Human, page 6
part #1 of Humanity Ascendant Series
The creature took a hurried step back. “Yes.” Then, as Eth took a step closer… “Yes Warrant!”
Eth waved a hand at the footlockers. “Then handle . Get our dunnage off the shuttle. Our pilot doesn’t have all day.”
He brushed past and headed down the ramp, desperately hoping he could keep his breakfast down. The encounter had spun out of control so quickly he hadn’t even had time to assess his options and he was filled with adrenaline and more than a little fear. He forced himself through the breathing-control exercises programmed into him by the maturation chamber.
He was oblivious to his surroundings. The almost-gothic structure of the hangar bay was far more ornate than that of the Coronado , but the metal arches were functional in the decorative way common to Quailu design philosophy.
He decided he’d acted correctly. He could see the apprehension and respect on Noa’s face as he came to stand next to him.
This, too, was covered under Ab’s endless lessons. If you need to stand up for your people, it’s always better for morale if they actually see you doing it.
“What happened to taking it easy, Boss?”
“You think they’ll be upset?”
“Nah!” Noa turned to count heads. “If anything comes of it, they’ll likely let you off with decapitation.”
“You figure?” Eth smiled.
A shrug. “Sure, there’s extenuating circumstances…” He turned back. “All here. Looks like nobody fell out on the way up. Watch left,” he suddenly hissed. “Button merchant.”
He looked left. A senior officer with eight rows of battle-citations was inbound. “Silence on deck!” Eth commanded as the officer approached to within ten meters, the required distance for paying respects in an open space. They kept movement to a minimum and refrained from communicating by voice or gesture, observing the standard imperial custom for house-militaries.
The officer stopped in front of them, gazing impassively at the thirty-three Humans. His right eye-ridge twitched up ever so slightly, perhaps in annoyance that they weren’t sufficiently nervous for a pack of recently freed slaves.
“I don’t know what command was thinking,” he suddenly admitted, “sending me a barely-civilized pack of simians and expecting me to make ‘em into crewmen, but we don’t always have the luxury of sensible orders, so I’ll just have to pretend along with the top brass for now.”
That facial tic again. Eth knew he wasn’t the only one amused by this speech and the officer had to feel it.
“My name is Ashurabel, and I’m the XO of the Dibbarra . She’s the flagship of our master, Mishakwilu, only son of the great Sandrakwilu, and I’ll thank you filthy beasts to stay out of our lord’s path when he’s aboard.”
Eth tilted his head to the side, making direct eye contact.
“Yes, Warrant?”
“Sir, what will our roles be aboard the Dibbarra ?”
There was a grudging pause. “You may have come at an opportune time,” he admitted. “We’re just drawing up a new watch-bill after re-growing the old girl to a new heavy-cruiser pattern. We’ll be spreading you throughout the divisions, assuming you stay aboard, and you,” he added, pointing at Eth, “will report directly to the master’s mate and he’ll assign you a station on the bridge. You’ll also be responsible for this lot,” he added, waving at the Humans, “through the mate as well.”
Eth tilted his head again but didn’t wait for the acknowledgement, seeing as they were already conversing. “Shouldn’t each department head be responsible for his or her own crewmembers? I’m not complaining, sir, but it sounds as though this creates a secondary reporting structure.”
“Hmmm…” The XO looked at Eth for a moment. “Perhaps they did more than just shave your hides and teach you to speak. Yes – it’s a grade-A cluster-hump but it’s what command wants so it’s what we’re going to do. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
A nod. “Good. Now shut your noodle-holes and stay put. We’re supposed to wait on the lord-commander’s arrival before dispersing you, so keep your paws down and act respectful. You might have been hot shit as interplanetary thieves but you’re on a real warship now and you’ll gods-damned well act like it or I’ll have your livers for lunch.” He wheeled around to face the open middle of the landing deck.
An honor guard was rushing to form in the middle of the hangar in response to a flashing orange light above the main hangar exit doors.
Eth had a pretty good idea of what the XO was hoping for. Mishak would come aboard to take command of their small fleet, see the Humans standing there and flip a gasket. With any luck, they’d be back on Kish before the end of the current watch.
He just smiled, completely unconcerned. Ahead, he could see the XO’s neck turning red, no doubt in reaction to the lack of fear in the new crewmen.
The shuttle that slid in through the nav-shields couldn’t have been Mishak’s. It bore the bright red glyph of Chiron on its nose and it gave Eth a sneaking suspicion. There was a reason for the Humans to be left standing on the deck but it wasn’t going to be what the XO thought.
M ishak’s hand darted out to grasp a stanchion as the shuttle lifted off the landing-bay deck of the Haldita . The Chironians must have arrived. He’d only have a few more seconds to re-hash potential approaches to the pending meeting, though he knew how it was going to go.
He was a bundle of nerves but it was nothing like he used to feel when summoned into his father’s presence. Something had changed during their last meeting and it was a change that Mishak liked.
Under his father’s close supervision, he’d never been able to do anything to satisfaction. His years at court, fostered to the Emperor’s household for experience, had been a pleasant change but everything had gone back to the old ways as soon as he’d returned home.
