by S. H. Jucha
Phette hopped on Sam’s offered forearm. The New Terran heavy worlder straightened and extended the little Pim toward the holo-vid to allow him to study the display. Phette’s dark furry hand traced a path from his abode. Although the tunnel frequently branched, he unerringly traced the route that he’d learned annuals ago from his patriarch.
“Here,” Phette said, pointing to a spot on a tunnel spur that led to a dead end. “I came out here. I heard their legs scraping on dried brush. I followed them to their hiding place.”
“You’re sure there’s only three?” Sam asked.
“I watched,” Phette said. “Only three.”
“Good job,” Sam said, and Phette preened. He set the Pim down, and Phette scampered off.
To start the taking of Pimbor, the expedition’s engineers had followed the plan that had been designed by Jess Cinders and others. A strong wall was constructed around a Pimborian compound. Room was preserved inside the compound to accommodate shelters for the veterans of the Sylian campaign and the remaining six Norsitchian brassards, who were led by Commander Menous.
Adjacent to the compound, engineers constructed a large fenced area to protect a landing site for the travelers. The fence that enclosed the site was electrified, and the power source was a traveler’s grav cells.
The entire buildout was in preparation for the elimination of the Colony and the return of the planet to the Pims. In the many Pimborian annuals since the Colony had constructed a ring over the system’s dome, the insectoids had shipped transports through the Q-gates.
Each transport carried two shuttles and had sufficient fuel to reach the planet from the moon, from where it had appeared within the ring. Reaching Pimbor’s orbit, the transport’s sides opened to release twin shuttles.
Like the transports, the shuttles had just enough fuel to accomplish their missions, which were to reach the planet’s surface. After landing, engines were shut down and allowed to cool. Then giant insectoids, reds and grays, spilled from the shuttles and spread out.
It was the Colony’s intention to establish a foothold on the planet. Then they’d breed and become the dominant species, eliminating the sentient population.
The expedition, led by Olawale Wombo and Patrice Morris, had estimated as many as sixteen thousand insectoids had made planetfall.
To complicate matters, the veterans of Sylia and Norsitchia, the sites of other domes that had been retaken, had learned the Colony was sending pregnant females in the transports.
In Pimbor’s case, the veterans expected the juveniles to be as much as a meter in length. Unfortunately, in that estimate, they were wrong. Many of the longest young insectoids were discovered to be nearly two meters in length and were as deadly as the adults.
After the compound preparations were complete, the next step was to encourage the planet’s Pims to respond to the insectoids’ presence.
The Messinants, the ancient race that had constructed the domes, had uplifted the alliance races through genetic tinkering. Unlike most races, the Pims were left in the size they were discovered by the Messinants. To many, it seemed to be a cruel joke, which left the Pims easily frightened by the enormous sizes of other races.
When construction quieted, Phette had been one of the first Pims to return to the compound. He ventured from his two-story abode and found a human sitting cross-legged on the ground and eating.
Phette and his mate had been living on what they could scrounge from the tunnels. It had been roots and insects, and they’d been surviving on that for annuals.
The smell of hot food tantalized Phette, and he sublimated the urge to run from the human and return to the safety of the tunnels.
While Phette sniffed the air, a second human brought more food and handed it to the seated one. Then the seated human set the second plate aside, gestured toward it, and resumed eating.
Phette’s stomach growled in protest that his legs weren’t hastening toward the food. Eventually, the enticing scents overcame Phette’s fears, and he slowly crossed the intervening space. He picked up the large plate, ignored the utensil, and quickly tossed pieces of food into his mouth.
When the plate was clean, Phette felt a surge of guilt. He’d consumed the food without a thought of saving some for his mate.
Phette spoke to the human, requesting food for his mate. He was pleased that it was swiftly brought to him in a small container, and he dashed off to deliver it to his mate. When Phette returned, he found the human where he left him. He and the human talked for hours, and Phette learned of the expedition, the retaking of domes, and the intention to regain his planet.
Afterward, and over many cycles, Phette traveled the tunnels. He met with other Pims, who had carved small side branches in the main tunnels and spurs, digging out nests where the ground was stable.
Slowly Pims appeared in their two-story abodes within the compound and were delighted to receive the food the humans offered.
Phette introduced the Pim families to the human he’d met, Captain Jess Cinders. He told them that the captain was leading the effort to retake the planet.
The next hurdle for the Pims to overcome was the introduction of those who assisted the captain. They met humans of various sizes, a Jatouche, a Sylian, Norsitchians, and, to their astonishment, two Crocians.
While adult Pims wrestled with the new circumstances of their lives — the mixing with other races, their kits had no such reservations. They found new and exotic playmates called SADEs.
Juliette and Esteban entertained the kits and took the opportunity to learn the Pimborian language. The alliance ear wigs were satisfactory translation devices, but the SADEs preferred to absorb the local speech. As for the kits, they were completely willing to teach, as long as the SADEs played with them.
As the compound’s security enclosures were being erected, the veterans and the Norsitchian brassards were tasked with dismantling the Colony’s comm system. Comms were housed in the bows of the Colony’s shuttles, and they were linked to create a network.
