Weapons of War

by M. R. Forbes

  He saw the Ishur growing nearer through a tiny transparent slit at the head of the gi'shah, slightly distorted by the fluid he had to look through. A thought sent the fighter into a slight vector change, decreasing thrust and angling for the ship's hangar.

  "My bek'hai splice was second to Kan'ek," Gr'el said through their communication system. His voice was muddled by the transfer from the koo'lek to the gori'shah, to Tea'va's ears. "He commanded the Ishur during the invasion."

  "Was it your splice who allowed the human ship to escape?" Tea'va replied.

  "Drek," Gr'el cursed, speaking in bek'hai. "The human ship evaded the entire fleet. It makes no less of any of the bek'hai involved. Must you always be so abrasive?"

  "It was an innocent question," Tea'va said.

  "The Ishur has a growing history of failure," Gr'el said. "Perhaps that is why the Domo'dahm allowed you to command it?"

  Tea'va felt his upper lip curl at the remark. He didn't respond to it. Rorn'el would be receiving reports from Gr'el about his performance. He knew he should be working to be friendly with the pur'dahm, not taunting him about his heritage.

  "We will change the Ishur's fortunes together," Tea'va said. "When we destroy the humans, we will both gain rank in the eyes of the Domo'dahm."

  "Yes, we will," Gr'el agreed.

  Tea'va didn't speak again after the exchange. He watched the Ishur as it drowned out the entire viewport of the gi'shah. The hangar was little more than a thin line of white light along the huge lek'shah surface. It took nearly two hundred cycles to produce enough of the material to build a star fortress. He had heard it would take even longer now. Apparently, the Earth's atmosphere was not as favorable to the production process.

  Gr'el was already a problem. He would become a bigger problem as time passed. Both were jockeying for position to take over the bek'hai when the Domo'dahm's years were up. This would be the best chance either of them had to make a lasting impression that could bring the bek'hai under their control. Not only would he have to outmaneuver the humans, he would need to outmatch Gr'el as well.

  He was certain the Domo'dahm was fully aware of this. Rorn'el was affording him the chance to either prove himself or die.

  He would make sure he wasn't the one who died.

  He scowled at the thought, the expression forcing his crooked lips open, allowing the gel to seep in through the cracks. He sputtered, forcing it back out and refocusing his efforts to keep his mouth on the breathing apparatus.

  Disgusting.

  He shifted his attention back to the approaching hangar. The white lights had expanded, showing a depth to the space as it sank back into the fortress. It took little effort for him to line the gi'shah up with the pattern, and even less for him to guide the fighter through an atmospheric filter and into the cavernous space. Dozens of gi'shah rested in organized patterns along the floor of the hangar, along with a few of the larger ek'shah, more heavily armored and less maneuverable craft that were intended primarily for close combat. They had been sent out sparingly in the years since they had arrived on Earth.

  The lights directed him to the proper position on the hangar floor. Tea'va turned the gi'shah sharply as it sank in the artificial gravity, bringing it to the ground with a soft thud. He watched through the viewport as a team of five human clones rushed over, pushing an apparatus with a large, empty bin ahead of them. They reached the fighter, and a moment later he heard a thud and pop, and then the gel began to drain from the cockpit.

  Tea'va shivered slightly as it was released, though the gori'shah suit helped keep his thinner skin warmer. As soon as the gel was down to his ankles, he removed the cap, signaling the cockpit hatch to open. It rotated up on a hinge, revealing the rest of the hangar to him. A smaller pur'dahm was waiting nearby, his long fingers, thicker, scalier skin, and lack of expression showing him as a less successful splice.

  "Pur'dahm Tea'va," the bek'hai said, lowering his head in submission. "The crew of the Ishur is prepared to enter your servitude."

  Tea'va could imagine how difficult the statement was for the pur'dahm. As the now former commander of the Ishur, Ilk'ash had not only been demoted but also relegated to the third position in the command cell.

  "Authority accepted," Tea'va said, raising his head in response. The body language was more important than the words. He took three steps toward the other pur'dahm before turning to wait for Gr'el.

