“Good,” Sergeant Polanis said, nodding to one of the cots. “He’s out like a light and resting comfortably.”
“Any problem putting him under?”
“I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it, exactly, until I booted up the slate you found. That’s why I asked for you to come down here—I wanted to show it to you. It’s proven extremely valuable.”
“How so?”
“Let me show you.”
Polanis led him to a corner of the space where a couple tables had been set up. The slate sat on one of them, with a wire leading up to it. “Whatever used to power it probably died thousands of years ago, but the jack is similar to standard GalTech. I plugged it in and…voila, it turned on.”
Polanis turned the device on. “Most of it is encrypted, and some of the unencrypted part has been corrupted—even the files that work have portions that have gone bad—but take a look at this…”
He held the slate out to Walker as a reptilian face appeared on the screen. “I am Kr’pow,” the alien said.
“How is it we can understand him?” Walker asked.
“Pretty cool, eh?” Polanis asked. “It’s one of the old galactic standard languages from before the Union. No one speaks it much anymore, but it’s still included in the standard language download we get with our implants.”
Polanis looked like he would have said something else, but Walker nodded at the slate, where the lizard was talking, silencing him.
“—am the third junior assistant assigned to the project. I am recording this in case anyone should happen to find this facility. If you do, return this slate to—” the slate flashed a number of colors quickly and emitted a high-pitched squeal. Walker looked at Polanis and raised an eyebrow.
“Just give it a sec; it’ll come back.”
After a few more seconds, Kr’pow came back on again. “—own fault. These modules,” he pointed to a handful of implant modules behind him, laying in the same place they had been in the lab, “worked every bit as well as Senior Researcher T’ork said they would. We were able to increase the intelligence of the Chu’bar to Level Three and their Gru’pan riders to Level Six. Both of these increases were not without issues—detailed files have been included on this slate and have been secured with the normal protocols to ensure they do not fall into enemy hands.
“The trick, of course, is anesthetizing the Chu’bar and the Gru’pan to insert the implants, especially the Chu’bar; even hatchlings can be lethal. While the Gru’pan are susceptible to standard anesthesia, as they were modified to be, the Chu’bar are resistant to everything except
The squelch continued for 15 seconds this time, then continued, “—the experiments were successful, and both species adapted to breathing both air and water. We erred, however, when we raised the intelligence of the Chu’bar to Level Five. They banded together and killed their handlers, then the entire brood attacked the facility.
“While the adults destroyed the above-ground portion of the complex, the young infiltrated the sub-levels through the ocean-access tunnel in an attempt to kill us. Although I was able to lock myself in the primary lab, the assault was so sudden everyone else was captured or killed. I don’t know if anyone else survived; when I came out of the lab, everyone else was gone, and everything was destroyed. Judging by the screaming and the amount of blood, I fear the rest of the staff has been eaten by the Chu’bar.
“Knowing what we did to them, I doubt the Chu’bar were gentle.
“Before the Chu’bar left, they destroyed the lift and filled in all the stairwells. I cannot get out, and I suspect a rescue party will find the level of destruction so thorough that no one will bother to dig out these lower levels. The only way I have to escape this facility is through the tunnel to the ocean, and they have a sentry waiting there for me. I’m not going to allow them to eat me, so—
Polanis reached over and took back the slate. “That’s the end. The recording goes on another 25 seconds, but the rest of it is lost.”
“Hmm…” Walker said, thinking. “I take it our otters are the riders they mentioned?”
“Yeah, I found a file—one of the few unencrypted ones—that showed some pictures of them…both before the C’Natt experimented on them, and what they are now. They’re the same—close enough to tell they’re the same, anyway—although they appear to have adapted to the environment and become a lot more intelligent since the initial recording was made. It also showed the placement of the modules and how to knock them out, although a lot of the detailed information they referenced was in an encrypted file. It gave me enough to do what I needed to, though. I think it will work.”
“You think?”
“No; I’m sure. It’ll work.”
“So, what do we do now?”
“Now? We wait.”
* * * * *
Chapter 19
Medical, Main Base, Trigar 2-A, Trigar System
The alien woke up slowly. It blinked its eyes several times, then squeezed them shut, scrunching up its face. When the eyes opened again, there was a look of panic, and it leaned over the bed and threw up all over Walker’s boots.
“Fuck!” Walker exclaimed, trying to jump back out of the splash zone. He was unsuccessful; green slime and partially digested pieces of…something…coated his boots and the lower portion of his trousers.
The speaker next to the bed let out a burst of static, then a tinny voice said “By the fiery orb, my head hasn’t hurt this badly since we got into that…Wait. Where the
“Holy shit,” Walker said. “Is that him talking?”
“Yeah,” Sergeant Polanis said with a satisfied smile. “I told you it would work.”
“Can he understand us?”
“He should be able to.”
The otter held up a hand. “I understand you,” it said, using the hand to shade his eyes, “although you talk too fast. I find that I have more…knowledge…than I did when I came here. I never even knew that word. Nor did I know the concept. Or the concept of having a ‘concept.’ How is this possible? What have you done to me?”
