by B. V. Larson
I cleared my throat.
Shug looked at me. “What was that utterance?” he asked. “My translator couldn’t comprehend it.”
“Sorry, Mr. Secretary. What I meant to say is: I have an idea.”
“Well? Out with it, human.”
“It occurs to me that Admiral Fex set us on this mission. Therefore—”
Shug brightened immediately. His mind could move as quickly as his hands—even faster.
“Yes!” he said. “He did order you two to save Ral, didn’t he? All you did was follow his orders… If there’s one man in the sector I don’t need to keep, it’s Admiral Fex.”
“I couldn’t have put it better myself, sir.”
We adjourned as the ship docked at the battle station. We entered the docking tubes and crossed quickly from Killer to the station itself.
I should have seen what was coming, but I didn’t. Fex was ruthless and smart. If anyone could have known how this matter would end, it would have been him.
The moment we left the docking lounge and walked into the broad corridors of the station, I noticed the place was deserted.
Shug and Ursahn walked on obliviously, but I stopped in my tracks and used my sym to summon help. Miller and my two hapless security guards were summoned to follow us.
As I wasn’t keeping up, the initial rush of dark, humping forms struck Ursahn and Shug first. They were Grefs—all of them.
But instead of wearing the uniforms of simple spacers, they were dressed as captains and admirals. It was absurd, as I’d never known of even a single Gref command officer—but that didn’t matter now.
“Gref have rank! Ready for duel,” cheerfully stated one of many Grefs. Long steel clubs like baseball bats were lifted in excited anticipation.
My disruptor was already out and firing into their midst—but of course Fex had disabled such weapons. I cursed myself for not having brought along more muscle. I hadn’t counted on an attack upon a civilian authority like Secretary Shug.
Admirals were technically of similar rank, but at such levels direct violent conflict was rare. Now and then people fought a duel, just as nobility had in countless human societies, but this—it was unprecedented.
My body-cam was on, and I broadcast it to my crew and anyone else who cared to view it. My hope was others would see this fight as a sham and come to aid us. The hope was an unlikely one, but we could use some luck to get out of this.
For all his small size and light build, Shug was no slouch in combat. He was fast, and after he discarded his disruptor he ducked a club, sidestepping and tripping the howling Gref who charged him. Before the gangly attacker hit the deck, Shug plucked his club free from his grasp.
Ursahn was both more and less fortunate. She stepped forward to defend Shug, but she wasn’t as quick-footed as he was. She made up for this, however, in natural ferocity.
Two clubs flashed and landed on her ribs. She bellowed and smashed out with her fists. One of the Grefs went down, bounced up, and was smashed down again. He didn’t get up a second time.
The first one, however, went to work on Ursahn’s thick skull. I could hear the crunch of bone. Ursahn staggered, went down to her knees, and was at last driven to the deck.
This took long enough for me to close with her assailant and tackle him. That was a mistake. I felt his strength as his long, flailing limbs wrapped around me. He squeezed, and my breath was driven from my lungs.
My hands sought tender spots. Finding them I took advantage, and the Gref released me, screeching. We both snatched up clubs and began a circling duel, lashing out to deliver hard blows.
Among the Kher, clubs like these were honor weapons. They were rather like the fencing swords of my own people from centuries past. One of the reasons they were used was their universal appeal and ease of operation. Another was the simple fact that they were unlikely to cause either party to bleed out and die.
Fighting among the Kher for rank wasn’t meant to be deadly. Now and then an unlucky combatant did succumb before medical aid could arrive—but that was rare. The point was to beat down your opponent with the simplest of weapons, demonstrating your superior skills.
Over the last few years, I’d become good with these clubs. They were about the same size as baseball bats, but they were hollow and less deadly. Even so, it wasn’t fun to get clocked by one in the hands of a Gref.
My opponent squared off with me and we traded practiced aggression. It was hard to block with these weapons, so I’d perfected the glancing blow. I caught his first attack, then slid my own weapon down to bang into his hairy knuckles.
