by Nick Webb
ISS Defiance
Bridge
“Fighters on standby. Just in case.” The orders went out, and Proctor imagined Volz was doing the same thing on the bridge of the Independence. As much as she liked the silent, invisible, and incredibly deadly Defiance, she missed her ship.
“Ready, Admiral,” said Liu.
“Initiate.”
The screen shifted, and the wavering infrared image of Sangre de Cristo was replaced by a cloud of rock and dust and glowing debris as the remnants of El Amin collapsed back in on itself, initiating new explosive collisions that ejected massive bands of material out into space.
And, right there on the screen, sidled up to an assortment of giant rocks, hung a Dolmasi fleet.
“Gotcha,” she murmured.
“Reading eighteen Dolmasi cruisers, with an assortment of fighter craft. All mostly powered down to avoid detection.” Whitehorse looked up. “Looks like they were hiding here, probably massing their forces for an attack on Sangre or San Martin.”
“And now?”
Whitehorse examined the sensor readout. “Looks like they’re powering up.”
“Weapons?”
“Not yet.” Whitehorse shook her head. “I think, maybe, that the fact they can only see the Independence might suggest to them that we’re not looking for a fight.”
Proctor stroked her chin. “Send word to Captain Volz. Have him tell Admiral Tigre back at San Martin what’s going on, and to send backup.”
Qwerty got to work on the message, and when he was done, he looked inquisitively at Proctor.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“I think we should open a channel to the Dolmasi, ma’am.”
“Why? When we open our channel to talk them, they’ll see there’s two ships. Might spook them, and they could just start shooting.”
Qwerty shrugged. “Don’t see any way around it, ma’am. If we wanna test out my Dolmasi chops, I gotta shoot the shit with an actual Dolmasi.” He pointed at the screen, “And that there is an actual Dolmasi fleet. The more I talk to them, the more I’ll understand them.”
She grit her teeth. There wasn’t time. Tigre hadn’t shown up with the San Martin defense fleet yet. And yet Qwerty was right. The best way through this emergency would be through simple communication. Talking to their enemy. Understanding them, rather than fighting them.
“Open a channel.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Wreckage of Moon El Amin
ISS Defiance
Bridge
On the viewscreen, Proctor watched as the eighteen cruisers slowly turned to face the Independence. Even in infrared, she could see the running lights powering on all up and down the sides, and before long, the group split into a formation of nine ships each.
“That’s a Dolmasi attack formation,” said Proctor. She spun towards the comm station. “Mr. Qwerty, it’s now or never.”
He gulped, nodded, and took a deep breath before tapping his channel open.
“Ssssssss … ssstok valek kirsak? Ssssss … sssskirsak kasavska ssss….”
He continued on, making a series of seemingly random hisses and grunts. The formation of nine ships on the left swung wide around a large asteroid and momentarily disappeared before coming around the other side.
“Admiral, they’re powering up weapons!” yelled Whitehorse.
“Huh. Well they didn’t like that one bit,” said Qwerty. “Mighta come on too strong there.”
Proctor grimaced as the formation on the right followed suit and swung several dozen kilometers out before circling around to flank the Independence. “Too strong? Let’s make our best effort to not start another war here, Mr. Qwerty.”
“Yes’m. From what I can tell from Dolmasi culture and its affect on their language, you need to start a conversation from a position of … bullheadedness and strength. Almost overblown. Otherwise, they’ll think we’re too weak to even bother responding. You can tell from their emphasis on morphological structure that their language has been heavily influenced by—”
“Mr. Qwerty, as a former university professor, I appreciate the lecture. But for now please focus on helping us to not die.”
“Loud ’n clear, ma’am.” He cleared his throat again. “Ssssss … kirsakus ankelifalakus kirsak!”
Whitehorse shook her head. “Ma’am, it’s not working. Their targeting systems are coming online. An attack on the Independence is imminent.”
Proctor stood up. “All right, that’s enough. Rayna, how close can we get to one of their ships before they can detect the stealth effect on our hull?”
