by Chris Fox
“Why?” Nolan finished his bar, tucking the wrapper into a pouch on his pack.
T’kon’s nostrils flared. “I see I have failed to convey the importance of planetstriders within our society. We cannot create cores. If one is damaged, our only hope is to scavenge another. Over the millennia, we’ve lost nearly half our planetstriders—a new one has not been constructed since the fourth dynasty. Your technology could change that, and would definitely tip the balance of power in the Imperium. May I see this core?”
Nolan cursed inwardly. He’d just given away critical intelligence, simply by not understanding the local culture. He barely knew T’kon. Would the alien betray them, or try to steal a core? Maybe. All he could do at this point was be watchful.
“Kay, open the core chamber.” Nolan moved to the rear of the mech, where a panel had just slid open. Inside was a tritanium housing, the toughest part of the mech. It was located where the legs met the mech’s torso.
“Of course, Captain. I can provide schematics, if desired,” Kay supplied, helpfully as always.
“That won’t be necessary.” He’d already revealed enough.
“This is incredible.” The Ganog’s awed whisper was barely audible. “It is smaller than a planetstrider’s core, but even the shape is the same. The similarities are unmistakable. I do not understand. Where did you learn how to make these?”
Nolan was saved from having to answer by rising voices on the other side of the garage. An argument had broken out, and seemed to be escalating.
24
Frayed Nerves
Hannan emptied the contents of the soup packet into the pot, giving it a half-hearted stir with her spoon. Normally Annie handled the meals, but she was lost in conversation with Aluki and Edwards. Their laughter was out of place, incongruous after the violence that had led them here. Yet Hannan didn’t begrudge them that. If anything, she was pleased they were in high spirits.
Only Lena had stayed near the fire, but she was lost in her datapad and mumbling to herself. Hannan had grown used to that, and knew to let her have her space. Odds were good she’d pop up after a few hours, and give them some radical solution to get them out of this mess.
Lena was brilliant, and while Hannan loathed having a non-com with them, she understood why the captain had insisted. It was a good thing, given that they were now trapped.
Burke and Nuchik stood at the edge of the floodlights, conversing in low tones. They were scowling in the captain’s direction. Hannan frowned. Nuchik barked a harsh laugh.
“Something funny?” Hannan called. She rose from the stove, ambling over to the pair. She was still keyed up from the stims she’d dropped when they started to run. Made her teeth itch.
“Yeah, Lieutenant, something is funny. Your joke of an outfit,” Nuchik taunted. She was taller than Hannan, looming as she took an aggressive step closer. “You’ve got a washed-up drunk, a smelly cat who thinks she’s better than everyone, and a tin man. The best part? Your captain is an analyst. A freaking analyst, Hannan. Like I said, a joke.”
“That analyst outscored all of Alpha Company in mech training,” Hannan growled. “That analyst would kick your pathetic ass, and anyone else who wanted to step.” She narrowed her eyes, leaning in close. “You want to be real careful how you talk about my squad, Nuchik. I’m all out of patience, and I’ve been itching to take it out on someone. Trust me, you do not want that to be you.”
“That’s enough, Nuchik.” Burke waved her to silence. “Nolan’s squad is short on discipline. You talk like that, and Hannan might take a swing at you. Then you’d have to embarrass her in front of her pet cat.”
Lena finally looked up from her datapad, blinking curiously. Her whiskers twitched. “What are you going on about? I’m busy. Can’t you see that? Go shoot something.”
“Oh, I’ll shoot something,” Nuchik snapped. Then she spit in Lena’s face.
Lena recoiled, wiping furiously at her fur. Her feline eyes tightened dangerously, and she gave a low, deep growl. “You think because I am a scientist that I will accept this insult? I will gut you, human, and feast on your entrails.”
Burke yanked his sidearm from the holster, aiming it at Lena. “Sit down, cat.”
Hannan bent swiftly, grabbing the handle of the soup pot. She came to her feet, slamming the pot into Burke’s smug face. The pistol discharged, but the shot went wide. Hannan snapped a kick into Burke’s groin, but he blocked it with his thigh.
