by Ed Charlton
“Warning! Insufficient height due to base canopy.”
“Then fly as close to the canopy as possible.”
“Flight path entered.”
“On completion of the attack run, cut a hole in the canopy and fly through it, then take us into orbit at maximum speed.”
“That instruction places this raeda in danger of falling debris. Please confirm instruction.”
“Confirmed. Make the hole a big one.”
“Trajectory calculated. Flight plan entered.”
“One more thing. What weapon system can best destroy building Forty-two?”
“One guided plasma-cluster charge.”
“Can that be launched from the ground?”
“The guided plasma-cluster charges are launched from Weapons Module Two, under the forward edge of the starboard wing.”
“Can you target building Forty-two from this location?”
“Building Forty-two is targetable.”
“Prepare three guided plasma-cluster charges. Target building Forty-two.”
“Target acquired.”
“Fire!”
The flier shook slightly as the charges launched. It shook again when they arrived at their target.
Jim waited, his eyes closed, imagining the fire and the confusion. He waited for the fire trucks and the medics to rush to the scene. He waited for the guards to leave their posts to see what had happened, knowing the officers would give the orders to seal the base even tighter.
With his eyes still closed, Jim said quietly, “Begin attack run.”
“Power systems activated. Thrusters engaged.”
Jim felt a thrill go through him as the flier left the ground. He had never been so relieved to lift off a planet before. That he was leaving Tamric’s killers in a blaze of fire sweetened the bitter taste in his mouth only a fraction.
“External forward view at this console. Record all sensor logs and external views and preserve for transmission.”
Jim saw warship after warship fold in on itself under the laser fire. As it moved down the ranks, his ship shuddered and shifted in the hot blasts of explosions behind it. The weapons were accurate, but he saw a couple of shots drift astray because of the turbulence from below, whipping the ground into a boiling soup of glowing dust.
“Are any hostile countermeasures being launched at this craft?”
“Projectile weapons are targeting this raeda. The projectiles do not have sufficient range to cause damage to any systems. Laser pulse rifles are targeting this craft. No damage to external plating. No damage to external systems.”
Jim sat back and watched the destruction continue below him.
“Base Command is attempting to contact this vessel.”
“Deny all access to Base Command.”
“Access is denied.”
One full rank of warships remained untouched when the ship announced, “Five attack helicopters approaching from the south.”
“Show me.”
The screen flicked to a view behind the flier. Above the explosions on the ground, Jim could just make out red and yellow reflections glinting off moving rotor blades.
“Are we in range of their weapons?”
“This craft will be in range of air-to-air missiles in twenty-five seconds.”
“Can they damage us?”
“Air-to-air missile damage typically ranges between ten and twenty percent destruction.”
“Abort attack run; cut through the canopy.”
“Abort acknowledged.”
“Target the canopy supports near the last rank of craft on the field. Launch plasma charges when ready.”
The craft flung itself into a steep angle and hovered for a few seconds while a dance of beams sliced sections out of the canopy.
“Multiple targets acquired. Required trajectory reduces accuracy expectation to sixty percent.”
“It’ll have to do. Fire!”
“Acknowledged.”
Pieces of the canopy were dropping around the flier. Under the sudden rush of power, Jim was pressed into his seat.
“Goodbye, Tamric.”
He shut his eyes again, and the ship strained upward into orbit.
Chapter Three
Jim, lost in his sadness, became instantly alert when the ship said, “Full stealth mode engaged.”
“Plot a course for Tanna Jorr. Engage on my signal.”
“Flight path entered.”
Jim went from the cockpit to the passenger compartment. The furniture had the stripped-down look of Gul design. He gave a passing thought to the more comfortable furnishings that the Praestans Rapax would have designed for the original.
He opened a locker and pulled out the helmet and a bulky space suit. The helmet looked too large, having the extended faceplate to allow for a Gul snout. Jim examined the innards of the suit with growing distaste. Sighing, he returned to the cockpit and fetched his backpack.
He looked at it and thought of Tamric. He needed a resource, and the monk’s demonstration of their methods came vividly to his mind. Tamric said the solution to a problem is a thread to follow. Jim held the backpack and let his mind go still. This is a Praestans Rapax backpack. It contains standard Praestans Rapax equipment.
He pulled out the remaining things that he had packed in what seemed a previous life, including the silver globe he had acquired from the EIA courier. The man—and his cadre—now seemed a small and ridiculous annoyance. He pulled out the remains of the first-aid kit that Tamric had largely emptied on his behalf. He pulled out the thermal blanket and a pack of emergency rations. He looked deeper into the backpack to the several flaps near the bottom. He emptied each pocket, laying out several strange devices along the bench.
The thing he hardly dared hope for was there: the white-and-silver multipurpose tool Tamric had described as a workshop.