“Right on top of them, basically. Just got to stay far enough away so their cameras can’t resolve the refresh rate on the projectors—basically stay a diffraction limit length away. Fifty meters?”
“Ok. Ms. Liu,” she turned to navigation, “half thrust, and take us right on top of the lead ship there on the right.”
“Ma’am? At that range, if they fire at us, we’re goners.”
“We’re not going to let them. Do it.”
A deadly silence fell over the tiny bridge as they watched the lead Dolmasi ship grow larger and larger on the screen. Before long, it was so close that Proctor knew if she went and looked out a port she could essentially reach out and touch it.
And they knew that one blast from the Dolmasi anti-matter beam would be enough to end them all.
“Holding at fifty meters, Admiral. Matching their course and speed.”
“Good. Now target the other formation. Fire a few low-velocity gun rounds. Enough to hurt them, but not bad.”
Everyone turned toward her. “Ma’am?” said Whitehorse.
“But also enough so that the other formation knows they’ve been fired upon from this direction. Look—Independence is over there at three o’clock. It’ll confuse the hell out of them.”
Whitehorse shrugged, but did as ordered. “Direct hits on the cruiser at point.”
“Now, Liu. Get us the hell out.”
Liu scowled in confusion but directed the Defiance to arc above the plane of the engagement. “Clear of the enemy formation, Admiral. Holding at z plus five klicks.” She turned towards Proctor. “Might I ask what that was all about?”
Proctor watched the screen intensely. “If my suspicions are correct….” She trailed off, gazing at the two formations still angling towards the Independence, which itself had started to turn to bring its main guns to bear. “That the Dolmasi are here is not a random occurrence.” She turned to face her small crew. “Three things. First, Oppenheimer has been getting after me for weeks to use the meta-space pulse technology against the Dolmasi. He claimed it would disrupt the Ligature, which it clearly does—that much was obvious at Mao Prime—and that disruption aligned with his long-stated goal of finding and neutralizing the latent Quiassi and Findiri threat. Second, I suspect it also summons them. A giant sign that says here I am, come get me. It’s why the Dolmasi showed up at Earth after that nuke exploded with the meta-space shunt attached. And the Golgothic ship, for that matter.”
She paused, long enough for Liu to lean in expectantly. “And the third, Admiral?”
“I believe the meta-space pulse also disrupts their higher reasoning functions. Like language. Reasoning. Exaggerates their natural tendency toward violence. Incites anger and uninhibited fighting. What they do next could not only confirm that hypothesis, but also point to why they’re here in the first place, and also confirm the motive behind Oppenheimer’s insistence upon using this stupid weapon.”
And, as if the Dolmasi were waiting for the cue from Proctor, the formation that had been fired upon unleashed a barrage upon the ships nearest the Defiance, raining a shower of green beam pulses with destructive force against the hulls, which shattered and broke and exploded outward into space. The nearby formation returned fire, and soon, the Independence forgotten, the two groups pounded into each other with bloodthirsty ferocity.
“And that motive?” said Whitehorse, though her face suggested she
knew the answer as she watched the scene unfold. Dolmasi on Dolmasi violence and utter destruction.
“To start an interstellar war. And to assure that we come out on top…” Proctor finally sat back down with a sigh, “by making all our enemies go insane.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Wreckage of Moon El Amin
ISS Defiance
Bridge
“Admiral, two of the Dolmasi ships are disabled, and a third is losing power.” Whitehorse looked up. “What are your orders?”
Proctor was still deep in thought. That the Dolmasi were this affected, this unstable, meant that someone nearby had recently deployed a powerful meta-space pulse. Hell, that the Dolmasi were even here at all suggested as much. “Nothing. We do nothing. We can’t afford to do otherwise, as appalling as this is to watch.”
Qwerty motioned towards her. “Ma’am, getting a message from Captain Volz.”
“Read it.”
Qwerty jumped right in. “Shelby, are you sending out meta-space messages? I wonder if that’s not … affecting the Dolmasi somehow. Like how we talked before. I’d suggest shutting it down, whatever it is.”
