by John Ringo
"You could have told us," Father O'Reilly said dryly.
"All those years I was scrimping and scraping and little did I know my daddy owned the Galaxy," Cally said bitterly. "Wait, if they kill him in deep space . . ."
"It all reverts," Father O'Reilly said. "Galactic law holds, not Earth's. No inheritance."
"I thought it reverted to the Clan," Cally said.
"Not if he doesn't transfer it, first," Father O'Reilly said. "And he has to be in a Galactic Court to do the transfer. And it has to be accepted by the Court. Which is made up of . . ."
"Darhel," Cally said, bitterly. "Right. Like they're going to accept him turning it over to the Clan."
"There is one option, but it is poorly known and even more poorly understood, even by Indowy," Terool said. "He can make suit to the Aldenata . . ."
"They're legends," Mike said. "I mean, I know you Indowy think they're gods, even the Posleen refer to them, if in less than affectionate terms, but . . ."
"They are not legend," Tak said. "I cannot believe I am saying this but it is necessary. And I think my time among . . . among humans has worn upon me. But this is the best chance I have ever heard of to destroy the Darhel monopoly. It must be taken. This is the truth. The Aldenata exist. They are as real as you or I. But they are ancient, old beyond belief. And . . . changed. They no longer exist as you or I but in another form. But they are the ultimate judges of all the actions of the Darhel as well as the Indowy and the Tchpth. We are the Children of the Aldenata. They are our masters. They can compel the Darhel to pay you, in cash if necessary. And if you place your plea before the Aldenata then it may be heard. It will be slow, though. And if you perish in the interim, the suit is closed."
"So, what you're telling me is that, A, the Darhel want me, not to mention my entire corps, dead because I know about their manipulation of humans from prehistory," Mike said. "And, B, they want me dead because I've got the financial potential to destroy them in an instant. And my only chance of back-up is some sort of super-being that might or might not even bother to hear me? And if they manage to whack me in the meantime, that the suit is closed. Which effectively puts a several trillion credit . . . no, probably more than that, price on my head? Not to mention stuck in the ass end of the galaxy with no ship home I can trust?"
"Whoa," General Corval said. "I thought I was fucked, sir."
"Okay, this is coming at me a little fast," Cally said, shaking her head. "Forget the super-beings, although we're going to have a talk later, Terool. Forget Daddy Dearest owning the Darhel and not the other way around. We've got a corps about to get 'losted' if we don't do something. Let's just focus on that."
"Even if we could intercept the orders, it would only be a stop-gap," Terool said. "And it would reveal many of our most prized sources, the few we have left. When the Darhel realized the task force had not been destroyed they would be more thorough. And since they now realize the depth of our penetration they will undoubtedly send redundant messages to Tirs on distant worlds to ensure its destruction."
"There has to be something we can do," Cally said desperately. Her faction had fought as hard as it could against the "accidents" with colony transports. But terrible as those were, the loss of an entire corps of ACS was . . . The horror was beyond fathoming.
"What about Michelle?" Cally continued.
"You can contact your sister, of course," Terool said. "But I'm unsure she can do more than we are attempting. The Sohon have abilities sometimes beyond understanding. But they are not gods."
"I'll send her a message," Cally said, her face hard. "But if we fail? If they destroy the corps?"
"Destroying the corps, indeed any killing of an acting service person, is a violation of the Compact," Terool said.
"So you agree?" Cally said, her eyes lighting. "This is open season on Darhel?"
"Yes," Terool said, sighing. "That time has come. Or is coming at least."
"I can't exactly be happy that it takes losing several thousand soldiers for that," Cally said, rubbing her hands. "But . . . I'm gonna get to kill Darhelll . . ." she started to sing, dancing and waving her hands in the air. "I'm gonna get to kill Darhelllll . . ."
"Unless we need them," Father O'Reilly said.
"What?"
"We need them."
Sixteen minds linked across four thousand light years. The youngest of the Queens was a bare thousand years old, the eldest had seen the near death of their race and the Long Flight. Each had lived long lives as other entities, scouts, workers, managers, scientists then warriors. Neuter, male and finally female, they were the best their race could offer to the vagaries of fate.
Between them, although they did not track every sparrow on every world, they knew the comings and goings, the machinations, plans, wars of every sentient race in the galaxy. Minds like cold computers watched those races, tended them like rose gardens, built alliances, often on both sides of mortal conflicts, built each of them as potential allies against the day that their race might once again face The Enemy.
And now was that day. Not The Enemy but another race fleeing them. A race equally as inimical, nearly as deadly. But . . . not quite.
Rheldlche was one of the youngest. Not headstrong—no Queen was—but far less cautious than, say, Shulkin, the Ancient One.
