you?” Carvalho asked, watching the approaching Hroom through narrowed eyes. “Might want to break it out right about now.”

  “I was thinking about that,” Brockett said, looking distracted. “If we cut the dosage—”

  Tolvern and Carvalho shielded him. “Maybe we’ll worry about that later,” she said.

  She motioned for Pez Rykan to come over. The chief scowled, a facial expression that transferred readily between Hroom and human, but he came to her. As he did, the ap
proaching pair faded back toward those surrounding Nyb Pim.

  “I do not like that gesture, human,” Pez Rykan said. “It is the gesture of a taskmaster to his slave.”

  “Call me by my name, and I’ll call you by yours. Like two civilized beings. Anyway, that’s not how I meant it. Listen, we’ve got to distribute the antidote to your people as fast as possible.”

  “I am not yet decided.”

  “No?” she said. “Then you’d better stand guard over those crates we hauled back. You’ve got eaters in your village. Reformed, yes, but not fully cured. Someone is going to get the idea that destroying the antidote is the best course.”

  “Ah. Yes, I see. I believe you are right.”

  “You know I’m right.”

  “And then what? Say I do what you ask?”

  Tolvern smiled. “How far did you say the nearest plantation is from here? A day’s march?”

  “That is correct.”

  “And what would happen if thousands of sugar slaves suddenly became immune?”

  Pez Rykan stared at her for a long moment. Understanding dawned on his face.

  “Yes,” she told him. “Now you see.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Late the next day, when the company had stopped to camp before the final approach to the plantation, Tolvern finally reached someone on the handheld computer she’d rescued from the away pod. To her surprise, it was Henny Capp who appeared on the other side.

  “You!” she said.

  Capp grinned insolently. “Aye. Were you expecting Malthorne?”

  Tolvern had tried to raise Blackbeard yesterday, but failed. She tried a couple of other ships in the fleet, but nobody answered. But she guessed Drake was out there; how else to explain the orbital battle she’d witnessed? Could he be attempting to seize the forts? She sent a cautious, coded message to the forts. Fort Gamma answered.

  “Where you been?” Capp asked. “King’s balls, we thought you’d been killed.”

  “Nope. Not dead. What the devil are you doing?”

  The other woman leaned back in her chair, her hands behind her shaved head. “I’m in charge of this joint, wouldn’t you believe it?”

  “Frankly, no,” Tolvern said, laughing. “I don’t believe that for one second.”

  “You’d better, ’cause it’s the God’s honest truth. Cap’n forced this Gibbs lady to surrender, but he don’t trust her yet. Wants me to hold things down until we get stuff figured out. Then we’ll be off again.”

  “Where?”

  “Oh, you know. It’s that bastard Lindsell. He’s keeping us from getting our goods here and all.”

  “What about Dreadnought?”

  “Nope, she ain’t here yet. You don’t need to know nothing about that, what with your own troubles. Listen, you taking care of that big oaf of mine?”

  Tolvern cast a glance at the camp, where two Hroom were showing Carvalho and Brockett how to gut and dress a large, scaly, pig-like thing they’d shot in the underbrush. Carvalho plunged his arms into the beast’s abdomen and pulled out a mess of guts. Brockett looked pale and swallowed hard.

  “A few narrow scrapes, but we’re all right,” Tolvern said. “I still don’t understand. How are you in charge? Nyb Pim is with me. Who’s piloting Blackbeard?”

  “Rutherford’s subpilot. It’s me and some of the boys down here now. Anyone acts up before Drake puts Gibbs back in charge, we’ll knock ’em around a bit. Want me to put you through to the cap’n?”

  She was tempted. “No, better not. We should close this channel. Tell Drake we’ve made successful contact with rebellious Hroom. There aren’t many—it’s really just one small village of survivors—but we’re about to change that.”

  “Aye.” Capp scratched at her head. “Hey, Tolvern. That boy of mine try anything?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Capp winked. “You know.”

  Tolvern thought of Carvalho’s innuendo that first night. And how she’d fallen on top of him in the mud wearing only her underwear. Then there was the bet Capp and Carvalho had about whether he’d bed Tolvern.

  “No, not really.”

  “Ah, I thought he would. You know, he was telling me he could get inside your pants the first night on the ground.”

  “We were kind of trying to stay alive. No time for that sort of thing.”

  “Not that I think you will, luv—you’re only hot for the cap’n, as anyone but Drake can see—but you got my blessing if you’re keen. Long time down there alone, and me and Carvalho ain’t got the sort of relationship where we get all jealous-like. Anyway, there’s this bloke in the gunnery what was showing me his tools, and I been thinking . . . anyway, you want to take my fellow out for a ride, you got my blessing.”

  “That’s good to know, Capp,” Tolvern said dryly. “If I feel the need for a man’s body, it’s nice to know that you will lend me one to ravage.”

  “That’s what I’m saying!”

