StarFight 3: Battlecry

by T. Jackson King

  “Defender Prime, have you received any color sign from survivors?” he asked in a flow of colors on his skin.

  “No color sign,” the large Defender signed to him in a rapid flow of skin patterns. “However, once our pod-mates link up with the warm fragments, we shall have access to surviving mineral devices. Those should help us find any survivors.”

  Leader shifted three eyes to Workings, who held the knowledge of how all parts of a sky floater worked. The pod-mate was older than Leader, and had been the impregnator of many Birthers. His talents were essential to all Pod members. Color signs came to him from Sky Watcher.

  “Leader, our sister floaters have recorded the position and aim of the departed Dry Ones,” she signed in a rush of blue, green, silver and gold colors that came from her inner skin plates. “We believe the five escaping sky floaters now swim toward a nearby yellow sky glow. It is one never visited by any pod-mate. Shall we follow?”

  He flipped his tail, splashing water out of his tank. Moving forward he gripped the front of his tank with his walk-pads and pulled his head over its edge. The position change gave him a better view of all pod-mates in the Swim Cove, and the reporting devices that hung from its ceiling and adorned its walls. Most vital were the flat view lens plates that stood rods in front of each tank. They gave news of relevance to each pod-mate’s assigned duties.

  “No,” he color-cast back in a flow of calm brown and yellow colors. “After recovering our survivors, it is our duty to return to the world we have cleansed of land predators. We must put down Podlings, Birthers and Defenders, along with some Workings, so they can build a new home for the Pod.”

  “And also some Growers,” came dry air sign from the Food Grower on the far side of the cove chamber.

  Leader felt inner humor. All Growers were necessary talents, both inside a floater and down on a new world with its warm shallow waters. But Growers were such a common cohort that few pod-mates appreciated their abilities. So every Grower made sure to remind fellow pod-mates of the necessity of what they did.

  “Food Grower, of course we will swim down some of your cohort once we return to the new swim world,” he signed in a flow of colors. “But that must await the rescue of our pod-mates. We—”

  The walls went solid red.

  “Alarm!” color-signed Pod Signer. “Our pod-mates die!”

  The front view lens showed what other lenses in the Swim Cove showed.

  Miniature sky glows appeared in the five swim locations where a Pod sky floater had slowed, then attached to a warm fragment, slowing the spin of the fragment in order to allow access.

  Bright they were. Nearly as bright as the sky glow of Water Home.

  “Defender! What is happening!” he color-signed to his pod-mate.

  The Defender Prime’s mouth tendrils tapped a view lens pad that stood before his tank.

  “Five fragments exploded! Our floaters died!” he signed in a mix of red, green, brown, orange and yellow colors. “Not all at the same moment. But as soon as the fragment steadied its tumbling due to the magnetic grip of a rescuing sky floater, there happened an explosion similar to that which energizes every sky glow in the cold dark spaces.” All eight of the eyes on his spine focused leftward on Pod Leader. “Our mineral devices say the explosion came from a device attached to each fragment.”

  Could there be more such devices? “Pod floaters!” he color-signed to Pod Signer, who instantly used his magnetic body glow to send out Leader’s signs to the other floaters of his Pod. “Do not touch other warm fragments! Touch nothing! The new land predators have left a trap to kill any floater that links with a fragment.”

  Color signs of agreement came from the nineteen other sky floaters that still swam through the dry darkness with his floater.

  Anger filled him.

  “Workings, study the beam of black nothingness that the largest Dry Ones floater emitted,” he signed in silver and blue colors. “Advise us all of its range.” There seemed to be only one predator floater capable of doing what every floater of the Pod could do. Still, that was bad news enough. He shifted his body angle. “Sky Watcher, obtain the exact current and salt code for the direction in which the five Dry Ones swam off. I must know the exact current angle to the sky glow to which they fled.”

  The young female tapped her lens plate with her tendrils. “Obtaining the exact current and salt code for the new sky glow,” she color-signed back. “Do we leave now to pursue and kill those who killed our pod-mates?”