“We’re sorry,” Walker said; “we never would have uplifted you if our need wasn’t so great.”
“Uplift…ah, yes, it appears I have much information on this ‘uplift’ process. Uplift is raising a primitive race to Galactic Union standards. Hey! We’re not primitive! We’re the strongest species in the ocean…well, except for the grahp. Wait. Galactic Union…races…stars. The fiery orb is a star? What’s a starship? Argh…” The otter’s voice petered out, and the otter closed his eyes.
“Are you okay?” Sergeant Polanis asked.
“No. If there is one thing I know, it is that I am not okay. My head hurts, and every time I think about something, I find that it leads me to two new things, which lead me to four new things, which leads me to 16 new things. Before too long, I can’t even remember my original question, or the concept I didn’t originally comprehend. There is too much I didn’t understand to make understanding the things you put in my head possible. It is like trying to stack something on the beach material…sand. See? I didn’t know the word ‘sand,’ nor did I know that there are other words for dry ground—it’s either dry or it’s not—when I try to stack things, everything under them shifts, and I lose the progress I had made.”
“That’s totally normal, I think,” Polanis said. “The more you use the knowledge, the more it will become part of you, and it will flow naturally.”
“How many other Salusians have you done this to?” the otter asked.
“What’s a Salusian?” Walker asked.
“I’m a Salusian,” the otter said. “It’s my race…although I guess I am technically now a SalSha.”
“SalSha?” Walker asked. “What do you mean by that?”
“I accessed the information on uplifting,” the otter said. “One of the things I found is our race name gets
a ‘Sha’ at the end of the first syllable to denote it was uplifted. The ‘Sha’ means ‘uplifted race’ in the elder Buma language that is no longer used.”
“Really?” Walker asked. “I never knew that.”
“What?” the alien exclaimed. “You did this to me without a full knowledge of the implications? How could you be so irresponsible? Next you’re going to tell me you didn’t know we’re now your client race, and you’re responsible for us until we receive Galactic Union membership?”
“You’ll…um…have time to discuss that later with my boss,” Walker said. “What I can tell you, though, is that we didn’t do this to you on a whim—our need is great.”
“What need is that?”
“We have to get back to our star system quickly, or our entire race is liable to be killed in a really awful way.”
The otter processed the information, blinking several times as it encountered new concepts. “So what you need,” it finally said, “is to swim from here to there, in a tube that allows you to hold your breath for the journey.”
“Close enough,” Walker agreed.
“So what do you need me for?” the alien asked. “I thought you were bringing me here to kill me, but I don’t see how my death can help you. We do not have any of these…starships…to get you to your home, nor would we know how to operate them if we did. We also do not have the thing to help you leap across space…this…stargate?”
“No, you do not,” Walker agreed; “you do, however, have a unique capability—you can breathe water.”
The otter’s eyes narrowed. “My information must be faulty; what I seem to know is there is neither air nor water in the space between the living globes…the planets.”
“No, that information is correct. Unfortunately, we have enemies who are trying to prevent us from going home—they want our people to die—and they have space fighters which will destroy our transportation home when it arrives.”
“Perhaps I wasn’t given all the data I need,” the otter said, “as I still don’t see how this concerns me. If your enemies have a…space fighter…and you do not, your
“Our what is what?”
“Your mating tool will be used for food by a grahp. It’s a saying that means you’re dead. Nothing I can do will change that, any more than we could change it when you fought the grahp.”
“Is that what you call the monsters we fought on the beach—the grahp?
“Yes. That is the first time we have ever seen one killed, much less a mated pair. My people would like to have some of your weapons. That is why we brought the grahp flesh to trade with you.”
“I’m sure we can work something out,” Sansar said as she walked into Medical, “although I’m afraid our weapons won’t work the same way in water as they do in the air.” She smiled. “We have other weapons, though, that will work even better. Have my people told you what we need?”
“No. They told me of your problem, but I fail to see how it is either a problem of mine or one that I could help you with.”
“Like the enemy,” Walker said, “we also have a space fighter, and we’ve come up with a plan for you to fly it and destroy the enemy’s fighters.”
“I don’t know how—” the otter cut himself off. “Yes, it appears I do know how to fly a space fighter. How is this possible?”
“We’ve given you implants in your brain,” Sergeant Polanis explained. “They allow you to think faster and remember more information, and they can also let us download information to you.”
“Interesting,” the otter said after a moment spent absorbing it. “And you can do this for all of my people?”
“I don’t know about all of your people,” Sansar said. “The process is very expensive, and I don’t know how many of you there are.”
“You did it for me.”
“Yes, because we need your help.”
“As I understand it, you want me to fly a space fighter, something I’ve never done before, against not one, but two trained pilots, correct?”
The three humans nodded.
“Well, I may only have gotten your implants today, but I wasn’t completely stupid before that; this sounds like something likely to get me killed. Assuming I survive, what’s in it for me?”
“Gee,” Polanis whispered to Walker, “won’t take much to turn him into a merc, will it?”
“Doesn’t appear so.”
“What is it you want?” Sansar asked, talking over the troopers.
