“My line of work demands this sort of base of operation. You are not taken seriously if you do not show wealth,” Dario replied, allowing the fiery liquid to warm his lips and throat at a carefully controlled pace. He followed with a long drag from his cigar, inhaling some of the smoke. The overall effect was dizzying in a way that brought him delight.
“It is time for a new line of work,” Madhuk said, turning away from the window. He pulled his robe tight to his chest and adjusted the belt as if it was a uniform. “If we do nothing, your expense account will be the extent of your payment. If you want your retirement payment, the only chance you have of getting it is to make sure that resistance Armada succeeds.”
Dario sipped bourbon and considered the statement. The hard work he and Madhuk did so far yielded contacts within the refugee cloud, the New Detroit underworld and the Fleetfoot I itself. They knew what the crazy captain had planned. Madhuk, being a true believer, wanted to help. Dario, being an armor-plated realist, believed the plan was at best a fool’s errand and at worst a desperation move designed to preserve the self-interest of one man. From what he’d seen so far, Dario suspected the worst. But here was Madhuk, asking him for a favor and playing heavily on the fact that he was now a friend and not a colleague. Dario cursed his weakness, knowing full-well that he was along for the ride.
“What do you have in mind,” Dario asked, exhaling twin plumes of tobacco smoke through his nostrils.
“Have you made more contacts in the underworld?”
“Yes, and not in a figurative way. When you say ‘underworld,’ it really means a world under our feet. The criminal element here operates near the asteroid core, in disused mechanical caverns that are either unmonitored or lightly so. They are the worst kind of smugglers and deviants New Detroit has to offer.”
“It’s not what they offer us,” Madhuk replied, “But what we can offer them.”
“I’m listening,” Dario replied.
Madhuk described his plan as Dario sipped bourbon.
10
His hosts tried to make Drexler comfortable, but the flight chair the insectoids modified for him seemed one step above a torture device. Drexler accepted the seat to demonstrate gratitude, with the understanding that Winged Insectoid culture revolved around small gestures of formal courtesy. The entire Insectoid delegation gathered around as Fourseven invited Drexler to take the seat. He was afraid that not accepting the offer would be a great insult.
Fourseven showed him to the chair with a long description of how her termite engineers built it from their flight couches. Much thought and effort went into the thing that now pinched the Captain’s skin and put bruises on his shoulder blades. The chair sat just to the right of Fourseven’s own. To Drexler’s consternation, Fourseven did not take her own chair.
“Ah, won’t you join me?” Drexler asked as a hard, sharp angle dug into the small of his back. He guessed it was the termite interpretation of lumbar support.
“We insectoids prefer to stand. The flight chairs are used only in emergencies or in the event instability. I hope you enjoy your seat. I understand Humans find comfort traveling this way.”
“Oh, yes,” Drexler said, “Very kind of you.” He ground his teeth and smiled.
When the insectoids were satisfied their human guest was correctly installed for the short flight to New Detroit, they spread out through the bridge to attend their stations. Cila’s Arachnid Lieutenant, second in command of the Arachnid forces, remained beside the evil chair. He stepped in front of Drexler and stood. Spiders had only slight mobility in their heads, so when they wanted to focus their eight eyes on something, the tended to stand directly in front of it.
“Hello, Boljak,” Drexler said, through grinding teeth.
“Before I come to space,” Boljak said, “I was a forest rancher.”
“Oh,” Drexler said. “That’s interesting. Tell me about that.” Anything to take his mind off his legs that rapidly fell asleep.
“Ranching is an esteemed profession among my species,” Boljak explained. “For thousands of years, my family grows food to feed Arachnids of the forest continent. Very important. Could not survive without it.”
“When you say ‘ranching,’ you mean the husbandry of domestic animals?” The term ‘husbandry’ seemed to translate well from Tradespeak to the Arachnid language.
“Yes,” Boljak replied. “We raise small, warm-blooded mammals in specially reserved parts of the forest. When the time comes to harvest them, we cocoon them in our webs to prepare them for consumption. At this moment, you look exactly like one of these creatures before the harvest.”
