The Venusian Gambit

by Michael J. Martinez

  “No, Father, they will not hurt me,” she said, a slight quaver in her voice. “You see, the dul’kat is a greeting of immense supplication, and it is the height of rudeness to interrupt once it has begun. What I think Gar’uk takes issue with is that the supplicant must bleed onto the ground while making the introduction.”

  Weatherby looked stunned. “And so you will….cut yourself?”

  Anne placed her hand on Weatherby’s arm. “I will be right there with her. As soon as we are welcomed, I will stanch the bleeding and give her an elixir to build up her blood quickly.”

  “Just how much blood loss are we talking here?” Diaz asked.

  Elizabeth straightened up and put on a brave face indeed. “I must open an artery and let it flow until either I am welcomed or I pass out.”

  “It is a test, as with many Venusian traditions. She must be seen as worthy of sacrificing herself for her purpose,” Anne added. “I promise she will not endure lasting harm. And I would add that a human, even a woman of her young years, contains a substantially higher amount of blood than even the largest, most powerful Venusian warrior.”

  “I will do it,” Gar’uk said. “I will give the dul’kat. Elizabeth will not need to.”

  At this, Elizabeth and Gar’uk entered into what appeared to be a most spirited discussion in Venusian, with Anne chiming in now and again. After several minutes, Weatherby waved Finch over to him. “Pray tell what my wife and daughter are saying to my valet,” he said quietly and with no small amount of frustration.

  “Well, my Venusian is not as good as Elizabeth’s, that much is certain, but my understanding is that the primary supplicant must be of a chieftain’s bloodline—and you would qualify as that chieftain, of course,” Finch said. “Gar’uk, as it happens, is also of a chieftain’s bloodline, but as he’s not actually acting on behalf of his chieftain, there is some question as to whether Gar’uk would be an acceptable substitute.”

  “What do you think of it all?” Weatherby asked.

  “Are you trusting me now?”

  Weatherby glared at him. “This is my daughter, talking of spilling her own blood on this forsaken beach for our cause. So answer the dammed question, Doctor.”

  Finch’s face reddened as he cast his eyes downward. “I am sorry, Tom. I’m no expert, but it seems Elizabeth has the better chance.”

  Weatherby nodded. “And I cannot go in her stead? I’m the chieftain, after all.”

  “The Venusians are very precise when it comes to language. If you erred but once, you would be shot through the heart with an arrow before you realized your mistake.”

  “Can you give her something for the pain of it?” Weatherby asked, a father’s plea in his voice.

  “Of course, Tom,” Finch said gently. “I can accompany her and Anne if you like.”

  Weatherby’s hard stare softened. “I appreciate that, perhaps more than you know. But I am her father, and as brilliant a woman as she is now, she is my little girl, Andrew. I will be at her side, along with Anne.”

  Finch nodded, and Weatherby intervened in the growing argument. “Enough! Elizabeth….report to Dr. Finch so that he and Lady Anne may prepare you for this ordeal. Gar’uk, you will work with Elizabeth in the next few minutes to ensure her pronunciation of this ritual is exactly what is required. Lieutenant Commander Jain, if you can hear me, do you have an update on the numbers of Venusians before us?”

  Shaila’s voice crackled into Weatherby’s ear. “Pushing four hundred now. At least seven large contacts as well. Lizard-horses, I guess.”

  “Very well. Please stay in contact once our introduction begins. If there is any hostile movement, I would like to hear of it quickly.”

  “Understood, Admiral,” Shaila said. “I won’t let them get near her. In fact, if General Diaz approves, I can walk up right behind you in this rig. Should be nice and intimidating.”

  Weatherby conferred with Diaz—and Elizabeth, as it was her life at stake—and it was agreed that there could be no harm in allowing Shaila to accompany them in her bipedal vehicle. So several minutes later, a most unusual group walked up the beach toward the tree line. In the middle was Elizabeth, a small dirk in her left hand. Weatherby held her right hand—a bit too tightly, she had to warn him at one point—and Anne was at her left, a bandage and curatives at the ready. Gar’uk insisted on accompanying them and, if necessary, performing the ritual himself if needed.

