The Golden Horde (The Revelations Cycle Book 4)

by Chris Kennedy

  “Or we need a better pilot…” Captain Anderson muttered under his breath.

  “That’s enough!” Sansar warned.

  “No…” Walker said, sounding distant. “Actually, now that I think about it, ma’am, he’s right. The only way we can do this is with a better pilot. But not the way he meant—we need a pilot who can fly the fighter closer to its maximum capabilities. Someone who won’t be unconscious at the edge of its performance envelope.”

  “You’re not suggesting using the MinSha pilot, are you?” Sansar asked.

  “No ma’am, I’m not. I considered trying to bribe her to do it, but she couldn’t be trusted to follow through with the mission, and this is too important to put into her hands…or claws, as it were.”

  “So, what are you suggesting?”

  “Well, ma’am, it’s like this,” Walker said. “When I was looking to buy some of these fighters—” Anderson’s eyebrows went up “—one of the benefits the MinSha used to try to sell me was that the cockpit is dual environment-configurable so it can be flown by a wider variety of pilots.”

  “Dual environment-configurable?” Mun asked.

  “Two types of races can fly the fighter in super-G conditions. The first are insectoids like the MinSha, who have hearts close to their brains. The second type are aquatic races, which are supported by flooding the cockpit.”

  “That’s great,” Captain Anderson said; “however, I don’t see how it’s particularly helpful, as we don’t have a pilot of either type available to us.”

  “That’s true…as it stands now,” Walker replied.

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means there’s an aquatic race here that likes us.”

  “But they aren’t smart enough to fly space fighters!”

  “True…we would have to uplift them…or at least uplift one of them to fly the fighter.”

  “That goes against Galactic Union law,” Sansar noted.

  “So does genocide,” Walker retorted, “and if genocide isn’t illegal, it’s at least frowned upon. That’s what’s happening to us! Someone is trying to kill off Humanity in a really nasty way! Where’s the crime in uplifting a single sea otter—or even the entire sea otter race—when all of Humanity is at stake?”

  “My question isn’t whether to uplift the sea otters,” Sansar replied; “I’ll do it if necessary. My question is to whether an uplifted sea otter would actually have a chance against two professional pilots. Are we uplifting one of them only to send it to its death?”

  “If the MinSha knew what they were up against, that would probably be true; however, they’re not going to be expecting our fighter to be able to turn like it will. Honestly, if I were them, I would go after the CASPers first, while they’re still in space and easy to chase down, and leave the fighter until last. If they’re only expecting an 8-G turn out of it, they’ll probably think they have plenty of time, which will give the otter enough time to turn around and zap them.”

  Sansar stared at Walker, her eyes boring into him as if to see what, if anything, he was hiding. Finally, she nodded. “Very well. You’re now our liaison to the sea otters; go see if you can find one to fly our fighter. You will also lead the CASPer assault on Trigar 2-B.”

  “I’d love to, ma’am; I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than kill MinSha, except maybe kill Goka. My only problem is my suit is deadlined. I’ll either need a new one or Sergeant Major Price will have to fix mine, pronto.”

  Sansar looked at Mun. “How many suits do we still have operational?”

  “About 30, ma’am. I’ll find one to fit him.”

  “Outstanding. Everyone here knows what they need to do, so let’s get to it. We can sleep on the transit home, if we’re still alive to do so.”

  Conference Room, Main Base, Trigar 2-A, Trigar System

  Sansar saw Mun waiting while the rest of the company filed out of the meeting room, and she was wearing her “you’re not going to like what I have to say” face. Sansar was too tired for this…but if it was something important to Mun, it was important to the company. Sansar shut the door and smiled. “What’s on your mind?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if it’s my place to say anything,” Mun said, looking at the floor, “especially since everyone is so gung-ho about it, and it seems like the only way forward…”

  “What’s wrong?” Sansar asked. “I’ve never seen you at a loss for words.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the plan to modify the otters, or whatever they are,” Mun replied. She paused, pursing her lips.

