by David Brin
Is to die alone… *
118 ::: Streaker
The ambush at the gas giant was unexpected. The enemy came in close, using the great planet's gravity to swing about in a tight hyperbolic turn. They were unprepared for an attack on their flanks.
Compared with their breakneck dive, Streaker was almost motionless. She fell upon the pair of cruisers as they passed, lacing a web-like tracery of antimatter in their paths.
One of the battleships blossomed into a fireball before Streaker's computers could even identify it. Its screens were probably already damaged after weeks of battle.
The other cruiser was in better shape. Its screens flashed an ominous violet, and thin lines of exploding metal brightened its hull. But it passed through the trap and began decelerating furiously.
"It'll misss our mines, worse luck," Tsh't announced. "There wasn't time to lay a perfect pattern."
"We can't have everything," Gillian replied. "You handled that brilliantly. He'll be some time getting back to us." Tsh't peered at the screen and listened to her neural link. "He may be very tardy, if his engines keep missssing. He's on a collision spiral with the planet!"
"Goody. Let's leave him and see about the others."
Streaker's motion was taking her away from the giant planet, toward another group of five onrushing cruisers. Having witnessed part of the ambush, these were all adjusting course furiously.
"Now we see how well the Trojan Seahorse works," Gillian said. "The first bunch was close enough to read our engines and know we're Earth-made. But these guys were too far back. Has Suessi altered our power output along Thennanin lines, as planned?"
Wattaceti whistled confirmation. "It's done. Suesssi says it'll cut efficiency, though. He reminds you that our engines aren't Thennanin."
"Thank him for me. Now, for all our lives, what happens next depends on whether they're an unimaginative lot, as Tom guessed they'd be.
"Full power to the psi shields!"
"Aye, sssir!"
Energy detectors lit up as the oncoming ships swept them with probe-beams. The motley assortment of approaching ET vessels seemed to hesitate, then diverged.
"Numbers one, four, and five are accelerating to pass us by!" Tsh't announced. The bridge was filled with chattering dolphin applause.
"What about the others?"
Tsh't's manipulator arm pointed to two dots in the holotank. "Decelerating and preparing for battle! We're picking up a beam-cast in Galactic Ten! It's a ritual challenge!"
Tsh't shook her head. "They do think we're Thennanin! But they want to stop and finish us off!"
"Who are they?"
"Brothers of the Night!"
The magnification screens showed the two approaching battlewagons, dark and deadly and growing nearer.
What to do? Gillian kept her face impassive. She knew the fen were watching her.
We can't outrun them, especially not while we're faking Thennanin engines or wearing this heavy Thennanin shell.
But only a fool would try to take them in a straight battle. A fighting fool like Tom, she thought ironically. Or Creideiki. If either of them were in command I'd be preparing condolence wreaths for the Brothers of the Night right now.
" Gillian?" Tsh't asked nervously.
Gillian shook herself. Now. Decide now!
She looked at the approaching death machines.
"Down their throats,' she said. "Head toward Kithrup."
119 ::: Galactics
"We shall leave half of our joint fleet above the planet. None of the others will dare return, now that we have consolidated. We shall also send squadrons to clean the moons of hiding enemies, and to investigate the happenings out beyond the gas giant."
The Tandu Stalker had only four legs now, instead of the former six. The Soro Krat, wondered what accident had befallen the leader of her unpleasant allies.
Not that it really mattered. Krat dreamt of the day when she could personally detach the Stalker's remaining limbs, and then all its head buds.
"Is it possible that that out-planet chaos may be caused by the quarry?" she asked.
The Tandu's expression was unreadable on the display screen. "All things are possible, even the impossible." It sounded like a Tandu truism. "But the quarry could not escape even the stragglers' small might. If they are captured by them, the remnants will fight over the spoils. When our task force arrives, we will take over. It is simple."
Krat nodded. It did sound elegant.
Soon, she told herself. Soon we will wring the information out of the Earthlings, or sift it out of their wreckage. And soon thereafter we will be before our ancestors themselves.
