Warlord of the Spinward Reaches, page 7
Usupov had an advisor on each side, but they paled in comparison to the strength of character etched on the Chief’s face. Aibek and the other chief sat off to one side. Not quite ostracized, but not trusted. Isann guards across the back wall watched them as much as him.
Uly watched the Isann study all the alien women, including Dan, eyes filled with wonder more than rage. That was good. It suggested that they were explorers, rather than raiders, at least in the current culture.
Tomorrow might change. And it might not.
“What is out there?” Usupov asked quietly. “We have heard tales, but nothing…”
His voice trailed off, possibly mesmerized by Nasrin’s tentacles tasting the air. She was like that.
“Many species, Chief of Chiefs,” Uly assured him. “Many peoples. My birthworld is nearly a thousand times as far as we traveled here from Bastion to meet you. And my crew only represents a fraction of the species I have heard about from others, because Humans, like Isann, have lived sheltered in darkness for so long.”
Usupov studied Uly’s face. And Dan’s. Possibly the closest to Isann physically.
And yet.
“What trade do you bring?” he finally asked.
“Tales of distant travelers,” Suka Kuri interjected before Uly could do more than draw a breath. “Inspiration to draw your chiefs out to explore that which is. This is a dark sector of the galaxy, hardly inhabited in the current era, but once, it sang with the lights and songs of many worlds. So the Karaŋgılıkka tells us.”
Uly nodded, not quite certain what she’d said, but it certainly hit them like a magical incantation. Or smack upside the head.
“Thus are our tales,” he nodded, then turned to Aibek. “What did you see?”
Uly listened to Aibek give a pretty good rundown of the sail in, the time spent scouting the moorage, looking for a target they could cut out and flee with, filled to the gills with valuable supplies.
Uly was sorry that Haydar missed this part of the story, because Aibek and his friends had thought that they had secured their communications safely before attacking. Maybe they had, for the Isann.
Nobody had warned them about grumbly Mazhin pirate scientists.
“At that moment, I was the only ship not tumbling through space and bleeding atmosphere, Chief of Chiefs,” Aibek continued. “We surrendered and were taken prisoner by Commander Chastain and her team, then transported to the ship. Then here.”
Uly noted that he hadn’t said home. Fellow wasn’t certain if he’d returned a stranger. And they had that cultural note fused deep into their psyche.
“Why did you bring them home, Corsac Fox?” Usupov asked.
“I wanted to talk to you, Chief of Chiefs,” Uly replied. “To do that, I needed you to listen. Bringing you a gift of these sailors was the beginning, because it caused you to talk instead of fight. I could have annihilated this station and conquered this system without much effort, but why?”
The fellow blinked. Aibek simply nodded knowingly, but Suka Kuri had explained that he was the Isann furthest along the path of understanding. The others would get there, given time.
“What will you do?” Usupov asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
“Invite your ships to come to Bastion to trade, Chief of Chiefs,” Uly smiled. “Suka Kuri seeks a physical copy of the Karaŋgılıkka that she might translate into our tongue, that all sailors might come to know Zamir Aytiev and his descendants. Once we have become friends, I intend to sail deeper into the darkness behind you to see who else might yet lurk in those shadows.”
Uly wasn’t prepared for the way all of the Isann flinched when he said that. Like maybe there was a dragon in there, and these folks didn’t want it awakened?
He watched them as they grew restless. Even Aibek had flinched.
“Chief of Chiefs, Uly seeks answers to the Yarikh,” Suka Kuri spoke up now. “This was their realm, long before the Karaŋgılıkka spoke of Zamir Aytiev.”
Their muttering took on religious tones now. Batyr didn’t worship any false gods, seeking to create a New Humanity that grew more advanced with every generation, but Danumash was often god-bothered by ancient pantheons worshiped by farmers and shepherds.
This had that look.