  It was what he wished to do. It was what every member of the Pod wished to do, following ancient instincts. But the Pod had discovered how to fly to new sky glows by moving beyond instincts, by birthing ones like Workings. So too must he now behave.

  “Not yet,” he color-signed in sharp boundary patterns of brown, yellow, gold and silver. “All floaters must return to the warm waters of Shallow Waters. There we will put down our Podlings, Defenders, Birthers, Workings and Growers. Once our new Pod home is safely swimming, then we will swim outward here to the edge of this sky glow’s magnetic field.” He ground his teeth, not caring at the strange air sound the action created. “Then all twenty of us will follow the current to the yellow sky glow to which these land predators fled! And there we will kill every predator sky floater we encounter,” he color-signed in the strongest colors his skin could produce.

  “Rightly so,” came the color sign from the Birther Prime, who occupied a tank separate from the tanks of those pod-mates who controlled and swam their sky floater.

  She was the mother of them all, both in cell patterns and in the color signs she cast that promised a future for all members of the Pod. For her, for her fellow Birthers, every pod-mate would do anything needed to protect the Podlings and to protect her. The loss of ten Birthers on the ten sky floaters lost in multiple cold dark battles was a hard lesson. It was a lesson he would not forget, nor forgive. But until the time for vengeance came, his first duty was to put down living Podlings on Shallow Waters.

  “All floaters!” he color-signed to every floater in his cohort of floaters. “Follow me inward to warmth and to new homes for our Podlings!”

  He expanded his magnetic body glow.

  The mineral devices of his floater broadcast his glow outward to every other Pod floater. Their body glows joined with his glow. Together, as one Pod, they turned their floaters around and swam inward to the yellow sky glow that was the new home for their Podlings. Later would come the moment of vengeance.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Hunter One became aware of himself. Wetness surrounded him, except for tubes that touched each of his air spiracles. And except for an air cup that covered his mandibles. There was no pain from his abdomen, which was the last thing he recalled from his attack on the wet ones. And as he became aware, his two wings rose up from his back, dripping wetness. They still worked. As did his four legs and his thorax arms, which he now stretched out to touch the sides of the tank in which he floated. He lived. Somewhere. His two complex and three simple eyes took in the reality that surrounded him.

  A yellow-lit flight chamber surrounded him and covered the sky above him. To one side were a line of four transparent tanks filled with liquid. Most were empty. Except for the nearest one. In it lay a human, a female he thought based on the strange thorax protrusions that were common to human females. The female floated without the artificial coverings so favored by humans. Which was to be expected of a species that lacked normal body fur. The female faced upward, a clear dome over the front part of her head. It covered her two tiny eyes. Was this one of the humans who wore white hard shells? He knew neither of the human guardians had been struck by a stinger, nor had they been hit hard enough by his fellow Servants to open a hole in the hard shells they wore for protection. So who was this female with only two arms and two legs?

  “How do you feel?” came scent-cast odors as they flowed through the cups which covered his spiracles.

  He inhaled deep in surprise, then realized these hum
ans were always creating new devices, much like some of his better Servants. Yet the humans had not yet created the Pull-Down device. That fact left him feeling better, even as he lay in wetness that was always something to be avoided by any Swarmer. A ground bound human came close to the tank in which he lay. It appeared to be a female, if the thorax bumps that pushed against her blue covering were real.

  “I feel without pain. But these coverings of my mandible and spiracles are bothersome. Will you free me?”

  The two black eyes of the female looked down at him. “Yes. On condition that you not attack me, or Dr. Lawrence or my other patient. Do you agree?” came her scents.

  Her cooperation was needed, he realized as his legs felt something holding each leg down, toward the bottom of the tank. “Yes, this one agrees,” he scent-cast in a flow of trail, calming and signal pheromones.

