Nua'll
Page 19
“Do tell?” Tatia rejoined, displaying a wicked grin.
“Three of them can operate plasma rifles. If they’re trapped, they can make their own exit,” Myron replied.
-19-
Homsaff
In a city-ship bay, Myron stood next to a packing crate. On top of it lay three plasma rifles. On the other side of the crate, Homsaff and her squad leaders, Simlan and Hessan, waited.
“We risk explosive decompression,” Homsaff objected, eyeing the powerful weapons.
“I’ve thought of that,” Myron replied. “There’s a way to exit a closed bay if you can’t find your way back to the original ingress point. You have your locators, right?”
The Dischnya held up their right arms to indicate Mickey and Luther’s hastily constructed tools.
“Julien loaded those locators with the interior architecture of the New Terra. It will hold your point of ingress, and you’ll be able to track your movement around the ship’s construction.”
“How?” asked Simlan, his brow furrowing.
“Two travelers will be keeping station beside and above the colony ship. They will triangulate your comm signal and update your position. That will be combined with your own movements through the ship and will keep your position accurate,” Myron explained.
“The ship is large, larger than any we’ve seen,” Homsaff stated.
“True,” Myron agreed. “If you journey deep enough in the ship, we might lose your comm signal, but the transmitters you’ll be carrying should help with that. It’s also why the locators will track your steps.”
“How long do you think this assignment will last?” Hessan asked. His mate was about to deliver their first pups. Although he wasn’t required to be in attendance, he had wanted to be near to share in the joy.
“Undetermined,” Myron admitted. “You’ll have food and water for fourteen days. At the end of that time, you’re expected to exit and board a traveler.”
“What is your concept for exiting with the plasma rifles?” Homsaff requested.
Myron launched into an explanation of how the Dischnya could find an airlock that accessed a bay. If the bay doors were open, the job was done. If the doors were closed and the bay systems inoperable, they could plant the plasma rifle firmly in place, with tools or what-have-you, and set the firing timer. Then they could retreat through the airlock, and let the plasma rifle punch a hole in the bay doors.
“With fortune, Commandant,” Simlan replied, eyeing the dangerous weapons, “we’ll find an open bay to gain our exit.”
Simlan was the older and far wiser of the two squad supervisors, although he had to give credit to Hessan for his cleverness, which had served them well in communicating with the captive Harakens annuals ago.
“If nothing else,” Hessan piped up, “we could threaten Faustus with these.”
“Now, you’re thinking,” Myron said appreciatively.
“You’re requesting we take three, one for each of us,” Homsaff said, glancing at Simlan and Hessan.
“Yes, it’s important that if you separate your command, Homsaff, that the groups number no more than three and that one of you are with each group,” Myron replied. “That way the team will always be able to generate an exit.”
“Why did we not use these weapons when we boarded the warship?” Homsaff asked.
“They weren’t permitted, at the time. Besides, we had Z and Miranda with us,” Myron said.
Homsaff regarded the weapons for a few moments, her mind piecing together various pieces of information. She walked the space between two cultures, one old and tribal and the other young and technological. Balance was always in jeopardy.
“My thanks for your instructions, Commandant, but we’ll not use these rifles,” Homsaff stated firmly.
Myron’s training as a TSF senior noncom surfaced, and he declared, “This is an order, Homsaff. I’m requiring you to take them.”
Simlan and Hessan bristled, and Homsaff returned Myron’s hot stare, her yellow eyes glowing.
“You may order your trainee, Commandant, but you may not command a Dischnya queen, especially in that tone,” Homsaff growled out.
“My apologies, Queen Homsaff,” Myron replied quickly, realizing he’d crossed one of the lines of Dischnya manners. “I only meant to ensure that you and your warriors were protected.”
Homsaff ignored the apology. In the Dischnya world, a queen was due that deference. Accepting it implied weakness.
“Did Dassata require us to take these rifles?” Homsaff asked.
“No,” Myron replied. “He said it was your choice.”
