Insurrection

by James David Victor

  “Ready?” Erkig grumbled. He was clearly not the patient sort.

  The captain cast one more look at the space where Irie and her co-conspirators had vanished, then nodded. “Yes,” he said, feeling a twinge of worry. I wanted to not endanger any of my crew again, and now look. I have lost two, and the third is on some insane suicide mission. The only scant comfort was the fact that his own suicide mission was far more dangerous.

  But they’re my crew, he thought, and nodded. “Ready,” he said, and Erkig led the way, breaking ranks to march through the market street as he was the biggest—therefore clearly their superior in Duergar terms—with Eliard, Ko, and several other dissidents behind him. And they were marching straight to the walls of the arena.

  In the dark recesses of the caverns and cells underneath Duric’s famous arena, Val Pathok was trying to break the chains that bound him, but even he was having little success. The links were forged of large iron to manacles at his wrists and ankles and then attached to a solid hoop embedded in the rock floor.

  The cell that he had woken up to was little more than a bare cavern hewn out of the rock. Even if he didn’t recognize this particular cavern, he knew where he was. His time here as a child had often seen him trailing his father’s footsteps as he dispensed his own particular form of ‘justice’ to his people.

  Today, it seemed that such recollections weren’t very far from anyone’s mind, as the only other figure in the cavern cleared his throat. “To think that I had such high hopes for you,” said Val’s father, the War Chief Pathok Ma. The Duergar was dressed in light robes that did nothing to mask the fact that he was a large Duergar, and his limbs still held power in them as he raised one clawed hand—missing two of its fingers from some distant war—and picked at one of his broken tusks, deep in thought.

  “I didn’t expect you to give in so easily to nostalgia,” Val grunted. His head rang like a bell, and his body felt electric and achy with the jag of whatever it was that they had tried to poison him with.

  “Hadoo Root.” His father saw his son’s mysticism. “I’m sure you remember it?”

  “I never took that trash, as well you know,” Val sneered back.

  His father, confidently superior in his position, merely looked down at his son with a fair degree of pity. “Trash? How far you have fallen, my son. You know, as we all do, that Hadoo Root has been used by warring Duergar ever since we began.”

  “Ever since the Valyien got us hooked on it, you mean,” Val said, once again pulling on his restraints. When he found them unmoving, he growled his frustration.

  “You have spent too long away from Dur, my son,” his father said lightly. “You have forgotten everything about our past. Yes, the Valyien were our masters. Yes, we were no better than thralls. But it was their oppression which taught us how to fight.” His father grinned, his shovel-like maw full of tusks. “I have been thinking a lot about what that little man said in my hall.”

  Val frowned for a moment. “Oh. The captain.”

  “Captain.” His father shook his great head. “You serve a human? You. The Hero of the Chenga Pass!”

  “I do not serve,” Val grumbled, feeling his chest start to expand with rage. “We don’t serve like slaves and thralls. That is what makes us different.”

  “Enough!” his father bellowed. “You are my thrall, and you will listen.” He turned and walked to one end of the tunnel opening and back, the talons on his scaled feet making clicking noises as he paced. “You may think me backward, a fool, but I have my informants. My ways of getting information. I reached out to see if there was anything that this little ‘captain’ of yours told me was true.”

  Val looked at his father. This was unlike him. He had never known him to be circumspect when he could be brash. “And what did you find?”

  “That there is a new creature in the galaxy.” His father’s eyes narrowed. “A type of cruiser they call the Alpha-Vessel, and it was born of bastard Armcore and ancient Valyien technology.”

  “I could have told you that, Father,” Val said. “So you believe us?”

  “I never said that I disbelieved you, son, only that you were misguided, and weak.” His father’s tone was deadly. “This Alpha-vessel has already managed to partially cripple the Imperial Coalition by stealing the Helion Generator and killing the planet Haversham.”