  “Let me guess,” Sansar said when it looked like Mun wasn’t going to continue, “you don’t think we should do it.”

  “No, I don’t,” Mun said. “We don’t know very much about them. We don’t know what will happen if we do this to them. Hopefully, it will work…but what if it doesn’t? What if we kill them? From everything I’ve heard, they’re a sentient race, living on a backwater world. For all we know, they don’t even know there’s a whole galaxy out there. They may think we’re gods.”

  “I understand what you’re saying. Just because we can do it, doesn’t mean we should.”

  “Exactly,” Mun agreed with a wan smile. “I don’t see a better way to go about it, but I’m still conflicted about doing it.”

  “I feel the same way,” Sansar agreed. “We don’t have any way of knowing, prior to doing it, whether it will work. We also don’t have any way to ask the otters for their permission to do it. Even if we could ask them, there wouldn’t be any way to know if they understood what we were asking of them. We’re taking advantage of at least one of them in order to do this.”

  “Yeah. We are.”

  “I understand that, and trust me, I’ve given it a lot of thought. When I look at what we may gain, though, I can’t pass up the opportunity. We’re talking about untold millions of Humans who are going to die, and die horribly, if we don’t take the chance on modifying one of the sea otters. How fair is it to the millions who we could have saved if we don’t do it?”

  “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one?”

  “In this case, I have to say ‘yes.’”

  “Yeah, I guess I do too,” Mun said with a sigh. “Still, no matter how it turns out, it’s going to suck to be that one.”

  Beach, Trigar 2-A, Trigar System

  Walker yawned as he scanned the beach and its surrounding ocean. Aside from the gentle lapping of the waves, the scenery was peaceful, even idyllic, and it made him want to lie down and take a nap. There was nothing to break up the serenity of the scene…aside from the two dead CASPers lying nearby that hadn’t been retrieved yet.

  The planet’s star had just risen over the eastern horizon, but there was enough reflected light from the other planet to make it as bright as mid-day on Earth. Plenty bright enough to see there weren’t any otters in the vicinity. Interestingly enough, both of the sea monster carcasses were missing, too.

  “What now?” asked Sergeant Polanis.

  “Beats the hell out of me,” Walker said. “If I’d have been thinking better, we would have brought a CASPer to go out into the water in.” His eyes scanned the rest of the squad. “Anyone want to wade out into the water where the big nasties are to see if they can make contact with one of the locals?”

  “When you put it that way,” Sergeant Morgan said, “no.”

  A variety of looks met his query. Most were skeptical; none were what could be called “positive.” Walker sighed. “Somehow, I didn’t think there would be,” he added.

  Walker handed his rifle to Polanis. “Hold this for me, would you?” he asked.

  Polanis squinted at the water, searching its surface before taking the weapon. “What about the big nasties?”

  “All a laser rifle would do is piss off one of those things, and I can swim faster without it. Besides, the otters know they’re weapons, same as the CASPers, which is why we didn’t bring them; I’ll look friendlier without it.�
�� He looked at Sergeant Loftis and added, “C’mon. You’re with me.”

  “Uh, sure,” Loftis said. “If I have to,” she amended, but it was directed to his back as Walker was already headed toward the water.

  He waded into the ocean, mentally adding “dry clothes” to the list of items he wished he’d brought. The water was colder than the day before…or maybe it only seemed so when you had more time to notice. Like when you didn’t have a giant sea monster trying to eat you.

  He stopped when he reached waist-deep water and surveyed his surroundings; he didn’t want to go deeper, but had no idea what to do next. Something to transmit underwater might have been handy…although it would have been less so if it had acted as a beacon to call the sea monsters. Lacking something to transmit, Walker slapped the surface of the water several times, hoping the otters would hear him…and the monsters wouldn’t.