Something flashed in the corner of her vision, and she pivoted just in time to catch a punch from Nuchik. The blow caught her in the chin, snapping her head back painfully.
“That was a mistake, human.” Lena leapt, extending her claws as she came down on Nuchik. Nuchik rolled to the side, but a quick blow from Lena scored her armor along the shoulder.
“Oh, no, you didn’t.” Edwards’s metallic voice blared painfully through the garage. The mech whirred to life, leaping to its feet. Edwards extended his cannon arm, aiming the weapon at Burke. “Did you just try to shoot Lena? Captain, can I melt this guy?”
“What the hell is going on here?” Nolan boomed. He stalked over to Hannan, glaring at her. “Explain.”
“Nuchik picked a fight, sir. Seems they don’t like trash from the 14th. Seems they also don’t like Tigris. Things got a bit heated, and Burke here accidentally discharged his weapon when I smashed him in the face with some soup,” Hannan explained. “They’re bad for morale, sir, and about as useful as the 1st was during the Battle of Earth—you know, that battle we won for these ungrateful pricks?”
“You better watch what you say about the 1st,” Burke snapped, sliding into a combat stance. “I watched men a thousand times better than you die—first by your cat friends, and then defending Earth while you hid behind the Primo.”
“Lieutenant Burke, I’m just going to come right out and ask,” Nolan said. “Are you planning to mutiny? Or are you willing to follow orders? Because I’m out of time for your bullshit. You don’t like us. I get that. I didn’t like working with the Tigris either, at first, but here’s the thing: we have a job to do. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the 1st Fleet’s slogan Get the job done?”
Burke snapped to attention, his training taking over. “Sir, there’s no mutiny here.”
Hannan suppressed a smile.
“Private Nuchik, what about you?” Nolan demanded, rounding on her. “We need every asset, but if you mutiny I will execute you. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”
“We’ll follow orders,” she snapped, refusing to meet the captain’s gaze. She dropped her voice to a near whisper. “But we don’t have to like it.”
Hannan watched Nolan carefully, curious to see how he’d defuse this. He’d gotten Fizgig to work with humans. As far as Hannan was concerned, he could do pretty much anything.
“Listen up, everyone,” he said. “That includes you, Lieutenant Hannan.”
That caught her by surprise. She dropped the smug smile, snapping to attention.
Nolan gave everyone a hard look, taking them all in with his displeasure. “The Coalition is young. We’re undermanned. We’re tired of war. We’ve run into an enemy that looks like it has every advantage. A highly aggressive enemy that would love to conquer every Coalition world. Our only hope is finding some way to stop them, something we can send to the admiral. I believe we might have a way to do that, if we can stop bickering long enough to do it. Aluki, T’kon was telling me about warp generators. He said that some are quite small. Is it possible for you to construct—or scavenge—a small warp drive?”
“Mmm, I think I could do that. I just need spivo wire, and a starlight generator. How much matter do you need to warp?” She blinked those large eyes.
The captain reached into his pocket, producing a dat drive the size of his thumbnail. “Just this.”
Hannan could have kissed the man. “You’re going to send a report to the admiral.”
“That’s the plan, yes. We have critical information, and we can
’t risk using Quantum,” Nolan pointed out. “First, we need to build this device. Then we can try communicating with home. Aluki, we’ll need a generator capable of powering two uses.”
“Why?” the Whalorian asked, blinking up at him.
“Because after R&D examines the device, I’m hoping she’ll send us an answer.”
25
The Resistance
T’kon flared his lower nostrils, drinking deeply of the basement’s cool air. It helped keep him calm, preventing his fur from spiking into green. These humans might not know what the color signified, but he didn’t want to give them cause to wonder. It was deadly difficult; the weight of what he’d just learned nearly crushed him to the floor.