“Who is out there?” Uly asked pointedly, ignoring the Chief of Chiefs to focus on Aibek Sulaymanov.
Aibek licked his lips like any answer might get him tortured. It was almost a different person sitting there in the last thirty seconds.
He muttered something that Uly didn’t understand. Suka Kuri did, because she answered him, causing the other Isann to flinch even worse.
A conversation ensued, entirely in Isann. And a good one, from the way Aibek grew heated and Suka Kuri disdainful, if anything. The rest of the room were reduced to spectators.
Finally, Aibek hung his head.
“You are correct, Elder,” he said, switching back to Standard. “We are superstitious fools. In our defense, the Karaŋgılıkka makes that easy. And the most adventurous of us went to Bastion and got crushed by a true monster.”
Uly watched the man smile wryly, looking back.
Uly didn’t think of himself as a monster, but he supposed he’d been having a bad day that morning, and they’d decided to try his patience.
“The Karaŋgılıkka talks of systems and planets guarded by terrible beasts, Uly,” Suka Kuri explained. “Most of the systems in the darkness coreward show ruins, but no people, and there are tales of them being haunted by the ancestors who once lived there.”
“Is Bastion on a safe corridor?” he asked, turning to the woman who knelt next to him.
“You establishing Bastion might actually fit into their legends as the hero who quests to slay such things,” she said with a deadly seriousness that was rare from the woman.
He considered her worlds. And the implications. Suka Kuri had told him bits and pieces of the things she’d gotten from Aibek and the others, but obviously not as much as she’d learned herself.
Then he circled long ways back in his mind, focusing instead on Chief Usupov.
“Where did the Yarikh live?” he asked simply, ignoring everyone else in the room.
Usupov was not immune to dread or superstition. He chewed his lips as he considered his answer.
“You come from the south, as it might be mapped,” Usupov finally replied. “According to legends, the Yarikh lived in the north. Deeper into the darkness, as you have described it, coming from a land of lights. Ships that have explored that direction either found nothing at all or they never returned with their tales.”
“Suggesting monsters,” Suka Kuri offered. “Or others even less interested in trade and communications with outsiders.”
Uly nodded. He turned to Aibek and speared that one with a look.
“Have you explored any in that direction, Chief Sulaymanov?” Uly asked.
“Some,” Aibek admitted. “As Suka Kuri said, many worlds harbor nothing but ruins. And possibly ghosts.”
“Could I convince you to travel with us while we go investigate them?” Uly asked, turning the conversation on its head.
“What would you expect to find?” Aibek replied.
“Monsters, maybe,” Uly nodded. “Or strangers. Your ships are small and primitive compared to mine. Perhaps we will be strong enough to see them off.”
“Just like that?” Aibek asked, nervous.
“I want to know,” Uly said. “The others chose me to Speak for them, so they will follow where I lead. Will you?”
He paused, waiting and watching as all the Isann went back and forth in their heads. Superstitious, as Suka Kuri had said, but also bound by the cultural demands that being the descendants of Zamir Aytiev placed on them.
He was a hero who had sailed into darkness. The others would have to match that legend or admit defeat. Admit cowardice.
Uly simply wanted to know. Wanted to understand if there was some terrible dragon or quiet empire hiding back there, where they might trap Bastion between them and the eventual arrival of the Auga.
Aibek turned to Usupov, and some unspoken conversation flowed between them.
“I will go,” Aibek nodded. “If the Chief of Chiefs will allow it. I will remind you that I am a pirate and a prisoner at present.”
And smiling as he said such things, but they had long moved past simply locking these sailors up for their crimes.
“Yet you would have him?” Usupov asked. “Trust him?”
“You are the sons of Zamir Aytiev, Chief of Chiefs,” Uly nodded. “I welcome him and whoever else might wish to challenge that darkness at my side.”
VATAZHKO
NINETEEN
Maks was enjoying being the governor of Bastion, but still wished that Uly would get home soon. Every day, he made decisions that were tiny in stature and implications, but would be adding up to something eventually.