  “It will be strictly professional, I assure you. Now get a message to Drake to tell him what’s going on. And send me word if anything changes up there. I intend to stir up some trouble, and it would be helpful to know if Dreadnought is about to drop a thousand marines on my head.”

  “You got it, Tolvern. Keep ’em all alive down there.”

  The line went dead. Carvalho was sawing with his knife at their dinner, while the Hroom showed Brockett how they lit a small cookfire in the damp conditions. Others cut dead fronds to feed the blaze. The Hroom were armed now with assault rifles, shotguns, and small hand cannons, courtesy of the goods salvaged from the rescue pod.

  Tolvern eyed Carvalho again, now heaving up a massive haunch of meat to skewer it on a long pole held by Nyb Pim. He’d stripped off his shirt, and his bronzed muscles rippled, sweat running down them from the unrelenting heat. He was a fine specimen of masculinity, that was for sure. And Capp had offered. Hell, she’d practically begged Tolvern to do something with her man.

  Nah. Put that thought out of your mind.

  Tolvern didn’t have time for that kind of nonsense. She had an attack to plan.

  #

  They crept onto the perimeter of the sugar plantation early the next morning, when it was still more black than gray. The trees gave way to sharp grass and creeping vines, and then they hit a green wall.

  One moment, the red Hroom jungle. Then a narrow burned strip to divide the incompatible human and Hroom vegetation, followed by tall, grass-like sugar cane. Tolvern filled her lungs as they pushed into the woody stalks. It was still so hot that each breath felt like steam, but the cane smelled green. A familiar smell. Comforting. There was a slight sweetness in the air. It wasn’t coming from the cane, though, but from smoke. Cane fields being scorched in preparation for harvest.

  Pez Rykan’s Hroom had all taken the antidote yesterday, but at the moment, it would only be partially effective. They wouldn’t gain anything by hacking off cane and sucking out the juice; only in its purest white form did it have an effect. But still, from the way their breathing quickened around her, at least some of them were thinking of how to raid the sugar stores. Maybe even whether to surrender to the first humans they found.

  The sound of singing reached her ears. No, not singing so much as full-throated humming. Pez Rykan stopped and tilted his head to listen. He gestured to their right. They pushed through the cane and into a clearing. It was the edge of a vast gash of severed cane stalks that stretched toward some hills on the horizon. Sugar cane stalks by the tens of millions, with just the cut part that she could see representing thousands of tons of sugar. Smoke trailed from a pair of distant refineries.

  The humming came from roughly forty Hroom cutting and stacking sugarcane nearby. Working with machetes, the stronger ones cut it, while others tied it into huge bundles to be carried off by still more slaves toward a muddy plantation road. These hefted the bundles onto their backs, with straps around their foreheads to stabilize and distribute the weight. When they reached the road, they load
ed the bundles onto one of several lorries. Other teams worked nearby, with several hundred slaves visible from where the rebels stood.

  Pez Rykan’s forces came to a complete stop as they took in the scene. To a person, Hroom and human alike gaped at the size and scope of even this tiniest part of Lord Malthorne’s estate.

  At the same time, the humming died. The nearest group of slaves looked at them. One, Tolvern noted, was taller than the others, and his skin was purple, unlike the pinks and pale, mottled reds of the others.

  “Move!” Tolvern said.

  She unslung her rifle and broke into a run, charging the small pack of slaves. Carvalho came after her. Pez Rykan and the Hroom followed, their guns and energy weapons at the ready.

  Tolvern lowered her shoulder to knock aside a slave who impeded her path. Most of them had the glazed expression of those who’d recently taken their sugar and would have practically let you saw off a limb without complaint. Others moved to block her, but she and Carvalho smashed them out of the way with rifle butts when they didn’t move fast enough.

  They reached the tall, purple Hroom. He wore a belt on his worksuit, with a whip on one side and a handheld stun gun on the other. He fished a computer from a hip pocket and lifted it to his mouth, as if only now recognizing the threat and calling for help.

  This was the overseer. Not an eater, and in communication with the humans of the plantation. He would understand English.

  Tolvern lifted her gun. “Put it down!”

  The overseer lowered the computer. She barked at him to drop it, and he did. Carvalho forced him to his knees, and Tolvern turned to help Pez Rykan.

  The rebels quickly herded the slaves into a small cluster. Pez Rykan spoke to them in a hooting, jeering tone, meant, Tolvern thought, to intimidate them. Several tried to edge away, but Tolvern caught them before they could break free, and drove them back in with the others.

  Brockett and Nyb Pim moved through the captives, with Pez Rykan’s Hroom forcing the slaves to bend with mouths open, and Brockett and Nyb Pim sticking a caplet in their mouths. He was unarmed, but carried a sling pack from the pod holding several thousand doses in small boxes. A few slaves balked, either in the taking or swallowing of the caplet, but the rebels forced compliance at gunpoint. Soon, they had given a dose to every slave and forced him or her to swallow it down.