The Colony constantly updated the alliance domes and outposts that it held with reports of the latest events surrounding the loss of two domes and a single planet. In each successive encounter with their foes, the insectoids took steps to blunt their adversaries’ actions.
On Pimbor, the insectoids set traps and ambushes to their shuttles’ approaches, knowing their ships would be the earliest targets. They dug shallow pits and placed juveniles in the bottom, covering the openings with dried brush. The adults covered themselves with wet mud and added leaves and twigs to the mud before it dried.
In the first days’ assaults on the shuttles, the brassards lost nineteen of their kind, and the Earthers lost another security member. The teams led by heavy worlders, such as Sam and Sergeant Yousef Dakar, fared the best.
As the deaths mounted, Jess ordered a change in tactics. He employed cargo travelers. The pilots hovered near the Colony’s shuttles and dropped the rear ramps. The veterans and brassards fired from the ad hoc platform. There were no more losses for Jess’s troops after that.
As Phette hurried back to his abode and mate after making his report, Sam checked his duty roster and assigned a team to eliminate the three grays that Phette had identified. When the team was dispatched, he joined Jess and some veterans at the far end of the temporary structure.
“What’s the count?” Jess asked Sam.
“Only five today,” Sam said disappointedly. “Maybe eight, if these three grays are eliminated.”
“If we’d only known more about this planet,” Tacnock lamented. He was the lone Jatouche among the veterans and a good friend of Jess.
“We hold one compound,” Bortoth of the Logar, a Crocian bemoaned. “Yet, the Pims have hundreds of these emplacements around the planet.”
“Worse, their tunnels don’t extend too far outside their compounds,” Daktora of the Logar, who was the other Crocian, added. He snapped the jaws of his powerful snout together to indicate his frustration.
“All the while, the juveniles are growing bigger,” Kasie Cinders, Jess’s twin, said.
“Is it time to abandon this planet?” Aputi Tulafono, a Pyrean, asked. “I hate to do it, but if we’re not making progress ...” He let the remainder of his statement hang in the air.
The group eyed their assault commander, Jess.
Jess had been hoping for and yet dreading the arrival of the Omnian’s leader, Alex Racine. Everything he’d heard about the man added to the impression that he was some omniscient superior being.
The Pimborian assault team desperately needed more support. The Colony was hidden across the planet and was multiplying its numbers. In contrast, Jess’s forces were shrinking.
Sam and ten security members remained of the original twenty-four of those at Sylia. To Jess’s irritation, six were kept in reserve aboard a Sol Enclave (SE) Trident.
Menous had brought ten brassards to the fight, numbering two hundred, to retake his home planet’s dome. He lost four brassards on Norsitchia, and he’d lost another one on Pimbor.
The expedition’s number of plasma rifles was limited, which necessitated hunts with smaller teams. Due to Pimbor’s dense vegetation, Loopah weapons, which fired gas darts, weren’t practical in eliminating the insectoids. They were much more useful in protecting the individual with the plasma rifle.
“Esteban, what’s the status of our plasma rifles?” Jess asked.
“Six more are in need of repair, but we’ve no more spare parts,” Esteban replied, as he extended his arms to let the two Pim kits on his head crawl onto his limbs. “We’ve five left that are fully operational.”
“But the six reserve security members have their plasma weapons, right?” Jess asked.
“They do,” Esteban acknowledged.
“Jess, we can’t use those individuals or their weapons,” Lucia said. “In the event of a hand-to-hand fight, they’re needed to protect the crew. We’ve no idea from what quarter our ships will experience an attack."
Jess nodded reluctantly. Lucia was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.
“We stay,” Jess said, “at least for a little longer. Maybe I can think of a better way to hunt the insectoids.”
A few days later, Jess tried an experiment.
Two travelers, each with veterans, a brassard, and many of Phette’s companions, landed at another compound.
The place was as barren as the first compound had been before the expedition revived it.
Phette and his friends entered the abodes, dived into the tunnels, and searched out the Pim hiding places.
For a few days, Jess’s idea worked. The local Pims identified the nearby insectoids, which the troops aboard the travelers eliminated.
In return for the Pims’ help, the expedition provided food. During the night, the Pims hid in their tunnels, and the troops slept in their travelers.
The experiment’s life was short. The troops cleared out the identified insectoids, but soon the Pims reported there were no more targets to be found.
The troops moved on, visiting several compounds, repeating the process, and locating a few more insectoids. Within twelve days, they’d located and dispatched more than thirty Colony members, mostly grays and a few reds. It was painfully clear to the veterans and especially to Jess that there was too much planet, too many insectoids, and too few troops.
Returning to the original compound, Jess heeded a request from Olawale. Lucia and he flew to the Rêveur. They arrived late in the evening, got a meal, and retired to Lucia’s cabin. They took a refresher together but were too tired to enjoy each other’s company much more than that. Sleep overcame them quickly.
At morning meal, Olawale delivered his bad news.
