Rebel Fleet

by B. V. Larson

“What’s that, sir?”

  “The new arrivals are teaming up. They won’t fight. They won’t challenge one another properly.”

  “You mean the beetles?” I asked, knowing it couldn’t be the turtles. The Terrapinians seemed to relish a good battle. “How is that a problem?”

  “They failed the tests. All of them. They stood there and burned on the decks, rather than lift a limb to strike their companions.”

  Frowning, I wasn’t sure how to take that. “They sound like good soldiers—if they’ll fight the enemy.”

  “It’s possible they will,” he said. “But we can’t take a chance on them without seeing how well they can hold their own.”

  “Why’d you take them aboard then, sir? Why not leave them on their world?”

  “We’ve lost too many crews. We’re in a fight for our lives now. The Imperials are done playing, they’ll make their big push soon. Their recon efforts are nearly finished.”

  “Recon? You mean, back on that last planet…?”

  “Yes. That was a scouting force, not a serious fleet.”

  His words alarmed me. “How many ships are we gathering together here?” I asked him.

  “Several hundred. We hope to trick them into attacking us where we are strong. They outnumber us greatly, but if we can find another hunter-group and destroy it with few losses, we can even the odds.”

  I didn’t feel confident about his plan, but I didn’t have a better one.

  “About the beetles,” he said. “I need you to… agitate them.”

  “What?”

  “Make them fight. You’re very good at that.”

  I hadn’t thought of myself as a troublemaker, but perhaps in his eyes, I seemed like someone who fought with everyone.

  “How do you propose I do that?” I asked.

  “You could steal one of their females. The way you did with Mia.”

  I winced in horror. The idea of having sex with one of those creatures was far beyond the pale. I couldn’t believe he would even suggest it.

  Shaw caught none of my facial clues. “Well?” he asked.

  “It wouldn’t work, Lieutenant,” I said with certainty. “Even if I were to succeed, they would only be angry with me, not each other. The point is to get them to compete among themselves, isn’t it?”

  “Yes… You’re right... I have no choice. It’s bad timing, but we must use the arena.”

  My heart sank. “The pit, sir?”

  “Yes. Report there upon the next dawn. Bring your crewmen, and your most effective primate trickery.”

  He left me then, and I sighed aloud. What had been a lovely start to the day had turned into a vast disappointment.

  =28=

  My crew didn’t take the news well.

  “That is total bullshit, Chief!” Samson complained.

  “There’s no way we should have to enter the arena again,” Mia said. “We’ve already earned our disruptors. Let the weak fight in the pit. We’ll stand on the edge and hiss at them in amusement. That is how it should be!”

  “They can’t make us go in again, can they Leo?” Gwen asked plaintively.

  I glanced at her. “They can do whatever the hell they want to. They make up the rules as they go along, I guess. They need the beetles to fight one another, and for some reason they think we can get them to do it.”

  “It’s because of the turtles,” Samson said. “It has to be.”

  “How so?”

  “Remember when Ra-tikh came and jumped them? Right there, you had two crews fighting on your behalf.”

  “That’s thin evidence,” I protested.

  “Not in Shaw’s mind,” Dr. Chang said suddenly. “To his way of thinking, we are weaklings, but we possess a low, cunning intelligence. We’re beings that survive by our wits, rather than our brawn. Therefore, he has calculated that we can succeed at socializing the beetles where he has failed.”

  “Socializing?” Gwen asked. “Is that what we’re calling this? We’re going down there to be burned and bruised.”

  “We can win,” I said firmly. “We’ve done it before, and we’ll do it again.”

  “What if the beetles won’t fight each other?” Samson demanded. “What if they all gang up on us instead?”

  I didn’t have an answer for his questions, so I didn’t bother. I led my crew toward the pit instead.

  Our disruptors were reset for low power, to be used as training units. Minutes later, we found ourselves in a colored circle, sinking into the deck again.