I have followed the thread of my path!
Jim found the cutting blade and set to work removing the sanitary equipment from the space suit. With this gone, he pulled the suit on. The arms were too long, and he had to bunch them up before he could seal the gloves properly. The legs seemed stiff and were awkward to move in. He felt small in the expanse of the helmet.
Jim strapped himself into the pilot’s seat and pressurized the suit.
“Ship, communications check,” Jim said into the helmet microphone.
“Suit communications are operating within normal tolerances.”
He checked the air mix in the suit and increased the oxygen content slightly.
“How long will the journey to Tanna Jorr take?”
“At fifty percent power, the flight duration will be eleven hours.”
He looked down at the capacity indicator on the tank. The Gul symbols were difficult to interpret.
“Estimate the capacity of this space suit’s air supply.”
“The air supply averages eight hours at nominal exertion.”
Jim said quietly to himself, “That’s for the average canid. I wonder what it is for a primate.”
“Please repeat query,” said the ship.
“Cancel query. Begin the journey to Tanna Jorr. Monitor Tanna Gul for any ships following us. Monitor for a Praestans Rapax flier, type 568, register number 83476-9 traveling from Tanna Jorr.”
“Thrusters engaged at fifty percent. Monitoring.”
“Increase to full power.”
“Full power.”
“Show me the name plaque for this vessel.”
“Please specify internal or external view.”
“Both.”
The screen brightened with two images: one showing an external plating area and the rectangular name plaque and the other showing a similar plaque in a ceiling. Thinking of Marhan’s discovery, Jim waited, not knowing what would happen
next.
***
The raeda announced, “Nineteen ships are following this course.”
“Time until this ship is in range of their weapons?”
“This raeda is not currently within range. Relative speed is zero.”
“Alert me if that changes. Prepare all weapons systems that can fire behind us.”
“Weapons systems online.”
Jim felt his limbs stiffening and his fever returning as he sat and waited. The burning pain increased in his shoulder.
He remembered he had left the tools from the backpack lying on the bench. He unstrapped himself from the seat and rushed back to the passenger cabin. He stuffed the tools back into the pockets, rammed the pack into the suit locker, and secured the door.
On his way back into the cockpit, he saw the name plaque—both on the internal and external view—begin to glow.
“Here we go.”
“Decompression danger,” warned the ship.
Jim said nothing as he strapped himself into the seat once more.
“Decompression danger.”
“Do not repeat that warning.”
“It is not recommended to suppress warnings of this kind.”
“Suppress it...just this once.”
“Decompression danger warning now suppressed.”
“Thank you.”
The plaque glowed brighter.
Jim’s heartbeat was loud in his ears as he watched the glow flickering.
His suit stretched and lost its wrinkles. The sleeves ballooned, and he felt his hands slip slightly out of the gloves. The seat belt dug into the waist of the suit as the short-lived gale tried to blow him around. A few small items flew off shelves, and the ship intoned, “Decompression has occurred. Backup atmospheric system engaged.”
Jim looked at the screen and, from the internal view, could see black space through the gap. The external view showed a stream of molten metal twisting and stringing away into the void.
“Backup atmospheric system failure. Decompression is complete.”
“Let me know when the pursuing ships reach the same point in their flight paths.”
“Monitoring.”
Jim watched the pressure gauge on his suit. So far, there were no leaks.
Chapter Four
Ajeer felt nauseated having to see the body of the alien spy. It disgusted her, but the Raeff had insisted she accompany him.
And yet, she was more upset by his manner than by the corpse of a lone intruder. There was something odd in his demeanor. He seemed not to care about the destruction, about the loss of life. The generals were clamoring to see her, but she had given the aides strict instructions that she was not available for them. There was something wrong, but she could not yet discern what it was. The Raeff also had made himself unavailable. He had given the order for some ships to proceed and then had withdrawn to his rooms.
She was preparing for bed, having heard few words from him, when he called her back to the main room.
“You Luminants go back for many generations, don’t you?”
“Yes, my Raeff, to the distant past.”
“Tell me, have they ever told you of a Raeff who has done what I have done?”
“In what way?”
He smiled and began to pace the floor.
“I have united our country, have I not?”
“Most certainly.”
“I have united our world, have I not?”
“Most certainly, my Raeff.”
“I have taken possession of all the resources of Muthlec, and by my spirit-inspired use of them, I have taken possession of the world.” He paused and then pressed, “Have I not?”
“My Raeff,” she nodded.
“No other Raeff has achieved this, not ever, in the long memories of the Luminants.”
“The spirit has blessed us through you.”
“I stand alone. The spirit has given to me what it has given to no other. Then you will answer perhaps one more question?”
Out of her sight, he twice drew the extended claws of one hand together.
“What is that, my Raeff?”