  He was already approaching. He lowered his head to Tea'va, just enough to be proper. "Gr'el dur Lok'ash is prepared to enter your servitude."

  "Authority accepted," Tea'va repeated, raising his head. He was more careful this time, adjusting only enough to finish the ritual but not embarrass the pur'dahm. "Ilk'ash, take us to the bridge."

  "Of course, Dahm Tea'va. Follow me."

  Tea'va fell in line behind Ilk'ash and Gr'el, forcing himself to hold his mouth closed, or else risk upsetting Gr'el with a satisfied smirk. He was almost happy the Heil'shur had gotten away.

  With greater risk came greater reward.

  TWELVE

  "Tell me about your pursuit of the human starship," Tea'va said.

  He had positioned himself in the center of the bridge, in a seat on a pedestal intended for something much larger than he was. While many aspects of the bek'hai fortresses had been adjusted for the drumhr, there were reminders of their prior evolution still mingled in the details.

  Tea'va didn't know why this seat had yet to be replaced. He didn't care. It was comfortable enough, even if it did make him look small.

  Ilk'ash was at the command station below and to his left, his hands resting in more of the koo'lek gel so that he could monitor the ship's systems. He looked uncomfortable in the spot, unused to being forced into such activity. As a commander, he would never have been involved with managing the fortress himself.

  The bek'hai withdrew his hands, the gel slipping off and back into the semi-circular receptacle in front of him. He then stood and turned to face Tea'va. Even standing, his head barely reached up to Tea'va's feet.

  "The Domo'dahm ordered us to prepare the Ishur for launch immediately after the starship arrived inside of our domain," Ilk'ash said. "Most of the lor'hai were already present and carrying about their tasks. Many of the drumhr were not in a stage of warning. Why would they be, when there has been no outside threat for over fifty cycles? Under these circumstances, I am proud of how quickly we were able to put the Ishur into space."

  "You should be proud," Gr'el said. "I am willing to wager that the Un fortress is not as well-prepared to launch."

  "Go on," Tea'va said. "I'm more interested in how a human ship with no weapons managed to get away from you."

  Ilk'ash's head snapped up, his eyes angry. He immediately lowered it again, though Tea'va could picture him glowering into the floor. He had to be careful with Gr'el. He didn't care what Ilk'ash thought of him.

  "Their armor absorbed a number of direct plasma hits," Ilk'ash said. "It is thicker than the others we destroyed during the invasion. At least, that is what my science team tells me."

  "Why didn't you fire any missiles at them?" Tea'va said.

  "The Domo'dahm ordered me not to. He didn't want to waste them. He didn't know they had bolstered their armor either."

  "And how did they escape?" Tea'va asked. He didn't need to. He already knew the answer. He had seen the human starship plummeting toward the planet. He had seen the way it shimmered and shifted, trying to gain purchase in the slipstream.

  Then he had seen it disappear.

  "It entered the slipstream, Domo Tea'va," Ilk'ash replied softly.

  "Inside of the defenses?"

  "Yes, Domo."

  "I have never heard of such a thing."

  "Neither had I," Ilk'ash said, looking up again. "If I had not seen it, I wouldn't believe it. They used the slipstream to escape."

  "Why didn't you follow?"

  "We couldn't."

  "Why not?"

  "We could not calculate the slipstream coord
inates in time. We also-"

  "You couldn't calculate the coordinates? A human calculated the coordinates."

  Ilk'ash's head lowered a second time, dropping almost to his shoulders. "The humans had time to prepare-"

  "I saw the ship come down," Tea'va said, interrupting a second time. "They did not prepare to join the slipstream. I am certain of it. Who is the dahm in charge of the science team on the Ishur?"

  "Lor'dahm Zoelle, Dahm Tea'va."

  Tea'va felt his anger growing hotter. "A clone?"

  "Yes, Dahm."

  "One of the un'hai?"

  "Yes, Dahm. Shall I call her to the bridge?"

  "No. I will deal with that one later."

  He paused, thinking. Should he be so bold, so soon? He glanced down at Gr'el. The pur'dahm was looking straight ahead, maintaining decorum. What would the Domo'dahm think if he followed his instinct?

