by Scott Rhine
“Is it sharp?” His ear stood at attention.
“It can cut bone. It’ll never run out of ammunition or battery power. We’ll emblazon your family crest on it.”
“I don’t have a crest.”
“Then get busy.” That will keep the little mugger occupied this leg.
The next thing Kesh did was search out Max. Instead of napping in the hammock, his friend was driving a tiny skid-steer. He scooped up a bucket of sand and carried it to the loading dock.
“Hey,” Kesh objected. “This is my bathing pit!”
“We’ve been through this before,” Max shouted over the whine of the skid-steer. “Everything in the ship belongs to the Magi. We’re leaving the cactus and pine ecosystem. If we run low on water, they can clean the air. We need some sand to balance the mass of the other biomes. However, Roz wants me to lighten our load by a few tons before we’re done refueling.”
Kesh noticed the heaps. “You’re selling off excess wall panels?”
“Everything must go! She’s planning to pump the air out of the unused sectors. We’ll be lighter, and if a warship holes us on that half of the hull, we won’t lose anything.”
“Yeah. We should talk about space combat. Daisy’s experience has proven it’s riskier than anticipated. Our boarding teams should attack from range if possible, and each artillery piece should have a protector in case the enemy engages in hand-to-hand. Everyone should carry a belt full of glop grenades for hull breaches.”
“Or covering our rear as we advance,” agreed Max. “We can lob a grenade down every tunnel that doesn’t lead to the bridge. That way, no one can attack us from behind. We’ll pair up and practice tactics later. I have to work nonstop to keep the shuttle busy.”
“This isn’t efficient.”
“Roz insists that lighter means faster in the subbasement. Echo feels there is an upper limit to the speed tradeoff. The whole discussion was over my head. They put me in charge of mass reduction.”
“You should have Goats doing the work of turning this ship into Swiss cheese.”
Max shut off the engine. “That would be easier. How much would they charge?”
“Because of their slipshod security, we’re missing both a yacht and a Ram.”
“That’s mostly our fault.”
“The Goats don’t know that. With pressure from their patrons, the Magi, we can probably guilt them into doing the work for free.”
“The salvage crews could also strip out the fuel lines to the Icarus drives we already removed.”
“Then you could sneak back onto the base and rescue Reuben.”
“I couldn’t.” Max shook his head.
“It’s what you’re best at! Without an aura, no one will see you.”
“I promised my wives I wouldn’t. Besides, Bankers know how we operate. They’d be ready for me.” He placed a hand on Kesh’s shoulder. “Reuben needs time to heal, and their infirmary is better for Goats. In any rescue scenario, we want him able to walk out under his own power. Give diplomacy a chance. The Magi are good at bargaining.”
“You’re not the same man who killed ten Saurians on Eden to free Echo.”
Max smiled wistfully. “That’s the nicest compliment you’ve ever given me.”
Doing nothing took all Kesh’s concentration that day. He didn’t sleep well that night either. I’ll be remembered as the man who handed the greatest Ram of our age over to his enemies.
He sent his sword out for sharpening in case he needed to use it against the Tellers. As nonsentients involved in crimes, they didn’t have protection under Union law.
****
On day two, negotiations yielded a small concession. To prove he was being well-treated, the Tellers allowed Reuben to speak to his teammates by vid screen. They gathered in the cafeteria.
Pale and subdued, the Black Ram sat on the edge of his bed in a hospital gown.
Max scanned the monitors on the headboard. “Good thing you have a hard head. Any cute nurses?”
Reuben grunted. “There are no women in this system except the ones we brought. How’s Daisy?”
“Her ears are still ringing, but she’s recovering.”
Kesh asked, “How’s the food?”
“It would be mediocre if the portion sizes weren’t so small. I’ve eaten tastier paste.”
“We recovered your media ball,” Kesh said. “It caught the Teller shooting you when you were helpless. We’re hoping to use the image to shame them into letting you go.”
The screen went dark.
