Vorpal Blade

28

“Oh, hell no,” Captain Blankemeier said. “One ship. Twenty Marines. And that’s what’s left. Have you seen Dr. Robertson’s report?”

“No, sir,” Weaver said. “I haven’t downloaded recently.”

The humans had, quite reasonably from the queen’s perspective, asked for time to communicate with their commander. They’d been led to a room that appeared to be immune to eavesdropping for their colloquy. Miller and Top had checked it out and found two “sound holes” hidden behind tapestries. On the other hand, everyone in the group could subvocalize so they did.

“That Demon claw? It’s an advanced composite that’s going to cut through Wyvern armor. Not quite like butter, but it’s gonna cut it. Not to mention—”

“Steel, sir,” Bill said. “Damn. Sir, the point is, if we make a treaty of mutual respect and admiration then just leave, there’s not going to be a government to come back to.”

“And we’re unlikely to be able to stop that,” Captain MacDonald said. “Not with my Marines. I’ve seen the tapestry, Commander Weaver. That looks one hell of a lot like a Dreen wave, even if they’re not Dreen.”

“Sir, I’m arguing for reasons other than just knight errant, I assure you,” Commander Weaver said. “I think, though, that I need to express them in person.”

“Very well, Commander,” the captain said. “Tell the powers that be that their request is under consideration and return to the ship. Bring the first sergeant with you.”

“If I may, sir,” Captain MacDonald interjected. “I’m going to send a replacement team for Two Charlie from Third. They can bring supplies for Miss Moon and Chief Miller.”

“Any advance on the bio side, sir?” Miller asked. “Is any of this food safe to eat?”

“I don’t think Dr. Robertson has had time to check,” the CO said. “I’ll ask if there’s any way to advance that. In the meantime, stick with MREs, Chief Miller.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Commander Weaver,” the CO said. “When you get back here you’d better have a pretty compelling argument why I should risk the only starship the Alliance has on what looks to me like a forlorn hope. If not, we’re going to stay here no more than seventy-two hours, complete our survey and then head for Earth with the information.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Vorpal Blade, out.”

“And do you have a compelling argument, sir?” the first sergeant asked.

“I don’t know,” the commander admitted. “But I sure hope so.”

“Then remember what I said about negotiation,” Top replied, smiling. “It works with commanders, too, Commander.”

“You sound as if you want to stay and fight,” Commander Weaver said.

“Don’t have a dog in that fight, sir,” the first sergeant said.

“If anyone does, it’s the Marines,” Commander Weaver argued.

“If I worried about where I was going to be tomorrow, or whether being there was going to get me into a fight, or killed, I would have gotten out of this job a long time ago, sir,” Top said. “Stay or go, that’s a discussion for you and the CO and the Old Man, sir. Don’t care one way or the other. A Marine goes where ordered and faithfully performs his duties. That’s the whole point of the motto, sir.”

“Okay, now I’ve seen some weird maulk…” Runner said.

“Like armored crab octopuses?” Staff Sergeant Kristopher said. “Or are you talking about shipwrecking gravity waves? Or regions of space that cause up to be down and right to be up? Or maybe partially terraformed worlds? Layers of oil in gas giants?”

“All of that,” Runner said. “And it’s not exactly oil but… Oh, never mind. Damn, I wish Dr. Dean was here—”

“What is it?” Kristopher asked, walking over to the master sergeant’s station.

“Seismic activity,” Runner said, pointing. “Okay, P waves from a distant earthquake. Deep one, too. Surface quakes in mountain ranges, got that. Got some S waves coming from that mountain range east of here. This is probably that big-ass volcano we saw…

“But this is what’s getting me,” he continued, pointing at a series of small indicators and zooming in on them. “They’re pinpointed near that big rock. And they appear to be moving, slowly. They’re real faint, though.”

“What the grapp?” Kristopher said. “I’ve seen something like that before…”

“I’m glad you have, cause it’s got me stumped,” Runner said. “Where?”

“I cannot for the life of me remember,” Kristopher said. “I seem to remember being told to filter it out. But I can’t remember where or why. But it wasn’t any big deal, I remember that.”

“Oh, great,” Runner said. “On Earth it’s no big deal. Well, I’m going to kick it up to Dr. Beach.”

“I don’t recognize it,” Dr. Beach said, frowning. “It’s certainly interesting, isn’t it? But it’s not at a level that would normally be called seismic. It almost looks like truck traffic.”

“Frequency is wrong,” Runner said, bringing up a pop-up and sorting through the list of known low-impact seismic events. “This is truck traffic. Low-frequency rumble. It’s close to small-tube magma movement. This… I don’t have anything like it.”