This time had been different. This time he’d shown competence and he’d so surprised the old bastard that he’d forgotten to dismiss it as insignificant or somehow wrong. He had no intention of letting things backslide this time and, though he was nervous, he was looking forward to being on the giving side of a good thumping for a change.
The shuttle slid into his flagship’s hangar and settled in front of the Chironian craft, only a little later than was polite to keep them waiting. He popped the side door and hopped down to the deck, striding over to a point between the two shuttles.
The other shuttle lowered a forward ramp, revealing its passengers standing at the forward edge. They stepped off as it touched the deck, the Chironian representative leading the contingent of minor houses.
This was a big moment for Chiron.
Their ambassador held out a hand and one of his attendants placed a sealed papyrus scroll in it. “Mishak, son of Sandrak,” he began in a low, clear voice, “we have had enough of your aggression and thievery. We have registered a coalition against this quadrant of your family’s holdings. You have selected un-mediated response. Though you have this opportunity to reason with us, I warn you: we will not be put off.”
Mishak took the proffered scroll and, imitating the Chironian ambassador, handed it back to a non-existent servant. It fell to the deck. If that imaginary servant had been real, he’d have been in for a good beating.
The visiting nobles gasped at his cavalier treatment of their rare, hard-copy document.
Surprise, confusion, anger . It felt good and Mishak knew it would feel even better before they were done. “I accept,” he said cheerfully.
Confusion and, now, a little fear .
Acceptance of a coalition notice was almost always deferred to the maximum of two weeks. The rules were intended to give the target a fair chance to mobilize his defenses. The empire had always frowned on sneak attacks, ever since the seventh emperor had doubled the size of his dominion through a sneak attack of his own.
Mishak’s two-word response meant that an immediate state of war now existed between him and the coalition. Sandrak would not have been named in the document and the ambassador had taken care to single out this particular quadrant. If Sandrak were to intervene, he’d be disavowed, open to attack by any who dared.
It should have left young Mishak terrified.
Apprehension .
They were apparently now coming to the realization that they hadn’t approached under a flag of truce. How could they, when the state of war had only just come into effect. It was a minor loophole in the rules of civilized conflict but one that could have serious implications for the individuals standing in front of him, nonetheless.
“I commend your bravery,” Mishak said, bowing so deep as to make a mockery of his own words. “To make such a declaration, to put your own world at such risk…”
Anger growing. Belligerence now.
The Chironian waved to his fellow Quailu. “As you can plainly see,” he blustered, “I have not come alone to make this declaration.”
“Haven’t you?” Mishak prompted helpfully. He turned to take a few strides to his left, and then, turning to walk back, he contrived to notice Eth and his team. He gave them a friendly nod. Turning back he saw the Ambassador glaring at them. Mishak continued. “What will your allies do when our troops land in their cities? Will they stand fast after we learn their secrets?”
He suddenly stepped in close, lowering his voice. “What if we find they’re holding contraband data? Genomes, perhaps?”
Blank confusion.
It’s possible that he doesn’t know. Probable, even. He handed him a dataset. “I’d advise you to keep that angled so nobody else can see it.”
The ambassador raised his voice. “We Chironians have nothing to hide!” he flared.
“Oh, but you do, my dear fellow.” Mishak gestured for the angry Quailu to turn. “You’ll thank me – well, you won’t thank me but you’ll be glad that you listened.”
The ambassador turned, pressing a control and a two-dimensional, polarized display sprang up in front of him. It was only visible in a narrow arc but Mishak had already seen the proof and knew what would happen to Chiron if the Meleke Corp. ever got wind of it.
Even if they’d sold Chiron the Human data on the sly, they’d never be stupid enough to leave evidence. They’d deny everything and cut off all further sales of native Chironian genomes because that was what an innocent party would do.
Concern, deepening to outright alarm as the understanding set in . The Chironian turned even farther away from the rest of his delegation.
“It might be wise of you to make immediate contact with your superiors,” Mishak advised indulgently. “Please feel free to make use of our communications suite. You know the old saying: ‘your ship is my ship’.”
“I will use the facilities on my own ship,” the ambassador retorted.
“Perhaps you weren’t listening,” Mishak replied, a slight edge now in his voice. “I said your ship is my ship.”
Disbelief.
Mishak stepped in closer, invading the quarter-meter of personal space that defined the comfort zone of the average Quailu. “As a courtesy,” he explained quietly, as though confiding a secret, “I’m according your party diplomatic status, even though there’s ample precedent to justify a very different approach. Your ship and its crew, however, are not covered under the conventions. As there was never any truce in play, they count as having been caught in enemy territory at the outbreak of hostilities.”
He gestured to the aft exit portal. “Shall we?” He led the way, savoring the gut-churning sense of failure in his opponent.
“Stay here!” the ambassador snapped.
A muddle of confused minds.
Mishak turned to see the minor representatives strung out behind their Chironian leader and chuckled. The last thing this situation needed was for these minors to learn the truth. There’d be a race to gain leverage over Chiron, ending, ultimately, in the collapse of all their economies.
A secret like that could never be kept by so many potential enemies and it was a valuable secret for Mishak to hold over Chiron.