"The Hedren come. The human ACS is the best weapon against the Hedren in my region."
"We would have to Expose," Larrghgha replied. The older Queen controlled the region the humans called the Scutum-Crux. One of the first of the newer generation, She was Rheldlche's mother, not that that meant anything between Queens. Genetic derivation meant little to the Himmit. Besides, they all were children of Skulkin in one way or another. "Such an action would be impossible to Hide."
"Agreement."
Shulkin rarely entered into discussions in the last hundred years. The Ancient One was nearing senescence. But her word was still law in the galaxy.
"There is a replacement for the ACS," the Ancient One said. "Emphasize increases among the Sohon. It is time to release the humans from their thrall. And make contact with their former enemies."
Chapter Four
In fragments of an instant
The chaos has returned
And all that was left to sentiment
Beneath the banner burned
—
Crüxshadows
"Eye of the Storm"
"We cannot keep meeting like this," Michelle said, taking a careful sip from the bulb of distilled water.
"Hey, you started this," Cally replied to her sister, taking a less cautious sip from her beer. She wasn't taking an anti-alcohol pill so it was not going to have much more effect than water. "And this is too important to use the chain. I take it we're not being monitored."
"Of course not," Michelle said. "Nonetheless, you could have been followed."
"In your dreams, God-girl," Cally snapped.
"Important," Michelle said, ignoring the jibe.
"It's about . . . Dad," Cally said, sighing.
"Father?" Michelle asked, raising an eyebrow.
Cally hated when she did that. It made her look just too damned much like a certain TV character. She was pretty sure her sister did it on purpose.
"Yes, 'Father'," Cally said. "He's gotten himself in the deep cacky."
She briefly and more or less coherently explained what had only recently been brought to her attention. Reading Michelle, except for the very few times her sister got angry, was difficult. But Cally was pretty sure something was starting to get Michelle mighty pissed.
"The Bane Sidhe know about this?" Michelle asked. "The interference of the Darhel over centuries?"
"Well who do you think I got it from?" Cally asked. "The tooth fairy?"
"I find that simply fascinating," Michelle said. "Because as far as I was aware, I had been brought in on all the great secrets held by the clan masters and Sohon. And I surely was unaware. I wonder what else they failed to inform me of."
&nb
sp; "Does your pride really matter right now?" Cally said. "There is an entire corps of ACS on the line. And our father's life!"
"We must, of course, do what we can for our Clan Leader," Michelle said. "However, the fact that I was not informed of any of this has large implications. A Sohon must constantly tread a fine line. Without knowing the potential stumbling blocks in the way, it is difficult to do so. I must meet with the other human Sohon and determine if it is only I who was left in ignorance. Given the political mess you created, that is possible."
"I was sort of hoping that you could use your magic god powers to save his ass," Cally hissed, leaning forward. "Hello! Father! Clan Leader? Not to mention a few thousand other humans? Tens of thousands?"
"Oh, you are so impatient," Michelle replied disparagingly. She gave a slight shake of her head, then closed her eyes. "The orders are not to have the fleet lost in hyperspace."
"Oh, thank God," Cally said. "You're sure?"
"I did not say that you would like the orders," Michelle said, opening her eyes. "Because you won't. And worse. Even with my powers, we're too late."
"Nice job, General."
The camp had taken only a day to emplace despite the fact that they'd done it no more than a couple of times before. It helped that the tents were memory plastic.
But in a day there were thermally pressed streets, living tents, mess tents, supply, maintenance, all the things that made for a functioning small city. And a wall. Mike made it a habit to put in a berm whenever they were in place for more than a day. With a corps of ACS and shovels that were tough enough it was a bit easier than with an equal number of engineers and bulldozers. Before the gates flapped the shot-torn banner of the corps, a boar on a red field and the slogan "Disce Pati."
The Eleventh Corps was settling in for a rest with all the trimmings. Not a long one but it was nice to feel wind on your face and get that damned armor off on a planet.
Some of the troops were wandering those streets, visiting friends from other companies and battalions, headed to the chapel, headed to the rec rooms and mess halls. But not many. Mike would guess that most of them were racked out. Later he'd have to figure out something to keep them occupied but for now they were content to just rest, all but the very few—no more than a short company—still suited up to guard the perimeter on the off chance of a Posleen feral showing up.
It was a sham, of course. Until they figured out a way to get back to Earth, safely, this was home. Which was why he'd had all the rations from the ships shuttled down.
"We've got supplies for about ninety days," General Corval said. "So we should be good for a six week R & R. I've already placed thirty percent on complete standdown. We'll rotate that week by week."