“Too bad we lost Dr. Dean,” Dr. Beach said. “I know you didn’t get along, but—”

“I tried to stop him from going that way, Doctor,” Runner said. “It was a professional failure on my part that he died. And I also recognized that we needed him. This is only one example. That hill over there is another. I keep thinking that if I could figure out how a basolith appeared without any secondary indicators I could determine what this is. But neither of them make sense.”

“Keep an eye on it,” Dr. Beach said. “If it is some sort of slowly moving mini-fault, we don’t want any damage to the ship.”

“Especially since the nearest rumble is less than a kilometer away.”

“Tough day, Weaver?” the CO asked as Commander Weaver entered his office. Weaver had thrown on his uniform over his blacksuit but his hair was still plastered with sweat.

“Long one, at least,” Weaver said. “I hated leaving Miller behind. He’s like a right arm.”

“So I’d like your argument for staying,” the CO said. “I feel I owe you that. But be aware that I’m pretty much set on leaving and letting D.C. decide. Among other things, I feel it’s over my paygrade to set up long-term treaties.”

“Understood, sir,” Bill said, rubbing his forehead. “My first argument is the one that I stated. The records of these people indicate that demon break-outs tend to occur when they get too advanced or something along those lines. Maybe population density. They don’t know what causes it and we don’t either. But they’re here, now, and if we make a treaty with this group and then leave it’s a waste of paper. They won’t be here when we get back.”

“Got that one,” the CO said. “And while I feel for them—”

“There’s a PR aspect, sir,” Weaver said, frowning. “Even in the black community. These guys are cute. If we cut and run and leave the poor little rodents to be eaten by demons… Sir, that’s going to look like maulk. Especially if we run without so much as contact with the demons. ‘Oooh, big bad Vorpal Blade is scared of some widdew demons?’ I’m not saying that should be a factor that causes you to accept casualties, but it’s a factor. One I only thought about on the walk back. And when we do, eventually, go white… It’s gonna look even worse. Especially since we or somebody will be back and see the aftermath.”

“So you’re saying I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t,” Spectre said. “That I can lose my career fighting a pointless battle and losing troops or by cutting and running and letting the poor little chinchillas die.”

“Taking Miss Miriam as a pool of the eventual white PR reaction, sir,” Weaver said, “I would guess ‘crucified’ is more likely in the latter case.”

“Great,” Spectre said. “But there’s a better reason, I hope?”

“There are too many questions, sir,” Weaver said. “And I’m not talking about pure curiosity, here. I’m talking about things that are just bugging the maulk out of me. The boards. Where in the hell do they come from? They are tech that is advanced on Adar. I’ve tried the one we’ve got out and they really do seem to read your mind. And we’re not even Cheerick! I want some more just so we monkeys can tear them apart and be baffled. The Demons. I’d say they are some sort of created species, like the Dreen, but very focused. What is their purpose? How are they created? Where are they created? If we leave and come back after this society is destroyed, we’re just going to have to start all over again. And we’ll need to find one that is just about as advanced to have any luck with using local support. Even if we go back just to ask for reinforcements, we’re going to get held up. Committees, commissions, boards, every idiot in the black community, and they are numerous, sir, trust me, is going to want to add to the reports and recommendations. State is going to get involved and that means two months of reports going back and forth for addendum and amendment.

“Right here, right now, sir, you have more authority than any captain since the sailing days. Go back and it’s going to be two generals and an admiral arguing over sandwiches. Maybe at far remove they can make a better decision, sir, but by the time they decide to come back, maybe with more firepower, it’s going to be too late. Those are my arguments, sir.”

“And more responsibility than any CO in history,” Spectre said. “This is the only spaceship we have, as I have repeatedly pointed out. If these Demons are bad as they seem, we could lose it.”

“Not… if it’s off the ground, sir,” Bill said. “At least, it reduces the likelihood.”

“Take off and hold in orbit?” Spectre said. “Drop down to replace troops from time to time?”

“Yes, sir,” Bill replied. “Actually, it’s not really necessary to get into geosynch. It actually won’t even be an orbit. It is more like a hover in the region of the atmosphere known as near space. It will require continuous piloting to keep the ship over Cheerick City, but it can be done. You could even stay lower in atmosphere than near space but then it really is like flying in the wind. Commo shouldn’t be a big problem as we’ll only be at altitudes a little higher than a U2 flies. High data rate commo might require a better ground station though.”

“Leave one platoon on the ground,” the CO said, nodding. “If they need support, we can drop anywhere to provide it.”

“And you can engage with the lasers, sir,” Bill pointed out. “Those will stop an assault of Demons, sir. They’re designed to take out ships.”

“ ’Fire phasers from orbit, Chekhov,’ ” Spectre intoned. “Heh. Let me think about it, Weaver, but those are all cogent points. Dismissed. And get a shower.”

“Yes, sir,” Weaver said, grinning.

