Defiance: (The Spiral Wars Book 4) Page 6

  “What’s your best guess at his state of mind here?”

  “I think if he’d had his way, he would have opened fire on us by now,” said Suli. “Not because it would please State Department, but because we’ve assaulted a tavalai institution, and principle demands it.”

  “By that principle,” said Erik, “he’d also have to open fire on Kanamandali.”

  “Most tavalai might find that a dilemma,” Suli replied with certainty. “Kaledramani won’t. Tavalai are allowed to squabble with tavalai. Aliens aren’t, humans in particular.”

  “So he hates humans?” Trace asked.

  “No more than most tavalai military,” said Suli. “The reports say he’s one of those tavalai who believe that in order to run the Spiral, tavalai have to whole-heartedly commit to the principle of tavalai supremacy. Most tavalai struggle with that on some level, not because they’re kind-hearted and egalitarian, but because they’re so damn procedural and bureaucratic that they can’t accept a system where some people don’t get a say. Every box on the input form must be ticked. Shilu says tavalai democracy is less about social justice than it is about the obsessive compulsion to address every detail.”

  “Huh,” said Trace.

  “Lieutenant Dale tells me that tavalai have no word for ‘hate’,” said Erik. “A hundred words for ‘annoy’, or ‘irritate’, but nothing for ‘hate’.”

  “He told you that?” Suli asked curiously.

  Erik nodded. “He said an old karasai told him, in Gamesh. Over a drink, before tavalai Fleet took them off-world.”

  “His name was Tooganam,” said Trace. “That old frog made quite an impression on Dale. So listen up, we’re going into this expecting trouble. Nothing we can do except hope that Killer Kaled remains bound enough by tavalai principle that he won’t shoot us or threaten us with torture. We’ve been told we’re not allowed any weapons, but they said nothing about armour, so we’ll take what we can get.

  “We’re allowed five in total, Commander Shahaim is the most knowledgable about Kaledramani and all that tavalai Fleet structure, so that leaves me and two marines. I picked Private Krishnan because we’ve worked together just recently, and Lance Corporal Haynes is his usual wingman in Second Squad. Captain Debogande and Commander Shahaim, please try to position yourself so that one of us marines is closer to anyone you’re speaking to than you are. We will maintain respectful distance, and if anyone gets in your face, a marine will move between you. Never accept anything handed to you until a marine has inspected it, and in the event of a hostile act, cover in place and let the marines deal with it.”

  It was all they could do, summonsed to appear on Tantotavarin with no weapons. Tavalai were rarely treacherous, so physical danger was unlikely, but State Department had already tried to kill Erik twice (that they knew of) and Captain Kaledramani threw in a new wrinkle. If he felt that Phoenix’s actions posed a significant enough threat to tavalai security, he might just feel inclined to listen to State Department’s wishes. The real question was whether Admiral Janik, representing the rebel faction of tavalai Fleet, could manage to persuade Kaledramani of State Department’s corruption first.

  Erik made a private uplink to Trace’s inner ear. A click as she answered. “That won’t be seen as favouritism, bringing Krishnan along?” he asked her. She was usually scrupulous to avoid any appearance of favouritism toward individual marines. Picking the same marine twice for close quarters escort, when that marine was not a part of her usual Command Squad force, seemed unusual.

  “Command Squad’s exhausted,” she replied. “And they’ve got a ton of work to get their suits operational again, we pretty much ruined everything on Kamala. I needed someone else I’ve worked with recently, and Krishnan fits the bill.”

  Erik might have told her she didn’t actually need to come at all, but that would have been disingenuous, because he was very glad she had. He might also have told her that if Command Squad were exhausted, it logically followed that she would be exhausted too. But he knew what she’d say in both cases, or at least what the result of such discussions would inevitably be, and even if he’d wanted to stop her, he’d be in breach of long established unwritten rules between captains and marine commanders that stated he’d do no such thing. Their relationship, perhaps, had evolved to the point where they no longer needed to drag every point of dispute into the open and beat it to death.

