Ninefox Gambit

by Yoon Ha Lee

  After a long moment, the grid said in its crisp voice, “Commander Paizan is not responding.”

  She sent a general query to the moth commanders. Nothing.

  “General Jedao,” she said, remembering that he had called himself a shield, “where are you?”

  Still no response.

  She forced herself to breathe steadily.

  The scan readout indicated that the Fortress’s shields had splayed themselves outward like hands with the skin peeled off and nerves unfurled in all directions. Cheris lost another minute picking through the equations, trying to find out how all her soldiers had been disabled. Two people were screaming. She half-turned, tried to think of what she could do for them, then remembered the whole swarm was in trouble. She tried calling Medical. No luck there.

  “General Kel Cheris to swarm grids,” she said. “Override Aerie Primary. Slave all moths to Unspoken Law.”

  The responses stuttered back to her as the swarm moths acknowledged. Someone on Kel Liai Meng’s Essential Verses had recovered enough to acknowledge verbally, but when she asked for his status, there was no answer. Fear bit her heart.

  Nerevor was now trying to stand up, but her legs kept collapsing under her, and her eyes were unfocused. Cheris went over and settled her against the wall, telling her to stay still, but Nerevor wouldn’t stop trying.

  Sudden despair crashed over Cheris. She looked around the command center, and the knowledge of her failure was like a black knife. She was so tired, she had been in the darkness for so long, and she was fighting against long odds. If only she could fold asleep, just for a little space; and if only the universe had any mercy, she would never have to wake.

  Cheris reached for her combat knife. She hadn’t thought she’d have further use for it on a moth, but there it was. She weighed it in her hand, then brought it up to her –

  “Cheris, stop it.” It was Jedao, whispering as across a hollow distance.

  “What happened to you?” she asked without interest.

  “It hurts,” he said simply. “Cheris, put the knife away.”

  “I failed,” she said, “and all of it was for nothing.”

  “Cheris, I mean it.” His voice grew sharper. “You’re experiencing bleed-through. I’m sorry. But you need to put the knife away.”

  She didn’t want to obey. It was tempting to close her eyes and use the knife anyway.

  “The knife, Cheris.”

  Then she understood. “This isn’t me,” she said, jolted out of the despair. “It’s you. How long have you been suicidal?” She sheathed the knife.

  He had been a ghost for 397 years. She imagined that if there were a way for him to kill himself, he would have figured it out by now. Something she could use against him if he tried to pull mind games on her again.

  “The bleed-through will pass,” Jedao said coolly, “and you’ll be all right. Prepare orders for the infantry and the Shuos infiltrators. The operator can’t sustain the shield inversion – look at the scan. They’re disabling the entire Fortress to get us. We’ll have to endure.”

  Assuming the shields went down, they still had the problem of landing troops. She began setting up move orders, checking routes carefully to avoid collisions. It would be stupid to crash her own swarm.

  Cheris heard thumping, and glanced back at Rahal Gara, who was going into convulsions. Gara wasn’t the only one. “This had better end soon,” she said.

  Seven minutes and nineteen seconds later, the inverted shield dissipated completely.

  A message came in from the Fortress. It said: “Very impressive, Garach Jedao. We’ll have a use for you.”

  People were starting to recover, and they had a Fortress to conquer, but Cheris was remembering the knife. Jedao had claimed to fear being executed by the Shuos hexarch, but he was also suicidal. Something didn’t add up. She could only hope that she figured it out before it came around to bite her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Fortress of Scattered Needles, Analysis

  Priority: High

  From:: Vahenz afrir dai Noum

  To: Heptarch Liozh Zai

  Calendrical Minutiae: Year of the Fatted Cow, Month of the Partridge, Day of the Goose, and now we’re down to hours or these reports will all look the same. How about Hour of the Locust? It seems appropriate.