  “What do you think?” Walker asked when nothing happened after a couple of minutes.

  “No idea,” Loftis said. “Maybe you could wade out a little further and try it again.”

  “I don’t think I particularly want to go out any further,” he noted. “Here will be fine.” He slapped the surface again.

  After another five minutes with no success, he turned back toward shore. “Anyone got any other ideas?” he yelled.

  Nearly every member of the squad raised a hand simultaneously, but they weren’t trying to answer the question; all of them pointed behind him.

  “Umm, Staff Sergeant,” Sergeant Loftis said, “you may want to turn around now.”

  Walker spun and found himself surrounded by sea otters. Eight of the aliens were within 10 feet of him, and he could smell a slight musky tang coming from then.

  They stared at him as he inspected the group. Unlike his first meeting with them, this time three of them were wearing harnesses with pouches on them, and held what looked like spears made of bone. Those three were the closest ones to him and, while they didn’t appear to be threatening him, they didn’t put aside their spears or step aside, either. All three stared at Sergeant Loftis.

  Walker turned to see what they were looking at and knew instantly—Loftis was holding her rifle at port arms, trying to keep it out of the water.

  “Hey, Loftis, you can go back to the shore now,” Walker said in a stage whisper.

  “But—”

  “Now!” he ordered. “I don’t think the armed ones want the rifle near the ones who aren’t.”

  “Okay, I’ll go,” she muttered, turning away, “but I’ll be just as deadly to them if I’m on the beach. Maybe more so on solid ground.”

  “You know that, and I know that, but it appears they don’t.”

  Loftis walked toward the shore. When she had gone about halfway, the armed otters moved to the sides, and the other five stepped forward, holding out their hands to him. Now that Walker could see them, he could tell they were different. While the otters with spears had pure, jet black fur, the newcomers had navy blue stripes that were hard to see, but definitely were there.

  He held his hands out to the sea otters, and they looked at each other, obviously discussing something.

  Their conversation gave him a moment to look them over. One was partially turned away from him and Walker could see the side vent in the side of the creature’s neck opening and closing periodically. He had thought the creatures were air breathers, but that definitely looked like some sort of breathing apparatus; could the otters live in either environment?

  Their discussion broke up, and one of the otters began pointing at each of the Human soldiers. When it had pointed at all of them, it turned and dove into the water. The others all watched where the creature had submerged and, after 30 seconds or so, it reappeared with three other otters. Each of the new otters carried a slab of something white.

  The new otters were of the jet black type, and as they drew closer, he could see each of them held a manhole cover-shaped block of something white and gelatinous. They approached Walker and held it out to him. Walker took the blocks while nodding his thanks to the otters who had given it to him.

  “What is it?” Staff Sergeant Morgan asked from shore.

  “Beats the hell out of me,” Walker said over his shoulder. “Whale blubber? I don’t know. The shit’s heavy, though; someone come and take it.”

  Morgan looked at VVR. “Hey junior guy, you’re up. Go get the whale blubber from the staff sergeant.”

  VVR made a face like he wasn’t thrilled with going to get 30 pounds of whale blubber, but when he saw everyone was watching him and waiting for him to do it, he sighed and went into the water and got it from Walker. “Stuff stinks,” was his only comment.

  Liberated of the “gift,” Walker turned back to find the gift-bearing otters had disappeared, and he was left with the five striped otters and the three with spears. They looked expectantly at him. Was he supposed to provide a gift in kind? If so, he didn’t have anything for them except their hand-held weapons, and he wasn’t giving them to the otters.

  After several moments of waiting, the otters started shifting around. Were they bored? Walker needed to get on with it before they decided there was no gift coming, and they left. Who to ask? Obviously the striped ones were the politicians. They were the ones to ask…but definitely not the ones he wanted. He needed a warrior, or one with a warrior ethos, if he was going to train it to fly a fighter into the teeth of the enemy. The closest spear-wielder seemed bigger than the other two. Perfect.