“I’m sorry to tell you, Captain,” Olawale said, “Our supplies are running low, particularly food stocks.”
“I understood the Rêveur could accommodate a full load of passengers for more than a year,” Jess said, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“Normally, that would be true,” Olawale replied, “but the troops have been physically active.”
“Healthy appetites,” Patrice Morris, the Sol Enclave envoy and expedition co-leader, explained.
“Also, the Tridents aren’t outfitted to the extent of this liner,” Olawale continued. “Typically, they depend on a freighter escort. We began distributing our food stocks to them eight days ago.”
“Remember, Jess, we’ve also been feeding the Pims,” Patrice added.
“I spoke with Juliette,” Ophelia Tuttle, the Pyrean security commandant, said. “I thought Pyre or one of the alliance planets could supply the food stock the expedition uses. For that thought, I received an extensive lesson in food stock preparation,” she added wryly.
“In other words, Jess,” Olawale said, “our stocks require a unique process, and we don’t carry the equipment to create them.”
“So, Alex Racine manages to be gone from home for much longer, because the fleet travels with freighters,” Jess surmised.
“Those and a city-ship,” Lucia replied.
“What’s a city-ship?” Ophelia asked.
“A vessel that’s two kilometers across that its builders expected a quarter million humans to live aboard for decades,” Lucia said.
“Oh, for the love of Pyre,” Ophelia exclaimed, “and Alex Racine owns one of these monstrous ships.”
The Omnians chuckled politely.
“He owns two, the Freedom and the Our People,” Lucia explained.
“Then Alex’s fleet carries the equipment and supplies that it needs for several years,” Jess said, understanding dawning.
“Longer than that, if necessary,” Olawale responded, “but you get the point.”
“How much longer can we stay?” Jess asked.
“Ten days,” Olawale replied. “Then we must sail for Sol. We can resupply there and give our crews some downtime. They need to get out of their ships.”
9: Alternate Vector
“Alex, we’ve received another message from Olawale,” Cordelia said. “It was relayed via Sol.”
Alex, Renée, Tatia, Julien, and others were on the Freedom’s bridge. The fleet had entered alliance space as denoted by the shipping activity in systems that telemetry recorded. The fleet’s original destination was for the star coordinates of a system called Norsitchia.
Cordelia shared the message, and there was silence while comms and implants played it.
“Shall I alter the fleet’s vector, Alex?” asked Cordelia, when humans finished reviewing the message.
“Please,” Alex replied. “Let the commands know we’re making for Pimbor.”
* * * * *
Jess counted down the days. Olawale had given him ten days. Then the fleet would sail for resupply and a rest for the crews. There were five days remaining.
“Couldn’t the Tridents sail for Sol now and leave the Rêveur here?” Jess asked Lucia.
It was late in the evening, and the compound was utterly quiet. They sat on a pair of crates to talk. A small heater between them warded off the night’s chill.
“Fleet security is my responsibility, Jess, I can’t leave the Rêveur undefended,” Lucia replied. She reached for his hand and added, “I hope you understand.”
“I do,” Jess said. “I don’t hold anyone responsible for our failure to make progress but me. If I was a better leader, like your Alex, I might have accomplished m
ore.”
“Don’t say that,” Lucia said sharply. “It took Alex decades to build his fleets, and he has the resources of entire worlds behind him. You’re battling an insidious enemy with a few veterans from the Sylian campaign, a hundred Norsitchians with limited weaponry, tiny Pim scouts, and the resources of our search party.”
Jess chuckled weakly at Lucia’s characterization of five starships, of which four were warships, as a search party.
“The Pims have held out for years,” Lucia continued, “You can explain to them that we must leave, but we intend to return in the near future.”
Something in the way Lucia phrased her last statement worried Jess. She wasn’t nearly as definitive about returning as he would have expected. That made up his mind about something that he’d been considering.
“I can’t do that,” Jess said quietly.
“You can’t do what?” Lucia asked, with a sinking feeling in her gut.
“I intend to remain on Pimbor, until you return,” Jess said. “I’ll ask Olawale for supplies ... some food and the remaining plasma weapons.”
Lucia stared at Jess, with a grim expression on her face. Her worst nightmare was unfolding in front of her face. “No,” she said stridently. She grabbed Jess by his coverall’s collar and yanked hard on it. “You can’t do this, Jess. We don’t know that we will return. You could be trapped here.”
“Why wouldn’t you return?” Jess asked, ignoring Lucia’s grasp on his clothes. This was what he’d suspected earlier.
“Sol could redirect their Tridents to Pyre,” Lucia said hurriedly. “Olawale might be recalled to Omnia. I don’t know, Jess. There all sorts of reasons that we would be kept away.”
Lucia’s eyes implored Jess, and she felt his kiss on her forehead. She regarded his face and hung her head. Slowly, she released her grip. “You still intend to stay,” she whispered.
“You’ve seen the enthusiasm and the hope we’ve given Phette and the Pim families.” Jess said. “I’m not going to be the one to crush those burgeoning feelings.”