He hissed and spat in pain, but he didn’t drop his weapon. We parted and sent a few pokes and wide swings at each other, unwilling to close again.
Finally I went in low, landing one on his ankle. I could hear my club crushing small bones. In the meantime, his club cracked me on the left shoulder. My arm went numb. We parted again, me holding my club one-handed, him dragging a foot behind him in a circle.
Using the only advantage I had, I rushed to get to his side. He had a hard time turning—and that was it. I landed a clean shot on the back of his skull. Blood flew from his lips, such was the force of it.
He slid to the deck, unconscious.
Shug clapped slowly as I turned with my weapon upraised. All the Grefs were down, as was Ursahn.
“Well played,” Shug said. “I like your technique. It shows cunning, rather than brute strength.”
“Thank you, Mr. Secretary,” I panted.
Shug toed an unconscious foe. Shug himself seemed unharmed, which surprised me. He was old, and small, but was no slouch when it came to combat. I guess he wouldn’t have gotten so far in rank if this weren’t the case.
“Five on three…” Shug said. “But their ranks…? Captains and admirals? What are the odds?”
“Extremely low, sir,” I said, “considering they’re all Grefs.”
Shug nodded. “I sense we have a cunning adversary here on this station. Can you rouse Ursahn?”
“No,” I said, after giving it a try.
“A pity.”
About then, a team from my ship arrived and began applying first aid. Shug looked on with growing approval.
“You brought your team in here quickly and efficiently, but only after the duel was complete. Honorable and effective. It’s good to see such a combination. It’s rarer than you might think.”
“Uh… right, sir. Thank you.”
In truth, I’d hoped my people would have gotten here to aid me in battle, but there was no point in enlightening Shug on this.
“Do you think this attack was legitimate?” I asked him as we strode together down the long, curving passages toward Fex’s office.”
“What? Oh, well, I’m not sure. It looks suspicious, but we can’t assume that it was illegal. That would leave us open to losing status if we were wrong.”
I rolled my eyes when he wasn’t looking. All the Rebel Kher were very concerned with status points in their strange society. Personal combat was only one more part of the game of life to them. They strove for advantage every waking moment, and they lived in a strict hierarchy that was rigid when it had to be—such as during combat with the Imperials—but highly flexible when the stakes were low and it was deemed appropriate to jockey for rank.
“Tell me, Secretary Shug,” I said. “Do you think the Kher system of rank-climbing and conflict is efficient? It seems wasteful and distracting to me.”
He frowned at me. “There you go again. The moment my respect for you grows to new heights, you ask a confounding question.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“The answer is as plain as these clubs in our paws!” he told me, shaking his weapon. It was stained with dark hair, and a single red line of blood ran from the tip all the way down to his gnarled fingers.
“How do you mean, sir?”
“Isn’t it obvious? We Kher are impossible to unite. We’re barely a single people. Not even all species can cross
-breed, although most can. With such a variance among us, each kind having risen to dominate on their home worlds, how can you expect harmonious cooperation on a grand scale?”
“Well… if we were singular of purpose, such as defeating the Imperials once and for all, we might unite.”
He looked at me, aghast. “Words of treason. Poison drips from your tongue, serpent!”
“Come now, sir,” I argued. “You’re a man of learning. Surely you must have had philosophical thoughts about a different path.”
Shug lowered his voice. “You’d best stop now. It will do you no good. I won’t fall for your trap.”
“My trap?”
He reached out, ripped the body-cam from my tunic and waved it in my face.
“I know you’re transmitting this to some recording system, hoping to catch me in a compromising moment. I wasn’t born yesterday, human. Nice try, but it didn’t work.”
I would have tried to convince him I wasn’t engaged in any such scheme, but it was too late. We had arrived at Admiral Fex’s office.
=70=
Unsurprisingly, Admiral Fex’s door was locked.