“We’ve had the distillers running full time, so go ahead and get a Hollywood shower,” the CO said, referring to just letting the water run. Normally, a shower was spray on water, soap, rinse.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Jesus Christ,” Guppy said as soon as the three exhausted Marines entered the compartment. “You heard about these grapping Demons, right?”

“I’ve been following Commander Weaver around for the last sixteen hours,” Jaen said, hopping in his rack and stripping off his skins. “But we weren’t exactly privy to the discussions.”

“That Adar down in engineering’s trying to figure out what the claws are made out of,” Seeley said, rolling over. “But they tested it on a piece of grapped up Wyvern armor and it cut right through it. Not easy or anything, but it could cut right through it.”

“Fine, we do our survey and then get the grapp out,” Berg said, rolling into his own rack and slipping his skinsuit into a bag with a nannie pack.

“The Cheerick asked if we’d stay and help them,” Seeley said. “Captain MacDonald’s against it. There’s not enough of us left for one thing. But Captain Blankemeier has the final word. Commander Weaver’s meeting with him right now.”

“What’s he think?” Berg asked.

“I think he’s supporting staying,” Seeley said. “I only got what I’ve got from Pearson.” The latter was the CO’s radioman and could occasionally pick up solid info, “straight poop,” instead of the rumor that was the normal stuff of the bay.

“I think he’s off my Christmas card list,” Hatt said, lacing his fingers behind his head. “We took enough of a beating on Runner’s World. He’s probably got an argument for it, but… I’m about ready to get back to the World and chill. Hell, even on deployment you’ve got more security than we do doing this maulk.”

“We’re Marines,” Sergeant Jaenisch said. “We go where the CO says and we kill whatever the CO tells us to kill. And that’s pretty much the deal.”

“Semper Grapping Fi, Sergeant,” Hatt said. “In that case, I’m gonna get some rest. Because, you know, the CO might decide we need to fight an army of unstoppable Demons tomorrow.”

“In which case we say ‘Aye-aye’ and we kill Demons,” Jaen said. “End of story.”

“We’re staying,” the CO said, looking around at the gathered scientists and officers. “Sort of. Commander Weaver had several cogent arguments to advance. But we’re not going to be stupid about it. We’ve got the materials to set up a base camp. As soon as that is installed, we’re going to lift the ship and hold it in near space. Designated science personnel and a platoon of Marines will stay groundside to secure the survey. In the event of Demon attack, we will assess the possibility of being of use to the locals. If we cannot do anything about it, we will pick up all personnel and leave. However, as Commander Weaver pointed out, we have lasers on this ship. Those, right there, should be able to stop a Demon assault wave. We’ll have Miss Moon request a basing area near the palace. That will permit us to support to the last moment. Captain MacDonald? Comments?”

“Works for me, sir,” MacDonald said, nodding. “I don’t want to lose more Marines, obviously, but on the other hand… Hell, sir, I hate to run from a fight.”

“Oorah,” the first sergeant said.

“XO?”

“Escape from Saigon if it comes to it,” the XO said, nodding. “Let’s hope nobody gets photos this time.” The pictures of helicopters picking up the last personnel from the American embassy in Saigon were some of the worst from a PR perspective of the entire war.

“We can, quite literally, do the same thing with this boat,” the CO pointed out. “One day to get negotiations done and then we’ll drop the materials for the base. Captain MacDonald, you will remain on the ground. We’ll drop from time to time to rotate the platoon.”

“Yes, sir,” MacDonald said.

“We will remain for no more than two weeks,” the CO said. “We don’t have consumables for more. Dr. Chet?”

“Yes, Captain,” the doctor rumbled.

“I understand that you took over food testing from bio,” the CO said. “Any advances?”

“Oh, many,” Dr. Chet said. “So far, most of the foods I’ve found are consumable by animals. They have no useable vitamins in them, but they have many of the same sugars and peptides as Earth foods. There is one problem, though. There is a possibility of long-term side effects. I would not suggest permitting the food to be eaten without widespread testing. Food allergies is another issue. Those, however, can be dealt with. Things like prions cannot. If food is eaten, I would suggest that people stick to the grains and fruits. Less possibility of prion poisoning. Miss Moon has reported eating some of the fruit that I cleared with no ill effects. And she is… finicky.”

“Tell her next time to ask me first,” the CO said. “Okay, come up with a list of acceptable consumables. We can get protein and sugars from them, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Chet said. “All the same amino acids as Earth and the same simple sugars. Benefits of a Type One biosphere. And they, of course, can eat us. But no vitamins. At least, none that I’ve found so far.”

“XO, if we take on local foodstuffs, how long can we stay?”

“Until we run out of parts, sir,” the XO said. “About two months at a guess. Depends on what breaks first. And there’s always duct tape. The sub service proverbially runs on duct tape.”

