by Paul Chafe
“Rapsari are not the only advantage to be found in battle. Shall I tell you a secret, brother, a Black Priest secret?”
“What is it?” Kchula leaned forward. His brother rarely even mentioned his time with the Bearers of Ill Tiding.
“An army of kzinretti, a Rrit who rides with the czrav, warriors elusive beyond easy understanding. These things are not unanticipated by the Black Cult.”
“So?”
“So they go hand in hand with other things that make this threat more dangerous than you might realize.”
Kchula waved a paw dismissively. “This isn't a secret, it's a riddle.”
“I cannot say more without violating my oath.”
“Your oath.” Kchula twitched his tail in annoyance. “What fealty do you owe to Priest-Master-Zrtra now?”
“It is my own honor I owe fealty to, not him. I hold my loyalty to you to the same standard, brother.” He paused, assessing his brother. “Else I might be Pride-Patriarch.”
Kchula's tail stiffened. “Do you threaten me, Ftzaal?”
“I state a fact.” The variable sword blurred and suddenly the slicewire was at Kchula's throat. “Could you stand against me if I challenged?”
Treachery! My own brother! Fear flooded Kchula's system. “No, no of course not, Ftzaal.”
Ftzaal held the slicewire where it was for a long moment, his eyes locked on Kchula's, and then he retracted the blade. “Do not insult my honor again, brother. The fact that you are alive is testimony to its depth.”
Kchula turned away, breathing deep to conceal his anger. “Which gives me no information on your riddle.”
“Take me at my word. You are at more risk from these primitives than you are from the entire kz'eerkti fleet and the rest of the Great Pride Circle combined.”
Kchula sat heavily on a prrstet. “Fine. What is it you want?”
“Ships in orbit to start, half a dozen scouts.”
“It is done.”
“Jotok's rapsar production returned to full capacity, with the beasts sent here for my use.”
“You ask a lot.”
“I am saving your empire, and perhaps your life.”
“That too then. What else?”
“Trained warriors, of course, and another telepath. Two would be better.”
“I have asked your priesthood for another telepath. So far they decline my request.”
“This is most crucial.”
“They are your order, not mine. Perhaps you should ask them yourself.”
Ftzaal snorted. “They will grant one to you long before they grant one to me. Our last Telepath's death at my hands is likely the reason they are slow to respond already.”
“Hrrr.” Kchula wrinkled his nose. “What did you do there, Ftzaal, to make them detest you so?”
“I held up a mirror and showed them the truth.”
“And yet you would go back if you could?”
“I cannot. My oath to you is binding.”
Kchula waved a dismissive paw. “I could release you. What would you do if you had a choice?”
“The Black Priest discipline is…” Ftzaal paused, choosing his words carefully. “…compelling.” He turned to look away. “I still could not go back, they would not have me.” He retracted his variable sword and turned a paw over to contemplate his extended claws. “Not yet.”
Not yet? Kchula raised his ears. My brother contains depths, dangerous depths, though his loyalty is useful. “Do you believe in the literal truth of the Fanged God?”
“The Fanged God is for the High Priests to know. I believe in the literal truth of power.”
“And yet you are content to give me rulership.”
“There is more power in the Black Cult's discipline than you will know if you rule as Patriarch for eight-to-the-fourth seasons, brother.” Ftzaal turned back to face Kchula, and his eyes shone, bright and intense. “That is something they couldn't take when they cast me out.”
Kchula shifted, uncomfortable with the topic. “Hrrr. Enough philosophy. What else do you require?”
“That is all for now. The telepath is vital. I must have at least one.”
“I will do what I can.”
“It is First-Son's kz'eerkti that is key here. With a telepath I can track it. It is the unknown factor. I need to rake out its story, one way or another. For the rest of them — make peace while we still can, let us secure our back before we look to new conquest.”
“The kz'eerkti.” Kchula lashed his tail. “They are less a menace than you imagine. I shall tell you a secret too, Ftzaal, one less mysterious than yours.”