“Then my choice has been made,” Homsaff declared. She turned and made for the bay’s exit, with Simlan and Hessan close on her heels.
The three Dischnya worked their way around the perimeter of the Freedom to their assigned bay, where a traveler waited for them. Warriors helped the threesome don their environment suits and gear. In addition, each carried packs of food, water, medical supplies, and some small gear.
“Ready to board,” a crew chief announced. He directed the warriors and squad leaders in teams through the airlock, and the Dischnya leapt aboard, ignoring the ship’s hatch steps.
“Ser?” the crew chief asked politely, when Homsaff made no move to join her warriors.
“He will come,” Homsaff announced quietly.
The crew chief was curious as to who the Dischnya queen referenced, when he saw Alex and Julien walking quickly around the curved corridor. Then, he politely stepped away to give her privacy.
Homsaff tipped her muzzle up slightly, a Dischnya indication that a queen had been kept waiting. Alex grinned at her, and she chortled in reply. In some cases, they were equals; in many cases, they were not.
“No plasma rifle?” asked Alex, when he stopped in front of Homsaff.
“My choice,” Homsaff replied.
“Hmm,” was all that Alex said, but he nodded his head in approval, and Homsaff’s eyes glinted, with appreciation.
“About the moon, where the colony ship rests,” Alex said, “There’ll be no atmosphere to breathe.”
“This is known, Dassata,” Homsaff returned.
“Telemetry suggests that the moon is composed primarily of compacted rock,” Alex continued. “Despite its immense size, gravity will be about half that of Omnia. Stress this to your warriors. Otherwise, they’ll be bouncing off the bulkheads and overheads.”
“This wasn’t known,” Homsaff replied, slightly chastened.
“What has the Commandant told you of your mission?” asked Alex.
“We’re to ignore the drones or any other attempts to prevent us from locating Faustus. Our first target will be the bridge. We have Mickey’s tools to guide us,” Homsaff said, her muzzle tipping toward the device on her arm. “We’ve fourteen days to locate the alien. After that, we must exit the ship.”
“And when you locate Faustus?” Alex asked.
“We take the alien prisoner, stunning the entity, if necessary,” Homsaff said, reciting her directive.
“Excellent, Homsaff. I wish you good fortune,” Alex replied.
Homsaff eyed the Omnian leader. It was inappropriate for a queen to bestow affection, although Nyslara frequently gifted Dassata. But Homsaff wasn’t the great Queen Nyslara. Instead, she asked, “Do you have any words of wisdom for me, Dassata?”
Alex took a breath and let it out slowly. His dreams had encouraged him to take Homsaff with him, and he’d followed their calling. At this moment, he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t regret that decision. Homsaff was a young queen, brave and fierce. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe, knowing full well she’d hate that.
“Once aboard the New Terra, you’ll be alone with your warriors and carrying the responsibility of the mission,” Alex began. “You might be inclined to think of what Myron or I might do if the situations you encounter become difficult. That would be a mistake.”
“Who would you advise I emulate?” asked Homsaff.
&
nbsp; “Pussiro,” Alex replied.
“Yes,” Homsaff said, with a hiss, “one of our most successful wasats. He was a cunning warrior commander, in his time.”
Homsaff gave a quick salute to Alex and Julien. Then she turned and followed the crew chief into the airlock.
As Alex and Julien walked away, the SADE said, “They want to be a part of a modern society. It’s their right to fight for the freedom of the combined worlds.”
“I don’t disagree, my friend,” Alex said. “I just lament that we’re always fighting one group or another to maintain these freedoms. Why are some races never satisfied with what they have? Why do they always want more?”
* * *
A traveler, loaded with Dischnya, a human engineer, and Miriam, exited the Freedom, and worked its way through the rock fields to the dust gray moon. The ship dropped level with the New Terra’s open bay, and the pilot, Miriam, the engineer, and those assembled on the Freedom’s bridge, examined the bay’s interior.