“If the spirit intends me to have all the world, why would it say that I may not have you?”
She was suddenly aware of her danger. How could I have been so foolish as to let him go so far? “If Calna were here, she would have better words for you than I...”
“She was old and ugly. You are not. And the spirit has taken Calna to bring me you.” He was moving slowly toward her.
She turned to prevent his pinning her against the chair. He was at her side, his arm across her chest.
“My Raeff, we have talked of this already. Be answered!”
“My Luminant,” he said in mockery of her tone. “There is only one answer. I am your Raeff; you are mine!”
She slashed at his nose with an upward swipe of her claws that sent him reeling backward.
“Never put your hands on me!” she shouted. “My vows are there to protect both of us.”
He growled and laughed, undeterred. “You are trained to obey the spirit, to minister to the Raeff! Yet you refuse to do what I wish? Are you so certain you are right? Has the spirit not spoken through me?”
“This is not a matter between you and me. This is between every Raeff and every Luminant. It has always been so. It must always be so!”
“But you yourself say that I am unique. The spirit has chosen me to do something never done before. Obey the spirit! Look into your own heart. Isn’t the desire there also? Isn’t that, too, from the spirit?”
She stepped farther back toward her room, hoping to be near enough to outrun him. “It is the Luminant who discerns the spirit, not the Raeff. It is not your place to gather blessings for yourself.”
“Oh, it’s your place to dispense blessings to me when it suits you? The spirit has delivered you into my possession, little one. Things are not as you have been taught. I am not as you have been taught. I am not even as I was when Calna was here. I outgrow these games.”
He sighed and picked up the bowl of fruit from the table, took out one, and dropped the rest to the floor. She turned to run to her room. The fruit caught her between the shoulder blades.
“Run! You will be ours! Tell your Luminant friends we have no further use for you outside of our bed. They’ll soon tell you it’s the spirit’s will. You’re a fool, but they know better! You will soon be one of a long line of spirit-wives. We will remake you! We will remake everything about these planets!”
Her door had shut. He was yelling at an empty room.
Chapter Five
Larc was listening to music on the radio while he ate lunch. The smell of roasted flesh filled the air.
He called Tella over to listen to a song. “This one’s great.”
Tella could hear three voices so cut and recombined as to be meaningless. The backing was cheerful dance music.
“What do you hear in this, Larc?”
“It’s funny. There’s a guy and a woman saying how they love each other. And then there’s this fat-sounding guy who’s saying the same things about his favorite dessert! It’s great!”
Tella listened some more.
“You can make out what they’re saying?”
“Sure.”
He gave Tella a sideways look and broke into a sly grin.
Tella nodded. “And you wanted to find out if I could or not.”
“Your brain doesn’t work like mine. I can hold three or four long strings of things in my head and sort them into something meaningful. It’s kind of dull that no one else round here can do it.”
“That, my young friend, may be true for most of your life.” Tella gave him a sad smile. “Better to be one of the first, though, than one of the last.”
“What
do you mean?”
“There are few Neraffan-jong like me left. The Neraffan-cott lack our photo-mimetic abilities. They have persecuted us for many generations, and we are scattered...”
The young Jorr looked at Tella but said nothing. Tella wondered whether to finish its thought.
“How much has your mother told you about what your future may hold?”
“Some. She thinks I’ll continue to be in danger until there are more like me.”
“And that will take, at least, an end to hostilities.”
“Yeah, I guess. Though there are some Guls here. She’s studying them at the moment.”
“You have prisoners?”
“No, they live here. They never went back after previous invasions. Once they get used to the light, they like it here.”
“And they don’t cause trouble? They are not spies for their homeworld?”
Larc shrugged. “I guess not. She’s never said so. I think they realize they’re better off here. Tanna Gul’s a dump!”
Tella’s thoughts strayed to Jim and Tamric—waiting, perhaps delaying their mission. Their plans had all been based on Tella’s being able to find them. They had not considered this possibility. Tella filed away a mental note to request more tactical training for Jim.
“I think there are some other children like me. It’s just my mother doesn’t want me to meet them yet,” said Larc, through a mouthful of food.
“What makes you say that?”
“It’s logical. She wouldn’t do an experiment once and not repeat it. Especially not if it was important. That’s not the way she does things.”
“She cares a great deal about your security.”
“Hmm...and theirs, I guess. I suppose that’s it...really. If I went anywhere to meet them, someone might find out what she’s up to.”
Tella nodded. “I’m sure she’s acting in your best interest.”
Larc picked over the remains of his lunch.
“You don’t eat much, do you?” he asked.
“I would rather not eat while I am not free.”
“Uh-huh.” Larc smiled knowingly. “Let me know when you change your mind.”
“Thank you,” Tella said, glancing in disgust at the pile of cleaned, cracked bones that remained on the youngster’s plate.