This Coalition could produce cores. If he could learn that secret, and bring it back to the Azi clan…it would change everything. They’d lift his banishment, and elevate him back into the leadership caste. A single one of these war machines might free his people from Takkar’s boot.
“I apologize for the interruption,” Nolan said, walking back over.
T’kon hadn’t paid much attention to the squabbles of the warriors. He was still digesting the knowledge he’d been given. “That’s quite all right, Captain.” He took another deep breath, maintaining his calm. “If Aluki says your plan is viable, then I trust her. She’s proven quite resourceful, despite her appearance.”
“Mmm, quite a challenge you’ve given me.” Aluki waddled over, giving a wide smile that exposed her baleen. “I am eager to attempt this. I haven’t experimented much with warp generators, but I understand their usage.”
“I will escort her to the market, Captain. The pair of us are less likely to draw attention.” It would also give T’kon time to think, to consider options. He had no particular loyalty to these aliens, but he loathed stealing. The idea of just taking a core—particularly from allies—was…distasteful.
“That’s probably a good idea, but I have no way of confirming you’d come back. I’d feel safer sending at least one of my men with you. Any objections?” The way Nolan phrased the question made it clear it wasn’t optional.
“Very prudent, Captain. If you can spare two warriors, it might be even safer.”
“Hannan, Nuchik—front and center,” Nolan barked. His clipped words would have been the envy of any slavemaster.
The soldiers he’d indicated hurried over, snapping to attention. T’kon was fairly certain both were female, though he wouldn’t swear before a seeker.
“Which of your warriors has command, Captain?” T’kon asked.
“Hannan, you’ll be in charge of combat operations. Get Aluki to the market, and ensure that she gets what she needs. I’m attaching T’kon here as an advisor. Listen to what he has to say. Get everyone back here in one piece, and do it without being detected.”
“Captain,” Burke called, stalking up. “Are you sure Nuchik is the best choice? As you pointed out, her armor hasn’t been properly modified. She’ll stand out.”
“Don’t worry, Burke,” Hannan said with a chilly smile. “I can help her get ready. It will just take a minute. I know the 1st doesn’t like to get dirty, but we’re going to show you how to do things our way.”
“Get on that, Hannan,” Nolan ordered.
Burke did not seem pleased. His eyes communicated a clear challenge, one that any Ganog would have had no choice but to answer with violence. Yet eventually the fiery-haired soldier relented, stalking to the far side of the cavernous garage.
“Watch yourself around that one,” T’kon cautioned. “He will bury a blade in your back, given a chance.”
“Not on my watch, he won’t,” Hannan taunted. She sealed her helmet, obscuring her features.
The woman with the rifle followed, bolting on her helmet as well.
“I will keep them safe, Captain.” T’kon turned to Aluki. “Lead the way, little one. We will acquire the things you need.”
26
Carnifex
“Admiral, I’ve got Senator Carnifex on the line,” Juliard said, looking up from her console.
“Senator,” Fizgig scoffed, shaking her head. She took a moment to groom an errant lock on her shoulder, putting off the call for as long as she dared. She loathed politics more than she did getting wet.
“Put it on screen.” She blinked up at the large display, which resolved into a familiar Jaguara. His spotted fur gleamed, too lustrous for his age. “You’ve dyed your fur, Carnifex? I’d heard you’d gone soft, but I never imagined this.”
“Do not seek to bait me, Mighty Fizgig,” Carnifex growled. His tail bristled, and he licked his chops in a transparent attempt to show his fangs. “I still remember our duel on Jaguara. Since then, I’ve come to respect you. It is for that reason alone that I am willing to hear this mad plea.”
“It is no plea,” Fizgig countered. “It is an order, signed by the president himself. I have been given operational authority, and I’m ordering you to evacuate your pride.”
“You are Tigris, Fizgig. You understand that such a thing isn’t possible.” Carnifex shook his head sadly, ears twitching. “My people have gathered from many prides, setting aside their differences in favor of a single dream. They’ve built a home here. They will not abandon it.”