  And Shaila tromped along slowly, about ten feet back, in her vehicle. “I see a group of two dozen targets breaking off from the main group and heading for the tree line,” she reported. “Six of the larger targets are with them.”

  “Are they advancing as if to attack?” Weatherby asked, still quite unused to speaking to a disembodied voice in his ear.

  “No, sir. Moving slowly. Just like we are.”

  “Very good. Please continue to update me, if you please, Miss Jain.”

  “Understood, Admiral. And you’re a brave young lady, Miss Weatherby.”

  “I thank you, Commander Jain. And I am most pleased you are here,” Elizabeth said, her voice somewhat unsteady. “I believe this patch of sand here, nearest the trees, will be an appropriate place. That stone there, Gar’uk—is it what I think it is?”

  The little Venusian croaked in agreement. “It is a marker. This is where Va’hak’ri land begins. Good place for dul’kat.”

  Elizabeth nodded and placed a hand on the marker for a moment. She then knelt upon the sand of the beach and began to speak loudly in Venusian, a language well known for its clicks and guttural sounds, ones that do not come easily to mankind’s physical makeup. And yet she continued on for several minutes, with Gar’uk nodding at several points.

  “The welcome committee is about five meters off. Standing still and listening,” Shaila reported. “So far, so good.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Weatherby whispered before turning to his wife. “When does she…?”

  Anne took his hand in hers. “Soon, my love. She is so very brave—truly her father’s daughter,” she said with a sad smile.

  Before Weatherby could comment further, Elizabeth cried out in a series of groans and barks, then held the blade to her wrist. She hesitated a moment—and who would not?—then drew it down and across her wrist. Weatherby gasped and made to rush forward, but was held firmly, and with surprising strength, by his wife. “Let her be,” Anne whispered.

  And so Elizabeth watched a moment, her face wide-eyed and pale, as her blood, her very life, began to ooze forth from the wound upon her wrist. Then she began her chanting anew, her voice still strong amongst the rustling trees and lapping waves of the beach.

  “How long?” Weatherby asked. He caught his hand trembling and clenched it into a fist.

  “Until they are satisfied,” Anne replied gently.

  “Please help her as soon as we are able,” he pleaded.

  “Of course, my love. But we must wait now. This is truly the test for her—dedication to her cause, respect for the tribes.”

  Weatherby watched as the small crimson stain on the beach next to Elizabeth’s left hand grew wider, and could not help but wonder just how much sacrifice would satisfy the Venusians. He had great respect for their peoples and cultures, as all civilized men would, but the father in him wished nothing more than to rescue his daughter, savage bloodletting rituals be damned to Hell as they properly should.

  More minutes went by, and Elizabeth’s voice started to weaken somewhat, her body swaying slightly. It took all of Weatherby’s three decades of naval discipline not to rush forward to put a stop to the madness of it all, to take his daughter in his arms and forget all that hung in the balance. He simply gripped Anne’s hand tighter…and waited.

  Elizabeth finally swayed forward, placing her uninjured hand upon the sand to balance herself. At this, even Anne tensed, and Weatherby finally took two steps forward. But he was stopped by Shaila’s voice in his ear. “I got three targets advancing to the tree line now, all riders.”


  Anne and Weatherby rushed forward just as the Venusians emerged from the jungle onto the beach. They were large for their kind, nearly approaching four feet in height. They had the beaks and neck-frills common to the lizard-kind, as well as bulbous green eyes with vertical black slits in them. Each wore elaborate necklaces of shell and feathers, with similar headgear, and all wore wood-and-hide armor. They carried shields of similar make, adorned with painted markings of an unintelligible nature, and bore wicked-looking spears.

  Their steeds were short-legged lizards roughly the size of ponies. The sek’hatk had heads that seemed almost snake-like except for the rows of ridges atop their brows stretching down their elongated necks. They had similarly long tails and very stout bodies. They too were adorned with shell-and-feather decoration, and were controlled with bridles upon their broad snouts.