I must try to make certain some few of the humans and dolphins are left alive, after they tell us where the Progenitor Fleet is located. My clients do not appreciate it when I use them for entertainment. It would save trouble if I found amusements outside the family.
Wistfully, she longed for a scrappy male of her own species as a joint Tandu-Soro detachment of thirteen ships blasted at full thrust toward the gas-giant planet.
120 ::: Streaker
"Damage to the stasis flanges on the port ssside!" Wattaceti announced. "All missile slots in that sector are out!"
"Any harm to the inner hull?" Gillian asked anxiously.
The fin looked blank as he sounded out the damage control computer. "Nope. The Thennanin shell's taken it all, ssso far. But Suessi says the bracings are weakening!"
"They'll try to concentrate fire on the port side now that it'ss damaged," Tsh't said. "And they'll expect us to turn away. Starboard missile batteries! Fire mines at forty degrees azimuth by one hundred south! Slow thrust and lurk fuses!"
"But-t no one's there!"
"They will be! Fire! Helm, roll ship left two radians per minute, pitch up one per minute!"
Streaker shuddered and groaned as she turned slowly in space. Her screens flickered dangerously under powerful battle beams she could never hope to match. Not a blow had been struck on her opponents. They kept up easily with her lumbering attempts at evasion.
From Streaker's shadowed quarter six small missiles puffed lazily outward, then cut thrust. Streaker turned to try to protect her weakened side, a little more slowly than she was really capable of turning.
Sensing a fatal weakness, the enemy battleships followed the turn. Beams stabbed out to blast at Streaker's damaged side, at what the Brothers of the Night thought was their supine enemy's real hull.
Streaker shook as the beams penetrated her shields and struck the Thennanin armor. Stasis flickered, giving them all eerily vivid feelings of deja-vu. Even in the water-filled bridge the blasts nearly threw the crew from their stations. Damage control spotters screamed reports of smoke and fire, of melting armor and buckling walls.
The cruisers drifted confidently into the mined region, and the missiles exploded.
Gillian clutched a handrail whitely. On those sensors that had not been blasted to vapor, the enemy was hidden by a cloud of roiling gas.
"Hard thrussst, twenty degrees by two seventy!" Tsh't called. "Stop roll and pitch!"
The abused engines struggled. The bracings holding Streaker to her armored shell groaned as she accelerated in a new direction.
"Blessings on that damned Thennanin armor!" One of the fins sighed. "Those beams would've sliced Streaker like toasssst!"
Gillian peered into one of the few operational holotanks, straining to see through the space-smoke and debris. Finally, she saw the enemy.
"A hit! A palpable hit!" she exulted.
One of the battlewagons bore a gaping hole in its side, burning metal still curled away from the cavity, and secondary explosions shook the cruiser.
The other one appeared undamaged, but more wary than before.
Oh, keep hesitating, she urged them silently. Let us get a head start!
"Anybody else around?" she asked Tsh't. If these two ships were the only ones left, she'd be willing to turn the engines back on full power, and let even
the devil know they were an Earth ship!
The lieutenant blinked. "Yes, Gillian. Six more. Approaching rapidly." Tsh't shook her head. "There's no way we'll get away from this new bunch. They're coming too fasst. Sorry, Gillian."
"The Brothers have made up their minds," Wattaceti announced. "They're coming after uss!"
Tsh't rolled her eyes. Gillian silently agreed. We won't fool them again.
"Suessi calls. He wants to know if if…"
Gillian sighed. "Tell Hannes there don't seem to be any more 'female tricks' forthcoming. I'm fresh out of ideas."
The two battleships drew nearer, chasing Streakers stern. They held their fire, saving it for a total assault.
Gillian thought about Tom. She couldn't help feeling that she had failed him.
It really was a good plan, hon. I only wish I'd executed it competently for you.
The enemy bore down on them, looming ominously.
Then Lucky Kaa shouted. "Vector change!" The pilot's tail thrashed. "They're veering offff! Fleeing like mullet-t!"