  The female touched a black square held in her front digital members. His legs came free. The coverings on his spiracles and his mandible fell away. Clenching his mandible and spiracles shut against the cold wetness, he flexed his wings and, slowly, his sodden body rose up in the air. It was then that he noticed the chamber’s pull-down strength was Nest normal, not the heavier weight favored by humans.

  “Fly over to that table covered in white cloth,” the female said acoustically. “There are cloths there which you can use to wipe wetness from your body.”

  The scents of her acoustic language flowed to him from a pheromone signaler block that stood on a smaller table. It must be one of the blocks recovered during the battle fight on Seven’s flying nest.

  One flew over to the table, landed, then reached down to grip a dry white cloth. With relief he rubbed it over the fur of his outer hard shell. Two other cloths served to dry his abdomen and tail, then his legs. He bent forward. The spot on his abdomen that had been hit by the yellow bolt of the wet ones showed a lack of yellow fur and stripes. But the chitin skin was intact and appeared healthy. He lifted his head, fixing on the female human who, he realized, was a healer.

  “My abdomen is intact. How did you know what to do? Healing chitin is difficult for any Swarmer healer.”

  The two black eyes blinked. Then the female reached up and pulled down the blue cloth that covered the rest of her head-face. The scent organ became visible, then its poor excuse for mandibles. Those mandibles parted. Acoustic language flowed forth, the echoes touching his dry fur.

  “Just as our Science Deck scientists have been studying your language, so Dr. Lawrence and I have been studying your arthropod physiology,” she scent-cast in a flow of strange smelling scents. He understood the aggregation, food trail, releaser, primer and calming pheromones. He guessed at the meaning of some strange scents. “Humans developed proteins and chemicals that expedite healing of all organic tissue. We took a sample of your burned chitin, analyzed it down to its DNA genome, found the activator proteins suited to healing for your species, and then we synthesized them. We put those liquids into the healing waters tank. You have lain in them for the last day.”

  The complex scents of her explanation barely made sense to him. What made him concerned was the time span in which he had not been aware. “Where are my three Swarmer Servants? Are they alive? Are they wounded? Are they—”

  “Alive and healthy,” the female replied, interrupting him with a strong flow of releaser pheromones as a sign she commanded him, not the reverse. “They have been returned to their home in the Forest Room. You will now go elsewhere.”

  One dropped the drying cloths. His wings spun faster, feeling normal at the absence of liquid. He rose into the air above the drying table. “Where must I go? I need to see and scent my Servants. They must be confused.”

  A loud sound came from her mandible. Was this the acoustic expression of humor that he had learned from his study with the Science Deck humans? He felt no humor in the failure of his effort to avenge the loss of Swarmer larvae.

  “Are the wet ones dead?”

  The female’s mouth closed. Then opened slowly. “Each walking seal is alive, despite your efforts to kill them. They are now held in the Park Room.” She held up the black square held in her digitals. “Gunnery Sergeant Diego, please come in. Hunter One is recovered and ready to go with you.”

  The rush of air to his left told him the entry to the flight chamber had opened. Into it walked the white hard shell of a guardian human. A person who belonged to the human group that was scent-labeled as Marines. They were the deadliest humans. The head dome of the hard shell turned to look at him. Behind its clear vision strip were two brown eyes set against brown Soft Skin tissue. The human raised a right arm and aimed an electric wire dispenser at him.

  “Hunter One, you will come with me. My orders are to take you to the Bridge,” came the scent-cast meanings in a strong flow of aggregation, territorial, primer, trail and repellent pheromones.

  Clearly this human, whether male or female, did not like him. He shifted the beat of his wings until he faced the hard-shell human. “I will come. But I know the flight path to this Bridge chamber. May I fly it alone?”

  “No, you may not,” said the Diego human, who now lifted the electric dispenser so its emitter end was aimed at his newly healed abdomen. “You and three of your people attacked my chief and squadmates. You are lucky to be alive. Only thanks to Doc Huáng here. Move out to the hallway, then hover there. If you attempt to fly away from me, this taser will bring you down. It is an efficient weapon. Though frankly, I would prefer to torch you with my flamethrower. We have enough problems without you adding to them!”