The spontaneous laughter hurt Drexler more, but he could not help himself. “Get me out of this thing, then,” Drexler said.
Boljak reached out two of his upper arms and wrapped his spindly fingers around Drexler’s shoulders. He guided the human up with great care. Drexler stood rubbing out the muscles of his thighs and buttocks without shame.
“Why did you not say the chair pained you?” Boljak asked.
“I did not want to be rude,” Drexler replied.
“But you did not tell truth. Lie is much worse than rude,” Boljak said.
“Among humans, that is called a ‘white lie.’ It is considered better to lie at times, about small things, to avoid troubling someone,” Drexler explained.
Boljak turned his body to Drexler and stood very still, considering the words. “This is very strange. Among all insectoids, lies have no color. They are just lies.”
“So now I’ve done worse?” Drexler asked.
“Insectoids understand humans have strange ways. We will just not speak of it,” Boljak replied.
“A lie of omission,” Drexler replied.
“Or to speak the truth through silence,” Boljak replied.
“Wow,” Drexler said. “That is very ‘Zen.’”
“Not understand this word.”
“Hard to explain,” Drexler replied. “It’s a human thing. I’ll tell you later.”
Drexler spent the remainder of the hour-long flight to New Detroit making small talk with the spiders and termites. Fourseven’s Winged soldiers were very polite but were not much in conversation. He didn’t detect any hostility from them, but Drexler could tell they were not accustomed to talking without necessity. The Arachnids, on the other hand, loved to talk. None of the spiders aboard had ever left the planet. Most had never met a warm-blooded, sentient creature before. Those who had were only familiar with the sentient mammals on the Insectoid homeworld, who were the evolutionary equivalent of late Neanderthals. The Arachnids were very eager to meet other sentient creatures.
Boljak had to physically pull Drexler away from some of the conversations, giving Drexler the opportunity to glean some words of profanity from the Arachnid language. He would never be able to pronounce the words, but they were easily recognizable. The Arachnids cursed at each other a lot. Drexler learned to enjoy the spirited bickering that appeared to be their preferred style of personal interaction. Professional Astronauts were always on the lookout for that sort of language. It was nearly a survival skill as well as a fun pastime.
On approach to New Detroit, Conversation tapered off as everyone, including Drexler, marveled at the sight of the great City Ship looming through the forward viewport. The fifty-kilometer length of the foundation asteroid bristled with tall buildings, giving the appearance of sea urchin spines.
Some towers grew straight up from the rocky reds surface, while others poked out from domes several kilometers in diameter. Some of the buildings were round, or rectangular in shape, while others had three sides. Towers glistened like perfect, seamless mirrors, while others were nearly black as space. Several buildings were apparently built from stone mined from the asteroid itself and had the look of Ancient-Earth castles.
More than eight billion beings called the ship home. Most who lived there were human, but the population included nearly every species of the Trade Union. Even Reptilians lived in N
ew Detroit in significant number. The Insectoid Delegation, including Fourseven, her Second in Command, Tara the Broodqueen, Cila, and her Lieutenant, were there to meet the leadership of New Detroit. Drexler found it very encouraging that the Governmental Hive Mind requested the meeting.
The Arachnid transport entered New Detroit’s flight control region, and the AI flight wardens took control of the ship. The Arachnid pilot required consoling as he lost control of his vessel. The pilot understood the procedure, but his personal needs required that he complain about the situation mightily. Drexler did not blame him. What pilot liked giving up control?
The ship descended among the high towers until the buildings formed an artificial sky above. The transport threaded its way at a brisk pace as it joined a stream of traffic that moved around the architecture like strata of frenetic mist. In a moment, they were lost among thousands of ships ranging in size from one-person transports to people-movers containing hundreds of bodies. Even though Drexler had been to New Detroit countless times, he never lost his sense of wonder at the sheer magnitude of it. Many referred to it as the greatest City Ship in the inhabited Galaxy.