The bay was completely empty — no shuttles, no crates, nothing — only metal patches over the rear bulkhead which would abut the corridors beyond.
There was ample room for the traveler to slide into the cavernous bay. The pilot was careful to reverse the ship’s orientation in case a quick exit was required.
Homsaff walked the ship’s aisle from bow to aft end. She carefully observed each warrior to ensure they were prepared to exit the craft, including checking their comm signal.
Miriam and the engineer remained seated. It was obvious to them that Homsaff was taking the opportunity to exhibit command influence.
“Squad leaders, form your teams,” Homsaff ordered over the comm, when she was satisfied. When the Dischnya filled the aisle, Homsaff called the pilot, who dropped the hatch.
Homsaff hopped through the opening. She hit the deck and bounced, kicking her legs to keep her balance before she struck the deck again. Despite Alex’s warning, she was caught off guard by the reduced gravity. Her experience was limited to Omnia or a ship’s 1g gravity or weightlessness. She watched her warriors drop from the traveler. Every one of them, except Simlan, had difficulty with the jump.
When Simlan stood in the hatch opening, the old warrior eyed the distance to the deck and stepped out, as if he intended to fall half a meter to the deck, instead of the more than a full meter. He landed lightly, flashing his teeth through the helmet at Homsaff.
Simlan’s display to Homsaff contravened Dischnya manners, but the warriors had adopted many human habits. The flash of sharp teeth was meant to be an imitation of a human smile or grin. If Simlan’s jaw had yawned wider and his lips curled, Homsaff might have been insulted.
As the squads assembled, Homsaff considered Simlan’s management of the unexpected gravity, and she thought, You may lead, but there are assets in your team to value. She watched Miriam descend from the traveler, as if the SADE walked on air. The engineer did as well as Simlan.
At the airlock hatch, the engineer examined the ancient triggering mechanism. Figuring it couldn’t hurt to try, he chose to press the access plate. To his surprise, the airlock cycled, depressurized, and the bayside hatch released. He pulled it open and peered inside.
“Good fortune, Queen Homsaff,” Miriam said over the Dischnya’s comm channel, indicating the open hatch. “We’ll be waiting for your return.”
Homsaff raised a gloved hand to Miriam. Then she signaled the squad leaders forward. Within moments, the boarding party was in the colony ship’s corridor. Surprisingly, it was narrow, with piping running everywhere overhead. This was nothing like the Omnian ships’ spacious interiors.
The Dischnya were stretched into a long line, walking two by two. Simlan, leading his squad, faced the bow; Hessan’s squad faced aft; and Homsaff waited in the middle. This had been a contentious subject among the Dischnya. Homsaff had declared she would lead, but the warriors, especially the squad leaders, had objected.
“With respect, Homsaff, the boarding party has one leader, one strategist,” Simlan said, tipping his muzzle down. “If we lose you, we must abandon the search for Faustus until a SADE or an implanted Omnian joins us. According to Dassata, that would place them at risk.”
That was another moment of mental transition for Homsaff. She took a further step from a Dischnya queen to an Omnian leader. It was difficult for her to give up the privileged status she held, bestowed on her by her culture, but her desire to travel the stars was greater than that of holding on to the past.
“Forward, Simlan,” Homsaff said over the comm, and the boarding party worked its way along the corridor toward the bow.
Homsaff kept her eye on the locator display, which told her that the shuttle bay they had used was in the colony ship’s mid-level decks, halfway between the bow and the stern. They had many decks to climb and a long way to go to reach the ship’s bow, where the bridge was located. Whether they would find the alien, Faustus, there was another matter.
“A human is approaching,” Simlan relayed over the comm channel.
“Flatten against the right bulkhead,” Homsaff ordered.
When Homsaff’s pack hit the bulkhead, she leaned out to observe the drone’s movement. The male paused, stared at Simlan for a while and then rotated its head to view the line of warriors.
“I would say that Faustus is observing us, Homsaff,” Simlan said.