Max said, “Okay. A freighter is heading back to Filangis. The evidence should reach MI-23 in another month.”
“It could add fuel to the hatred and provoke the very war we’re trying to prevent,” Echo warned.
“Their actions need to have major consequences, or the Bankers will continue to steam-roller the other species,” Max said. “They can choose to stop the bad publicity at any time.”
Echo responded, “They’re accustomed to getting their way. Change isn’t easy for them.”
“Then we encourage them,” Max said. “If they don’t release him before we pull out of dock, Kesh and Menelaus want to take him by force.”
“You must have faith.” Then the hologram disappeared.
Kesh sighed. “You did your best.”
Roz said, “You should work on your treatise. Take your mind off the crisis.”
“I have a bad case of writer’s block,” Kesh admitted. “Only two of my heirs may someday aspire to adequate. Since my flesh-and-blood legacy is so disappointing, my book must be all the more impressive. I can’t write three words without erasing them as insufficient.”
“Maybe you’re being too harsh on them,” Roz said.
Kesh passed her the pad with their files.
“They sound like okay small-town mayors.”
“I want a society changer.”
“So spur them to greatness,” she said. “Make it a competition that teaches them how to serve and cooperate.”
“Very non-Saurian traits. The idea has merit. I’ll send the names by telepath instead of ansible, though. I don’t want Bankers picking my heir. If I die, the lie would go undetected.”
Kesh spent the day staring at a blank pad, unable to think of any worthy trials for his budding heroes. As idiotic and foul-smelling as the Goat was, he missed Reuben’s entertainment value. A ship full of Magi was duller than a wake. At least funerals had alcohol and fires.
****
The third day, Max mailed Kesh a book on Human mythology, highlighting the trials of Hercules and the race for the golden apple. Shoveling the stables amused him. What would be the modern equivalent? One of the stocks Kesh had kept through the collapse of the Phib market was a chain of alien-run nursing homes. The Phibs didn’t like to care for the old and weak, but the war had generated a great number of disabled veterans. The idea of Travon’s spawn emptying the bedpans of defeated soldiers warmed him. What would the contest be? Pure money couldn’t be the metric. This would teach them to gain from the suffering of others. Whoever could lure and retain more clients?
The project engrossed him so much he forgot about the hostage situation. The Goat construction crew completed the renovations in exchange for the air pumped from the unused sections. By the time he’d finished the test parameters, the Magi shuttle had taken them all home. He’d missed his chance. No last-minute rescue mission.
After a quick evening dinner, Kesh waited at the airlock for the Magi shuttle to return to Deep 6. He made small talk with Max as they stared at the porthole. “How’s Daisy?”
“She has balance problems and nausea, possibly related to her inner ear. She barely touched her eggplant.”
Kesh wrinkled his face. “I don’t blame her. My food eats your food.”
“Yeah. My wives are vegetarians. I’m trying to adapt.”
“You were raised as hunter. Part of you will always yearn for the chase.”
“I look at it as penance to lo
se the kilos I packed on with her lasagna over the years.” Max changed the subject. “We found out Blue Giant Fuels met with members of the Goat government to discuss who should run the Goat space stations. Every 128 years, the contract comes up for renewal. If the Bankers ever give up their resource rights, Blue Giant has dibs.”
Kesh flexed his nostrils and huffed, the Saurian version of a whistle. “That’s worth trillions of credits if the invasion succeeds. The profit explains why they want the secret preserved. Corporations are already carving up the Banker’s empire. Does Llewellyn have a stake in all this?”
“The topic never came up. Though, Daisy said your office of internal critic is a success. Armand’s weekly news roundup is the most popular show on the net.”
“He’s a natural at it, and he doesn’t stop at the Ram candidates. He’s given the planetary government a black eye, too. He made up this award called ‘the hat of shame,’ based on one of Reuben’s more ridiculous fashion attempts.”
“I heard. Each week, he gives it to the most deserving bureaucrat. People won’t talk to them unless they wear it in public.”