Gillian blinked in confusion. "But they had us!"
"It's the newcomers, Gillian! Those six oncoming shipsss!" Tsh't shouted joyfully.
"What? What about them?"
Tsh't grinned as broadly as a neo-fin could manage. "They're Thennanin! They're coming in blassting! And it'sss not us they're shooting at!"
The screens showed the pair of cruisers that had been chasing them, now in full flight, firing Parthian style at the approaching mini-flotilla.
Gillian laughed. "Wattaceti! Tell Suessi to shut down! Put everything on idle and pour out smoke. We want to play the gravely wounded soldier!"
After a moment came the engineer's reply.
"Suessi says that that-t will be no problem. No problem at all."
121 ::: Galactics
Buoult's crest riffled with waves of emotion. Krondorsfire lay ahead of them, battered but proud. He had thought the old battlewagon lost since the first day of the battle, and Baron Ebremsev, its commander. Buoult longed to see his old comrade again.
"Is there still no response?" he asked the communicator.
"No, Commander. The ship is silent. It is possible they just now sustained a fatal blow that…Wait! there is something! A flashing-light signal in uncoded open-talk! They are sending from one of the viewing ports!"
Buoult edged forward eagerly. "What do they say? Do they require help?"
The communications officer huddled before his monitor, watching the winking lights, jotting notes.
"All weapons and communications destroyed," he recited, "life support and auxiliary drives still serviceable…Earthlings ahead, chased by a few dregs… We shall withdraw… happy hunting… Krondorsfire out."
Buoult thought the message a little odd. Why would Ebremsev want to pull out if he could still follow and at least draw fire from the enemy?
Perhaps he was making a brave show in order not to hold them back. Buoult was about to insist on sending aid anyway when the communications officer spoke again.
"Commander! A squadron is outbound from the water planet! At least ten vessels! I read signs of both Tandu and Soro!"
Buoult's crest momentarily collapsed. It had come to pass, the very last alliance of heretics.
"We have one chance! After the fugitives at once! We can overpower the remnants even as they overpower the Earthlings, and be off before the Tandu and Soro arrive!"
As his ship leapt outward, he had a message sent back to Krondorsfire. "May the Great Ghosts dwell with you…"
122 ::: Streaker
"That's a pretty sophisticated little computer you've kept hidden away all this time," Tsh't commented.
Gillian smiled. "It's actually Tom's."
The fins nodded wisely. That was explanation enough.
Gillian thanked the Niss machine for its hurry-up Thennanin translation. The disembodied voice whispered from a cluster of sparkles that floated near her, dancing and whirling amidst the fizzing oxywater bubbles.
"I could do nothing else, Gillian Baskin," it replied. "You few lost Earthlings have accumulated, in the course of heaping disasters upon yourselves, more data than my masters have gathered in the last thousand years. The lessons about uplift alone will profit the Tymbrimi, who are always willing to learn-even from wolflings."
The voice faded, and the sparkles vanished before Gillian could reply.
"The signal party's returned from the viewport, Gillian," Tsh't said. "The Thennanin have gone off chasing our shadows, but they'll be back. What-t do we do now?"
Gillian felt tremors of adrenalin reaction. She had not planned beyond this point. There was only one thing she wanted desperately to do now. Only one destination in the universe she wanted to go.
"Kithrup," she whispered.
Gillian shook herself. "Kithrup?" She looked at Tsh't, knowing what the answer would be, but wishing it weren't so.
Tsh't shook her sleek head. "There'sss a flotilla orbiting Kithrup now, Gillian. No fighting. There must've been a winner in the big battle.
"Another squadron's heading this way fassst. A big one. We don't want em to get close enough to see through our disguise."
Gillian nodded. Her voice didn't want to function, but she made the words come.
"North," she said.
"Take us out along Galactic north, Tsh't… to the transfer point. Full speed. When we get close enough, we'll dump the Seahorse, and get the Ifni-damned hell out of here with… with the ashes we've won."