Ftzaal unfurled his ears. “What is it?”
“See this ship?” He pointed to the gutted Patriarch's Talon floating outside the dock. “We are converting it. The kz'eerkti are powerful, but they have a weakness in that almost all of them still live on their original world.”
“What use is this if we lack the strength to conquer that world? Even the Rrit fleet couldn't penetrate their system defenses.”
“Conquer their world, no, we cannot do that.” Kchula showed his fangs. “But we can destroy it.”
Ftzaal laid his ears back, shocked. “Destroy it? How?”
“It is a kz'eerkti innovation, so it is simple poetry that we shall finish them with it. Relativistic weapons, kinetic impactors arriving close to lightspeed.” Kchula raked his claws through the air. “I will strip their world to its core.”
Ftzaal stared at his brother for long heartbeat, aghast. “Have you lost your reason, brother? This is not the fine edge of honor, this is unthinkable! What of the traditions? Are we to become like them?”
“Don't bother me more with tradition, Ftzaal.” Kchula snorted. “This is about species survival. The monkeys have shown us the way. Now we will follow where they lead. I will scorch their homeworld, and their other worlds will be my conquest prizes. The kz'eerkti will be a slave race, for once and for all. We need only protect our systems long enough to give us time to strike.” He turned to face his brother. “As for Zree-Rrit, I'll give you everything you want, including your telepath. You get me what I want. Bring me Zree-Rrit's head.”
Trade what you have for what you want, trade what you want for what you need.
— Jotoki maxim
“We are being within orbital parameters. Fuel state is being positive. Ktzaa'Whrloo approach control is being contacted on this watch. Initiating transfer from inbound to parking orbit.” Contradictory stood on three armlegs while the other two flipped switches on Black Saber's control board. Outside the ship's cramped cockpit the starfield flipped itself over as the Jotok aligned her thrusters to take them into orbit. Ktzaa'Whrloo hung overhead like a ripe popfruit. The ancient seat of Krowl Pride was a dusky red world orbiting a bright orange star.
“Cargo reception?” Night Pilot strapped himself in to his crash couch, ready to take over the watch.
“We have been contacting of our client and cargo reception coordinates are arranged. We are being expecting normal ground handling times.”
“Hrrr. Is the cargo secure for reentry?”
“It is being so. We are being reverifying of it at soon.” Contradictory clicked more keys. “Ship is being secured for atmospheric interface.”
“What is our descent profile?”
“It is being normal atmospheric braked descent with minimum thrusters assist.”
“Hrrr. Good, we'll save some wear on the thrusters.” Night Pilot checked his screens for the approach. “I have confirmation that we are in atmospheric configuration.” He clicked keys. “I have confirmation that our approach path is clear to preset coordinates.” He clicked more keys. “I have confirmation that we can relaunch immediately once we're unloaded.” He paused. “Refueling?”
“Refueling is being on orbit at Ktzaa'Whrloo main transfer station after reorbit. We are being confirmed that client Sklar-Overseer has being arranged for fuel at there.”
“Also good.” Night Pilot nearly purred in satisfa
ction. Black Saber would make a handsome profit this run. A light flashed. “Priority message.” His ears fanned up and he made a gesture to command the ship's AI to put it on screen.
“…all ships, be aware. Kz'eerkti scouts have been detected deep in system, orbital parameters to follow. Krowl Pride warcraft are intercepting now. Verarz-Krowl commands nonessential ships in system to proceed beyond the singularity and wait until the invaders have been repulsed. Be prepared to aid survivors and to fight if necessary. Marshaling orbits to follow. Be aware more enemy ships may be in system and undetected. Message repeats…”
Night Pilot made a gesture to cut the transmission, then tapped his console to bring up the enemy's positions and the commanded escape orbits. His nostrils flared when he saw them. “By the Fanged God, they are deep. How did they get so far in system without being picked up?”