E th watched in amusement as Mishak led the Chironian past them. The ambassador turned a look of pure malevolence on them and the executive officer at their front must have felt it as they passed.
Eth bowed in response and the Chironian flushed red, turning to fix his gaze on the middle of Mishak’s back.
The officer turned to look at him, eye ridges raised in the center. He’d probably sensed the human’s triumphant mood but Eth merely gave him a polite nod, nothing out of the ordinary between two officers in a Quailu warship.
Dark Days
M arduk kept the smile plastered to his face until the representative from the Lady Bau was out of his office and the door was sealed. He blew out a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. Bau controlled nine systems and she’d turned them around in short order after the death of her husband, Nin-girsu.
She’d taken over a mostly agricultural fief and the worlds had been heavily specialized to the point of ecological failure. Her first order of business had been to forcibly transplant elements between the worlds, creating a system where plant and animal cultivation could be rotated. In a matter of years, she’d reclaimed vast swaths of former farmland from the deserts, turning her holdings into a food-producing powerhouse.
Five decades later, she controlled the empire’s bread-basket and she had no qualms about using that to get her way. She wasn’t one for false outrage. She’d laid out her position much as a mathematician would. The emperor had damaged his prestige with the latest spying scandal.
He had lost some of his ability to project authority among the nobles. Clearly, a state of violent unrest would soon break out to help everybody forget the whole mess. If they wanted her food, she wanted two specific systems added to her domain and she’d appreciate if His Royal Highness kept his disgraced nose out of the matter.
After all, there’d be a lot of small wars going on. It’s not hard to grab a few planets here and there…
He had to admire the old gal. The two systems belonged to a minor lord who’d been known to pledge support to the Imperial household only to turn on them once he had what he wanted. Far better for all concerned if those systems went to a reliable ally and an electress at that.
The steward arrived, gratifyingly late, with Marduk’s morning coffee and set it on the desk.
Mild anger, answered with indulgent tolerance.
Marduk was glad the rest of the empire didn’t know him as well as did this young Quailu. He took the proffered cup, looking down at the dark liquid. It was a shame there was no legal loophole allowing coffee to be grown on one of Bau’s worlds. He shrugged to himself and took his first drink.
Leave it to Sandrak. He gets his hand on some backward dung-hole of a world in the very cloaca of the empire and he still develops a product that nobody can do without. He was a great deal like Bau, just more aggressive. Both were successful because they identified what they wanted, then worked out how to get it. Many thought him to be lucky but Marduk knew it was just Sandrak’s habit of being prepared for success.
He took another sip and sighed. He could feel his brain coming back to life.
He turned his attention back to the holo-screens that projected in front of his office walls. They were constantly tuned to newsfeeds from around the empire. A bank of them also presented an intelligence feed that would switch to news outlets when visitors entered.
He set down his coffee and selected one of the intelligence feeds, enlarging it over his desk. Sandrak would soon find himself in the midst of scorched grazing. Marduk didn’t want to do it, believing him to be more or less loyal as long as he was given no provocation.
Sandrak had even fostered his only son to the imperial court. Young Mishak had been a decent lad but he’d been reserved and reluctant to take chances.
Nonetheless, the emperor feared his power and influence more than any other lord. He was certain that Sandrak would come to take his throne and so he would have to be dealt with.
A lucky stroke had come in the form of the Chironian-led coalition. Though Sandrak wouldn’t be able to intervene, he’d still be distracted by the certain knowledge that his only heir would fall into unfriendly hands.
Meanwhile, a plan was about to go into action that would separate him from half his holdings before he could react. He began to assess the display in front of him as the coffee took hold. He stretched it out into a three-dimensional display and began moving his head from side to side in order to get the full picture of the map-sector in question.
The Quailu were descended from omnivorous grazers. They’d mostly eaten plants throughout their history but didn’t turn their noses up at the occasional slow animal. This was a major factor in their limited depth-perception. They could see everywhere except for a six-degree arc directly behind their heads and they could only perceive depth in a six degree arc at the front where their vision overlapped.
They didn’t entirely disdain the benefits of 3D displays, but they had to work a little harder to get the most out of them.
He began drawing in force vectors from the various neighboring fiefs, factoring in deployment times and current political stance as well. He could have had the AI do this in a heartbeat but he felt there were too many variables left out of an AI interpretation. It was all too easy to take such an analysis as fact and form an entire plan based on a lie. He had to consider the personal factors.
He leaned back in his chair, cradling his coffee as he stared up at the display. One fleet. He decided. Any more would look like the whole thing had been planned by his office. Just one fleet of Imperial Varangian Guards would be sufficient to deter interference. Even Sandrak knew better than to attack such a force.
He could destroy a small Varangian force easily, of course, but not quickly and not quietly. The Varangians were known for their luck even more so than Sandrak. It all sounded like mystical hyrak-turds to the uninformed, but the Varangian race had some kind of special ability where expected outcomes were concerned.
Many xenobiologists had tried to study the phenomenon but few had ever come back from Varangria-3 alive. Varangians were willing to fight for their emperor but they didn’t care for busy-bodies.