  “What?” Val wasn’t shocked, because he didn’t get shocked, but this news did change things. The war was on, and it had escalated quickly. Killing a planet, he echoed. That was a serious act indeed, and one that was very rare in the history of interstellar conflict, and that wasn’t only because of the Imperial Coalition unifying all of the principle antagonists. As a fighting Duergar, and primed for the ways of war, he knew that it just didn’t make sense. What thralls could you capture if you destroyed the planet? What looting could you perform? What lamentations of your enemies would ring down through history if you just wiped them from the face of the galaxy?

  “And what is even more hilarious is that no Armcore or Imperial vessel has even been able to slow it down, from all accounts,” the chief continued, with not a small amount of glee.

  “You sound as though you are pleased,” Val said in disgust. “Now I think it is you who has forgotten our history, Father.”

  “How dare you!” It had the effect that he wanted, and his father rushed at him, lashing out with a clawed hand to grab his son’s wrist and haul him to his feet, presumably to beat him.

  But Val tensed every muscle he had in his back and pulled back on his arm, and, for a moment, the two large Duergar were locked in stalemate as neither of them could move the other. Pain roared through Val’s shoulder, but he wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction of being stronger than he was. He wasn’t, Val knew that.

  “Pfagh!” The War Chief Pathok Ma threw his arm back at him and moved away, panting heavily from the exertion. It was a small victory, Val knew, but it was still sweet.

  “You may think that you are being clever, Val, son of Pathok, but you are not. You are being stupid. You think that you are being honorable, that somehow you are embodying the true Duergar way, but of that, you are deeply mistaken.” His father lashed his son with his words where his strength wouldn’t suffice. “I know what we Duergar are. We are predators. We were predators. King lizards in a bygone age, before we were raised by the Valyien to sentience—”

  “—to be used as their pets!” Val burst out. Where was his father going with this? What heinous thing was he about to say?

  “Do you know what a true king predator does when they encounter another opponent? A much stronger one?” His father’s one good eye flashed in fear.

  “We challenge them,” Val growled in anger.

  “We stay the hell out of the way,” his father snapped back. “And we learn to grow strong. We follow them, we benefit from their kills, we wait until the bigger opponent isn’t looking, and then…” His father chomped down with his jaws in a loud smacking motion.

  “You are insane if you think that you can beat the Alpha-vessel on your own,” Val said. His father was mad. That was the only reason for it.

  “Of course, I do not believe that. What do you take me for, a complete fool?” His father chuckled. “This Alpha is part Valyien. Some part of its code or memory banks remembers the Duergar. It remembers that we were the best fighters that they ever had. We cleared worlds for the Valyien. We defeated civilizations. We took more thralls then than we ever have since.”

  “At what price!” Val shook his chains, but still they would not budge.

  “I’m glad you understand, son,” his father confused him by saying. “The price was our freedom, but the gift was that we became strong. Truly strong.” The war chief lifted his eyes to look out at the cavern walls, although Val knew that he wasn’t looking at the bare stone, still marked with strange stains of past tortures. “I intend to meet with this Alpha that has you quaking in your boots—”

  Another furious chain rattle from hi
s son at the insult.

  “And when Alpha destroys the Imperial Coalition and burns out Armcore for the virus that it is, the mighty warriors of Dur will strike. We will destroy Alpha, and we will have a sea of worlds open for us to conquer!”

  “You’re a fool, old man,” Val snarled, trying to rise but only resulting in more pain from the restraints, “if you think that Alpha won’t see through your plan in seconds. It has probably already figured out everything that you could want and is already seeking to counter it.”

  “Indeed, maybe you are right.” His father, despite the warnings, appeared relaxed and confident. “Because I came to tell you that just a few hours ago, a warp-capacity drone entered this system, of a type that none of our sensors could identify, and it is heading toward Dur. It is broadcasting a message saying that it is an emissary of Alpha, and that it wishes to talk.”

  “You cannot meet with it! Destroy it, now! You must, Father, if you value your people…” Val burst out. “What if its message is a ruse, and it came to do to Dur what it did to Haversham?”