Contradictory whirled, bringing the two armlegs that had been typing down to stand on as he brought two of the ones he'd been standing on up to replace them. “I am being concerned about more forces.”
“Hrrr. Yes… This situation could devolve. The kz'eerkti are sly. They had so many ships at K'Shai. Now we know the reason.”
“We are being assessing that we should be aborting of the approach.”
“No. We deliver our cargo.”
“The humans are being coming in force.” Contradictory added a third arm to the two constructing intercept profiles with the flight computer. “They are being destroying twice-eight worlds now. If we are being caught our lives are being ended.”
“Honor demands we fulfill our bargain.”
“We are being unconcerned with matters of honor.”
“Then be concerned with your reputation.” Night Pilot flipped his tail in annoyance. “We have no choice but to deliver if we want to carry cargo to this world again.”
“You are being unpersuasive. The humans are being ensuring no cargo are being carried here by any ships at ever.”
“I do not have to persuade you. I am Captain, I have only to decide.”
Contradictory brought up a holo. “Please be viewing of intercept profiles. Human ships are being in intercepting range at departure timing of us.”
Night Pilot growled. “We are landing.”
Contradictory swiveled three eyes at the kzin. “Are you being forgetting of incident of Meerowsk?”
The kzin wrinkled his nose. “I have not forgotten.”
“Your life is being saved by us there. Your life is also being saved by us at Ansrarw.”
“I know this.”
“Please being allowing of us to again being saving of your life at Ktzaa'Whrloo.”
Night Pilot gave his copilot a look. “Have I complained about your argumentativeness recently?”
“You are being complaining constantly. This is why we are being Contradictory as our name.”
“Hrrr. We deliver our cargo.” Contradictory put a fourth limb up to construct intercept scenarios, balancing on the one armleg remaining. Night Pilot bowed to the inevitable. “We will be fast.”
Fast meant a more aggressive approach profile, and a subsequent increase in fuel usage. On reentry Night Pilot pushed the skin temperature to the limit to get the most out of atmospheric braking. Fast meant heavy muscle work for both of them, unloading the motley cargo of cznip spice and fabricator cells that Sklar-Overseer was importing from Reessliu beneath the nose of the Krowl hierarchy, loading up the sealed crates, contents unknown, they would carry to Sklar-Overseer's contact on Kzinhome. The Whrloo slaves were diligent workers, but their small size meant they needed grav manipulators to unload the heavy crates and bales, and they were slow about it. In the end the need for speed meant that Night Pilot and Contradictory moved more than half the cargo themselves. Fast meant that, with muscles aching and not enough sleep they preflighted Black Saber and took off with a landing gear fault that really should have been fixed on the ground. There was no time to repair it if they wanted to avoid getting caught in the developing battle.
Through the whole process Contradictory kept one eye on his databoard, slaved from the cockpit with updated intercept scenarios. Krowl battle control in one of the orbital fortresses kept them updated on the progress of the kz'eerkti fleet. The news wasn't good. The human scoutships had been followed by a wave of cruisers, falling in from the edge of the singularity and then, once the cruisers were established in attack orbits, the heavy battle units had emerged from hyperspace. The pattern was clear by now, repeated in system after system. The humans would arrive without warning and in overwhelming force. The scouts would identify the defenses and the cruiser screen behind them would deal with minor outposts in the system and any kzinti ships attempting to escape. The battleships would close with the planet and engage its orbital defenses to allow the carriers to get into low orbit to launch their transatmospheric fighters and bombers. By then the battleships would be engaging the ground defenses, and under fighter cover the bombers would get in through the weak spots, usually far from the main bases, get low to protect themselves beneath the horizon and then, at the last moment, pop up to launch salvos of conversion warheads. The warheads would streak in, hugging the terrain, sequenced so that the detonation of the first would degrade sensors and defenses to clear the way for the next. By the time the last had gone off the bombers would already be out of the atmosphere, redocking with their carrier after a single orbit.