“It’s a tradition I wish the Saurians would adopt. I wonder what he’ll say about us when we leave the Black Ram in hostile hands.”
Raising his hand, Max said, “Hasn’t happened yet.”
“You didn’t do anything to stop it!”
“I had a long talk with Echo last night.”
“Oo. That’ll make the Bankers surrender.”
The doctor raised his hands. “Would you be patient for a few seconds? I’m on your side.”
“Sorry. It’s cool out here. I have to stay agitated, or I fall into a stupor. What did the neutral have to say?”
“She hinted that two of the males Magi on the shuttle are Probability Mechanics. They can evade surveillance without a sneak suit. The hand of the uplifter must not be seen.”
“Invisible?”
“People just happen to be looking the other way when they pass by. Another passenger on the shuttle is highly skilled at out-of-body scouting. She used to work monitoring nonsentients from orbit. They function together like a military unit. She spots, and the guys do the legwork. Lesser races wouldn’t know what hit them.”
Kesh grinned. “The creature in the ansible won’t be fooled.”
“By the time it reacted, they already had Reuben aboard. It couldn’t stop the escape without committing an act of aggression against the Magi.”
“You mean we have him?”
“The official story will be that he left of his own accord. The Magi don’t kidnap.”
“What changed their minds?”
“Hypothetically?” Max asked, watching the incoming radar blip on a wall screen. “The enlightened one hasn’t eaten since he was kidnapped.”
Humans could survive this agony for a month. Cold-bloods would die of starvation within a week unless they hibernated. Their higher metabolism and natural weapons came with a price. “A hunger strike?”
“She vowed not to take another bite until Reuben was freed. We might’ve made it to the academy before she collapsed, but her presentation would’ve been very short.”
“So when Echo counseled me to have faith, she meant in Roz.”
“Sorry we couldn’t be more direct.”
As the outer doors opened Kesh said, “I’ve been thinking about ambush practice.”
“Should we cancel it this leg to give people a chance to recover?”
“No. It’ll make good rehab exercise. One last round. After this, we won’t have to fake the jumps from the nexus.”
“Fair point,” said Max.
“Did you notice Reuben is the only participant who hasn’t been injured?”
“Interesting.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Think he’s been cheating?”
Kesh nodded. “You’d better thrashing believe it, but I couldn’t get through the encryption on his pad to see how.”
“You’re hacking your own team?”
“Combat simulation. That’s what the Bankers and the corporations are doing.”
Max agreed. “My guess is he’s tracking us by our badges. Find anything else of note?”
“He has a second neural staff hidden under his bed.”
“Why didn’t he say anything?”
“He was waiting to surprise us with it if he ever won the right to ambush, or he caught someone sneaking into his room.”
“What do you say we level the playing field next time?” Max extended the docking tunnel to the shuttle’s airlock.
“By switching Daisy’s badge?”
“He’d catch on if we did that. We should just tell her our suspicions and let her do the rest,” Max said with an evil grin.
16. A Dizzy Blonde
“This is the last leg where we’ll have to pretend to be a normal ship,” Roz announced to the team over dinner. They celebrated leaving the refueling depot and escaping the clutches of the Bankers.
“They didn’t torture you at all?” Menelaus asked Reuben, sounding disappointed.
“Nah. They didn’t feel the need to question me. They think they already know everything. I played the drunken buffoon, and they didn’t suspect a thing.”
“Played?” Kesh muttered under his breath.
Reuben took offense.
To diffuse the situation, Daisy stood and raised her mug. “Thank you all for saving me.” She wobbled, and Reuben caught her.
One of the Ram’s hands drifted to her behind as she sat again. “Let me help you.”
“Yeah, that’s who you’re helping,” Roz joked.
“I’m not a hundred percent yet, so I don’t know when I’ll be able to ambush anyone. It could be another week,” Daisy said.
Max said, “From now on, we’ll carry the gear we plan to use when we meet the invasion fleet. It’s important that you grow accustomed to the weight and add anything we may have forgotten. Never go anywhere without your weapon. Assume we could be attacked by anyone at any time. Based on the firing-range scores, Roz, Daisy, and I will carry nonlethal pistols.”