  The other teams were eyeing us warily. Three of them were flesh-beetles. They were hunched and yellow-brown. Their flesh was warty and built with lumps of meat, bone and shiny chitin. There was no easy way to tell the individuals apart. They all appeared to be about the same size and shape.

  The only surprise was the fifth team. We had come to know them well. They were led by a particularly large member of their breed, the very Terrapinian who had attempted to beat me down a few weeks ago while I slept on the hangar deck.

  “Turtles?!” Samson roared. “Let’s make soup out of them!”

  He pointed his disruptor toward the turtles, who returned the favor. We were descending now into the pit, but the battle hadn’t officially begun, so our weapons weren’t activated yet.

  My mind was in overdrive, trying to figure out what to do. It made sense that the turtles would be in this fight as they had yet to earn their official sidearms, but I still smelled a rat. I was certain that Shaw was the source of the unpleasant odor.

  My concerns were confirmed when the Terrapinian team was placed next to us in the line-up.

  “The officers know we hate the turtles…” I said. “Do they want us to fight?”

  “I don’t get it…” Gwen said in alarm. “If we go for the turtles right off, that will leave only the bugs to clean up the mess.”

  “Right,” I said. “But maybe Shaw’s hoping that a display of violence on our part will motivate the beetles.”

  “I don’t think he has any coherent plan,” Dr. Chang said. “He’s probably hoping you’ve got a trick to play.”

  “Great…”

  The pit continued to lower until we reached the bottom. Far above, a circle of smiling faces watched us. They cheered, hoping for blood. The contestants checked their weapons and were informed as to the rules.

  “Hey!” I shouted at the turtles.

  Two of them looked at me with their liquid black eyes, but they soon lost interest.

  Desperate, I took several steps in their direction. I stood at the very edge of our circle of territory, which was delineated by a ring of colored light on the deck.

  This move got their attention. The leader turned his big wedge-shaped head in my direction.

  “You seek to befoul us?” he demanded. “To spread the stench of your lungs in our odor-space?”

  I could tell that the translators were struggling to give us the meaning of his words, but I got the idea. He thought I stank and should shut up.

  “I have a suggestion,” I said, shouting over the announcer who was just about finished. “Let’s not fight. The bugs will all team against us, anyway. We should unite and fight all three of their crews.”

  The huge turtle seemed to consider the offer. Then time ran out, and the floor went green.

  “Agreed,” he said to me at the last instant.

  “Damn, I was going to cold-cock him right off,” Samson said, lowering his weapon.

  “Samson,” I said with real regret, “we have to make a sacrifice. You’re it.”

  “Ah, shit.”

  We’d talked about this before, and now it was time to put the plan into action. As he was our biggest teammate, he moved toward the three bug groups and threw himself down on the deck.

  The rest of us fell onto our bellies and aimed over Samson, who had his broad back directed toward the bugs.

  “Arrr!” Samson howled as a lucky strike caught him in the spine. “They’re going to spine-meld me and put me out quick!”


  “All right, time to choose targets—” I said, but I broke off. “What the—they’re cheating!”

  Already, things were going badly. The enemy beetles had all turned around, aiming their shiny brown carapaces in our direction. They looked like shields with legs when they ducked their heads and tucked in their arms. Now and then, they took a blind shot in our direction as they advanced slowly.

  Backing up, they began a slow, plodding march in our direction. We shot their backs, but it was like striking at a shield-wall. Their carapaces seemed to be immune to our low-powered disruptors. They had a natural advantage we couldn’t easily overcome.

  “Shoot for their legs!” I ordered.

  We fired a barrage, and one of the bugs stumbled, flopping on the deck. It had taken us fifteen shots to do it, and that single bug wasn’t even finished. I couldn’t help but notice that none of the bugs were shooting at each other. They were operating as a single fifteen-man crew.

  That’s when the first bolt landed in our midst. A second later, a dozen more struck.

  It wasn’t coming from the beetles, however, who couldn’t even see us with their backs turned.