  "What did the Domo'dahm think of your failure?" he asked.

  "Failure? Dahm, it wasn't my fault. My crew did the best they could. Lor'dahm Zoelle is an accomplished mathematician and astronomer."

  "You didn't answer my question."

  "He gave the Ishur to you, Tea'va," Ilk'ash said, dropping his title. "That is the answer."

  "Your level of respect is even with your level of preparedness, Ilk'ash," Tea'va said. "I don't know how you managed to earn command of the Ishur in the first place, but it is clear to me that your usefulness has come to an end. If you have any pride in you at all, you will turn yourself in for retirement immediately."

  Ilk'ash looked up again, angrier than before. Gr'el turned slightly, just enough that he could see Tea'va, but he didn't speak.

  Tea'va knew the Domo'dahm would hear of this. He welcomed it.

  "Do you have something to say?" he asked.

  "Drek. Druk'shur," Ilk'ash cursed. "I will kill you."

  He reached out, ready to climb the pedestal to attack. Tea'va didn't move. He didn't give up the exterior of calm. He had to make a statement immediately.

  "Gr'el," he said.

  The pur'dahm stood, drawing a plasma knife from his uniform and shoving it into Ilk'ash's side with one quick, smooth motion. The drumhr gurgled, still reaching up. Gr'el stabbed him again. He stopped the advance, falling first to his knees, and then onto his side, dead.

  Tea'va locked eyes with Gr'el. Neither was surprised by the actions of the other. Both knew that Tea'va couldn't just assume control.

  He had to take it.

  THIRTEEN

  They barely spoke for another hour as they fled downriver, away from the carnage and the destroyed mech. Of course, Donovan had questions. So many questions. How the hell had Ehri gotten to the other side of the river bank? How had she gained control of the mech? How did she even know how to pilot the thing?

  She was supposed to be a scientist. Maybe she had trained with a pur'dahm Hunter. Maybe she knew how to fight. This was more than knowing how to fight. It seemed like there was nothing she couldn't do.

  Had Juliet St. Martin been the same way? It was her husband who had gotten the colony ship away from Earth during the invasion, somehow managing to avoid the plasma fire of the bek'hai's massive fortresses.

  Were the other clones like Ehri just as gifted? Was the difference that they didn't know it?

  "We should stop here," Donovan said.

  They were in the midst of some thick vegetation that offered strong cover from all directions. The river was rough beside them, pouring over a patch of rocks and debris that kicked a fine mist over the area, keeping it damp.

  "Diaz, can you help me with him?" He was too tired to lower the pilot to the ground without the risk of dropping him.

  "I can help you," Ehri said.

  "I've got it, Mary Sue," Diaz said, moving in front of her. "You don't have to do everything for us."

  Donovan opened his mouth to rebut her and then decided against it. They could handle their differences themselves, and if Diaz was pissed and jealous, that was her own problem.

  She helped him lower the pilot to the ground. Donovan reached down and felt his pulse. It was still steady.

  "I don't know why he's been out for so long," Diaz said quietly. "I thought the bek'hai magic band-aid was supposed to heal him?"

  Donovan smiled at that one. "Are you okay, Lieutenant?" he said, reminding her they still had a job to do.

  "I'm feeling a little uncertain about Ehri. Every time we think we know her, she makes us look stupid again."

  "I can hear you, Lieutenant Diaz," Ehri said.

  "See," Diaz whispered.

  Donovan stood, surveying both of them. "I think we're all exhausted and on edge, and it's getting the best of us. Before we wind up ripping one another's throats out, maybe you can debrief us on exactly what happened back there?"

  "Of course, Major," Ehri said. "There isn't much to tell. I heard the mech approaching across the river, so I broke off from you, crossed at a ford a few hundred meters further upstream, and came at the mech from behind."

  "If there was a ford so close, why weren't you directing us to it?" Diaz asked.

  "Because of the mech. If it had reached us together, we would all be dead right now."

  Donovan couldn't argue with that. "You made it ahead of us in a hurry."