“Why nonlethal?” asked the Bat.
“We don’t want a stray shot to puncture anyone’s hull. The rest of you will have your choice of swords or staves.”
“I’ll practice with one of each,” Menelaus said, beaming with pride. He showed off his new blade. The insignia on the hilt was the outline of a Mimic on a tiny shield. Kesh had paid a small fortune to customize it in time.
After the conversation died down, Roz brought out the main course and prayed over it.
When she took the lid off, Kesh winced at the soufflé. Humans didn’t see a problem with eating eggs. To cold-bloods, this was like the Swift satire about the British dining on Irish babies. “If you’ll forgive me, I’m going to grab something more palatable.”
As he waddled toward the animal pens, Daisy said, “I’ll head off to bed myself.” Reuben stood to accompany her, and she stressed, “Alone.”
The Goat’s face fell, but he consoled himself with the plentiful food.
With the air removed from every other zone, hunts were difficult. He picked out a meal mammal, packed it into a portable cage, and carried it to the jungle. It was crazed with panic by the time he hung the “hunt in progress” sign on the biozone hatch. No one else wanted to watch him dine, so he had to close the iris door before opening the cage. Other teammates had decided any mammal that escaped into the habitat ring would be given sanctuary.
Kesh flared his neck frills and roared. The large rodent squealed and bolted for cover. He carefully placed his sword on the tree stump beside him. He hated to feel it slap his leg as he sprinted. A true hunter used only the weapons he was born with.
He set the timer on his computer pad to two minutes before giving chasing. Too soon wasn’t sporting, but longer would allow it to calm down. He liked for his mammal’s heart to be beating faster than his when he bit into it. A shiver of anticipation ran down his back, causing his
tail to twitch.
He laid the pad next to his sword and knelt in a runner’s stance, his nostril’s flexing. He could tell exactly which path the rodent had chosen—a dead end. Saliva flooded his mouth. After three days of field rations, swallowing warm, panicked food would be exquisite.
When the alarm beeped, Kesh bolted for the cul-de-sac, alert for traces of scent. He hurdled a root and heard something scurry to his left. He froze, crouching against a tree to blend in. That’s when he noticed the laser spot on the bark above him.
He hit the dirt and broadcast on his badge. “Hostile intruder in the junglllle!” His muscles seized as the electrical burst hit him. He bit the tip of his tongue.
Spitting blood over the underbrush, he slid around the v-shaped trunk for cover. His badge had turned gray, fried by the surge.
Daisy’s voice came from high above in a tree stand. She’d picked a perch three meters from the entrance with a perfect view of the surroundings. “Surrender, or I’ll zap you again.”
The laser focused on his exposed shoulder. He raised his hands. “Not as sick as you pretended to be, eh?”
“Be quiet and play dead.”
Kesh draped himself theatrically over the crook of the tree, facing the entrance. This was going to be fun to watch.
Reuben and Menelaus sprang through the door, back-to-back. The Bat was the first to look down. “Shit. He left his sword.”
Reuben glanced up. Seeing the gleeful blonde ambusher center the sights on him, he grabbed Menelaus and pivoted. The Bat squealed as the stun bolt coursed through him. Reuben shouted, “Uncle!”
“On your backs!” she demanded.
Reuben let go, and the Bat fell flat on his face.
“Close enough.”
The Goat followed suit. Both men lay in the clearing as if dead.
A quick sniff told Kesh that the Bat had urinated in his terror before he knew it was a drill. Even though this was for education and planning, he was enjoying the entertainment. Does that make me sadistic? No. Max could still teach everyone a lesson. What the new woman failed to realize was that frequent exposure to Turtle weapons and paralytic agents had deadened the ex-special-forces member’s nerves. Normally, this was a handicap. He wasn’t allowed to use the good teacups anymore. In this case, however, it might provide him with an edge.