Hopefully, something Uly would approve of, but it was kinda going to be out of his hands by then.
Maks would have to own everything on that day.
And Uly had taken all of his people with him, so the folks making decisions were almost all Ononguli. One of them rapped on his office hatch, then slipped in.
Maks slid his tablet to one side and looked at the man who was his principle aide. Taras Bondarenko. Possibly the most important spy reporting to someone else, but likely that was Chervonya or Anna, so either Maks was relatively safe, or utterly screwed.
At least he had developed a much finer appreciation of Lukyan and his Tuesday superstitions.
“Got a moment?” Taras asked.
Maks pointed him to the open chair across the desk. He’d moved into the space that should have been Uly’s. Or somebody’s.
Conductor of the station, and thus Governor of the system. More or less.
“What’s up?” Maks asked.
“Chervonya Borisov asked if she could steal a half hour of your time this afternoon,” Taras nodded, horns waving. “You’ve got space now, but I wanted to check before opening the hatch and admitting her.”
Maks considered his day. Not a Tuesday. At least as far as he knew.
“Sure, Taras,” Maks replied. “Anything that can’t be pushed out to tomorrow if necessary?”
“Couple of supply ships are due shortly,” Taras said. “You’ll want to touch their manifests as soon as I get them, because we’re running low on a few things and will need to send a courier or something if they don’t have it.”
“Understood,” Maks said. “She outside waiting?”
“She is,” Taras stood. “I’ll send her in.”
“Send some coffee with her,” Maks said. “Feels like that kind of afternoon.”
“You got it, boss.”
Maks watched the hatch close and drew a heavy breath, wondering what Chervonya might be up to that she needed a sudden meeting.
He doubted that she’d decided to pop in and say hello. Not that he’d mind, because she was a beautiful woman who was smarter than he was and an interesting conversationalist.
She was still Anna’s niece, and probably almost as dangerous.
The flirting was only flirting because he wasn’t gruff or solemn around her, not because he had anything behind it.
didn’t want to get punched in the mouth. And then knocked down and kicked.
The hatch opened and she was framed by the lights in the outer chamber. And smiling, so hopefully something good.
And had a travel mug in each hand, one of which she handed to him as she sat.
“Thank you,” he nodded, watching her.
She had a secret smile that he couldn’t parse, but there were a lot of things about the woman he didn’t understand.
Worse, they were kinda on opposite sides these days, since Uly still hadn’t signed any formal treaties with the Horde. All of this was more of a personal agreement between Uly and Anna, with both nations roped in as observers.
“How can I make your day better?” Maks asked, mostly because it caused her eyes to cross a little.
She shook her head a bit and focused on him.
“What?” Maks asked as she watched.
“I’d say you wouldn’t get it, but you might,” she replied.
“Try me,” Maks said, unprepared for the hungry look he saw in her eyes for a moment.
Then it was gone.
“I come in here, and have to remember that you’re more like Uly than the people I’m used to dealing with,” she offered instead.
“That good or bad?” he fired back.
“Good,” she answered. “You act like him in many ways. I’m so used to the Ononguli way of doing things, and you throw me off.”
“How so?” Maks asked, already confused, but that was normal with her.
Maks had long since realized that he was about as deep and complicated as a mud puddle, compared to her or her aunt. Fortunately, both of them seemed to like him.
“You really don’t get it, do you, Maks?” she countered.
Maks shrugged. Kinda an understatement around here. Especially with her.
“Maks, but for the horns and the rest, you come across more Human than anybody I know who isn’t,” Chervonya stated.
He paused and considered that. Maybe.
“I’m trying to think like Uly,” he replied. “Do things like he would, so that when he gets back, everything is as close to the way he’d have done it as I can get.”
“And you don’t understand how different that makes you from every other Ononguli—male or female—that I know?”