  "As with my hearing, most of my abilities are augmented. As you know, the bek'hai have a long history of genetic manipulation. Consider that they have been able to combine human DNA with their own in only fifty years. There are thousands of years of study and science behind those capabilities."

  "Yet they couldn't prevent themselves from almost going extinct?"

  "A series of tragic mistakes. Humans are not immune to the same."

  "Why aren't the soldier clones powered up like you are?" Diaz asked.

  "The Children of the Un'hai are special. You could say favored."

  "Un'hai?" Donovan said. "Juliet St. Martin?"

  "Yes."

  "Your Domo'dahm must have been seriously in love with Juliet," Diaz said.

  "He was. As much as any bek'hai is capable of love."

  "What about the mech? You never told me you could pilot one of those things."

  "I told you I know how to fight. That includes usage of all of the bek'hai weapons of war. I know the workings of the gi'shah, though they are not equipped to be piloted by clones."

  "Gi'shah?"

  "The starfighters. Your forces call them Bats. They currently require a symbiotic interface which makes them incompatible with the lor'hai. The mechs; however, were created for this planet, and with both clone and drumhr usage in mind."

  "What about real human usage?" Diaz asked.

  "It is likely that you could be taught, but the controls have the same lockout as the rifles normally do."

  "We've gotten around that problem once," Donovan said. "Maybe we can do it again?"

  "Getting ahead of yourself a bit, Major?" Diaz said. "We've got bigger problems right now."

  "Affirmative," Donovan said. "How far off course are we from returning to base?"

  "Forty kilometers or so," Ehri said. "It will be dangerous to go back there."

  "I know, but we have to. If any of the children survived, if my mother survived. They're going to need someone to try to get them out." He held up the bek'hai rifle. "We're the best chance they've got."

  "We may be the only chance they've got," Diaz said. "We don't leave people behind. We can't just make new ones."

  Ehri didn't react to the barb. She shifted her attention to the pilot at their feet. His eyes had opened at some point during the conversation.

  "He's awake," she said.

  Donovan looked down at the pilot. He was staring at them, watching them. His breathing was calm.

  "My name is Major Donovan Peters," Donovan said, leaning down to greet him. "I'm glad you're finally awake. Welcome to Earth."

  FOURTEEN

  "Captain Soon Kim," the pilot said. His voice was soft. Tired. "New Earth Alliance." He smiled weakly, lifting h
is arm to salute. "I've never been to Earth before." He breathed in. "I've never breathed fresh air. I've never been outside! It's incredible."

  Donovan still felt odd returning the Captain's salute. His own rank wasn't a real thing. Not compared to a man who had spent his whole life training to be a soldier. At the same time, he knew the planet. Captain Soon didn't.

  "I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, Captain," Donovan said. "I wish I was welcoming you home. You and all of your people."

  "Me, too. Do you know? Did Captain St. Martin make it out?"

  "He did," Ehri said.

  Soon smiled. "We did it. I can't believe we did it." He tried to push himself up, groaning and laying back down. "Must have hit my head. Hard."

  "You have a wound to your abdomen as well," Ehri said. "It will heal quickly, but it will help if you stay still."

  "We had to carry you quite a way," Donovan said. "It didn't help. We didn't have a choice."

  "I'm sure you didn't."

  "Diaz, can you get Captain Kim some water?"

  "Yes, sir," Diaz replied, heading off toward the river.

  "That's Lieutenant Renata Diaz," Donovan said. "This is Ehri."

  "Just Ehri?" Soon said.

  "I'm a lor'hai," Ehri replied. "A bek'hai clone."

  "Bek'hai? You mean the enemy?"

  Donovan expected Soon would be afraid. He wasn't.

  "She helped us get the weapons," Donovan said. "She's on our side."

  Soon stared at her in silence for a moment. "You look familiar." His face changed when he placed her. "General St. Martin has a picture of his wife, Juliet. I've seen it a thousand times. Even with the grime on your face, I would know it anywhere."

  "Yes," Ehri said. "I am aware of Juliet St. Martin."

  "Did Gabriel see you?"

  "He did," Donovan said, remembering the look on Captain St. Martin's face when he saw the spitting image of his mother. "He was shocked, to say the least."