  “Oh, I am more than fully aware of what it did to Haversham, and so I intend to treaty with it. I intend to offer Alpha this captain of yours, and perhaps even our help in defeating the Imperial Coalition. What would be a better gift then that?” his father said. “And when Alpha believes that we are allies, that is when we shall strike…”

  “No. You fool! You old fool!” Val shouted at him, but to no avail. His father was already turning and walking back up the tunnel that led from his son’s cell, and, as one last parting shot, Val heard his father’s words echo back to him.

  “You might want to reconsider which side you are on, my son. You can either side with the weak humans…or be a predator!”

  Getting into the arena was the easy part, the captain saw. The large arches that led to the inside of the complex were ungated and unguarded, and it seemed that it was common for Duergar to come and go into this place—especially the larger ones, Eliard saw as once again he was almost bowled over by the swaggering gait of a Duergar, shirtless and clearly exhausted. The arches led through short, cool stone-built corridors either to the seating terraces or rooms where other Duergar appeared to be changing or washing. This is also some sort of training ground, the captain realized as Erkig led them out onto one of the lower terraces, to the sound of clawed fists hitting scales.

  Small groups, trios and more, of Duergar were busy fighting in the sweltering heat on the sandy floor. No lizard-bird reptiles for them, it seemed.

  “That.” Erkig nodded to where one large Duergar was surrounded by at least five others, each jumping in to try and score a blow. “That’s Val’s Teaching.”

  “It even has a name?” Eliard murmured, to Erkig’s fierce grin. The captain turned to see how the Duergar in the center would wheel and spin to block some blows but had to allow others to land, if he was to make any headway. What his gunner seemed to be an expert in was being surrounded, and how to use his bulk to shield the less effective blows.

  They walked the long semi-circle of the terrace, heading for a distant archway, but before they could get there, the captain saw that they would have to negotiate a particularly rowdy bunch of Duergar males and females, drinking skins of wine and shouting encouragement or abuse at the tournament fighters below.

  “Just keep your mouth shut, and—” Erkig muttered as they passed by, but it was already too late.

  “Is that another one for the cells?” called one Duergar with a cruel laugh. Before Erkig could respond, one of the nearest Duergar stuck out a large clawed foot to catch the captain on the ankle, sending him spinning over onto the stone benches with a painful thump.

  “Ach.” Eliard felt a surge of anger ripple through him. He could take them, he knew that he could, and he already felt the Device starting to morph and change under his robes…

  “He’s mine,” Erkig grumbled sharply at them, not making any attempt to help the captain up.

  “Aw, come on. We’re only having a bit of fun!” said the Duergar harshly. “What’s the difference if he has a few more bruises now rather than later? You know where he’ll end up—as meat for the tournament!” The Duergar made to kick out again at the captain, who scrabbled away hurriedly.

  “I said he’s mine,” Erkig growled, with Ko standing beside him. “This thrall isn’t for you.”

  For a moment, the captain thought that the bluff might work, before the Duergar looked up at the green-scaled Erkig contemplatively.

  “Which band are you with?” he spat.

  Erkig, although impressively big, was perhaps not the most gifted with smarts. He made an annoyed gesture with his arms, displaying his canvas and tan robes that was the mark of the Chief’s Watch. “I don’t think you want to know,” he growled.

  “You what?” The Duergar stood up, very slowly.

  Oh, crap, Eliard thought, looking from Erkig to the others.

  “By order of the war chief, stand down,” Erkig growled.

  The Duergar didn’t, but instead rolled his shoulders to loud, audible cracks of muscle and bone. “You do know who I am, don’t you?” he hissed. “I’m a Band Sergeant for the Chief’s Watch. Sergeant Jekk. I’m sure you heard of me?”

  Oh, double crap.

  “He’s new,” Ko said suddenly from his side. “First day.”

