Human, page 8
part #1 of Humanity Ascendant Series
The flocks of hovering craft faded away into the hazy distance. Wars were being plotted, revenge sworn, promises given of assistance that might well turn out to be sneak attacks. Such things were the coin of the imperial court but there’d been a sharp upswing since the leak.
With the emperor’s prestige damaged by his own paranoia, the noble houses were emboldened. It was far less likely that Tir Uttur would attempt to intervene in a conflict now, knowing that he might well be ignored.
Not that it presented a problem, of course. The crown could remain officially aloof, while secretly maneuvering to their own advantage. Minor lords who stood on the verge of becoming electors could be nurtured, nudged and then incited into action.
The emperor would most likely come out of this mess with more votes than ever but Marduk would be kept very busy. The current electors would need reassurances, perhaps even concessions, and potentially friendly candidates would need support while opponents needed to be destabilized.
It would be a busy year in the Holy Quailu Empire.
A dark shadow played across his face. A large, ornate barge lowered down on his port side, matching course and speed.
Marduk nodded to the coxswain who set a straight leisurely course, one that was easy for the newcomer to replicate.
He hated the banking guild. No imperial court in ten thousand years had been able to govern without their consent. Perhaps it was because of this hatred, instead of cold calculation, that he refused to cross to their barge.
He knew the arguments they would present in an attempt to gain further powers and it was largely a pile of fresh droppings.
Instead, he turned his seat to face out through the glazed gunwale. He watched an artificial river in the savannah below. It sparkled in the suns, diminishing to a dull ribbon as it flowed toward the emperor’s security-exclusion zone.
With the court in damage-control mode, the accursed bankers would expect Marduk to play the role of supplicant. As far as they were concerned, he’d made the first move in coming to the throne room and cruising aimlessly about.
They were correct, of course, but he’d be damned if he would admit it. He tapped the table on his left and the steward brought over a carafe of coffee, pouring him a mug of the brown liquid. “Leave it here,” he said quietly, and the steward set down the carafe before moving away.
Calm concentration, guild conditioned. Nothing given away.
“I sometimes forget we’re indoors,” the guild representative said, coming to stand on Marduk’s right.
Marduk waved him to a seat. “Will you take coffee, Namtar?”
“Thank-you, no, it makes me sneeze, I’m afraid.” Namtar eased into the chair. “Your emperor has been naughty,” he chided.
Marduk remained calm. “My emperor? Are you suggesting the Banker’s Guild has seceded from the empire?”
“Certainly not,” Namtar remained unruffled. “Perhaps a subconscious slip, an attempt to distance myself from recent imperial actions?”
“And perhaps the matter is simple enough that we can dispense with the fencing and get straight to the heart.” Marduk offered mildly. “You feel the recent leaks about imperial spying will threaten cash flow, yes?”
Namtar inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“I’ve run the projections a number of times,” Marduk said, “and the threat to current commitments is less than two percent.”
“Two percent,” Namtar interjected, “given the scale involved, is more than the GDP of most one-system minor holdings. If we have to accept such a risk…” He looked up as another barge, even more ornate than his own, suddenly blocked his view.
A row of Varangian guards lined both sides of the barge, weapons primed, wispy tendrils of incense framing their deadly bulk. A pair of them crossed over to Marduk’s barge as the two vehicles linked up.
A Quailu, solid and gracefully beautiful, stood up behind the row of Varangians and was quickly obscured by a half-dozen scensors who stood to surround her. It was the Princess Tashmitum, only child of the emperor.
She’d never been one for imperial trappings but she seemed to be more willing, now that the family’s prestige was in jeopardy. Marduk approved of the scensors. Natives of the Moksh system, the scensors had chitinous protrusions on their skulls that could be slowly burned to produce a fragrant smoke.
The heady scent took him back to the glory days of the previous reign. The empress had been a force to be reckoned with and she’d understood the power of the olfactory senses. A cheaper version of the same incense was publicly available (on sticks rather than in humanoid form) and anyone who’d been in her presence would immediately recall her splendor if exposed to the scent.
Marduk and Namtar came to their feet as Tashmitum crossed over and both bowed deeply before her. “Your Highness,” Marduk said to the decking at his feet, “you honor us!” He shivered at the emotions evoked by the scensors.
“Please, Uncle!” she replied, according him the honorific due to an old friend of her family, “there’s no need to stand on ceremony between us!”
Marduk allowed his curiosity to emanate. It was natural, after all, to wonder at the purpose for this unexpected visit and it helped him to conceal from Namtar the affection that a real uncle might have felt.
He’d known the princess since her birth. She’d gone from a wild brat, digging holes in the throne room savannah, to the graceful aristocrat now standing before him.
She nodded at the banker. “Namtar, isn’t it?”
Surprise and pleasure leaking past the conditioning.
Bankers were a barely tolerated class and they were usually kept at arm’s length from the nobles by intermediaries. Sometimes, with great lords or monarchs, a noble such as Marduk was that intermediary and, usually, he was the limit of the guild’s direct interaction with the upper class of the HQE.