  All right. You know how much I hate to apologize. Well, I’m apologizing. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. That was the point at which the meeting degenerated past all hope of usefulness. One of my instructors used to say to me that if I was ever about to lose my temper, do something productive instead, like draw hanged stick figures on my tablet where no one can see them, or think up death-traps using office chairs and nail clippers. I used to think she was being facetious but now I see that was good advice. If nothing else, I bet I could get Stoghan with a pathetically simple trap. He’s very careless about personal security and I know you’ve noticed that too. (Don’t worry. You think you need him, so I’ll restrain myself.)

  Anyway, I must impress this point upon you. My advice is only as good as the information I have to base it on. I don’t take it personally when the enemy tries to deceive me. They are only behaving rationally. On the other hand, it hurts your cause when you keep vital information from me. I’m not talking about things like that Andan-certified courtesan that Stoghan is seeing on the side, whom he thinks I don’t know about. I’m talking about things like the basic functioning of our famed defense system. If you knew the weakness in advance, why hide it from me?

  You know the calculations as well as I do. Inconvenient arch-traitor or no, those shields were supposed to hold out indefinitely. We can’t predict how long it’ll take for the Hafn relief swarm to arrive. Even with considerable resources devoted to deceiving Kel Command, it’s hard for them not to figure out that the Hafn might head here.

  So much for external problems. Let’s look at what’s going on in the six wards. Right now the Anemone Ward is a mess. Each report from Stoghan is more incoherent than the last. The loyalists seem to be fighting quite effectively, but we can’t allow them to hold the communications post.

  I’m keeping an eye on atmospheric scores in the Drummers’ Ward and the Ribbon Ward, so don’t fret about public opinion fluctuations. We’re still convincing your citizens of the importance of adhering to the new calendars and participating in this newfangled voting thing. No blunt methods. I’ve always despised the Vidona. Which reminds me, we’ve got to be faster at processing the Vidona detainees for release. Word will get out and that can only do us good.

  The loyalists aren’t anywhere near the routes to the command center, which is another reason to silence them quickly. I’ve always found it charming how your high language associates “silence” and “community.” Where I come from, it’s “silence” and “death.”

  I’ve got people hard at work in the Radiant Ward, mostly at that nitwit Stoghan’s insistence. Admittedly we do want to keep a firm hold of that ward, so it’s not all wasted effort, and it keeps him from hassling me when I need something from him. I promised I’d stop picking on him, but he’s such an easy target. It’s not clear to me why he has so many supporters in the affluent communities, but maybe if my family had been politically indebted to his for the past three generations I’d see the appeal. Not to say he’s not a striking man, but sometimes one wants brains as part of the package.

  Keep an eye on Gerenag Abrana. The good thing about Abrana is that she’s smart, but the bad thing is that she’s also ambitious, and given how badly we need her factories, we have to handle her carefully. The fact that she’s been so meek lately makes me suspicious, especially since I’m convinced some of her agents have been poking around my offices. It’ll be tempting to shoot any I catch, it’s always good to keep your hand in, but probably more fruitful from a security standpoint to track them back to wherever they’re scurrying from.

  The Umbrella Ward is holding except that one blip in that popular game that’s going around. Annoying
as the Shuos are, they are correct that people can be manipulated through games. I’m about to consult Pioro as to how Doctrine can address the matter.

  I’m sure you’ve got plenty on your mind, or if you didn’t before, you should now. I’m off to steal Pioro. Keep me posted on any vital pieces of intelligence that fall into your lap, hmm?

  Yours in calendrical heresy,

  Vh.

  CHERIS FELT WIDE awake, but it wouldn’t last. Kel Nerevor had been one of the first to get back on her feet. She had taken over the Weapons terminal, as they had had to have servitors haul Lieutenant Kel Jai to Medical, and his replacement had not yet arrived.

  The entire command center was awash with alerts demanding attention. Cheris reminded herself that the trick was to prioritize, no matter how insistent all of the lights were that they had to be addressed all at once. As it stood, you could be forgiven for thinking, based on the crazed quilt of red and amber lights, that the entire moth – the entire swarm – was in danger of crashing into some kind of space reef.