“We’re due back on Earth before then,” the CO said. “And we don’t want to be overdue. It would cause too much concern. Very well, prepare to drop a ground base. See if we can get some cleared fruits at least. Some fresh food would be welcome.”

“I’ll coordinate with Miss Moon on both, sir,” Captain MacDonald said.

“Anything else we need to discuss?” the CO asked, looking around. “Commander Weaver, head back to the palace and pass on the plan. Let’s get cracking.”

“No indicators of Demon activity?” Lieutenant Souza said.

The ship did have one intel specialist, a Navy seaman who had been compiling all the information about the Demons that was available. Jeff Waggoner had been a very busy boy.

“No, sir,” the seaman said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. With his crewcut and large ears his head looked like nothing so much as a giant vase. The Coke-bottle glasses and tiny office scattered with paper simply completed the look that defined the “Intel Geek.” “I’ve only got two indicators of Demon activity and those distant from our position. Our sector appears to be clear of Demon activity at this time, sir.”

“So the boat should be clear of Demon activity for at least two days?” Lieutenant Souza said.

“Unless indicators change radically, yes, sir,” Waggoner said, pushing his glasses back up.

“Commander Beeel is a male?” Lady Che-chee asked.

She had returned to Court shortly after the first meeting and after a brief meeting with the queen had become the primary liaison with the humans. In that role, she was trying to impart some aspects of Cheerick society on Miriam while being shocked and dismayed in what she was discovering about humans.

“Why, yes,” Miriam said. “Most of our military is male. There are females in it, many, and some of them of fairly high level. But it is still a primarily male profession. When we were in the islands we encountered an all-male party and your son is a warrior, isn’t he?”

“Well, yes,” Lady Che-chee said. “But he’s a warrior. He will never be a commander! Males are far too flighty. I mean, look at his silly display when you landed! I had come to understand you were a female and your bodyguard is a male, but I thought that natural.”

“What are you talking about?” Chief Warrant Officer Miller asked.

“Male-female relationships in Cheerick society,” Miriam said delicately, then turned back to Lady Che-chee. “Chief Miller is a bit more than my bodyguard. I know nothing about war and would not begin to think I do. He is not only a very famous warrior on our planet but one of the ship’s senior advisers on ground combat. The Commander Weaver is a male, the ship’s captain, Captain Blankemeier is a male, and even the person I referred to as our queen is, in fact, a male. For now. It is possible that the next will be a female. We rotate our highest position every four years.”

“How do they learn their jobs?” Lady Che-chee asked, aghast. “It takes at least that long for a queen to become accustomed to her position! Most of her decisions in her first four years are awful if she doesn’t listen to her advisers.”

“They serve in lesser capacities prior to that job,” Miriam said. “And… they are not born to it. They are chosen by the full body of the citizens in a process called democracy. They contest for the job and then are voted upon.”

“So they, too, are warriors,” Lady Che-chee said. “The best warrior is not necessarily the best leader, miss.”

“Clarification,” Miriam said, grinning. “They don’t physically fight for it. They give speeches, participate in debates, things like that. Some have been, as you would call it, warriors, others not.”

“Your society is very confusing,” Lady Che-chee said.

“As is yours,” Miriam said. “So only females can be leaders?”

“Once they pass through the Change, yes,” Lady Che-chee said. “Before that, they are Breeders. Only Mothers can be leaders.”

“The Change?” Miriam asked.

“Young females are only Breeders,” Lady Che-chee said. “We are… very dumb. They can barely speak, but when you are a Breeder you hear and remember much. Families such as mine, in fact, instruct their Breeders despite the fact that at the time they understand very little. Then when we stop breeding, we go through the Change. It’s a very strange time. Suddenly, things begin making sense. Or make less sense. It is said there is nothing more intelligent than a Mother just post-Change nor more stupid. I know that was how I was. My Mother was a Lady of a small farm, my father a priest. I was instructed in many arts as a Breeder but didn’t understand them until I passed the Change. There was no position for me so my Mother obtained a commission for me in the queen’s forces. All of my lands accrued from my service with the queen and other positions I took over the years. But all of that was after the Change.”

“And your son?” Miriam asked.

“He was kept by my Mother and father until he grew large enough to obtain a commission as well,” Lady Che-chee said. “By then I was a general and prepared to retire. He has been posted to one of the cavalry regiments. That was shortly before I purchased the estates. He is a sheshar, a junior cavalryman. Most of the soldiers are males, the officers are all Mothers. I know of only two males considered both wise enough and fierce enough to be officers and they are both very low rank. Good fellows, but not someone you’d make a general.”

“I see,” Miriam said, trying not to grin.

“Okay, I need some of that translated, obviously,” Miller said. “I can tell when there’s something somebody doesn’t want to tell me.”

“It’s sort of complicated,” Miriam said, still trying not to grin.