And that was what was starting to happen at Ktzaa'Whrloo. In none of their other attacks had the humans attempted to assault ships or secure the planet. They got in, destroyed everything and got out before the Patriarchy could react. Night Pilot thought that dishonorable. Contradictory thought it irrelevant, and concerned itself with the cruiser screen. It was tightening already, and with the scoutships far in advance of the cruisers in the screen would have plenty of time to change their velocity vectors to intercept anything the scouts picked up trying to escape.
Refueling in orbit presented a sudden problem. Priority went to warcraft boosting to meet the humans high up in the gravity well, and Sklar-Overseer lacked the strakh to get them advanced in the priority sequence, or at least he lacked the willingness to use his strakh to do it. The human scouts were braking hard now, already into the inner system, and there had been skirmishes between kzinti and human craft. Time was running out, and the seriousness of the situation was apparent. Krowl Pride didn't have the forces to resist the humans. The battle station was in chaos, warriors with nerves on edge making impossible demands on panicked slaves. Service Master, in charge of the fueling bays, was short and to the point. “You will be fueled when the combat ships have been fueled, not before.” Night Pilot, frustrated to the edge of his temper, bared his fangs and resisted the urge to scream and leap. There was nothing to be gained by it, and it might even delay them further.
“We are being attempting to be rectifying of the delay.” Contradictory was wearing slave livery, necessary protective camouflage in the Patriarchy. It set out, while Night Pilot took advantage of the time and the atmosphere in the fueling bay to work on the balky landing gear retractor. The problem turned out to be a broken piston sealing ring. He was able to get a replacement from the station's stores, but actually installing it was a delicate, finicky task better suited to Contradictory's fine manipulation skills. He settled down to a repair session that mixed frustration and obscenity in equal measure, trying to get piston, sleeve and sealing ring to stay together long enough for him to finish the assembly with only two hands to do the job with.
For the eighth time the assembly fell apart as he tried to slide the sleeve into place. He resisted the urge to hurl it across the bay and looked up to find Contradictory, back already. “We are being fueling immediately.”
“Hrrr.” Night Pilot growled, relieved that the problem was solved, annoyed that his partner had succeeded where he had failed. “How did you arrange this?”
“Techslave Fueling Controller is being Jotoki, we are negotiating with them directly. We are bei
ng having in addition to being first fueling priority the guarantee of tanks being capacity filled.”
“Excellent.”
“We are being indebted to the Fueling Controller, who is therefore to being embarked.”
Night Pilot's ears stiffened. “Slave theft is beneath our honor.” His voice held an edge.
“It is being irrelevant. Service Master is being now dead in a challenge duel. It is being also unlikely he is being predeceasing of this battle station of significant time length.”
“Hrrr. I still don't like it.”
“It is being our function in this partnership to being performed of necessary tasks which you are being finding difficult. We are now being saving of your life at Ktzaa'Whrloo. We are being asking that you are remembering of this at similar circumstances.”
Night Pilot waved a paw. “Yes, yes. Help me get this piston assembled.”
Contradictory did it on the first try. Night Pilot growled to himself in annoyance and considered eating their new passenger when it arrived. He hadn't had fresh meat in a long time, but mostly he enjoyed the thought because it would upset Contradictory.
Contradictory, oblivious, was already directing Whrloo techslaves to connect the fueling hoses. Night Pilot lashed his tail and went aboard Black Saber to plot their boost course. They would launch on a retrograde orbit. That would cost them power overall, but because the human ships were all trying to match velocities with the planet it would give them some additional closing speed, reducing the human's engagement times and giving them a distinct lead in a running fight. With full tanks they could afford to use the tactic.
The tactical situation update from battle command was not encouraging. The human cruisers were intercepting any ship that tried to make it out of the system. The situation on the battle station was hardly better. He growled and started plotting alternate escape routes, in case they got surprised on their planned course. He was interrupted by Contradictory who catapulted himself into the cockpit and began strapping in.
“We are now being ready to leave. Docking control is being giving clearance for bay door release.”