  A small team of deltaform servitors were cleaning up the messes, small as they were: some blood on the walls and edges of terminals where people had fallen badly, although by some run of luck there had been no serious head injuries. Fortunately, this wasn’t something that needed Cheris’s intervention. When you got right down to it, servitors were frequently better at guiding themselves than the Kel gave them credit for, and they were being very quiet and very discreet, so as not to distract from the business of battle.

  “I don’t understand why the heretics aren’t shooting, sir,” Nerevor said in a rasp. “It’s not like they’d be any more fucked than they already are.”

  “They’re still figuring out who we are,” Cheris said. But Nerevor was right. Besides the visual alerts, the staticky charts and diagrams and maps that she was monitoring with half an eye, there was the occasional audio alert, low deadened bell tones. Nothing that required immediate action, even though the displays on her terminal were growing more and more crowded. Each one made her flinch: she kept expecting a real emergency to come through.

  “Something’s going on in the Anemone Ward, sir,” Scan said. He looked white around the mouth, but she never would have guessed it from his voice. Indeed, he sat at his terminal with a posture so correct she could only call it stiff, when even Nerevor was hunched over – just a little, with an attitude that suggested she was in pain.

  “Double-check to make sure the Kel infantry are in null uniforms,” Jedao said. “The Shuos will already be dressed appropriately.” And: “The Kel must avoid being captured at all costs.” If he noticed the chaotic state of the command center, there was no sign of it in his voice. But of course, this sort of thing was nothing new to him.

  Cheris sent the orders in. She wished the air were less dry, less hot, that she could have a glass of water; but in all likelihood she was flushed from the stress of the situation, and she would have to wait until she could leave the command center, like everyone else. Minutes peeled past.

  Captain Ko called the command center. She almost missed it because Engineering was sending a series of updates on some situation involving the invariant drive, except she saw the blinking Shuos eye call indicator before Jedao had to bring it to her attention. “Sir,” Ko said, “we couldn’t get it released to us earlier, but there should be a list of qualified shield operators. Kel Command might release information to you now that the shields are down and the secret’s out. Just be careful of the timing: the heretics will be suspicious if they catch us chatting with Kel Command. Besides,” and his voice went dry, “it’s not as if Kel Command won’t have to drill state secrets out of our heads. My compliments to General Jedao, sir.” That was all.

  “How generous of him,” Jedao said, just as dryly. The shadow’s eyes, to Cheris’s side on the floor, were narrowed.

  Cheris quirked an eyebrow.

  “I’m sure you Kel find Shuos infighting very amusing.”

  Cheris composed the query, then saved it with a reminder to send it when their ruse was blown.

  “Would rather be shooting, sir,” Nerevor said moodily. She was drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair.

  “We can’t take out all their guns fast enough to clear a landing corridor for the hoppers,” Cheris said.

  “I know,” Nerevor said, and sighed. “Wait for an opening in the situation and all that.”

  Cheris rechecked the hopper logistics, on the grounds that she might as well do something. Her mouth felt more dry than ever. She bet she wasn’t the only one. Later, she told herself. In the meantime, she was getting better at blocking out some of the lower-priority alerts and reorganizing her displays so the most important status indicators were available at a glance. The grid was supposed to do this automatically, but its judgment was sometimes skewed.

  Five hours and thirty-nine minutes later, it happened. Cheris had gone for a brief rest and felt better for it, to say nothing of the cool water she had drunk, and was now back in the command center.

  In the infantry she had envied moth soldiers the controlled environment, the easy availability of baths and water, air that didn’t choke you with dust or scorched metal or cooked flesh. Now that she was in a cindermoth, she missed having to watch where she put her feet; she missed the light of swollen suns instead of the patchwork red-and-amber, she missed the wind cutting into her eyes.

  “Sir!” It was Scan, who looked badly like she wanted her shift to end. “Explosion near the communications post in the Anemone Ward. Minor armor breach.”

  “Tell the boxmoths all hoppers on standby,” Jedao said.