The transport finally made its way to a docking arch just large enough to accept it. Massive stone doors parted silently by a pivot at the top of the arch, and the ship passed into a domed chamber. The ship landed with the faintest bump beside another transport Drexler recognized as Hunot. The series of joined, gray, perfectly smooth spheres making up the hull was unmistakable.
The Delegation filed down the transport ramp as soon as it hit the deck. They were met by a group of high-ranking Government Hive Mind officials who introduced themselves as members of the security and information subcommittees. They took a great interest in the winged Insectoids.
It turned out that the Hive Mind arranged the meeting in secret to keep general knowledge of it away from the larger population for as long as possible. It was notoriously difficult to keep secrets in New Detroit, as information was the City Ship’s stock-in-trade. Most humans and many other species were continually linked through communications implants as part of the vast citywide network. The Hive Mind bound itself together at the level of thought. Even now, the total experience of the officials who greeted them became experience of the Hive.
Drexler found himself surprised when the officials walked the group a few paces and headed up the ramp to the Hunot vessel. The aquatic creatures emptied a compartment of water in order to accommodate their air-breathing guests. The walls still glistened with salt water, and bits of sea plants littered the deck. Several Hunot lay in a translucent pink mass in the center of the chamber. Beside Drexler, Boljak jumped back and froze when several of the Hunot rose up on their tentacles with wet, sticky sounds.
Drexler paused to explain, “Those are the Hunot. This is their vessel.”
“Sea worms,” Boljak said, “they look made from sea worms.”
Drexler could not stop Boljak when he surged forward. The arachnid stopped short a meter from the Hunot cluster and squatted down on two of his hind legs. He made strange sounds in his own language, then reached two of his right upper arms out very slowly. He opened his fingers.
“Hello,” Boljak said, “Do you speak?”
“We speak,” said the smaller Hunot.
“I am Arachnid, from Insectoid planet. Where do you come from?”
“In Tradespeak, we are called Hunot,” the small creature replied. He explained the location of his planet in relation to the Insectoid Homeworld.
“Very, very far from us. More than a hundred light years, and more than fifty from this place. Why you so far from home?”
“Our kind has traveled space for a very long time,” the Hunot said. “Much longer than most species. We spread far.”
“Some Insectoids travel space long time also, but not Arachnids, until now,” Boljak said.
“And why do you now travel in space?” the Hunot asked.
Boljak considered this for a moment, then replied. “I serve Cila―my mate―and I want to see things like this place, and meet beings like you. I never think to see such things. I am happy to meet you.”
The Hive Mind Officials did not seem to mind the breach of protocol, nor did the Hunot, who were not offended or threatened easily. Now that the situation looked safe, it was only the passing of time that worried Drexler. He wanted to get on with the meeting. The other Insectoids did not seem to be concerned about Boljak’s actions, so Drexler let it go. He chalked it up to diplomacy.
“What is your name?” Boljak asked.
The Hunot replied in its native language, which arrived in the air like a layered sequence of high-pitched whistling. Drexler knew enough about the Hunot to understand most of that voice was above the range of human hearing.
To Drexler’s great surprise, Boljak paused for a moment, then repeated the sounds identically. The other Hunot rose up slowly and spoke in Hunot. Boljak bounced on his legs and made the sounds Drexler knew to be Arachnid laughter. He repeated the Hunot words that Drexler assumed to be the names of the others. The spider waved more arms at the Hunot, and pink tentacles rose up to wave in return. More laughter. Boljak enjoyed his new friends. The spider reminded Drexler of a human child, lost in the joy of a new experience.
“Humans teach me to shake hands. Do you touch for greeting?” Boljak asked.
In response, all of the Hunot reached out in turn and wrapped a tentacle around one of Boljak’s arms. Boljak took great care to curl his sharp fingers inward to avoid contact with the Hunot flesh.
“Well,” Drexler said to the nearest Hive Mind Official. “I guess this is as good a way to start a meeting as any.”
