Vorpal Blade

by John Ringo

  At the back of the room was another small door, very low, and made of stone and metal. Both had been heavily gouged.

  "Observe the tapestry," Lady Che-chee said, gesturing.

  The tapestry depicted a battle scene. A one-sided one. Cheerick dressed similar to Greek hoplites were being torn apart by a wave of—

  "Are those Dreen?" Miriam asked nervously.

  "No," Miller said, immediately. "At least none that I've seen. Similar, though."

  There were several kinds of demons. In the forefront of the wave were low-slung beasts not too different from the predators they'd fought on the island. The big difference being that their skin seemed to have been hardened. Some were depicted as being killed by the spears and short swords of the Cheerick, some were slashed. But it was clearly hard to kill them.

  Mingling with them and behind were bigger beasts, the size of rhinoceros, which were insectoid and beetlelike. Those were shown as being nearly invulnerable. One was spitted by a lance-wielding flier on some sort of seat. But nothing else seemed to stop them.

  Behind them, surrounded in places by flying fighters, were bigger beasts that looked something like a low-slung dragon, complete with overlapping scales. Again, one had been injured by being poked in the mouth but otherwise was unstoppable.

  In the distance, set in one corner of the tapestry, were vague figures that seemed to be flying towards the fight. Their form appeared to be unclear to the artist of the tapestry as well, simply being impressions of something that looked a bit like a long-winged airplane.

  "This is a class," Miller said. "This is a class on what you can do, what little you can do from the looks of things, to stop the Demons."

  "Yes," Lady Che-chee said when that was translated. "I took it the same way."

  "Where did you get it?" Miriam asked.

  "This home was owned, for many generations, by the same family," Lady Che-chee said. "I bought it when they had become destitute. Their ancestor was the Lady of this area the last time the Demons came. The legend is that the city had become corrupt and the Demons came to bring it back to the path of right. The writings that survive indicate that it had become, in fact, much as it is right now. That is, people were asking questions long prevented by the Church. And that, somehow, that drew the Demons."

  "Oh," Miriam said, frowning.

  "They are said to be drawn, as well, by made moving things, such as your armor," Lady Che-chee said. "And light that comes not from fire. But there's an interesting thing . . ."

  "Yes?" Miriam asked.

  "You see, there are already rumors that the Demons are returning," Lady Che-chee said. "Quite valid ones, I'm afraid. Last month, I was sent a message from Court. Two farms nearby the capital had been attacked. It was assumed, initially, that it had been by brigands. A cavalry patrol was dispatched to hunt them down. One fighter returned. Carrying this."

  She opened up the small door and pulled out a large glass flask. In it was a taloned paw.

  "So. The Demons seem to have returned."

  27

  You Want Us to What?

  "We didn't cause this, right?" the CO said.

  "We were forty light-years away a month ago, sir," Commander Weaver pointed out.

  "And we're sure this isn't just legends?" the CO asked.

  "About as legendary as the Roman Republic," Miriam said. "Their written records go back several thousand years. And they have these periodic 'demon' attacks."

  "Having seen the evidence up close, sir," Chief Warrant Officer Miller interjected, "it is my professional opinion that the demons are either real or very well hoaxed. I measured a couple of the gouges in the door and on the armor and they're pretty much identical. I don't know what their claws are made of, but they cut through heavy bronze like butter."

  "Lady Che-chee is, besides being a soldier, apparently a bit of a scholar," Miriam said. "She's collected every fragment of information about the Demon Times she could afford. I guess it's a natural sort of thing for soldiers to be interested in. It seems like every time this society hits a Renaissance, they get destroyed. The Fall of Atlantis over and over again."

  "That confirms an indicator we've seen, recently," First Sergeant Powell said. "Besides the obvious civilizations, there are several that Miss Moon initially identified as 'barbaric.' The problem being that, based on the nature of some of those regions, ready access to the oceans, fertile farmland, there was no reason for it to be barbarian areas."

  "Let me guess," the CO said.

  "One whole continent is peppered with recent ruins, sir," the first sergeant said.

  "And Atlantis falls," Chief Miller said. "That's just lousy."

  "I find it interesting that there are legends of machinery but no machinery," Weaver interjected. "They even have drawings of what look like robots. Of course, they're on clay tablets. Could these Cheerick be transplants?"

  "Possible," Dr. Robertson said. "Their biology is different."

  "So how, or why, did these Demons destroy their biology?" the CO asked. "And are they a threat to us?"

  "Unknown, sir," Chief Miller answered. "Based on the tapestry, none of the Demons could harm the ship. The beetles or the dragon might take out a Wyvern, though. No real clue how resistant to Gatling fire they are."

  "The last thing I want to do is get into another furball," the CO said. "But we really haven't made full contact, yet. Captain MacDonald, security is going to get stretched. I want your Marines to be ready for deployment at all times. Figure out the details on that and get back to me. Obviously, any away team has to have security but don't strip the ship."