  Cheris began giving orders. The boxmoths Autumn Flute and Six Sticks Standing contained the Shuos infiltrator teams. It was imperative that they get the infiltrators into the Fortress so they could start figuring out where the heresy came from and how to stop it.

  “Prepare another transmission,” Jedao said once she had finished. “Garach Jedao Shkan. We’re going to hand you back that communications post, but you should learn to hold on to your toys. I’m sending you an extra gift as a token of my goodwill. Enjoy.”

  Cheris entered the message more or less automatically, then stared at the bright columns of text. “What do you mean, ‘gift’?”

  “A hostage,” Jedao said. “A high officer, a moth commander for preference. Someone they’ll recognize from public records.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind,” Cheris said. “I’m not feeding the fucking heretics one of my officers.”

  “Cheris, listen to me. We have to inject those infiltrators. We can’t shoot our way down there. The Fortress has too many guns, and I’m good, but not that good. If you can’t go through a problem, you have to go around it. The heretics haven’t fired because they’re uncertain, but they’re not stupid enough to let us land troops unless I convince them that I’m not, in fact, a Kel general with an unusual taste for dirty tactics. I have to convince them that I’m really Garach Jedao and that I offer them an advantage.”

  “I’m still not –”

  He kept talking. “The heretics are teetering right now because I took down the shields, yet there’s no way I could charm or bludgeon my way into a Kel swarm after escaping, let alone a swarm with two cindermoths. We’re going to leave the story to their imagination, because they’re right. I couldn’t do it. But they need to think I did. That’s why we have to send a commander to suggest the story to them. It’s something the Kel would never do, but I might. The Kel don’t fight like that.”

  “Damn straight,” Cheris said. “Because we’re not doing it.”

  “Very well then, fledge.” Jedao’s tone was formal, and a hot flush crept up the sides of Cheris’s neck. “What is your proposed alternative?”

  That brought her up short. She didn’t have one. “Pull back and blow down the defenses with all the bombs we have,” she said.

  “I’m happy to evaluate an alternative plan,” Jedao said, correctly ignoring what she had just said in des
peration, “but there has to be something to evaluate.”

  Cheris had an overwhelming desire to punch him. “Fine,” she said. “If you’re so fucking determined to send someone, send me.”

  “Unacceptable,” Jedao said. “Now you’re reacting, not thinking, and when it comes to strategy, thought must trump reaction. If any records exist of you in the Fortress, they’ll have you down as an infantry captain. You’re too insignificant to be of any use as a hostage. At the same time, as my anchor and the current general, you’re too important. I can’t help the swarm if you’re drugged in a cell somewhere. Besides, your shadow and reflection will tell them what’s going on.”

  “I can’t ask this of my officers!”

  “Sir,” Nerevor said in a dead even voice. She had come out of her chair and was facing Cheris, eyes narrowed.

  Cheris realized that she had been shouting.

  Everyone had heard her half of the argument.

  “Sir,” Nerevor said, more insistently. “What’s the dispute?”

  Nerevor shouldn’t have asked, but it was entirely like her to do so. Besides, it was too late to pretend the dispute hadn’t taken place. Cheris said, “General Jedao believes that we need to send the heretics a hostage to persuade them not to fire on the hoppers. The hostage would have to be a high officer to be convincing.”

  “Not something any Kel general would do, but something a crazy vengeful Shuos would do, am I right?” Nerevor said, nostrils flaring. “Because we can’t hide the fact that these are Kel moths, so we have to pretend that we were overwhelmed or blackmailed.” She didn’t sound like she thought that was far from the truth. The rest of the command center was very still.

  “Yes,” Cheris said.

  Nerevor lifted her chin. “Then I’ll go, sir. You won’t do better than a cindermoth commander.”

  With winter clarity, Cheris realized she had been manipulated into losing her temper so this conversation would take place. “Hawkfucking prick,” she said to Jedao, remembering the subvocals this time. She studied Nerevor, resisting the urge to glare at the shadow.