  The leader of the group barked several words in Venusian, at which Elizabeth stopped her chanting and looked back to her father with a nod. Weatherby and Anne rushed forward, the latter immediately giving Elizabeth an elixir and binding her wound with deft efficiency.

  Then the Venusian spoke. “We know of you, English chief. You are Weatherby.”

  Surprised, Weatherby nonetheless bowed. “I am he, and I am at your service…my fellow chief.”

  “The blood of your kin honors us. We know of you in the Va’hak’ri tribe from the time many suns past. Your name carries good words with it.”

  “And all who know of the Va’hak’ri know you to be worthy of great honor,” Weatherby replied, secretly stealing a glance over at his daughter and wife. Anne nodded with a small smile—Elizabeth would recover.

  “What is it you wish of us?” the Venusian demanded.

  “I seek an audience with your leaders. We believe the French have come to uncover your memory vaults, and do so for dread purpose,” the admiral said.

  At this, the Venusian leader took to chattering with the two others who flanked him, and soon a flurry of croaks and gestures began to volley among them—some of which, Weatherby felt, did not include the sort of warmth and fellowship he had hoped for.

  “Our medicine tells us there are two among you who have touched upon evil,” the chieftain finally replied. “It is only your ritual that has kept us from attacking.”

  Durand and Finch. “They are as much victims of plot and plan as your people,” Weatherby replied. “We are part of some larger scheme. We must, your people and mine, divine the truth of it.”

  There were several more croaks and grunts between the Venusians, then the leader let out a shrill cry. He then stared forward at Weatherby with what could only be described as a glare of anger.

  And Shaila’s voice entered Weatherby’s ear once more. “Admiral, all targets now advancing to the tree line. Repeat, I have at least four hundred targets making for you—fast.”

  Weatherby returned the chieftain’s gaze. “I swear upon my life, we have come in peace!”

  The chieftain nodded. “And that is what the French say to us. You will now come with us. If you attack us, we will kill you.”

  Suddenly, hundreds of lizard-men emerged from the underbrush, spears at the ready. There were cries from the beach behind Weatherby as both the French and English survivors began moving as far away from the advancing warriors as possible.

  “Admiral, whatever you’re doing isn’t working,” Diaz said over the communications link. “Jain, status.”

  “Lasers at 100 percent, targets acquired,” Shaila replied. “Give the word.”

  “No!” Weatherby cried out, reflexively placing a hand over his earpiece. “Do not attack!”

  The Venusian straightened up on his mount. “You will come with us?”

  Weatherby nodded, unbuckling his sword from his side and placing it upon the sand of the beach. “We will. You may take us to your people.”

  As the Venusian warriors swept across the beach, Weatherby spoke into his headset once more. “General, please inform my men to stand down. And I suggest you do the same. I fear we must become captives here in order to have any chance of winning the Venusians as allies.”

  There was silence for a long moment before Diaz responded. “All right. Helluva gambit, though. Due respect, Admiral, but I don’t like this.”

  “Quite all right, General. Neither do I.”

  CHAPTER 21

  January 29, 2135

  May 28, 1809

  Shaila guided her V-SEV carefully through the jungles of Venus, hoping that she wouldn’t step on one of the little alien lizard people underfoot and grateful she had been able to stay in her mech in the first place. Having not really seen her inside it, they may have simply assumed that she and her mech were one and the same—just a large, clunky metal creature.

  Diaz and Stephane hadn’t been so lucky. Shortly after Weatherby surrendered to them, the Venusians surged onto the beach, taking everyone captive at spear-point. Stephane and the general had tried to climb back aboard their V-SEVs, but the little lizards weren’t having it. At least the battle survivors were allowed to remain, along with an alchemist’s mate and a junior officer. Shaila hoped Coogan and Chrys would be OK, and that the first-aid deep freeze was something the surgeon-alchemists on board Victory knew how to manage. If nothing else, Vellusk had remained aboard ship, and the Xan were far more advanced than the English. He could probably figure it out.

  “Strange-ass flora here,” Diaz commented over the comm. “Something tried to wrap around my leg just now. Gross.”

  Elizabeth, now feeling better under her stepmother’s care, chimed in. “There are some who say the plant life on Venus are actually multiple manifestations of a single being, that the planet itself is largely alive. The activity you’ve seen may support that theory.”