  He cleared his throat. “Okay, otter folks, since I don’t know what to call you, and I don’t know if you can hear me, much less understand me, I’ll try to be very clear about this. I need one of you,” he held up a finger, “to come back with me to our base,” he pointed to himself then made a motion of walking with two of his fingers, then pointed in the general direction of their base. “How about that?” he asked with a smile.

  The otters looked at him; a couple cocked their heads at him as if trying to figure out what he was doing. He needed to be more obvious.

  “I want him,” Walker said, pointing at the chosen spear-wielder, “to come with us,” he pointed to himself and then indicated the group with a sweep of his hand, “to go back to our base,” and he made a motion of going over the sand dunes.

  The striped otters looked at each other, probably conversing, then turned back to him. None of them moved.

  Okay, maybe even more obvious. He took several steps toward the chosen otter and reached for him.

  This got a response, but not the one he wanted—the otter whipped the spear up, and the point stopped about two inches from his left eye. Walker took an involuntary step backward. It may have been made of bone, but it looked very sharp. “Okay,” he said, holding his hands up. “Let’s not get hasty.” He pointed at the otter again and made a “come along” motion, then pointed at the group on the beach, and then over the dunes.

  The otter looked at the others for several seconds, becoming increasing agitated. Walker took another step back. The spear had looked very pointy, and he didn’t want to be a Human shish-kabob if things went poorly.

  After a few moments, the conversation came to an end, and the otter turned toward Walker. He didn’t want to read too much into it, but the alien had the same resigned look on his face that junior soldiers get when told it’s their turn to clean the latrines. He put the spear on his shoulder and took two steps toward Walker, then waved him forward as if resigned to his fate.

  Walker looked back at the striped otters. They nodded as a group, then turned and dove gracefully into the water. When they didn’t reappear, Walker turned back to the remaining otter and smiled at him. “C’mon,” he said as he started walking toward the beach. “It’s going to be a lot of fun. Besides, how else are you going to get a chance to go to space?”

  Medical, Main Base, Trigar 2-A, Trigar System

  “So…how long is it going to take?” Walker asked. The group had made it back to base without incident. The otter hadn’t made
any attempts at conversation, and had rebuffed the ones the Humans had made toward him. Walker was happy enough to have him along, despite his mood, and gave up trying to talk with him after a while. It was enough that he came.

  “I don’t really know,” Sergeant Polanis said with a shrug. “Their brains have never been mapped before, so I’m going to have to do a full scan. That’s going to take some time.”

  “Time?” Walker asked. “We don’t have a lot of time. I need him ready to go, like now, if I’m going to have any chance of getting all of my tasking accomplished.”

  “Sorry, but it’s going to take some time. It’s like getting implants, only a lot more involved and intense. The computer assesses brain structure and maps it, then it uses nanites to drill into the brain, inserts implants, and downloads new information. Although it’s all computer-controlled, it takes time. Besides, you don’t have time not to do this right. You want to put him in the pilot’s seat of a fighter. If I screw this up, I could make him crazy or psychotic. Is that what you want running a fighter? Someone who might just decide to launch you into a star, just to listen to you scream as you burn up?”

  “Uh, no, thanks,” Walker replied. “Go ahead and take the time you need to do it right.”

  Polanis nodded. “That’s what I thought you’d say.” He shrugged again. “On the good side, once I get everything mapped, I may be able to figure out their language. If so, I can have the computers build a translation program so we can speak to him.”

  “You can do that?” Sansar asked.

  “Maybe,” Polanis said with a small shrug. “Now get out of here and let me work.”

  Medical, Main Base, Trigar 2-A, Trigar System

  Staff Sergeant Walker just gone to sleep when someone from First Squad woke him up with a message from Polanis to come to Medical, and he had hurried to the facility. Walking into it, he saw Polanis waiting beside one of the folding cots. “How’s the patient?” Walker asked.