  The turtles were doing it. They’d decided to break their alliance and shoot us in the ass. Our agreement had lasted for maybe ninety seconds.

  “Those cock-smokers,” Samson slurred. His mouth was bleeding from the strikes he’d sustained, and a pink foam was glistening on the deck around his head.

  “Team!” I shouted, turning to face this new threat. “Everyone shoot at the big guy. Fry that turtle—no mercy!”

  One weakness of the turtles was their tendency not to wear covering gear. They didn’t seem to like wearing uniforms at all. This was probably due to a hot climate on their home planet—or maybe our atmosphere was too hot for them, and they wanted to cool down. It was hard to tell.

  Whatever the case, they tended to wear only a battle-harness with weapons or tools on their crisscrossing belts. This left critical parts of their bodies exposed…

  None of my team had any compunction. They targeted the lead turtle’s balls and fired in unison.

  Shocked by multiple hits and near-hits, the turtle staggered, but he didn’t go down.

  “The eyes!” I shouted. “Aim for those black marbles!”

  We lanced at him with a dozen more shots, and that was it. Gargling oddly, he spun around and fell. We shot him a few more times, but the battle was over.

  As had happened before, and I’d hoped would happen this time, the rest of his team crumpled. They stopped firing, staggered backward and some even dropped their weapons. Without their leader, they were confused and cowardly.

  “Forget them,” I said, “the bugs are almost here.”

  Samson was unconscious by this time. He’d been knocked out by so many hits to the back and head. Mia was down too, having been fried by hits mostly from the treacherous turtles.

  That left me and my two weakest combatants. The closest enemy beetles, still walking backward, were only a dozen paces away.

  “Forget shooting them. Grab up fallen disruptors. Let’s move to the turtles and use them for shields.”

  We scrambled up and ran. Gwen cursed and Dr. Chang made a long growling sound in his throat. We were all taking a hit now and then, creating red swollen patches on our backs and legs.

  When we reached the turtles, they looked confused. I decided to go for broke.

  “You heard your leader!” I shouted at them. “He made a deal to fight with me. Now that he’s gone, you’re under my command!”

  This took a few seconds to register, but when it did, the group became reenergized. Three of them were still standing. They lifted their weapons and aimed them at the approaching shield-wall of beetles.

  The final moments of the fight were brutal and strange. We adopted a new tactic, rushing forward, spinning a bug around, and shooting him point-blank until he toppled, shivering and leaking fluids.

  Then, all at once, the remaining beetles turned around to face us. If there had been a signal between them, I’d missed it.

  There were ten of them left against our six, but we were more experienced, often larger and stronger—and we were mean.

  Closing with the enemy, we placed our disruptors where we knew they would do the most damage: up against eyeballs, genitals, or fingers that held weapons.

  Both Gwen and Dr. Chang, despite heroic efforts, fell. Of my three turtles, two survived to the end. They weren’t fast or cunning, but they could take an impressive amount of punishment.

  The last of the beetles fell with me gunning him in the guts over and over with a disruptor in each hand. I’d picked them up from fallen bugs when mine had run out of juice.

  Triumphant, I lifted my hands over my head and clasped them together. I shook them at the watchers, hating them almost as much as the fallen beetles that lay everywhere around me, kicking and twitching.

  I expected the announcement of the ending to come, but it didn’t. Instead, the floor began to pulse yellow. It was a warning, a threat: the pain was coming soon.

  After a moment, I looked around at my two-turtle army and realized what the problem was. The officers didn’t recognize us as a crew. We were two crews, myself alone against two turtles.

  For their part, the turtles stared at me. They didn’t know what to do as no one had told them yet.

  I heaved a sigh.

  “Honor must be satisfied,” I said. “You must shoot one another until you’re both out of the game.”

  They turned, hesitantly, and began shooting one another from two paces apart. Their hisses of pain were enough to make me feel sorry for the gray-green losers.