Proctor glanced at Qwerty questioningly. “Wasn’t me, ma’am.” He double checked his console status board. “But it could very well be an echo from the pulse that clearly lured the Dolmasi here, and wigged them all out somethin’ fierce. If they get strong enough, meta-space echoes can last for hours….”
“Mr. Qwerty, you’re up. Do something. Pull out all the stops. If you can’t put an end to this, no one can.”
Qwerty swallowed hard. “I … I’ll try, ma’am. But nothing I was sayin’ earlier seemed to be making an impression. I was confrontational, vulgar, blasting—everything I could think of that they would respond to.”
“Well try something else!” Proctor watched as the infrared screen lit up with anti-matter beams as the Dolmasi ships pounded into each other.
Qwerty was shaking his head, and muttering strings of Dolmasi words into his receiver.
“Wait,” she said. “You’re talking to them through the Ligature, right?”
On the viewscreen, a nearby Dolmasi ship exploded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“The Ligature is a Skiohra invention. And it was imposed upon the Dolmasi by the Swarm. Maybe we need to talk like one of them. Less confrontational. More….” Her mind raced. How did the Swarm always talk? At least, through the beings that they controlled?
Manipulative. Confident. Almost … smarmy and overly familiar. Friend. They continually called beings they targeted for incorporation into their family, friend.
“Be … kinder, Qwerty. More agreeable. The Swarm was never insulting to us, even as they annihilated billions.”
“Roger that,” he said, and leaned back into his receiver. A different string of sounds came out of his mouth and throat. Less guttural. Softer. More agreeable.
Lieutenant Whitehorse watched the screen, and whistled. “Well I’ll be damned.”
Proctor turned to watch it too. The anti-matter beams ceased. She couldn’t be sure, but it almost looked like each Dolmasi ship actually turned to look at the Defiance. “We’re still stealthed, Lieutenant?”
Whitehorse slowly nodded, and triple checked her instruments. “Yes, ma’am.”
The silence was almost eery. The Dolmasi ships, some of them half-destroyed, simply hung there in space, pointed towards the Defiance as if they could see it.
“Ma’am, they’re … hailing us.”
“Us?” She spun around to Whitehorse. “Is that stealth working or not, Lieutenant?”
Whitehorse furiously worked her console, checking and rechecking, but Qwerty answered for her. “Sorry ma’am, they’re not so much hailing us as hailing you. On a broad channel. I … don’t think they know exactly where we are, otherwise they’d use a tighter beam.”
“Me?”
“Yes, ma’am. They clearly want to talk to … ahem … The Consort of the Invincible of Earth.” His face took on a pained expression. “Sorry, ma’am. I think by consort they mean companion.”
“So it’s English now?”
“Broken English, but yes.”
Proctor gripped her armrests, almost unsure of what to do. But this was clearly the breakthrough they’d been waiting for. Been working for. “Can you re-route our response through the Independence? Make it look like we’re transmitting from there?”
Qwerty nodded. “I think so. Tight beam to Independence through laser, and then they broadcast through regular comms.”
“Do it.”
Half a minute later, the viewscreen shifted. “Well I’ll be damned,” Proctor muttered under her breath. The screen was filled by the image of a Dolmasi. After all these years, she’d almost forgotten what they looked like. Vaguely reptilian, skin scaly with a somewhat greenish hue. Eyes like fire and a stare like flint.
And this one looked familiar.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Wreckage of Moon El Amin
ISS Vanguard
Bridge
Admiral Mullins turned towards President Quimby, who was staring at the screen with his mouth half open. “See, Mr. President?”
“Is that … is that a Dolmasi?”
Mullins nodded.
Quimby couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from the screen. “Ugly sons of bitches, aren’t they?”
Next to the alien’s image, another appeared.
Her. Admiral Shelby Proctor.
“Just as I suspected, Mr. President.” He gave a surreptitious nod to his tactical officer. “Shall I give the order?”
Quimby waved him off. “Hold on, Ted. Let’s see where she’s going with this.”
