“Oh, crap. Is this bad news?”
“Um, not necessarily. It depends on how you look at it.”
Sighing with anticipation that my day was about to be ruined, I sat on the couch. “Ok, hit me with it.”
“Well, heh heh, we have a complication.”
“You know I hate complications.”
“You hate them? Hey, I wanted a nice simple deal where you help me contact the Collective, then I could bail on you filthy monkeys in the middle of nowhere. But nooooo. I’ve been stuck out here for freakin’ years helping you morons lurch from one crisis to another. Complications, ugh.”
“You’re the one who decided you need more info before you try contacting the Collective again.”
“Well, sure, but-”
“One of those years was us stuck in the Roach Motel, because you had to go poking around in a canister you knew could be dangerous.”
“Um, well-”
“And what’s this shit about you planning to bail on us in the middle of nowhere?”
“Why must you dwell on the past, Joe?” He sighed.
“Fine. What’s the complication you’re going to ruin my day with now?”
“It’s not just a complication. It might also be the answer to a problem.”
“Okaaay,” sitting on the cot, I dared to hope for a tiny nugget of good news. “Like what?”
“You have been trying to dream up a cover story, to explain why anyone other than us would go through the effort of rescuing our people off Rikers.”
Skippy had said ‘our people’. That was interesting. I mentally filed that fact away to think about later. “Right, so?”
“So, I might know of another group who wants those people alive.”
“Yeah. The Thuranin. We know that. It doesn’t help us.”
“I mean, another group who are not Thuranin. A rival Kristang clan, Joe.”
“Oh, crap. Are we going to get in the middle of lizard clan politics again? Damn it! Why would a rival clan-”
“This would go faster if you let me explain.”
“Please, enlighten me, Oh Great One.”
“The Kristang Council of Clans-”
“The what?”
“It’s a semi-formal committee that mediates disputes between clans to obtain an appropriate resolution, and consults on issues that affect all clans.”
“They mediate disputes, but this council couldn’t stop a civil war?”
“The council handles minor issues, Joe. Besides, war is the appropriate resolution for major disputes, according to the Kristang. Will you let me explain this complication?”
“Sorry.”
“Hmmph,” he sniffed, indignant. “The Council of Clans stepped in, because negotiations with the Thuranin could affect all clans.”
“Ah. The Fire Dragon Clan invited this Council to help negotiate a deal?”
“The Fire Dragons very much did not invite the Council to stick their noses into private clan business. The other clans demanded the Council act now, because they are all worried the Fire Dragons will get some special sweetheart deal with their patrons, and screw everyone else.”
“The Fire Dragons are at war with most other clans. Why would they care what this Council thinks about anything?”
“Two reasons, Joe. The Thuranin are required, by treaty and by long-standing tradition, to treat all sides of a civil war equally. The little green pinheads can’t take sides, or favor one clan over another. Like, they can’t refuse to transport the warships of a particular clan. Unless, the Council of Clans decrees that one clan or another has behaved in a manner detrimental to Kristang society overall. In that case, the Thuranin are required to punish the offending clan. In this case, the Fire Dragons.”
“Then, this is good news. These Council idiots will drag out the negotiations, giving us more time to conduct the rescue.”
“That is true, Joe, except for the complication I mentioned.”
“Crap? You haven’t told me the complication yet?”
“Nope. The complication is that at least two clans aren’t waiting for the Council to act. They each separately plan to hit Rikers, capture the humans, and force the Thuranin to deal directly with them instead of the Fire Dragons.”
“What the -Why? Then the Council would make the Thuranin punish them.”
“Because there are rules, and then there is the enforcement of rules. The Thuranin have been known to bend the rules against playing favorites. They can’t charge different shipping rates to one clan, but their star carriers can be ‘temporarily unavailable due to maintenance issues’. Or they might be slow to reach a destination. The Council can grumble about that, but they can’t directly do anything. The clans planning to snatch the humans off Rikers are betting the rewards outweigh the risks, if they can negotiate their own sweetheart deal with the Thuranin. Plus, a raid on Rikers would be a daring action that all the other clans would admire, whatever they say about it publicly. There is also another factor.”
Burying my face in my hands, I mumbled. “Of course there is.”
“All the major clans learned a valuable lesson from the Alien Legion fight on Fresno. Many of them want to keep the humans, instead of selling them to the Thuranin. The next time the Legion lands on a planet, the Kristang want to use the human children as hostages, against UNEF.”
“Shit! I hate those lizard MFers.”
“They are much hated across the galaxy, even within the Maxolhx coalition.”
“How much time to we have? Wait. To hit Rikers, the lizards need to get there first. Why would the Thuranin fly them there, if the lizards are acting against their patrons? And, hey, the lizards would need a ride back home, after they captured the humans.”
“It’s simple, Joe. The lizards are not getting a ride from the Thuranin. They have hired Bosphuraq star carriers for the job.”
“The Bos- How the hell can the birdbrains be capable of helping anyone? They are getting their asses kicked by the kitties!”