  This plea for ignorance did not go down well amongst the martial Duergar. “I don’t care how new he is. No one speaks to me like that.” He gave another considering look. “In fact, what band did you say you were from again? Where in the city are you stationed? I don’t recognize you from the induction…”

  “Oh, balls,” Erkig said, since their cover was blown, seizing Watch Sergeant Jekk by the shoulders and delivering a crushing headbutt that sounded like a thunderclap.

  All hell broke loose. As Jekk fell back, blood pouring from the mess of his snubbed nose, the others around him—clearly other Chief’s Watch as well, enjoying their time off—jumped to their feet as Erkig started flailing with meaty fists.

  “Get him out of here!” Erkig boomed, already with two Duergar on either side of him, and another two about to join the fight. “For the Hero of Chenga!” Erkig roared as he jumped eagerly into the melee.

  Eliard had already produced the arm gun of the Device, but the fighting Duergar were too quick for him not to hit Erkig, and Ko was already at his side, pushing him off this terrace to the one below it and urging him to run for the next archway to whatever lay below the arena.

  “Move it!” Ko was shouting. “Erkig can handle himself!”

  Eliard ran as angry shouts broke out behind him as those brawling Duergar on the sands first cheered another fight, then realized that it wasn’t just any fight. It didn’t help that Erkig was bellowing his defiance to the Chief’s Watch and the war chief himself, shouting for the release of Val, but that did give him and Ko the distraction they needed to run into the open darkness of the archway, and instantly be surrounded by cooler air.

  “Which way?” Eliard shouted as the stone corridor met a T-junction.

  “That way, look at the floor.” Ko pointed to the right, and when the captain looked, he saw that the flagstones were stained with old blood. “That’ll lead to the cells, where the prisoners are tortured before being brought up here for the fights. If they survive, they bleed all the way back again.”

  Eliard started running, before he realized that Ko wasn’t following him, but was instead standing at the T-junction and drawing his concealed laser blaster.

  “What are you doing?” the captain hissed back.

  “Go on. I’ll hold them off,” Ko said, already turning to sight down the two corridors.

  You brave, mad, fool, the captain thought, feeling a tinge of shame as he did as Ko suggested and ran down the corridor as fast as his pained leg would allow. There had been a time in his life when he would never have sacrificed himself so quickly or easily, but that was behind him.

  The corridor curved and started to ar
ch downward. It would have been pitch black as he left the last glow of sunlight behind were it not for baleful red LED lights set into the walls. The glow was brightening up ahead and coming with it was the sound of rousing voices.

  “Halt!” a Duergar voice shouted as the captain skidded around the corner to see a black gate and two Duergar guards in part-metal power armor leaping up from their benches, their energy weapons already in hand.

  Crap-crap-crap. Eliard fired the Device. A whump of blue-white meson energy accelerated down the hall, hitting one of the Duergar guards and smashing him against the iron gate.

  FZT! The blast of the remaining guard’s energy weapon seared past the captain, and he could feel the blast of its energy as it swept past his shoulder. The captain leaped and rolled, the Device changing and reorganizing even as he brought his arm up again, this time to spit smaller bursts of meson energy in a smaller version of the meson railgun that it had turned into just the day previously.

  BLAT-BLAT-BLAT! One bolt went clean between the bars to the rest of the war chief’s dungeons below, and another hit the Duergar on the shoulder, spinning him so that the next could hit him square in the chest, throwing him against the bars also.

  “Will you people stop shooting at me!” The Captain stumbled toward the gates, the smell of burnt ozone heavy in the tunnel.

  “One of these guys had to have keys, didn’t they?” he muttered as other sounds hit his ears. Roaring, and screams. Only some of them were coming from behind him, where Ko and Erkig must be fighting to give him this chance, but still more shouts seemed to be coming from the other side of this gate, where a wide stone corridor led into several alcoves and chambers. In one of them, the captain knew, would be his friend Val. He just hoped that he wasn’t already dead. Or high on that Hadoo Root stuff, he admitted as the guard he had just shot groaned but was too injured to do anything as the captain riffled through his armor.