Mullins drummed his fingers on his armrest impatiently. Very well. If the bastard needed more proof before the order was given, all the better.
More plausible deniability for himself.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Wreckage of Moon El Amin
ISS Defiance
Bridge
“It’s Kharsa. Vishgane Kharsa,” said Proctor, almost under her breath.
Qwerty’s eyes narrowed. “Ma’am?”
“The same one Tim and I talked to thirty years ago. During the Second Swarm War.” She watched the alien’s face, looking for signs of familiarity, any sign that the alien also recognized her.
But in place of recognition, Kharsa looked … agitated. His eyes flitted back and forth, his hands squeezed and clenched the air restlessly.
“Well, regardless ma’am, you’re live. He can hear you.”
She cleared her throat and slowly stood up. “Vishgane Kharsa? Is it really you?”
He hissed.
“I’m Proctor. Do you remember me?”
More hissing. The alien looked like he was only barely holding it together.
“We fought together. Side by side, thirty years ago, you and I. We beat them. We destroyed our enemies. The enemy that kept your people as slaves for thousands of years. And now … it’s good to see you. Friend.”
The hissing turned to something a little more … mellow. Kharsa opened his mouth and tried to speak.
“Consort. Vishtak sustaka … shtsh … stalsh…. Why? Why? We’ll … destroy you. Kirsak. We’ll destroy you, if … kirsak. If we must. If we need. We’ll destroy … back. KIRSAK!”
Proctor held her hands up and outward. A universal sign of peace. Submission. “I swear to you. We are not your enemy. We do not want to fight you. Our enemy is….” She trailed off. It occurred to her that she still had no idea who their enemy was. The truth was, the enemy was … themselves. Mullins? Curiel? Whatever was changing Titan and destroyed El Amin? “Our enemy is … not you. We want only peace. Only friendship.”
“Kirsak. Same with Valarisi. Swarm. They want make friend. Make us friends. Slaves. Kirsak. Kirsak.”
She turned to Qwerty, questioningly. She mouthed the word Kharsa kept repeating. Kirsak.
In as low a voice as possible, Qwerty replied. “I think it’s an ins
ult. Like a cross between dog, son of a bitch, and, I think, slave.”
Slave. It made sense. The Swarm made the Dolmasi their slaves for thousands of years. Made them their enforcers—their mindless, will-less warriors.
“We destroyed them, Vishgane. You and I. Made them less than … kirsak.”
His eyes flared wide. Pupils like embers.
“There … is … no worse. Than kirsak.”
The meaning was clear. Kharsa considered death better than slavery. “I agree, Vishgane. But they’re gone. And we are not your enemy.”
He seemed to consider this. After a moment, he spoke. “No. No enemy.”
“We are friends. Allies. Let us … let us fight together. Join our forces against that which assails you.”
Kharsa’s eyes defocused and flitted somewhat, like he was trying to remember something he’d forgotten. Something he knew long ago and was struggling to remember. And then he seemed to find it.
He nodded.
Proctor remembered, thirty years ago, Kharsa had been particularly diligent in learning human mannerisms. The nod was significant.
“Our enemy is … human. You know that, Consort.”
She really wished he’d stop calling her that. To the Grangerites, she was The Companion of the Hero of Earth. To the Skiohra, she was Motherkiller. And now … Consort? Good grief.
But his enemy was human? He stared at her. He seemed so sure of it. And, maybe he had a point—perhaps something Mullins was doing was targeting the Dolmasi. Or perhaps Curiel was doing it. Or maybe even Oppenheimer.
“It is, Vishgane. And we’ll track them down. And make them pay. Bring them to justice. No matter who it is. We’ll get to the bottom of it. I’ll defend you from whoever among my people is assailing you. Allies, you and me. Friends.”
Kharsa seemed to force himself to manipulate his facial muscles in a way that seemed grotesquely unfamiliar with him. Slowly, his mouth spread into an awkward smile—or at least the best impression of a smile that the Dolmasi was capable of.