"Works," Mike said. There were some of the corps on security around the camp. It was unlikely there would be an attack by the locals. They'd made contact with the other two tribes in the area and negotiated a cease-fire in their low-grade fights. With the Posleen wiped away from the lowlands the tribes were mostly squabbling over who got what territory, anyway. It was a time to talk, not fight.
"We'll need to get a training schedule in place," Mike said. "When they get rested, given that the recreation is going to be pretty damned limited here, we're going to have to keep them occupied or—"
"Incoming message from Admiral Suntoro," Shelly said.
"Crap," Mike muttered. "Any idea what he wants?"
"No."
Monosyllables again. Not a good sign.
"Put him on."
"General O'Neal," the admiral said, appearing as a hologram in front of the two officers. "I need to meet with you and your staff. Immediately."
"Gosh, Admiral, that's going to be hard," Mike replied. "We're kinda busy right now."
"I am in receipt of some orders that I think we need to discuss in person," the admiral replied. "I am willing to meet with you on the surface if you don't have time to shuttle up to the ship."
Mike raised an eyebrow at that and shrugged.
"Sure, Admiral," he said, smiling tightly. "I take it you don't want to meet at the camp?"
"The quieter we keep this the better," the admiral replied. "It looks as if you were right."
"I'll lay out an LZ," Mike said. "When?"
"One hour?"
"Works. O'Neal out."
He looked at Corval and smiled thinly again.
"I think the admiral's running scared. How say you?"
"I think we'd better wear armor."
"Oh, yeah."
Julio wasn't wandering the camp. He was off duty and had obtained permission to "liaison with the locals."
At present that consisted of accompanying Urnhat up a steep slope. The general had hinted that he wanted a place to put some caches of gear and the Nor knew all the caves in the area. According to the Nor queen or whatever she was there was an extensive series in this area of the valley. Not as big as where the Nor had hid from the Posleen, but big enough to put some gear.
Despite the fact that he was on a semi-official mission, he'd left his AID behind. Some of the guys didn't care what an AID saw. He was still too green for that. Sometimes three were a crowd even if one of them was an artificial intelligence.
Of course that left a bit of difficulty with conversation, but he was slogging ahead. A guy could dream.
"This is real pretty country," he said, more or less to himself.
The girl turned her head and smiled at him, then gabbled in the local language.
"I know, I'm an idiot," Julio replied, stopping and touching a plant, lightly. He'd learned from even his limited experience that some plants were nasty.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Shundi," Urnhat replied.
"That tells me so much," the trooper said, laughing. "I grew up in a city, a Sub-Urb. I never saw the stars till I was in training. Much less green plants. For all I know, this could be one of the plants from Earth."
"Urt," Urnhat said. "Are?" She lifted her head and clicked her tongue, the local equivalent of a head shake. "Akri." She walked to another of the bushes and pulled at the leaves, stripping some of them off. "Are," she said, holding them out.
Looking at the two plants Julio could see some differences. Colors were different, but plants could be all sorts of colors. But the leaves of the local plant didn't have veins.
"Caves?" he asked, gesturing up the slope. "Holes?"
"Gafe," the girl said, gesturing and continuing to walk. "Tang seeu."
"Yeah," Julio said. "Thank you, too."
He looked over his shoulder at the distant camp then frowned as a group of suits left the front gate and began bounding towards the southern ridgeline. They looked to be in a hurry.
"Thanks for leaving me behind," General Corval said over the net.
"Somebody had to keep things running with me gone," Mike said, bounding up the slope.
"Humph," the chief of staff replied. "You just wanted to go running."
"I hate running and you know it," Mike said as the group of suits reached the crest. They bounded downslope to a reasonably flat spot and Mike dropped a dust-off beacon.
"Sensors report a shuttle inbound," General Corval said.
"Right on time," Mike replied. "Any more of them or just the one?"
There wasn't a reply and he frowned.
"Corval, anything else? Shelly, what's wrong with commo?"
"We have a solid link with the camp communications," the AID replied.
"Retrans the sensor data to me," Mike said, his forehead wrinkling.
"I am unable to access that data at this time, General."
Mike's spine went cold and he looked upwards. He could see the heat track of the shuttle inbound but now he didn't need sensors to see what else was inbound.
Something made Julio look up and then he stopped, frozen in his tracks. He might be nearly totally green, but he knew what he was looking at in an instant.
"INCOMING!" he screamed, diving and hitting Urnhat at the knees.
"Get down, you stupid bitch!"
Mike bounded to the top of the slope just as the first of the projectiles impacted. The troops had probably gone to ground but against an orbital strike there wasn't much they could do.