  Finally, they fell. I was the last man standing in the arena.

  “The contest is over,” Shaw declared in an amplified voice. “The humans have won—again.”

  Ragged cheers rang out from above. The floor stopped displaying colors and began to rise.

  The battle was over.

  =29=

  Shaw came to visit us in our pod, which had been repaired after the initial battle with the Imperials.

  My own team was still in a sorry state, however. Two medical drones were applying salves and patches to our damaged flesh. I had a dozen swollen injuries myself, and I found I wasn’t in the mood to apologize to Shaw.

  “What kind of plan was that?” he demanded.

  I shrugged.

  “A perfect one,” I said. “The battle went exactly as I’d hoped. Everything fell into place beautifully. The one part I wasn’t sure would go right was tempting the turtles into a backstab—but they went for it. Sometimes, I do impress even myself.”

  He stared at me in confusion. “You planned for the turtles to attack you?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “But you utterly failed to get the beetles to fight one another! All you accomplished was another selfish victory!”

  “Ah,” I said, lifting a finger with a red weal on it that stung in the open air. “You don’t see it, do you? I thought you were more perceptive. Oh well, not all species are the same when it comes to scheming. You’ve said it yourself a dozen times.”

  He strode closer, glowering at me. “You’re telling me this is all part of some grand strategy of yours?”

  “Of course. The beetles learned today not to screw with the humans. You have to understand, Lieutenant, I can’t break their lifelong conditioning toward species-unity in a single step. It will take time for my lessons to sink in.”

  “Why should I believe any of this?” he asked suspiciously.

  I gave him a sweeping gesture indicating the entire situation. “Did you somehow miss the sight of a battlefield strewn with fallen enemies? I thought it was a Rebel belief that success such as mine today should bring status to the victor. Increased status, in turn, is the only evidence that will prove I know what I’m doing. Isn’t that how Rebels are supposed to act?”

  Shaw mumbled bitterly, but he had to concede my point. Then the conve
rsation took an unexpected turn.

  “I have your reward here,” he grumbled. “It is inappropriate you should receive this honor, but I can’t deny that you’ve come out on top in the arena twice in a row.”

  A cargo-drone buzzed into our pod. It was carrying a large cube. The drone set down the cube at our feet.

  The cube turned out to be an automated carton. It opened quietly, like a box yawning wide. Inside were some ugly-looking metal devices. I picked one up, impressed by the weight of it.

  “Graviton thumpers,” Shaw said, his tone indicating he believed his statement should have explained everything.

  “Um… thanks,” I said, looking them over.

  “They’re close-combat weapons,” Shaw said, realizing I had no idea what the purpose of these devices was. “The barrel on top is a disruptor, like your hand weapons, but with more range and hitting power. The tube underneath the device fires the gravity-grenades.”

  “I see,” I said, impressed. “Why are we being issued these weapons?”

  He squirmed in irritation.

  “Champions are often called upon in battle for special operations.”

  “Like what?”

  “Thumpers are advanced personal armament,” he said, “they’re for leading boarding assaults, or repelling them. Under rare circumstances, they can be used when invading worlds and pacifying them.”

  “Great,” I said, “can we keep our regular disruptors as well?”

  “Of course. The thumpers aren’t allowed to be used aboard ship unless we’re engaged in actual battle.”

  I sighed in disappointment and put the weapon back into the crate.

  “Too bad,” I said.

  Shaw laughed. “What? Have you already hatched a plan to ambush the Terrapinians with these unfair weapons?”

  Shrugging, I admitted nothing.

  Shaw left us. As the door closed behind him, he shook his head and muttered about the natural duplicity and vile habits of primates.

  Mia came to me, and her fuzzy hands ran over my arms.

  “You performed so well on the battlefield,” she said. “I doubted you—I admit it—but I was wrong. You said you would get revenge on the turtles for their treachery, and you did it in the most artful way. They’ll never consider turning against us again!”