  Anger from the humans he had expected. Increasing the speed of his wings, he flew past the white hard shell human and hovered two body lengths away, in the gray tubeway down which he and three Servants had flown on their way to exact vengeance.

  The Marine human shifted its ground-hugging stance.

  “Doc, how is the XO doing?” scent-cast the Marine.

  The healer female gave a loud gush of air from her mandible. “Fully healed, physically at least. That electric bolt cut into her ribs. And burned away the top skin layer of her back. Thankfully her spine survived intact. Didn’t have to regrow her spinal cord. We will bring her awake in a few minutes.”

  “Thank the Goddess,” the white hard shell human scent-cast in a rush of strange odors. “It was brave, what she did.”

  The black-covered head of the healer female leaned forward. “Brave, yes. But not needed in view of your arrival.”

  “Fuck the need,” the Diego human said. “She did what any Marine would do for another Marine. And she protected the captain from being hit by that bolt. Chief O’Connor has added her to our squad as an honorary member.”

  “Glad to hear that,” the healer female said, the strangeness of her acoustic signals contrasting sharply with the scent flow of her meanings. “Please tell the captain I will release his XO to limited duty within an hour.”

  “Will do, ma’am.”

  The white hard shell turned and then ground-walked toward Hunter One.

  “Swarmer, fly ahead of me. Slowly. You go fast and I will welcome the chance to give you some electric shocks!”

  Hunter One flew slowly up the gray tubeway, his mind filled with too many thoughts. Sadness at the failure of him and his Servants to draw the blood and lives of the wet ones. Curiosity about what happened afterward. And hope that the human flying nest which now contained him and his Servants would soon arrive at the outer edge of the magnetic field of the sky glow that warmed Food Enough. Once they left the alternate dimension and arrived, he would take his air bubble and fly to the flying nest of Support Hunter Thirteen, accompanied by his Servants and the surviving Matron. There was much to do after he arrived. And the emotions of humans mattered little to him. Although their efficiency in saving the nest of Thirteen made him willing to speak to the Primes of Nest. He favored an ending of sky battles with humans. Even better was the new knowledge of worlds with Nest-normal pull-down weight, in return for Swarmer informati
on about worlds that held the weightiness that humans preferred. A deadly enemy the humans had been. A cohort ally they had become in the system of Warmth. Strange were the air currents of existence.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Richard looked up as Hunter One flew into the Bridge, followed by Jane, her taser aimed at the critter. He watched as the alien flew to his bench and settled down on it, acting as if nothing had happened. As if the bastard had not attacked him, Martha and Auggie. That attack had left the three hard shell suits in need of major electronics repairs. The Engines Deck engineers were working on those repairs. Meanwhile, extra Shinshoni suits had been taken from storage in the Dart hangar, activated and the old AIs transferred to the new suits. Such was the normal side of combat. The non-normal side was having to act polite toward the Hunter One bastard. Especially after watching the hallway video of the shark-heads escape and their battle with the XO, Petty Officer Blackbourne and the captain. It should have been him and his squad doing that fighting. The surprise reach of the electric bolt had resulted in constant drone monitoring in the Park Room, and the outfitting of new guardian Marines with rocket-propelled tasers. Never again would any shark-head be allowed within 20 meters of a human. Either the alien would be knocked out, or it would be dead. He looked up as Diego thumped past Alicia and stopped in front of him. She raised her gauntleted hand in a salute.

  “Prisoner escort duty completed, chief.”

  Jane’s visor gave him a clear view of her brown face. While her words were professional, it was clear she was feeling deeply frustrated. That frustration came out in a stronger New England accent.

  “Well done, troop. I gather Med Hall fully repaired Hunter One?”

  Jane’s eyes grew bright. “Sir, yes sir.” The woman looked up to where Jacob sat above him and Alicia. “Captain, Doc Huáng asked me to advise you that XO Stewart will be released for limited duty work within one hour. Sir.”