  “Well thanks,” he said instead. “I’d barely see Krishnan otherwise, he’s a good kid.” All three of them had shared something intense on Stoya, and whatever their ranks, such bonds lasted. Not for the first time, Erik was struck by the fundamental absurdity of rank and command. If they’d both been civilians, that experience would have marked him and Krishnan as friends for life. Here, the bond was just as profound, but to socialise would be an irresponsible abuse of protocol, exposing Krishnan to resentment from others who lacked such a powerful friend.

  “He’s told everyone about Stoya,” Trace replied, with a smile the voice-synthesiser managed to catch. “I mean everyone. Makes you sound like Master Sergeant Pan reincarnated.” Master Sergeant Pan Xinchun had been a legend of the Marine Corps from the war against the krim, and the most decorated post-Earth human soldier ever.

  Erik smiled. “Well I hope he didn’t compare my flying to Master Sergeant Pan, because I understand that like all marines, Pan couldn’t fly for shit.” Though he couldn’t see her face, Erik could smell Trace’s amusement.

  Hausler spun PH-1 at midpoint and decelerated toward Tantotavarin, the light thrust pushing the passengers into their chairs in the illusion of a third-of-a-G. Erik accessed external cameras on his glasses. The lenses gave him a holographic 3D display of the surrounding starfield, and as he panned his head, he could actually see the surrounding ships unaided — little, dull points of light that lacked the luminescence of stars. It was very rare, in deep space, to visually see any other ship without magnification and motion tracking, let alone so many. He was struck by a memory — sitting in a class at the Academy, and listening to a warship captain reciting a deep space rendezvous that he’d seen during the war, where human and chah’nas formations had come together to exchange views. Seven ships, that captain had said, he could see bare-eyed, all in proximity. All the cadets had been very impressed. Panning about, Erik stopped counting at twenty, none of them human save Phoenix. He wondered what expressions the cadets would be wearing should he step before them tomorrow, and tell tales of the things he’d seen. Awe and wonder, to be sure… but also wariness, perhaps contempt or even hatred, depending on how much of Fleet Command’s propaganda tales they believed.

  Tantotavarin’s coms chatter to PH-1 was businesslike, directing Hausler to the upper six-berth on the big, armoured Midships.

  “Currently latched on, I can see shuttles from Toguru, Kanamandali and Vakala,” Ensign Yun observed from Hausler’s co-pilot seat. Toguru was the State Department ship. “Toguru and Kanamandali shuttles have detached, but it’s a fair bet their passengers are still aboard.”

  “Romki says tavalai sometimes hold big meetings where they lock everyone in a room for days at a time,” Erik replied. “No one comes out until they’ve agreed on something, sleep or no sleep.”

  “I heard they make babies like that too,” said Hausler, rotating the shuttle into perfect docking alignment with little thrusts from the attitude jets. They docked with a lurch and crash, an imperfect alignment of tavalai grapples with human hull. On the ‘all clear’, Erik, Suli and the marines unbuckled and headed for the dorsal hatch, where Erik performed the final manual adjustments to access-tube alignment personally.

  An ‘all clear’ from the tavalai side, as alignments matched, and sensors showed a pressure lock, from human atmosphere to ear-popping tavalai atmosphere. “Piece of cake compared to last time, Kel,” he told Krishnan, waiting behind to be first up the tube.

  Krishnan grinned. “I’ll take your word for it, Captain.” He floated past, then up the tube, Haynes right behind him.


  Erik thought Trace would go ahead, but she gestured him first. “I’m last this time. Captain, Commander.” Bringing up the rear, which wasn’t like her… and Erik gave her a suspicious look before following Haynes.

  With airlocks synchronised, they could keep both doors open and pressurise the entire access tube at one atmosphere, right up to Tantotavarin’s outer door. But Erik closed the shuttle’s outer door behind Krishnan and Haynes, himself, Suli and Trace sealed in the airlock until both marines had been admitted up the far end. The visual feed from both marines’ glasses showed a tavalai greeting party at that end, all very civilised and not immediately threatening, in the tavalai style. Only then did he open the outer airlock and pull himself quickly up the cold tube.