And here was the second-highest-ranking Quailu in the entire empire, addressing him by name.
“You come with concerns, yes?’ she asked.
Namtar nodded in assent, apparently unsure whether he was meant to explain those concerns to the princess.
“As I’m sure Marduk has already explained,” Tashmitum continued before he could speak, “risks to current engagements are minimal and more than offset by all this…” She waved to indicate the flow of barges.
“Wars are brewing out there,” she assured him, “and that means new ships, devastated planets, new administrations, infrastructure restoration contracts…” She smiled at Namtar. “Regime changes don’t come cheap. You’ll have half the lords of the empire in your debt before the dust finally settles.”
“Indeed, Highness.” Namtar inclined his head.
Slight consternation. Had something been inadvertently conceded by his agreement?
Marduk forced himself to focus on the cost of post-war reconstruction. He couldn’t dwell on how easily she’d slipped past the guild’s emotional conditioning. “I’m glad to hear we’re all in agreement!”
Before Namtar could respond, Tashmitum stepped forward, linking her arm into Marduk’s. “I apologize for my rudeness,” she said to the banker, “but I have an urgent personal matter to discuss with my uncle. Would you please excuse us?”
The banker bowed deeply before returning, slowly, to his barge. One didn’t move quickly when a royal and her Varangians were nearby.
The guild barge pulled away and Marduk relaxed his mind. “That saved me an hour of uncomfortable conversation.”
She smiled, feeling his approval. “It’s time I started earning my keep. I’d come here looking for you because I want to take a more active role at court. I saw the guild representative and assumed, correctly I hope, that you’d like to see him off.”
“You assumed correctly,” he assured her, “but this is a dangerous time to be stepping into court politics.”
“It’s exactly the right time to step in,” she countered. “You need someone to represent the imperial family and my father, if we could even drag him out of seclusion, would likely prove counterproductive. I understand the subtext of what’s happening right now, without his… preconceptions.
“Your efforts, after all, concentrate on nurturing enough votes to secure my ascension to the throne. I need to be a known quantity. The other nobles need to have confidence in my abilities if they’re going to elect me.”
“You’re right,” he admitted with a sigh. It was a day he knew would come, but he didn’t relish the idea of putting her at risk.
She could feel that and she put a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Uncle. I’ll avoid unnecessary risks.”
He prayed, fervently, that she would.
Damage Control
E th stifled a yawn. They’d been up all night supervising the growing of a ladder column between the engineering levels and they’d still need to run an isolated damage-control exercise before sacking out.
He didn’t notice the engineering petty officer until he was talking in his ear.
“We’ll be putting all this back the way it should be,” the PO hissed, “as soon as we get you off the ship, which will be sooner than you think!” He gave Eth a shove sideways.
The Quailu may not be good runners or climbers but they had a heavy base and a low center of gravity. They excelled at wrestling and Eth was easily thrown off balance.
That didn’t mean his reflexes were on vacation. He rebounded off a stanchion and drove back in, hammering the heel of his palm against the upper right side of his opponent’s abdomen.
The petty officer vomited explosively, his primary stomach chamber compressed by the sudden impact to its governing nerve cluster.
And then Mishak walked into the compartment with the master and his mate.
The PO drew painfully erect, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve but he still looked very pleased with himself.
So this was the plan.
Eth should have paid closer attention to the heightened tensions between the two species in the engineering department. If the PO felt the Humans were only temporary, then his Quailu subordinates would pick up on his attitude and echo his hostility.
Taking a punch in the gut probably wasn’t what he’d had in mind, though. He’d probably just intended to put Eth into an angry, unstable state of mind before Mishak arrived, showing their lord how unsuitable Humans were for ‘proper’ military service. That should have put an end to this farce.
Should…
“Warrant Eth,” Mishak gave him a friendly nod. “You look like a walking corpse! How long have you been awake?”
“Just long enough, I hope, Lord.”
Mishak looked over to the petty officer. “Whenever you’re ready, PO.”
The engineering NCO was thoroughly thrown off course. He’d picked up on the easy familiarity between the Human and his lord and it was more than enough to scare and confuse him.
He composed himself and activated two test-screens. Each corresponded to one of the Humans working in engineering and to their likenesses in a small holographic display of the course.
“Why is this test only being run with Humans?” Mishak asked, startling the petty officer who’d been about to initiate the alarm.
“Sire?”
“Have one of your Quailu crewmembers line up as well. Let’s see what the real differences are, if there actually are any, that is.”
Eth didn’t need Quailu empathic abilities to see how uncomfortable the PO was getting.
“Allatu!” He opened another tracking screen as the female Quailu stepped forward.
“Oh, hells no!” Oliv turned to Noa. “Switch places. I want a piece of her. She’s been stealing my calibrators…”
“Quiet!” the PO snapped, a little louder than one might expect.
Without another word, he activated the exercise and an alarm sounded, indicating a shunt rupture, two decks above. A secondary chime underplayed the alarm, identifying it as a drill.
Allatu was the first to start moving, shoving Noa to the side as she raced for the exit. With a curse, Oliv bounded over to the ladder, stopping to shoot a glare at Noa before scrambling up and out of sight.