  Shaila’s sensors were lit up with all the plant life around her. There were thousands of different potential classifications, and a few that stumped the onboard computers. Dutifully, Shaila logged all the unknowns in memory, and further backed-up all her holo and sensor logs too.

  To her surprise, that data wasn’t just backed up. It was uploaded somewhere.

  “Jain to Diaz, routine memory backup just uploaded itself to unknown client. Over.”

  “Come again?”

  “Ma’am, I went to back up my V-SEV’s logs and vids, and not only did it save local, but it uploaded somewhere else. You think it’s Hadfield?”

  “Doubt it,” Diaz responded. “I saw her get pretty beaten up in the battle. There’s been no word from Baines. But…aw, shit, Jain. We still got Stanford up there!”

  Shaila could’ve face-palmed herself if her hands weren’t busy at the controls. In the complete chaos of the overlap, the loss of the Hadfield and the battles with the French, they had forgotten about the academic outpost in orbit around Venus. She did a quick check of her comms. “That’s a negative on Stanford, ma’am. Long-range, we’re keyed to Hadfield. Looks like the data flow is going to a short-range target.”

  And then it hit her: “Ma’am, we may be transmitting to Greene.”

  Diaz took several seconds to respond. “Get our shit encrypted ASAP, Jain, and then see if you can triangulate the location of the upload destination. Then while we’re walking here, figure out how to get long-range comms keyed up to Stanford. Maybe they can help us.”

  “Could use a co-pilot, ma’am,” Shaila said as she tried to begin the encryption process while still keeping her V-SEV moving. “Lots to do.”

  “Yeah, well, I got a half-dozen Gila monsters around me with spears, and they have twice that with Stephane. Do your best.”

  The encryption was the easy part, in fact. Within a few minutes, the data transfer stopped. Shaila then tried to triangulate on the source, based on the V-SEV’s movements, but only managed to center in on an area 25 kilometers north, and some 50 kilometers wide. In that jungle, it was worse than a needle in a haystack.

  Putting that aside for the moment, Shaila then started to reprogram her mech’s long-range transmitter, opening i
t up beyond the official-use frequencies employed by governments and congloms. It nearly burned out the module, but Shaila soon picked up a signal she was able to lock onto.

  “….Hadfield…this is Stanford Uni….post. To any…of the wreck….come in….”

  “Stanford Outpost, this is Lieutenant Commander Shaila Jain on the surface of Venus. Transmitting on multiple frequencies. Please come in, over.”

  The computers aboard both the outpost and her mech adjusted far more quickly than their human operators could; a moment later, they had a common frequency. “Commander Jain, this is Dr. Brian Rios aboard Stanford’s Venus outpost. Can you hear me?”

  Shaila smiled and opened her channel to Diaz as well. “Stanford, I hear you five by five. I got Major General Maria Diaz online as well. What’s your status? Over.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Rios replied.

  Diaz chimed in. “Dr. Rios, I’m walking out in the open on Venus, in the middle of the jungle, taken prisoner by three-foot-tall lizard people and walking next to an early 19th century English admiral. So I say again, what’s your status? Over!”

  Jesus, boss, Shaila thought. So much for operational security.

  To the Stanford guy’s credit, he came back within fifteen seconds. “Well, ah, that actually confirms what we’re seeing up here. We have, ah, several wooden vessels up here with us. They’ve left us alone, mostly. It seems the people on the ships are repairing them. In space. With no suits on. And they have gravity.”

  “Right, we were there for that part,” Shaila said. “What are you seeing on the planet?”

  “Oh, of course. There’s a roughly circular area about 500 kilometers in diameter in which atmospheric composition, atmospheric pressure, temperature and geological composition are near Earth-normal, and there’s an absolute ton of life readings in that area. There’s a lot of ambient radiation being thrown off at the edges, and that radiation seems to be directed, back and forth, from a series of satellites that came into orbit a few days ago.”

  “Doctor, can you account for 100 percent of the energy between the ground and the satellites?” Diaz asked.