  The cycling airlock brought the expected rush of hot, thick tavalai air, and a sharp pain in the ears that forced all to equalise rapidly. Inside the inner airlock doors were big paddle scanners, through which all admitted must pass. The scans raised no alarms of concealed weapons, and Erik caught a rail, looking up and about at a space not unlike the Midships shuttle berths on Phoenix. Five armed and lightly armoured karasai looked down on them, dull green armour and webbing in contrast to the steel grey of the spacers, manning the berth, and conversing in rapid, professional Togiri.

  A middle-sized tavalai in a spacer’s jumpsuit came floating across to Erik, and caught the same support rail. He was unremarkable save for the captain’s insignia on his chest, and for the fact that this tavalai was nearly black — a rare shade for them, with mottled brown patches.

  “Captain Debogande,” said Tantotavarin’s Captain, holding out a hand without any fuss at all.

  Erik took it. “Captain Kaledramani. Commander Shahaim, my second. Major Thakur, Phoenix Company. Lance Corporal Haynes, and Private Krishnan.” There were no translators activated, though probably the crew used them in earpieces. Many of the best tavalai Fleet commanders learned English thoroughly from an early phase of training. Erik had wondered lately why the same was not required of human Fleet commanders with Togiri. Captain Pantillo had been somewhat fluent, entirely by his own initiative.

  Kaledramani did not shake hands with the others — the prerogative of a higher-ranked man. “Captain,” he said, in that deep, thickly-accented tavalai voice. “I have heard many tales of your exploits in Kantovan System. Let me be clear — Admiral Janik may outrank me, but the Nakiakani Institution delegation off the vessel Gobigana confirm my status as senior Fleet officer present.”

  How the tavalai figured that, Erik did not know. But this was Tantotavarin, ibranakala-class carrier and legend of the tavalai Fleet. Surely Kaledramani had not risen to such a position without first attaining the favour of some of the many legal authorities that comprised tavalai government. Suli had only said that he was unpopular with Fleet command…

  “Then I’m talking to the right man,” said Erik, far less impressed with tavalai complications than he’d once been. “Why have we been summonsed?”

  “Captain, I have people on this ship who wish you executed. And I have people on this ship who claim that you have assisted to right a wrong. I also hear alarming tales that you might be carrying hacksaw technology. This on its own is illegal, and grounds for the most severe penalty.”

  “There is nothing on my vessel that the Dobruta have not approved of,” Erik replied with an impatient stare. “I doubt your authority has expanded that far in recent days, Captain Kaledramani. Or do you think to displace the Dobruta from their role of all these thousands of years?”

  Kaledramani just considered him. Erik knew he’d been getting better at reading tavalai expressions, but this particular tavalai gave him nothing. It was unsettling. “You don’t deny it?”

  “A-class carriers are classified, Captain,” Erik replied. “I confirm or deny nothing.”

  Kaledramani made an expression that might have been exasperation. That he, one of the most decorated captains in his Fleet, should have to suffer this evasive alien upstart on his own deck. “Captain Debogande,” he said. “You’re going to tell us exactly what you did in Kantovan System, and who told you to do it. That is why you are here. Best that you stop these games, and tell the truth.”

  “Admiral Janik has told you his evidence of the crimes of your State Department?” Erik replied.

  “What conversations I may or may not have had with Admiral Janik are likewise classified,” Kaledramani said drily.

  “And yet you do this criminal organisation’s bidding even now? Are you a captain, or a pet?” Saying it to a chah’nas captain, on his own deck, could have gotten Erik killed on the spot. Tavalai were different. Yet even so, the usually-bustling Midships berth seemed very still and quiet.

  Kaledramani eyed him up, with cool contempt. “Little Debogande. You talk and you bluster. You think your big name carries weight here. You used it to impress the politicians on Ponnai. You used it to talk your way into the Tsubarata, claiming to speak for all humanity. Now you sit at equal-V, outnumbered thirty-to-one, off-ship with only a skeleton crew to man your bridge, and you think your name and your words can get you out of this mess yet again.” He put a thick finger in Erik’s chest. “You are not Captain Pantillo. That was a great man. This is barely his shadow.”