Secretary Shug studied it in irritation. “Is that precious metal?” he asked. “No wonder the budget for this station was way out of line!”
I cleared my throat. “The interior is quite sumptuous as well.”
“No doubt it is…”
He hammered on the portal, but no one inside responded. Instead the AI console on the flat carven gold surface of the door flickered into life, flashing up a message.
I’d grown comfortable enough with Kher script to read it: Off-Shift.
The Rebel Kher ran on a system of time that was approximately six hours on, six hours off. With so many different peoples from different worlds involved, they’d found this to be a good rule to operate by. On some planets, six hours was a full day. On others, it was only a short fraction time, but in any case, almost everyone could function for six hours before needing downtime.
“Bullshit,” Shug said, or something that my translator interpreted that way.
He tapped into the device and attempted to override it. The door only made tweeting sounds at him in response.
“Most irregular,” he said. “He’s disabled the official override. That’s a violation in itself.”
“Fex is anything but cooperative with authorities, Mr. Secretary.”
“I’m not going to stand for it.”
Shug tapped into the PA system, and his voice boomed from the ceiling. “The door to Admiral Fex’s office is malfunctioning. The first individual who opens it for me will gain ten full status points. Secretary Shug is making this offer, and it is official.”
We stood there for about twenty more seconds before the door popped open. A wedge-shaped head looked out.
“The door is open,” said the Terrapinian. “I want my points now.”
Shug frowned at him. “Were you in there the entire time, holding the door closed?”
“That seems unimportant,” the Terrapinian said.
Shug growled, awarded him the points, then ordered him to stand aside. We entered the office, warily.
I had to admit, I had my club in my hand. My fingers were white bands around the handle. But nothing seemed wrong.
“Where is he?” Shug demanded, looking around the empty office.
The Terrapinian lingered at the doorway. “Might the answer be worth more points?”
“No,” Shug said. “But it will prevent you from being docked one point right now.”
“You are as unpleasant a person as Admiral Fex indicated,” the turtle-like creature said. “The admiral has left the station. He’s aboard Killer at the moment, preparing to exit the star system.”
We were both left with sagging jaws.
“The gall of that ape!” Shug said. “Come along, back to your ship, Blake.”
I followed Shug again. We were trotting now. Along the way, I ordered all my critical crewmen to return to Hammerhead immediately.
When we reached my ship, Shug seemed faintly disgusted. “So… this is what a phase-ship looks like inside. It’s unsavory, cramped, and reeks of dishonorable conduct.”
“Well sir,” I said, “right now, Fex is outdoing us in the dishonor department. What are your orders?”
“Can you disable his ship?”
My bridge crew looked stunned at the suggestion.
“I won’t destroy Killer,” I said. “I have too many friends aboard that ship.”
“I will!” Mia said, her eyes glowing. She had the main gun armed and unlimbered.
As we watched, Killer began to make way. It swung around and headed away from the station. I could only imagine the scene aboard. Her bridge crew wasn’t very imaginative, and apparently Fex had managed to convince them he was commandeering their ship for some important purpose.
“Communicate with the crew first,” Shug said. “Tell them to stand down on my authority.”
“I’ve been trying to, sir,” Gwen said. “They aren’t listening. Fex must have ordered them to shut down their com array.”
“Very well,” Shug said. “On my authority, Captain Blake, you are to pursue that carrier and stop her.”
Feeling a trickle of sweat, I nodded to Dalton. We left the dock, aimed our prow into open space, and began the pursuit.
We didn’t have much time—that I knew. Killer was faster than my phase-ship, and every moment we traveled something unexpected might happen.
Fex might open a rift, for instance, escaping the system entirely. Or he might order the fighter crews to scramble and attack my ship.
I couldn’t afford either possibility, so I ordered Mia to fire her weapon.
She was so happy—it was almost unpleasant to watch.