  "Yes, sir," Mac said.

  "XO, make sure our own security is up to snuff," the CO said. "Marines have point but they're to back them. Schedule combined ops drills."

  "Sir."

  "Let's establish communication with the local leaders, get a survey done and then get the hell out of here."

  "With the coming of these intruders, the Day of the Demons assuredly draws near," High Priest Chik-chak hissed.

  "They were here already," Queen Sicrac replied quietly, considering the missive from Lady Che-chee. The old fighter had a wonderful flare for prose. "Perhaps they are able to help us."

  "Blasphemy," the high priest said, but mutedly. "There is no stopping the Demons; they are a scourge sent by the gods to punish the wicked. Unfortunately, it's become hard to decide what is wicked and what not. And in this case, the blasphemy comes after the Demons have returned."

  The rumors had been unstoppable and before the humans ever landed, proclamations had been sent throughout Cheerick, shouted in the square and announced in the temples. The Demons had returned. Prepare as well as you can. Reserves of the Guard were called up and the preparations the priests had long sought, food and records sealed in deep caves, had begun. No one knew when the worst of the Demon wave would hit, but the queen intended that, this once, something would be left to rebuild civilization.

  Now, out of all legend and historical sequence, these . . . Chrans had come with their made things. After the first of the Demons. It upset precedent. The queen, however, had jumped on it. The Chrans had come to aid them against the Demons.

  Now, if she could just convince them of the same thing.

  "Okay, call me Dr. Dean if you want, but that thing bugs the every living maulk out of me," Runner said, looking to the northwest.

  "The hill?" Sergeant Kristopher said, planting the drill. "It's a basolith." This referred to an igneous upwelling that formed underground, then was exposed as lighter materials eroded away from it.

  "Really?" Runner said sarcastically. He picked up a section of pipe and inserted it. This was the fourth core sample they'd taken and they were all coming up the same, soil followed by layers of limestone and sandstone. The region had, several million years before, been under water. There were fossils. The layers all looked right. Normal for this sort of region. This world hadn't been terraformed recently, that was for sure. "You're the expert? Son, ther
e's no surface evidence of granite anywhere within six hundred clicks of that so-called basolith. And there's nothing for a hundred meters down. You always get some secondary outcroppings when you've got basolithic extrusion, but everything in the area is loam or limestone."

  "So what do you think it is, Dr. Runner?"

  "I dunno," Runner admitted. "And I'll even admit to missing Dr. Dean. He might have had a clue."

  "We can ask for permission to check it out," Kristopher said. "Go over and get some samples."

  "Maybe after the negotiations are complete," Runner said. "Long damned walk."

  "Ask if we can borrow a cart."

  "Jesus Christ!" Sergeant Jaenisch said as they reached the walls of the inner city.

  Chief Miller and Miss Moon had been installed in an open carriage pulled by six-legged beasts while Commander Weaver and the first sergeant, still in their Wyverns, followed in a cart festooned with flowers and bunting. And the beasts were moving along at a nice trot, requiring the security team to trot along behind to keep up. But the run wasn't what caused Jaen's exclamation. That was the crowds.

  They had already passed through the outer periphery of the city, slums really, and there had been locals there, their fur matted with filth but squeaking in apparent enthusiasm and making way for the team of cavalry that led and secured the procession. But it wasn't until they cleared the ruinous walls of the city that they hit the real crowds. There the cavalry had to slow, slapping Cheerick aside with their swords and squeaking curses. The roadway was packed with the locals who were throwing flowers and paper at the carriages and trying to mob them in joy.

  "Well, at least they're happy to see us," Hatt said.

  "They're ecstatic," Top Powell said, breaking in on the team freq. "And any group this happy to see a military force has military problems. Keep that in mind."

  The group was effectively stopped by the crowds and some of them had broken through the cavalry and were now climbing on the carriages.

  "Miss Moon, how do you say: Thank you but you must move aside?" Weaver asked.

  "It's . . . can you . . ."

  "PFC Berg, can you retrans from Miss Moon?"

  "Set up, sir," Berg said.

  "Tell the drivers to hold onto their beasts!" Weaver said. "Berg, max volume!"

  "CHEE-SHA TREEK!" Berg's armor suddenly shrieked. "SHA-SHA MEEK!"

  The crowd pressed back and some of the cavalry were nearly thrown as their beasts started to bolt. The formerly placid draft-beasts pulling Commander Weaver's cart tried to bolt as well, but Jaen grabbed onto the cart and planted his feet.

  "Sorry, ain't goin' nowhere," he said as Berg and Hatt got a hold as well.

  Chief Miller hammered the fingers of a local still holding the carriage and waved his M-10 at the leader of the cavalry.

  "Go! Go!" he yelled, pointing down the road.