Maybe. Good or bad? Had Tuesday snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking? Lukyan would get it. And laugh himself silly.
“Probably not,” he admitted. “Doing a job here.”
“And doing it well,” she nodded. “Honestly, it’s almost like dealing with Uly. Good and bad, but predictable, if nothing else.”
“Then I’m succeeding at my job,” he sighed inside. “Always gotta wonder.”
She stopped and studied him closer.
“What would you do if he didn’t come back?” she asked.
“Ask Anna at what point she wants to abandon this place and sell it to the locals, or colonize it as part of the Ononguli Sphere, however distantly displaced it was. The Horde keeps getting pushed back by the Auga, and don’t really have space to expand many directions without having to absorb worlds filled with aliens, but we could limit immigration here early.”
“Why would she want that?” Chervonya asked. “Or the Horde?”
“Because Uly’s planning for centuries, in order to build up the sort of power in this corner that could stop the Auga Empire cold in ways that the Horde has never managed,” Maks said, turning serious and hearing Uly’s words come out of his mouth almost verbatim. “Might not work without Uly, but we could create something over here that might. Maybe a whole second Ononguli Sphere.”
Her mouth fell open, then she closed it by force of will, eyes going large, then slitting in concentration as she studied him.
“I’m looking forward to that conversation,” she said.
“Which one?” Maks asked, confused again.
“With Anna,” Chervonya expanded. “Laying it out for her, because she hasn’t really seen it take that form before now.”
“And you know this how?” Maks pressed.
“Because I’m her Ambassador to Bastion, Maks,” Chervonya reminded cheerfully. “And I’ve been sending notes back and forth with her on a variety of topics so that she is prepared when she gets here. Except that she was expecting Uly and will be meeting with you instead.”
“Oh?” Maks asked, frantically trying to remember what day of the week it was. “When’s she due?”
Chervonya smiled. She had perfect, comic timing, but he knew that.
“Oh, she’ll be here sometime in the next eighteen hours, according to the most recent messages I have,” she replied. “I wanted to give you a little extra warning, because neither you nor Uly will be entirely ready for this.”
Maks nodded.
He was a business partner of the Vatazhko, twice over. And some sort of aide or advisor, to have been sent out here to help supervise the construction of Watchtower Bastion, as well as manage the all-Ononguli crew.
And she’d be here by tomorrow?
“Thank you,” he told her. “That helps me plan.”
“And that, Maks Sobol, is why I like you,” she said, standing and exiting as he tried to find his jaw to reattach it so he could close his mouth from where it had fallen open.
Huh?
TWENTY
Chervonya made it back to her quarters on the ship then settled in. She enjoyed leaving Maks off-kilter. Not badly, but it helped balance the scales for what he often did to her.
Maks Sobol was simply unlike any Ononguli male she had ever met. Anywhere. And she’d read the extensive files on him when Anna had first brought him on, so she could compare that to where he was today.
And blame the Corsac Fox for all of it. Not even Lukyan Chayka got that much credit, other than he’d turned Maks into a calm First Officer and prepped him to step up when Uly had first captured Scavenger Angel, then decided to make an offering to the Horde that had somehow managed to push all of the positive buttons without triggering any of the negative ones.
Once upon a time, she’d have thought that was impossible for most Ononguli, let alone an outsider.
A year of knowing Uly had caused her to amend that belief. She could draw a line from who Maks had been a decade ago, to where he was today, to the Corsac Fox.
And Anna had hinted at certain things even she wasn’t willing to commit to written records, but she’d been expecting to find Uly here when she arrived.
Would she chase him into the interior for answers? Wait for a while and hope he returned on schedule? Return home to Rayzian without accomplishing whatever it was that had brought the Vatazhko this far from home?
The only word Chervonya could think of was momentous. Nothing less could cause the Lord of the Endless Plains herself to travel to Bastion.
And she would be here shortly.