Noa was running before his Quailu crewmate was out of the compartment but he’d have a tough race.
The Quailu might not be built for climbing but they had an extra joint in their legs. Allatu had roughly twenty centimeters more leg than Noa and it gave her more speed in the long run. Noa was pulling up on her, but Allatu would quickly reach full speed and then she’d start to out-distance him as they made their way around the wide, corkscrewing companionway that linked the decks.
They were just a quarter of the way through the first circle when Oliv passed the first deck. Noa had almost caught up to his opponent. By the time they’d made it half-way to the first deck, Allatu was beginning to pull away from Noa but Oliv was already stepping off the ladder and onto the target deck. She raced over to the affected module, located suspiciously far from the ladder but very close to the ramp, and touched the control panel, locking in her time.
It seemed to take forever for Noa and Allatu to reach their destination.
“Unless I’m missing something, the idea of using ladders on ships with Human crewmembers has already proven itself.” Mishak turned an innocently inquiring gaze on the petty officer. “Oliv would have effected the necessary repairs while others are still rushing to reach the damage. In combat, the ability to get our weapons back online or restore maneuver means the difference between victory and defeat.”
Noa and Allatu reached Oliv and it looked as though Allatu gave Noa another shove. A light shove, which could mean either aggression or joking around. Eth wasn’t sure which.
“Pass the coding for these ladder columns to our other ships,” Mishak told the master. “I have a similar contingent of Humans for each vessel undergoing the necessary memory implants. This represents a potential advantage for us, so keep it quiet.”
He nodded to Eth, a very Human gesture, and then tilted his head, looking at him intently for a moment.
Eth felt mildly guilty. He’d been thinking 0f how he missed the freedom of his old raiding life. The walls of this ship were starting to close in on him and he was pretty sure his fellow Humans felt the same.
He didn’t want Mishak to sense his feelings and think he was ungrateful for all he’d done.
Mishak made no comment. He simply led the master and master’s mate out of the compartment, leaving Eth and the PO.
Eth turned to the confused petty officer. “Who did you think signed my warrant?” he asked. “Only a noble of the first rank can do that and we only have one here at Kish. Did you really think he was unaware he’d freed us and given me my rank?”
He stepped in closer, quickly and without warning, backing the engineering team-leader up against a bulkhead. He jabbed a finger into the still-tender abdomen. “That’s nothing compared to the beating I’ll give you if you harass my people,” he hissed.
“You can’t…” he stopped in shock as Eth slapped him hard, rattling all three rows of teeth.
“You’re thinking of complaining,” Eth continued. “I don’t need your abilities to see that. Let me walk you through how that’s going to work out for you. First – you’ll be the laughing stock of the empire for claiming a native, your superior, has been slapping you around. Second – no military codes have been breached so our lord will simply laugh at you, assuming he doesn’t have you removed for incompetence.”
He pointed a finger in his face, causing the Quailu to flinch backwards, bumping his head against the carbon bulkhead with a dull thud. “I’d better not hear about any problems from your team. Is that clear?”
“You won’t.” The reply was sullen but at least it was an affirmative.
Without another word, Eth turned and left the compartment. He took a series of deep breaths as he walked. His fingers were flexing repeatedly.
Despite being reasonably certain how his aggressive display would be received, he’d been up against forty-thousand years of tradition and conditioning. To threaten a Quailu was almost unthinkable and, yet, he’d done deliberate harm to three of them since coming aboard. He knew there had been no other alternative but that still didn’t mitigate the adrenaline racing through his veins or the almost supernatural fear of retribution.
If he merely knuckled under to every Quailu he met, he would prove his team incapable of effectively serving on this ship. He didn’t want to repay Mishak’s confidence with failure.
He stopped walking, staring down the curving hallway in surprise. Hiding deep inside, under all the fear, was something else, something exciting and disturbing.
He’d enjoyed dominating the handler. He’d enjoyed the fear in the PO’s eyes. A rush of power suddenly washed over him, drowning the fears.
He resumed walking, a grin ghosting his features.
The Old Goat
M ishak led the way into the ready-room, heading for the seat where he’d left several unclassified projections up. It was clearly his seat but it was exactly like the other nineteen seats around the large oval table.
He waved the projections away and waited for his father to choose a seat. Mishak had made it clear where he’d been sitting but Sandrak frowned at the oval of chairs.
Ordinarily, he’d take Mishak’s place in accordance with an overlord’s prerogative. It was often waived between father and son but Sandrak would never dream of such a courtesy. He took every chance to remind his son who was in command.
To make him give up one of twenty identical seats simply because he’d been using it would have simply looked petty. He dropped into the nearest chair and Mishak sat as well, carefully ignoring the small triumph lest it be picked up by his father.
“When will you be ready to depart for your uncle’s holdings?”
“Soon, Lord. I’m receiving the last group of Humans from the training center in two days.”
“How many in total?”
Mishak resisted the urge to confirm the number on a screen. His father had a way of making him doubt his grasp of any situation. “A little under three thousand.”