The dolphins returned to their posts. The rumble of the engines gathered strength.
Gillian swam to one dark corner of the crystal dome, to a place where there was a chink in the Thennanin armor, where she could look at the stars directly.
Streaker picked up speed.
123 ::: Galactics
The Tandu-Soro detachment was gaining on the strung out fugitives.
"Mistress, a crippled Thennanin is approaching the transfer point on an escape trajectory."
Krat squirmed on her cushion and snarled. "So? Casualties have left the battle area before. All sides try to evacuate their wounded. Why do you bother me when we are even now closing in!"
The little Pila detector officer scuttled back into its cubbyhole. Krat bent to watch her forward screens.
A small squadron of Thennanin struggled to keep ahead. Further on, at the edge of detection, sparks of desultory battle showed that the leaders were still bickering, even as they closed on the quarry.
What if they're mistaken, Krat wondered. We chase the Thennanin, who chase the remnants, who chase what? Those fools might even be chasing each other!
It didn't matter. Half the Tandu-Soro fleet orbited Kithrup, so the Earthlings were trapped, one way or another.
We'll deal with the Tandu in good time, she thought, and meet the ancient ones alone.
"Mistress!" the Pila shouted shrilly. "There is a transmission from the transfer point!"
"Bother me one more time with inconsequentials…" she rumbled, flexing her mating claw threateningly. But the client interrupted her! The Pil dared to interrupt!
"Mistress. It is the Earth ship! They taunt us! They defy us! They…"
"Show me!" Krat hissed. "It must be a trick! Show me at once!"
The Pil ducked back into its section. On Krat's main screen appeared the holo image of a man, and several dolphins. From the man's shape, Krat could tell it was a female, probably their leader.
"…stupid creatures unworthy of the name 'sophonts.' Foolish, pre-sentient upspring of errant masters. We slip away from all your armed might, laughing at your clumsiness! We slip away as we always will, you pathetic creatures. And now that we have a real head start, you'll never catch us! What better proof that the Progenitors favor not you, but us! What better proof…"
The taunt went on. Krat listened, enraged, yet at the same time savoring the artistry of it. These men are better than I'd thought. Their insults are wordy and overblown, but they have talent. They deserve honor
able, slow deaths.
"Mistress! The Tandu with us are changing course! Their other ships are leaving Kithrup for the transfer point!"
Krat hissed in despair. "After them! After them at once! We followed them through space this far. The chase only goes on!"
The crew bent to their tasks resignedly. The Earth ship was in a good position to escape. Even at best this would be a long chase.
Krat realized that she would never make it home in time for mating. She would die out here.
On her screen, the man continued to taunt them.
"Librarian!" she called. "I do not understand some of the man's words. Find out what that phrase — Nyaahh nyaaah — means in their beastly wolfling tongue!"
124 ::: Tom Orley
Cross-legged on a woven mat of reeds, shaded by a floating wreck, he listened as a muttering volcano slowly sputtered into silence. Contemplating starvation, he listened to the soft, wet sounds of the endless weedscape, and found in them a homely beauty. The squishy, random rhythms blended into a backdrop for his meditation.
On the mat in front of him, like a focus mandala, lay the message bomb he had never set off. The container glistened in the sunlight of north Kithrup's first fine day in weeks. Highlights shone in dimpled places where the metal had been battered, as he had been. The dented surface gleamed still.
Where are you now?
The subsurface sea-waves made his platform undulate gently. He floated in a trance through levels of awareness, like an old man poking idly through his attic, like an old-time hobo looking with mild curiosity through the slats of a moving boxcar.
Where are you now, my love?
He recalled a Japanese haiku from the eighteenth century, by the great poet Yosa Buson.
As the spring rains fall,
Soaking in them, on the roof,
Is a child's rag ball.
Watching blank images in the dents on the psi-globe, he listened to the creaking of the flat jungle — its skittering little animal sounds — the wind riffling through the wet, flat leaves.