“Target the engines only,” I said. “They don’t have their shielding up to full strength yet. Fire now.”
She aimed, checked the firing solution, and then released a gush of radiation. It pursued and caught Killer instantly. The bigger ship’s shields flared white, then orange, then died completely.
Mia kept her hands on the triggers, melting through the armor and into the upper starboard engine exhaust. The results were dramatic.
A brief cascade of flame blossomed like a white flower, then died almost instantly. We’d destroyed one of Killer’s engines.
At last, the com system came to life.
“What are you doing, Blake?” Fex’s voice shouted in my head. “I demand that you cease fire, or you will be destroyed!”
“This is Secretary Shug,” the Secretary interrupted. I was surprised he could listen into a private channel and intervene. “You will stand down, Fex. Or you will be destroyed.”
“Secretary Shug?” Fex asked, sounding confused. “Sir, are you with Blake? I had no idea.”
I made a rude blatting sound with my lips. Shug didn’t ask me what I meant by it—perhaps the meaning was clear and universal.
“The game is up, Fex,” Shug said. “Stand down. Crew of Killer, stand down.”
The com channel closed, but the ship hung ahead of us, lifeless. After a few minutes, one of Ursahn’s people transmitted to us in the open.
“Mr. Secretary,” she said. “We had no idea it was you who was pursuing us. Admiral Fex said—”
“Admiral Fex is to be arrested, gagged, and thrown into the brig!” Shug ordered.
“Yes, Mr. Secretary…”
It took a few more hours to sort things out, but we managed it. Fex was arrested, but somehow he escaped being gagged.
We encircled him on Killer’s flight deck with our weapons drawn. He was on his knees with his arms bound behind him. His long fingers flexed uselessly in the air. Even his dexterous toe digits had been bagged in some kind of smart cloth slipper-sacks.
The Grefs appeared to be the most unhappy members of the mob that surrounded him. They’d taken casualties in the engineering section due to Hammerhead’s strike on the engines.
“This is highly irr
egular!” Fex complained. “We’ve got to pull together as a force if we’re to face the Imperials. This idiot—” here, he indicated me with a dip of his head, “Blake will be the death of us all! He’s inflamed the Imperials. Can you imagine the hubris it takes to release a Hunter in Imperial territory? They’ll never stand for having their worlds destroyed!”
“You’re correct,” Shug said, standing over him. “The Imperials will be angry, and the mission was a disaster.”
“Then why am I bound on the floor?” Fex demanded.
Shug splayed his hands. “Isn’t it obvious? You ordered Blake and Ursahn to save Ral. They did so the only way they could manage it.”
“I didn’t mean they should ignite a greater conflict!”
“Perhaps not, but you sent them on the mission alone, and they succeeded. That means, by Rebel Law, you are responsible for their actions.”
Fex’s eyes rolled around the group. “This is absurd. I’m an admiral, and my record is unblemished. It’s one thing to subtract points, Mr. Secretary, but—”
“An excellent suggestion,” Shug said. “It’s time to adjust your score. The price for this gross error will be two thousand status points.”
Fex began sputtering in shock.
“Just a moment…” Shug said, working with a tablet. “Yes, there. It’s done.”
We all watched as the insignia on Fex’s shoulders began to crawl into a new formation. I was curious about the outcome. At each rank going upward, the cost was higher. The grand total of all my points put together was nowhere near a thousand units. But then, I wasn’t an admiral.
The insignia reformed into a triangle—a silver one. Fex had become a junior lieutenant.
“This is insane!” Fex shouted. “You can’t dock me so many points!”
“I can, and I’ve just done so.”
“I won’t accept this. I’ll protest. I’ll file a grievance with every committee in the sector!”
Shug looked unimpressed.
“That is your right, Lieutenant,” he said. “In the meantime, you can’t command this station with such a low rank. We’ll have to find a new position for you...”
One of the Grefs raised a lumpy arm. “Gref make a suggestion.”