“For me, I want to come with you to see the tube that lets you swim between the stars. I suspect there will be many of my clan who will want to come. I want implants for them, too. For the rest of my clan, I want them to have the weapons you mentioned to deal with the grahp.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave you with weapons you don’t know how to use.”
“Then I guess you will have to implant some of the people who remain here, in order to use the weapons. As I mentioned to the others,” he waved a paw at Walker and Polanis, “the Galactic Union rules are very clear. Once you uplift a race, you are responsible for them. It would not be responsible of you to leave my people here with the grahp, if you did not give us the means to defend ourselves.”
“Is this true?” Sansar asked, looking at Walker. “We’re responsible for them?”
“It appears so.”
“Well, that complicates things somewhat.” She pursed her lips, thinking. Finally, a smile crossed her lips, and her face lit up. “Fine. We will take as many of your clan as want to come with us, and will modify some of the remaining ones so they can defend themselves.”
The otter bobbed his head happily.
“But!” Sansar said, holding up a hand. “While I will take your race to the stars with us, I expect you to earn your keep. There is no place on a starship for freeloaders. You will have to work, just like any of my other employees.”
“That is fine,” the otter said. “We will want to be paid in these ‘credit’ things, so we can have access to the rest of the items available in this Galactic Union of yours…I mean, ours.”
“So what are you going to have them do?” Walker asked.
“Oh, they’re all going to be working for you,” Sansar said. “As soon as we return to Earth, you’re getting a promotion, Lieutenant Colonel Walker. Or, should I say, Squadron Leader Walker?”
“Uh, ma’am, that is definitely not in my contract. My contract says I’m to be a ground force squad leader.”
Sansar’s smile grew as she walked over to the trooper and looked up at him. “We need someone to organize their activities and stand up this the new squadron, and there’s no one better than you. You really should have read your contract better,” she said. “Paragraph 18 specifically states, ‘…and any other military duties that fall within your skill set.’ If I remember correctly, you said yourself that you were the only person we’ve got who’s ever even been inside the cockpit of a MinSha fighter. As such, you are the most qualified for the job, so it’s yours until you’re dead, or I find someone more capable.”
Walker called up his contract in his head. Paragraph 18 read exactly as Sansar had quoted it, and he remembered saying those exact words. “Shit,” he said. She had him. “Can you at least do me a favor?” he asked.
“If I’m able,” Sansar replied.
“Try and find someone more qualified as soon as you can.”
MinSha Fighter, Approaching Trigar 2-B, Trigar System
Staff Sergeant Walker sighed. If this wasn’t the dumbest thing he’d ever done in his life, he wasn’t sure what was. All of the camera feeds from outside his CASPer were black, which wasn’t surprising since he was in a combat drop pod. That wasn’t the dumb part…well, no dumber than the other times he’d ridden in one on a planetary assault. The part that had him shaking his head was the pod was strapped to the wing of an alien fighter, which was being piloted by a different type of alien who, just a few hours before, hadn’t realized the Galact
ic Union even existed…much less had a concept of space or of flying fighters through it.
Thorb—it turned out the otter’s name was Thorb—had absorbed what was required of him fairly quickly. He didn’t know whether that was because the SalSha was naturally intelligent or because of the additional C’Natt modules Polanis had used, but the otter had seemed to understand. He bobbed his head a lot, anyway.
While Walker had explained basic pilot instruction and fighter operation, the other members of the squad had returned to the beach and brought back several more of the SalSha. Thorb had quickly explained the otters’ new state in life, they had argued for a while over who got to stay and get modified, and then their leader had returned to the clan to let them know everything was all right while Polanis had begun modifying the two warriors who had accompanied him.
While Walker had spent his time with Thorb, Corporal Smith and Sergeant Major Price had installed a Tri-V camera in the cockpit of the fighter and had wired some of the heat-seeking missiles from one of the non-functional CASPer’s missile packs to the weapon mounts of the fighter. Thorb would have to get fairly close to the enemy fighters to use them, but they were better than having to rely on the laser alone.
If they worked.
Then they had stuck Walker and three of his troopers into some of Second Squad’s CASPers and into the combat drop pods, which they then mounted onto the wings of the fighter. As non-aerodynamic as the fighter was anyway, it wasn’t going to affect the fighter’s performance much, and they wouldn’t be in atmosphere for that long, in any event. At least someone smart in intel had figured out how to keep the suits from shutting down any more, so he had that going for him.
Once the soldiers were attached to the wings’ hard points, Thorb had climbed into the cockpit and Walker had watched over the Tri-V feed as the SalSha had started the fighter. The picture was somewhat distorted by the water in the cockpit, but he was able to follow along as the SalSha brought the motors to life. He didn’t have to coach too much. Hopefully, that was a good thing. Thorb also didn’t kill them on takeoff, and the space fighter had rocketed off, climbing as quickly as it could to get out of the atmosphere so the drag of the four drop pods wouldn’t make the fighter consume quite so much fuel. They had gone around Trigar 2-A once to build up speed and slingshot around toward 2-B, and now they were racing toward the planet at full throttle.
The Golden Horde (The Revelations Cycle Book 4) Page 25