“Yes,” the small, pale man said. He fixed Drexler with sage eyes down the run of his hawkish nose. “The Hunot enjoy this Insectoid. They are happy he can say a few Hunot words. Not many other species can emulate the Hunot language.”
“Boljak seems to have a talent for language,” Drexler said. “And he is extremely likable.”
“I can see that,” the man said. “We are waiting for the High Mind to arrive. This seems like an excellent warm-up.” The Official thought for a moment. “Who do I ask about having this Boljak listed as an official diplomat. He also has an evident talent for diplomacy.”
The rest of the insectoid delegation stepped forward, and Boljak made introductions all around. The conversation flowed back and forth between Tradespeak, Hunot, and the Insectoid languages. It appeared the group taught each other language as they progressed.
“That would be Cila. She leads the Spiders. You know,” Drexler said, “I don’t ever think I’ve seen different species interact with such success so quickly.”
“I agree,” the man said. “We are taking note, believe me.”
Drexler palmed his forehead. “Speaking of diplomacy, sorry. I’m being rude. I didn’t introduce myself properly.” Drexler extended his hand. “Drexler Fleetfoot.”
“Not at all. My name is Matvei Vasiliev, Daemon of Information Security Protocol for the Governmental Hive Mind.”
Just then, Drexler heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see a group of humans and aliens approaching in lock step. They wore long, white robes that covered their appendages, and skin-tight white hoods covered their heads so that only faces showed. The group consisted of two Felines, three Humans, two Simians, and a single Avian. Drexler recognized the tallest figure in the center of the approaching phalanx.
“Harvard Yalu!” Drexler exclaimed, walking toward the group. “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks since we arrived.”
Yalu held out his bony hand and Drexler pumped his old friend’s arm. The other members of the High-Mind looked on with a mixture of expressions ranging from amusement to distaste.
“I know, Drexler,” Yalu subvocalized, opening a channel to Drexler’s implants. Drexler arched his eyebrows. “You may notice they look upset. I just cut them off from my thoughts. President's prerogative.”
“You are head of the High-Mind now?�
�� Drexler subvocalized in return.
“Yes, didn’t you know? I thought you knew.”
“No, I didn’t know you lead all of New Detroit. I’ve been kind of distracted lately,” Drexler said. “Congratulations.”
“Still, news like that…”
“I should say ‘extremely distracted,’” Drexler replied. “And also, I’ve not been able to speak to anyone higher than Unit Deamons. Now, I’m surprised to suddenly rate an audience with the High-Mind.”
“I understand. We will talk later again in private. I have to link to them again, or I will never hear the end of it,” Harvard replied. He turned back to his group and spoke to them for the benefit of those not linked. “For those of you who are not aware, this is Captain Drexler Fleetfoot,” Harvard said. “He and General Fourseven seek our help to form a Resistance Armada against the Reptilian attack.”
Another round of introductions went around the room. The Hunot were an ordinary crew of Merchants from the Hunot Homeworld. Their Government pressed them into service as official representatives when the war started. Hunot worlds on the outer Trades fell to Reptilian attack first. The Lizards preferred not to take Hunot prisoners. The good news was that the Hunot had a significant presence in space, and they were willing to commit all of it to fighting the Reptilians. Drexler found that welcome news.
“I am sure you will forgive us,” Harvard said, “that we will dispense with further formality and get directly to the point. New Detroit speaks for the Federated Americas. The other City Ships are in the process of voting on the subject, but early results show that all electorates thus far support war to defend against the Reptilian aggression. New Detroit voted on the issue last week, and the result was nearly unanimous.
“We are ready to commit all the resources at our disposal. We are recalling our reserve soldiers from the border words and commit our shipyards and factories to the war effort. In the City right now, we are gathering volunteers who know how to operate interstellar spacecraft. We can provide weapons and personnel to the cause immediately. The bad news is that this will take weeks, possibly months, to bring these resources into play.
Rogue Messiah: Fleetfoot Interstellar Series, Book 2 Page 9