“Undoubtedly,” Homsaff replied.
After a few more moments of viewing, the biological, as Faustus referred to the subsumed humans, continued on its way, never giving the Dischnya another look.
“Lead on, Simlan,” Homsaff ordered. “Keep an eye out for stairs on your right. They should be coming up in about thirty meters.”
When Simlan located the stairs, the Dischnya took the steps two at a time, despite the suits, armament, and packs they wore. Their powerful legs, aided by the lessened gravity, aided their movement. During the climb of a series of decks, they didn’t encounter a single drone.
Once again, the boarding party was forced to advance two-by-two, as they navigated a narrow corridor.
“Blockage,” Simlan said, “We need you up front, Homsaff.”
-20-
Faustus
Simlan’s squad quickly hugged the right bulkhead to allow Homsaff to pass. As she did, they took up their previous positions.
Blockage was a perfect description for what Homsaff saw. Drones, at least forty deep, crowded the corridor and faced them. They stood in pairs, each pair backed by a single individual, who stood slightly behind and between them. The groups of three repeated over and over.
Simlan studied the density of the crowd and said, “If we stunned them, we would have to climb over them. There is every possibility that we would cause them harm.”
“I think Faustus knows that from our raid on the warship,” Homsaff reasoned. “We didn’t injure those humans, except to stun them. Afterwards, we carefully moved the bodies aside to make our exit.”
“We could do the same here,” Hessan said, from the team’s rear.
“And how many more humans can Faustus call?” Simlan asked.
“We could spend hours or maybe a day stunning and moving bodies,” Homsaff reasoned.
Homsaff stared at the block of humans, who stood eerily still, their eyes gazing at some unknown, faraway place.
“I wonder,” Homsaff mused out loud. Alex’s words ran through her mind, urging her to think as Pussiro would.
“What?” Simlan asked.
“At first, I thought there was no way of knowing if Faustus would be found on the other side of this blockade,” Homsaff replied. “Then I wondered if that’s what the alien wants us to believe.”
“You think Faustus is trying to trick us?” Simlan asked.
“Julien said Faustus was undoubtedly a digital sentient,” Hessan said.
“In w
hich case, the alien could be many moves ahead of us,” Simlan supplied.
“Then we must act in a clever manner that will confuse Faustus,” Homsaff said. “Reverse course. Hessan, you have the lead.”
Simlan’s warriors stepped aside to allow Homsaff to occupy the center of the team, and the boarding party made its way down the corridor away from the blockade.
Homsaff checked her locator diagram. She used the images to trace a path to the nearest stairwell. Then the team ascended more decks, crossed from port to starboard, and made their way forward again. In no time at all, they faced another human blockade and retreated.
Alex had left instructions with the sister in the traveler that delivered the boarding party to restrict all communications to the team unless Homsaff requested instructions or help. There were an incredible number of individuals monitoring every step the Dischnya took, every word they shared, and everything they saw. And Alex didn’t want advice pouring into Homsaff’s ears.
When Homsaff found an empty room, the Dischnya piled into the space, and Simlan eased the door shut after checking to see if their actions had been noticed. There had been no humans in sight.
“Time to act like Pussiro,” Homsaff announced. Her statement produced barks and chortles from her warriors. Pussiro’s reputation was widely known and admired.
“The bridge is our target. It’s the nest’s center, and we must distract the nest’s warriors so that a few of us can raid it.” Homsaff was speaking the language of warriors. It galvanized the thoughts of her team, who began sharing ideas to accomplish the raid.
When the boarding party was ready, Simlan peeked out the door. He saw no one and waved the team out. Simlan and most of his squad remained on the starboard side and headed toward the bow, where they expected to run afoul of the blockade. Homsaff led the remains of the other squad across an upper deck to the port side, down a few levels, and toward the bow. She was expecting the same reception as Simlan.
Homsaff and Simlan met their blockades. Instead of retreating, they stood their ground and kept a running conversation with each other.