“They are available to the lizards because they are getting their asses kicked, Joe. The Bosphuraq are playing the long game. They assume at some point, the Maxolhx will have punished them enough, or get bored and go home. The birds will then be weakened, and as you know, they are more worried about their supposed allies the Thuranin than they are about the Jeraptha. If the Jeraptha push too hard and capture too much of the bird’s territory, the Maxolhx will intervene. But if the Thuranin take advantage of Bosphuraq weakness and take over vital star systems, supposedly for the good of the coalition, the kitties might not care too much. So, the Bosphuraq are Ok with the Alien Legion posing a threat within Thuranin territory. Supporting a raid on Rikers accomplishes two goals. It will prolong the Kristang civil war, and might ensure the Alien Legion continues to cause problems for the Thuranin. Both of those developments weaken the Thuranin at a time with the Bosphuraq are weak.”
“Shit.”
“Plus, with the Maxolhx striking all over Bosphuraq territory, being away from home is the safest place for their star carriers. They offered discounted rates to the lizards.”
“Oh, damn it. Trying to keep track of the freakin’ politics in this war drives me crazy.”
“Joe, the politics of this war make Game of Thrones look like children playing a game of Go Fish. Pretty much everyone is trying to stab everyone else in the back. Or they would engage in backstabbing, if they thought the reward was worth the risk.”
“Yeah, I know. Never sign onto the Maxolhx coalition.”
“Oh, it’s not just them, Joe. The Rindhalu are relatively benign overlords, more like benign neglect due to their extreme laziness. But they are still overlords. They subtly suppress their clients’ efforts to climb the technology ladder. If the Jeraptha had an opportunity to break away, they might take it.”
“Ha!” My laugh was bitter. “I wonder what odds the beetles would give for success in that effort? Ok, what does this mean for us? When are these clans going to hit Rikers?”
<
br /> “The first one could arrive within nine days, Joe.”
“Nine days? Holy shit! Even if the raid fails, the Fire Dragons will put our people under heavy security. We’d never pull them out alive.”
“That isn’t the real problem, Joe. Kristang operational security is notoriously poor. What we really need to worry about is the Fire Dragons hearing about the plot in advance of the raid. A subclan of the raiders could rat out its major clan to the Fire Dragons, in exchange for a favorable position when the civil war is over. Actually, hmm, the Fire Dragons might already be increasing security around the humans, because of the Council’s scrutiny of the matter.”
“Great!” I threw up my hands. “Just freakin’ great! Once, just once, I’d like to get a break, you know?”
“We would all like a break, Joe. The entire galaxy is sick of this endless war. Even the Maxolhx leaders know their own population has grown weary of the war. That is why the rotten kitties have their clients doing most of the fighting, and their clients are really sick of the fighting. This is a war without winners, a war that can’t have a winner.”
“Yeah, sorry, I know. Ok, what info do you have about these raids?”
“Only that three clans-”
“Three? You said-”
“You didn’t let me finish, numbskull. Three clans were considering an operation to seize the humans on Rikers, and two of those clans have put their plans into motion. The third clan recently suffered the defection of a subclan, so they are distracted at the moment. The messages I intercepted had almost no details, other than the departure dates of the raiding forces. When I said the first raid could happen in nine days, that is my estimate, based on how quickly a Bosphuraq star carrier could travel to Rikers.”
“Wonderful. Travel time from here to that star system is four days?”
“Four days, assuming I screw with wormholes to create shortcuts.”
“Well, duh. Why would we not want to use shortcuts?”
“Because if someone noticed odd wormhole behavior along a line pointing toward Rikers, they might wonder why, and start asking uncomfortable questions. DUH.”
“Shit. That ‘duh’ is on me, and please keep reminding me when I’m an idiot. I know, that is all the time,” I added before he could hit me with an insult. “How long without shortcuts?”
“Twelve days.”
“Damn it. That’s no good! All right, give me options that include some shortcuts, to get us there in six days. Connect me with Simms, please.”
“Aww, Sir?” It sounded like she just woke up.
“Sorry, Simms,” I cringed. “I asked Skippy to connect me with you. I should have asked for the duty officer.”
“I’m awake now,” she said with less irritation than I would have under the circumstances.
“Ok. We’re bugging out, soon as possible. I’ll notify Smythe. Skippy will explain why. Ask him for the short version.”
There was a sound like her feet slapping the floor of her cabin. “I always ask for the short version. Erasing signs of our presence down there will take-”
“We don’t have time for that. All the mock structures we built in Hadjistan, they can stay. By the time the next wormhole shift gives the bad guys access to this planet, it won’t matter.”
“Skippy has one of the reactors offline for maintenance,” she reminded me. “That won’t affect our departure.”
Looking around my messy tent with dismay, I contemplated just jamming everything into duffel bags and sorting it later. “Understood, Simms. Bishop out.” Instead of asking Skippy to connect me, I just hit the speed-dial on my zPhone for Smythe.
“Sir?” Whatever he was doing, he was out of breath.
“Smythe, change of plans. Get everyone to RTB right now. We’re leaving as soon as we can get the essentials packed up. Leave the training sites as is, we don’t have time to erase our tracks.”