  As the cavalry broke into a canter, the security team let go and followed at a steady bound.

  "CHEE-SHA TREEK! SHA-SHA MEEK!"

  Between the charging cavalry and the shrieking armor, they managed to pass out of the near riot, and the crowds farther down the road stood aside.

  "Oh, yeah," Jaen said, panting. "This is gonna be fun."

  Weaver walked solemnly down the throne room, trailing Miriam and Miller. The latter had given up his knife before being allowed in but his M-10 was slung. Nobody had apparently realized that the things on the Terran's shoulders were weapons.

  The throne room was low and rather dark. He'd noticed a tendency towards less light in all the Cheerick buildings. He wondered about the evolutionary background of the Cheerick as he approached the throne.

  The latter was rather ornate, but not exactly "jewel encrusted." The Cheerick definitely used jewels, though, since the queen was wearing a cloak that had them along the hem and a large necklace that had more. It might just be that they were very rare in this society.

  They stopped at a balk line and a male wearing complex vestments started speaking, apparently for the queen.

  "Negotiations," Weaver muttered. "This should be interesting."

  "Just remember, sir," the first sergeant said. "There's going to be that one thing they really want from us. All we have to do is figure out what it is, whether we're willing to do it and how much they're willing to pay. The essence of negotiation is control. Find out what you control and what you don't and you win. I think the reception we got says it all. These people are scared."

  "I'd rather be defending a scientific paper," Weaver said.

  "Lots of fun, sir?" Top asked.

  "Brutal."

  "Brutal."

  They'd managed to get the claw away from Lady Che-chee with some more jewels and the, honest, statement that they wished to examine it. Apparently the one specimen that was brought back by the patrol survivor had been distributed, packed in alcohol, to every major lord in the land.

  This claw was nineteen centimeters from the "ankle" to the tip of the longest claw. Dr. Robertson picked up the thing and pulled out some material she'd borrowed from the geology lab. It was a kit designed to test mineral hardness. She'd been informed of the claw marks in the limestone so she skipped right up to glass.

  "Scores it," she said, moving up to sapphire, the material of aliglass.

  "Damn," Master Sergeant Bartlett said. The claw hadn't just scratched the sapphire, it had deeply gouged it.

  "That's bad," Dr. Robertson said.

  "Absolutely," Bartlett said. "What is that stuff? I don't know anything biological that is that strong!"

  "Anything producible by machinery is producible by biology," Dr. Robertson said. "Did you imagine the Dreen?"

  "No," Bartlett said. "But they also didn't make anything that strong. Their armor was based on fibrous polymers like Kevlar. That's high hardness refractory material, Doctor."

  "And what is it?" she asked quizzically. "I think we're going to have to turn it over to engineering or bio to figure out. Tchar, perhaps."

  "If we can get a sample," Bartlett said, picking up a diamond saw. It skittered over the surface of the material but didn't penetrate. "It's stronger than diamond."

  "Yes," Dr. Robertson said. "We need to communicate that to the Marines immediately. And get this down to engineering to see if they have anything that can take a sample."

  "He's the high priest of the local religion," Miriam said. "Despite that fact, he started off by stating that both the secular authorities and religious agree that the Demons were not caused by our arrival. They believe that the Demons were sent to punish this city, and possibly this region, for various blasphemies. The most interesting one I thought was 'rebellion against the crown.' "

  "Divine right," Weaver said, wincing. "We need to keep a close eye on that or we might tread on a nascent democratic revolution."

  "This appears to be a rebellion by some outer area lords," Miriam said. "Over taxes."

  "Doesn't sound like William Wallace to me, sir," the first sergeant said.

  "We need to know more about the religious aspect," Captain MacDonald said. "The high priest represents the establishment. Is there a fundamentalist strain that is a security threat? We don't need to be fighting demons on one side and Cheerick on the other."

  "I can't ask that in open Court, Captain," Miriam said, then began chittering.

  "I told them that we're glad that they have determined we are not the problem and that we wished to open relations with them on a friendly level."

  The high priest chittered for a while, then stopped, at which point the queen stood up and began speaking.

  "Oh, no," Miriam muttered as she finished.

  "What?" Weaver asked.

  "They're more or less willing to open up to trade or whatever we want," Miriam said. "Alliance, troops, supplies, you name it. But they want us to try to rid them of the scourge of the Demons."

  28

  The Lady, She's a Mother

  "Oh, hell no," Captain Blankemeier said. "One ship. Twenty Marines. And that's wha
t's left. Have you seen Dr. Robertson's report?"

  "No, sir," Weaver said. "I haven't downloaded recently."

  The humans had, quite reasonably from the queen's perspective, asked for time to communicate with their commander. They'd been led to a room that appeared to be immune to eavesdropping for their colloquy. Miller and Top had checked it out and found two "sound holes" hidden behind tapestries. On the other hand, everyone in the group could subvocalize so they did.