  Erik stared back. “One destroyed drysine ship-building facility in sard space says differently. They had a mixed sard/deepynine fleet. We killed perhaps half. Where were you, brave frog?”

  “I have heard this tale,” said Kaledramani, unimpressed. “I do not believe it. It is spread by a conniving Dobruta who even now has been recalled to answer for his actions. Now it is spread by a rebellious Fleet faction who seek to destabilise the tavilim. You will be my guests on this ship, Captain, Commander. You will stay here until you have told the truth. Those are my orders. You will know that I am very good at following orders.”

  “We will not be your hostages,” Erik growled. “This is against all tavalai protocol. We were not invited here for this.”

  “I never liked tavalai protocol,” Kaledramani snorted. “My fellow Fleet captains are far more polite than me. Many of them are dead, while I survive.” He gestured up and about at the armed karasai, with very good firing vantages, should the order be given. “I have many more karasai than just these. Do not tell me I shall need them.”

  A single, small dot drifted between the two captains. It took Kaledramani a moment to notice. Then the dot buzzed its wings, rapidly, holding a neutral hover in zero-G. Kaledramani stared at it, with an expression that was, for the first time, neither cool contempt, or outright dislike.

  “Do you recognise this?” Erik asked him. “Educated man that you are?” The bug buzzed again. A shout followed from one of the karasai, as he managed to get a closeup visual.

  Kaledramani held up a fast hand, to forestall shooting. To his credit, he did not look afraid… though that was a psychological peculiarity of the tavalai, to feel fear, but not panic. He peered more closely, wide-set eyes swivelling inward to focus on the insectoid machine. Upon closer inspection, its tiny, micro-filament parts gleamed in the artificial light, with brilliant intricacy.

  “It is true,” he said cautiously.

  “Captain Pantillo taught me always to expect the worst,” said Erik. This order-following automaton of a captain was keeping him from Lisbeth, and Phoenix’s Captain from his ship. He was abruptly sick of it all. “If you’d followed his advice, you’d never have let us aboard. Your sensors do not detect these. We’ve many more. At best, you’d all be dead in seconds. Perhaps half your crew, in minutes. At worst, we could plug into your systems, and gain control of your vessel.”

  Kaledramani’s eyes narrowed. “I think maybe you have only one. And this one is a bluff.”

  More assassin bugs rose into the air at Erik’s back. Trace and her marines carried them, under the basic control of Trace’s AR glasses. They’d lately agreed that this would be their course of action, should anyone pull this particular stunt. Styx assured them that Erik’s thre
ats were no bluff.

  “Try me again,” he dared Kaledramani, with contempt. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, or who you’re talking to. If I wanted out of this party, I’d take remote command of all tavalai ships and have them destroy each other. Phoenix would not need to fire a shot.”

  “Why don’t you?” Kaledramani growled.

  “Because manners are the thing I like best about tavalai. Until now, the only ones of you to abandon manners were State Department. You’ll see shortly what we do to them. Commander, Major. We’re leaving.”

  Noone stopped them. Only once they were back aboard PH-1, and the assassin bugs safely stowed back into the marines’ webbing pouches, did the usually restrained Suli Shahaim bite back a laugh. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” she chortled, giving Erik a look of flashing amusement from the neighbouring seat.

  “He’s gonna have to dip his ego in cold water after that one,” Krishnan agreed cheerfully.

  Erik was too angry to share the humour. “Yeah, let’s just hope we don’t get shot down on the way back. Lieutenant Hausler, keep a very sharp eye out.”

  “I copy that, Captain’s been pissing everyone off again. Situation normal, we are good to go.”

  Hausler undocked with a lurch, shoved them quickly out while spinning, then got underway with a short kick from mains — not an alarming or violent exit, but neither a polite one. Erik’s uplink crackled, and he accessed.

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you be an asshole,” Trace told him. “I couldn’t be more proud.”

  “I just admitted to him that we’ve a queen aboard,” Erik replied without humour.

  “He knew. They all knew, or would shortly find out. Makimakala may have admitted it to their oversight already…”