“Trouble, Sir?” he asked, as my phone pinged to announce the General Recall notice he just sent out.
“The trouble is on Rikers. We need to move up the rescue, we’re going in six days.”
“Six?” He was shocked. The STAR team had only been practicing the rescue operation at the mock camps for two days, and the practices had revealed serious problems with our original plans. Today was a stand-down to revise plans, and conduct a walk-through before tomorrow’s practice session. “That’s- We will make it work, Sir,” he assured me. There wasn’t much else he could do, or we would have to cancel the entire rescue. Somehow, we had to make it work.
“I’m as unhappy about this as you are. I know this is a rush job, and we’re not fully prepared.”
“That isn’t the major problem, Sir. Today is Thursday.”
“Yeah, so?”
“If we go then, we will be launching the rescue operation on a Tuesday.”
“Oh shit,” I groaned. “Let’s hope that is not a typical Tuesday for the Merry Band of Pirates, huh?”
“I would not want to wager with our Jeraptha friend about that, Sir.”
“Yeah,” I took a deep breath. “Me neither.”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Our Ruhar ‘guest’ was still pissed off and uncooperative. That was too bad, because Simms and I made a real effort to make her comfortable and talk with her. The problem was, if she suddenly changed her attitude, I would suspect it was all an act, so we couldn’t trust her.
The Commandos were not all happy with the situation either. They had spent enough time with our Pirates that the people from Paradise knew the whole unhappy story, that we had as many failures as successes. Most importantly, they knew Earth was doomed in the long run. Not even the long run. Hearing that was tough for the Commandos. While stranded on Paradise, they had feared the worst about Earth, but at least they could hope. Hope that, by some miracle, humanity’s homeworld was safe in its isolation. Now they didn’t even have that faint hope. A miracle had happened, and Earth was still doomed. Commandant Fabron assured me his people would focus on their jobs, but sooner or later, reality was going to sink in, and morale would take a serious hit.
The only person who was actually happy to have been Shanghaied was the Jeraptha. He was young enough that the whole experience was a grand adventure to him. What he most wanted was to stay with us until we returned to Earth.
I visited him in the galley while we were in flight toward Rikers. Partly I wanted to see how he was doing, and partly I found the beetles to be fascinating. Simms and a couple other people were in the galley, but the Jeraptha was sitting by himself, engrossed in whatever he was doing. A glass of water and discarded foil packs of ration bars littered the table, I was glad to see he was eating the bland food Skippy had fabricated for him.
“Hello Cadet Fangiu,” I greeted him. “What are you doing there?”
Fangiu invited me to sit at his table, gesturing excitedly at the laptop we had loaned to him. It was filled with sports statistics. “Colonel Bishop, Skippy has provided me with important information, I must thank you very much. Your human sports are fascinating!”
“Yeah, I- what’s so interesting about,” I looked closer at the laptop. “You’re looking at NFL drafts, going back to 1982? Why?”
“Our most sophisticated AIs attempted to re-run college drafts of your American National Football League, based only on information that was available at the time,” he explained. “The first re-run by our AIs focused on drafts in the mid-2000s of your calendar.”
“Ok, how did that go?” I asked eagerly, genuinely interested in what analysis powerful alien computers had produced. Hopefully, it was better than the typical clickbait articles at the bottom of sports websites.
“Not well,” he hung his head. Interestingly. His antennas also drooped, and the surface of his leathery shell turned from dark green to a light green. Was that how Jeraptha blushed when they were embarrassed? “The AI dedicated to wager analysis are the most advanced our society has produced.”
“Wait. You don’t assign your bes
t AIs to, uh, like, defense? Or research?”
“Our typical opponents are the Thuranin and Bosphuraq,” he tilted his head, and his antennas twitched in a way I thought meant amusement. “We do not need our best technology to defeat those,” the translator glitched in my ear, then I heard “knuckleheads.”
“Oh,” I laughed, wondering what he had said in his own language. “Got it. So, what did your AIs think of those drafts?”
“They predicted, with ninety-four percent confidence,” he blushed again. “That JaMarcus Russell and Matt Leinart would be the most valuable players of that era.”
“Oh.” That was ancient history to me, but, hell, everyone knew how those draft picks worked out for the Raiders, and I think, the Cardinals? Like I said, ancient history. “Your AIs might want to revise their algorithms or whatever.”
“We do not know how to revise the calculations,” he explained. “It is rather embarrassing. And exciting! The same group of AIs also attempted to replay the 2014 World Cup of football, based only on information that was available at the end of training camp.”
My American brain had to translate ‘football’ to ‘soccer’ before I knew which World Cup he was talking about. “How did that go?”
“I would rather not say. That is why it is so exciting! If our best AIs can’t accurately predict the outcome, the possibilities for juicy action are limitless! Colonel Bishop, would it be possible for you to bring me to Earth?”
“Uh.” My assumption had been he wanted to return to his people as soon as possible. It was my intention to do that, as soon as the knowledge he had would no longer put my homeworld in danger. Meaning it was going to be a while. “Why do you want to go there?”
Valkyrie (Expeditionary Force Book 9) Page 49