“You said much the same thing when I counseled you to leave Jaguara ahead of the Void Wraith invasion,” Fizgig pointed out. She, too, shook her head. “Our people must live, Carnifex. They respect you. They will listen to you. They must be persuaded to leave, and leave quickly. Already this new enemy has scouted half a dozen uninhabited systems. They are getting closer, and another jump could bring them here.”
Carnifex paused, and for a moment there was a glimmer of his old self—the warlord who’d ruled the most ruthless pride. He’d changed much in the years since, had grown in many ways and softened in others. Yet in this instance she needed the man he’d been, not the man he was.
“I’ve broadcast the footage from the battle at Ganog 7.” Fizgig pressed the attack. “Review time index one one seven point six.”
The time index showed one of the dreadnoughts firing its main cannon, its target coming apart at the seams.
“By Tigrana, they vaporized a cruiser in one shot,” Carnifex whispered. His eyes had gone wide; his tail stopped swishing.
“That is not the worst of it.” Fizgig waited for him to finish reviewing the footage.
“What is that…monstrosity?” he finally demanded.
“We do not know their name for it, but it appears to be a two-thousand-meter-tall reptile. Armor and weaponry have been attached, much as we’d augment our own species. The cannon, as you can see, can fire into orbit. They are powerful, certainly. They tore apart our ground forces. Your own troops will fare no better if they bring these things here. Even if they do not, you can see their fleet in action. The best efforts of my entire fleet damaged a single capital ship. We lost six vessels, and had we not tricked them we’d have been wiped out to a man.”
“What do they want from us?” Carnifex asked.
“Conquest, I expect. We don’t know for certain. We know little, save that they are hostile. Nolan was left behind on their planet.” She wasn’t certain why she’d told him that, except because he was one of the few who understood what that meant.
“Goddess willing, he lives.” Carnifex touched his paw to his forehead. “He is a canny one, as humans go. I suspect this enemy will find it difficult to kill him.”
“I tend to agree, but the odds are considerable. Dryker has refused to let me mount a rescue.” Fizgig’s tail slashed through the air, back and forth.
“He is likely right to do so, but I chafe being told by a human what we can or cannot do. Our people have changed much in a short time, to accept such things.” Carnifex twitched his ears sadly, then shook his head. “Get back to your war, Mighty Fizgig. I will convince my people to run, for now at least. We will batten down our homes, and hope the day of our return comes swiftly. I would know, though: how will you fight thi
s invader? You never engage in a battle you do not believe you can win.”
“By not fighting,” Fizgig explained. “If your enemy seeks a war they know they can win, then do not give them war. We are withdrawing from the border worlds, at least until we have the tools to resist.”
“Tools forged in this mysterious Birthplace no one will admit exists.” Carnifex gave her an accusing stare.
“It is not my secret to tell, Carnifex. My job is to keep the enemy from our throats long enough to forge a dagger for his throat. I can say no more.”
Fizgig’s next stop was to the Birthplace, but she could say nothing of that. Not even to Carnifex.
27
Cores
Krekon labored under the rarest of emotions: fear. It leaked into his fur, staining it a sallow yellow. He hated that fact, the knowledge that he had so little control that he couldn’t banish a simple emotion. Yet the fear was justified.
The platform zoomed ever closer to Takkar’s command island, and he could smell the nervousness from his Saurians. They prowled about the edges of the disk, as if seeking escape. Underlying that fear was rage—rage at the deaths of their companions.
The platform finally reached the island, swooping down to hover near the edge. The Saurians moved as one, forming a defensive screen. Krekon hopped off as well, walking slowly toward the command dais. Takkar stood atop it, regally delivering orders to his techsmith. His fur was a truly alarming shade of red.
“Clan Leader, you requested my presence.” Krekon knelt, dropping his gaze to Takkar’s feet. The fact that Takkar hadn’t warped him in this time was puzzling, and more than a little alarming. Either he had greater priorities, or he had already decided Krekon’s fate.
Either way, Krekon didn’t like the formality.
